Infamous Read Online Free Page A

The earls and barons had come to see and be seen. Those in attendance were obviously in favor with King Edward at the moment. It was a rare chance for the nobles to gather in one place at one time to converse, exchange ideas, air differences, protest taxes, plot intrigues, forge alliances, negotiate deals, and make advantageous matrimonial matches for their sons and daughters.
    The attendants who comprised the nobles’ retinues were primarily interested in eating, drinking, gambling, and indulging any other vices that slaked their appetites.
    By the time Jory arrived, the banquet was well under way. She had stopped in the kitchen and helped herself to some roast fowl and a quince tart. Then she picked up a jug of ale and entered the hall. She put a safe distance between herself and the royal dais, where the Plantagenets, their guest of honor, Gilbert of Gloucester, and the nobles who held high office were seated.
    From a dimly lit alcove, her gaze swept the long table. The queen sat on King Edward’s left, his son and heir, on his right. Though the youthful Prince Edward was younger than Joanna, there was a strict pecking order. The Earl of Gloucester was seated next to the princess, and Jory smiled, knowing that Joanna thought herself magnanimous to even acknowledge his presence. Gilbert de Clare didn’t seem to mind. John de Bohun, the Earl of Hereford and Constable of England, was seated on his other side and the two military men were deep in conversation.
    Thomas of Lancaster, the king’s nephew and high steward, was seated next to the queen, and then came Roger Bigod, the Earl of Norfolk and Marshal of England. Jory’s eyes widened as they fell on her own uncle, John de Warenne. Though he was the Earl of Surrey, she’d had no idea King Edward held him in such high esteem.
    Jory had not been aware of her uncle’s arrival, and she now realized her brother, Lynx, and his wife, Sylvia, would be here too. They must not see me playing the role of serving wench or there will be merry hell to pay! She cautioned herself to watch out for them and keep a safe distance.
    The Great Hall was filled with rows of trestle tables and benches to accommodate the throng of nobles and their attendants. Huge platters of fish, eels, roast fowl, haunches of beef, and whole piglets were placed on every table so the guests could serve themselves, and as Jory glanced around she saw that the dishes were now empty and the bones picked clean. The nobles sat with their own people to eat, but once the tables were cleared, they would be eager to walk about and seek out their friends and allies.
    She set off with her jug of ale, ignoring the many tankards thrust at her to be filled. As she nimbly dodged the male hands that reached out to pat her bottom or touch other parts of her anatomy, she scrutinized the badges on the men’s tunics. She saw every device and animal imaginable as she searched for a golden bear on a field of jet. She had traversed the entire length of the hall, yet still the badge that she sought eluded her.
    A deep male voice echoed in her ear. “Demoiselle, my throat is as dry as an Arabian desert. Will you take pity on one who thirsts?”
    Jory whirled around and stared into a pair of eyes so dark they looked purplish black. He was the most handsome man she had ever gazed upon, and pride was stamped in every line of his face. Displaying inbred manners, he arose gallantly and waited for her to fill his tankard. She had to raise her chin and tilt her head back to look up at him, now that he had risen to his full height.
    As her avid gaze traveled up his broad chest she saw the golden bear emblazoned on his black velvet doublet and as their eyes met, her brain clicked with recognition and she identified the device. Warwick! God’s blood, the man is the infamous Earl of Warwick! The one they call the Wolfhound . Jory stood motionless, staring wide-eyed, like a doe poised for flight. Warning bells