Page 39 of Rose
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Tristan stood on the forecastle, gazing out to sea. He was joined by Philip who stood with his back against the rail.
“The wind favors our course,” Tristan said. “If we maintain this speed through the night, we might arrive in Calais by tomorrow evening.”
Philip nodded. “Hours earlier than our best time. Let us just hope it doesn’t change direct—” The quarter master’s words ended abruptly.
Tristan whirled around and spied what had left Philip so speechless. Rose stood on deck, dressed in a copper brocade surcote over a turquoise silk tunic with a yellow kirtle beneath. About her waist hung a braided leather belt, which secured her dagger. The sapphires glinted in the waning sunlight. Over her unbound red curls, she wore the silver and sapphire circlet and a delicate white veil, which lifted in the breeze. She stopped and spoke with Davy who was staring at her like a lovesick pup, and who could blame him? She was a vision.
“Captain.”
“Ah, yes,” Tristan said, tearing his eyes away from Rose to look at his cook who had made a special appearance on deck. “What is it, Timothy?”
“Just as you instructed, I’ve set a table on the stern castle for you and the misses.”
Tristan smiled and turned to Philip. “You know what needs to be done. Excuse me for now. I’m having dinner with my wife.”
Tristan descended the steps all the while keeping his gaze trained on Rose. Even in Simon’s hose and worn tunic, she had radiated beauty. Now, clad in silk and jewels, she stole his breath. The colors brought out the dark copper flecks in her hair and brightened her skin. He reached her side and brought her hand to his lips. “You look magnificent.”
“Thank ye,” she said, adjusting the belt over her hips. “I won’t lie. It was no small task to put on. I’ve never had to tie such long laces,” she said, showing him the back of her surcote. She smiled as she turned back around. “But the silk feels heavenly on my skin. ‘Tis as soft as a baby’s bum.”
Her smile made Tristan’s heart warm. She deserved the finery she wore. If wealth were given by measure of goodness, he imagined Rose would be as wealthy as any queen. He offered her his arm.
“Shall I escort you to our table?”
He led her across the deck. Piper’s grin stretched from ear to ear when he bowed, and when they passed Jacob he just stared, his mouth agape.
Tristan glanced at her and was surprised to note the discomfort on her face. The smile she wore did not meet her eyes.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“I feel ridiculous, like a chicken dressed to look like a peacock.”
He stopped and motioned to Davy who set his bucket and rag down and hurried over.
“In the chest under my bed is a small looking glass. Please bring it to me,” he said. When Davy darted away, he led her up the stairs to the stern castle, where a table sat with two trenchers, one piled high with fried kippers and another teeming with stewed apples.
She smiled. “Why, ‘tis our wedding feast!”
He pulled back the chair and helped her sit before he claimed the one across from hers. “You did say the more truth to our story the better. Now, when my father asks how the kippers were, you can honestly say…”
She smiled and selected one of the crispy strips of fish and took a bite. “They’re delicious,” she said, hiding a mouthful behind her hand. She swallowed and took a sip of ale. Then she asked with a wink, “but what of the stuffed game bird?”
Tristan sat across from her. “The crew came back empty handed from their hunt,” he jested. “We’ll just have to enjoy some stuffed pheasant when we get to France.”
“What will we do when we arrive in Calais?”
“Our hull is packed with wool and lumber, which we will trade for wine from the Bordeaux region and olive oil that should be waiting for us from a Venetian merchant. There is also a merchant guild’s dinner, should you like to attend.” A shadow crossed her face, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Or we could have a quieter stay,” he said quickly.
Her eyes brightened. “I would prefer that. I’m nervous enough about meeting yer family. I would rather not be introduced to anyone else, if it can be avoided.”
“Agreed,” he said. Then he considered their choices. “I will think upon how we shall spend our brief time there.”
Just then Davy came bounding up the steps. He handed Tristan a silver handled looking glass before bowing and making his way back down to the main deck. Tristan stood and circled around to her side of the table. Then he held the mirror in front of her face.
Rose gasped, then closed her eyes. “That woman cannot be me.”
“Take a good look,” he insisted, crouching behind her to see over her shoulder.
