Page 5 of Historical Hotties
The dance seemed to go on for quite some time, enough to work Cassius into a sweat. It was exertion, that was true, but it was mostly the fact that he was wearing chain mail and heavy tunics. He was dressed for travel, including weapons, and leaping around to music had him sweating beneath the warm sun. When the music slowed into a more genteel dance, he tried to beg off, but his pretty partner wouldn’t let him. She kept a tight grip on him, forcing him into a sweet but somewhat intimate dance.
“I’ve not even asked your name, my lord,” she said as they looped their arms and turned to the music. “Forgive me for being so rude.”
Cassius’ pale eyes twinkled. “I’ve not asked you yours, either,” he said. “I am Cassius de Wolfe.”
He twirled the girl and when she came around, their eyes met once more. “De Wolfe?” she repeated. “I have heard that name.”
“My family is rather large.”
“In Yorkshire, mayhap?”
“Northumberland.”
She nodded in understanding as he twirled her again. When she came back around, their eyes met again.
“My name is Amata de Branton,” she said. “My father’s cousin is the Duke of Doncaster, and if my father knew I was being so bold, I would be in for a row. Therefore, if you meet him, do not tell him that I forced you to dance with me.”
He grinned. “Who is your father?”
“Hugh de Branton of Silverdale,” she said.
“Doncaster’s cousin?”
“Aye,” she said, looking him over and noticing that he was wearing the crimson standard with three golden lions. “And you serve the royal household.”
“Aye,” he said, not going into detail. “I am here to see the duke before I continue on home. I have not been home in three years.”
“I see,” she said. “Do you serve in London, then?”
She wasn’t going to let him off so easily. She was curious, this one. Cassius nodded. “I do,” he said. “But I do not wish to speak of my service at the moment. It is the first time I have had time away in three years, so all I wish to think of is frivolity and food and more dancing.”
That seemed to satisfy her, or at least she respected his wishes. For the moment, anyway. They danced the rest of the dance speaking on trivial things, like her younger sister who was bound for the convent. Amata didn’t approve of her sister taking her vows and was very clear on that, evidently thinking that it was because her sister was too round or too plain or too something. Listening to her talk, Cassius could see how shallow the woman was, which made her far less pretty in his eyes.
In fact, he was growing rather bored with her pettiness, so he began to look around for Rhori and Bose, already thinking of an excuse to leave Amata. Before he could make his move, however, fools with their foolish caps and red tunics invaded the dance, pinching the women and making them scream. They were causing quite an uproar and Cassius could see them approaching.
In fact, they were looking at him.
Not that it was difficult to see him. Not only was he excruciatingly handsome, but he was also at least a head taller than any man there. Height ran in his family, as his father was an extremely tall man, so Cassius had inherited those long bones. As the fools drew near, they suddenly let up a cry and completely disrupted the dance.
The music stopped.
“We have found them!” one man with missing teeth cried, pointing to Cassius. “We have found the King and Queen of Misrule!”
The crowd gave up a cheer, wanting to know who it was, and Cassius found himself swept away by the Lords of Misrule and their happy, drunken minions. He was armed and usually didn’t take being pushed around very well, but he realized this was a festive occasion and those doing the pushing weren’t doing it aggressively. So what if he was being grabbed by some very happy men and a few women? Someone even pinched his arse but when he turned to see who had done such a thing, all he could see were happymalefaces. They were all grinning at him.
He wasn’t going to ask who pinched him.
Cheeky bastards…
“The king and queen, the king and queen!” the group shouted, funneling them over to the northern end of the town square where a platform had been raised. There were people upon it, and a table laden with food, but Cassius didn’t thinkanything of it until the fool that had him by the arm came to a halt.
“Your grace!” the fool shouted. “We have our king and queen. Will you not crown them, your grace?”
That’s when Cassius realized he may have allowed himself to be put into an embarrassing situation. As soon as the fool addressed someone as “your grace”, he immediately turned to the platform. That kind of address went beyond any baron, viscount, or even earl. It went higher still. He’d seen the Duke of Doncaster several times in London, so he knew the man on sight. Much to his chagrin, the elderly man sitting at the table on the platform was, indeed, the Duke of Doncaster.
Old Cuffy in the flesh.
Cassius pulled himself away from the fools, and from Amata, and made his way to the stairs leading up to the platform. When he and the duke made eye contact, he came to a halt and bowed respectfully.
