When George took his seat at the high table, he had to admit it was a heady experience. Never had he seen so many people crowded into one room before, and all of them so richly dressed. He glanced down at his own simple clothes, but Melitta had assured him they were good enough. The court wanted to see a fighter, a hero, the man who had slayed their dragon scourge. Still, it didn't help him to not feel self-conscious when everyone around him wore silks at bright as flowers while he wore wool.
Fine wool, for he could afford it, but wool nonetheless. And right now, it made him itch like the coarsest stuff imaginable with all those eyes on him. How did Melitta stand such scrutiny?
Only now did he understand why she didn't want to sit at the high table. So many people staring…
Then the food was served, and it wasn't so bad.
The king had seated him on the end, beside a girl in blue who said nothing and refused to look at him. How he would have preferred to have Melitta by his side. And when they were married, he would. Not even the king would refuse to give his lady all the honours that were due to her.
George scanned the crowded tables, looking for the only woman he wanted. Past the courtiers, knights and their ladies, the colours grew duller as the benches were filled with men-at-arms – no women there. Except Melitta. She perched on the end of a bench near the window, nibbling at something on the point of her dagger. The men at the table – no, boys, all of them, he realised. Squires to the knights, most likely. The boys ignored her, talking among themselves and paying her no attention at all.
George raged at them. Didn't they realise they had a hero in their midst? A lady, no less, who had slayed a dragon?
Evidently not, for they all laughed at something one of the boys had said, while she sat there calmly.
The food was plentiful and the wine flowed freely, though George partook sparingly of both. He didn't want to make a fool of himself when the king called him up to receive his reward. What if he stumbled and fell? Or said something that offended the king?
By all that was holy, he needed Melitta by his side, helping him. He was nothing without her. And yet, she sat at the other end of the hall, oblivious to his eyes on her.
What if she'd changed her mind?
George fretted through the interminable feast, heartily wishing he never had to attend another. Maybe this was what Melitta meant about not missing such things. How much food and wine could a man consume? Surely they were all sated by now, he thought, but servants kept bringing out more platters and jugs.
Finally, King Boreslas rose to his unsteady feet. He'd had more to drink than most, George judged, watching him sway.
"My subjects!" the king cried. "Lord, ladies, knights, men! We are here to celebrate a great victory. Sir George had defeated the dragon that oppressed us for so long." He raised his cup in a toast. The whole hall cheered, and drank with him as he emptied his cup. "And he shall be rewarded!"
More cheers, even louder still.
"Kneel, Sir George!"
This was the part Melitta had explained to him in painstaking detail. He hoped he didn't forget anything.
George dropped to one knee before the king, then pulled his sword out of its scabbard. He laid the blade across his open palms and held the weapon out.
"I pledge my honour and obedience to you, Your Majesty. My life to your service, as God is my witness." George prayed he'd remembered the words right. Melitta had said it didn’t matter if he made a mistake – no two men seemed to state their vow of service in the same way.
King Boreslas inclined his head and took the proffered sword. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, he muttered some words in Latin that George didn't understand. He finished with, "Rise, Lord George, and take up your blade in my service." He presented George's sword, hilt-first, back to him.
George slid the blade back into its scabbard, as Melitta had advised him. With his back to the hall, he couldn't see if she was smiling or shaking her head in mortification.
The hall erupted in more cheering, so he hoped he hadn't made too great a fool of himself.
"And as a final reward for his heroism, I have decided to bestow my only remaining daughter, Princess Sativa, on him in marriage, this very night. My personal confessor and priest will marry them in the castle chapel after the feast, and if I'm not mistaken, Lord George will have an heir on the way before the night is through!"
Laughter and cheering echoed through the hall as men toasted George's marriage and virility. Even the priest rose to his feet and he nearly fell over, he was so drunk.
King Boreslas ushered the girl in blue forward to kneel beside George. He spouted more Latin, then announced that he had blessed their union.
George's mouth was dry, and not in a good way.
He couldn't marry the princess. Couldn't accept her as a bride. It was Melitta he wanted, no one else. The princess beside him continued to ignore him, just as she had for the rest of the feast. He couldn't marry a girl who pretended he didn't exist, no matter how grateful her father was.
"And when God sees fit to end my reign, Lord George will ascend the throne in my place!"
George could have sworn his heart dropped right into his boots. Heir to a throne? No. Not him. This was preposterous. He was barely even a hero. He couldn't be a king.
"As my heir, you must sit at my right hand, Lord George!"
People shuffled along the benches at the high table to make space for George, who staggered to take his place beside the king.
"Now, who will be the first to declare their oath of loyalty to Lord George?" King Boreslas declared, his gaze sweeping the hall.
Courtiers rushed from their seats to be the first, crowding before the high table so that George couldn't see past them.
Melitta. What would she think of this? Being a lord was one thing, but one day a king…she didn't like court. She would never consent to be a queen. And then there was the matter of the princess he didn't want. But how could he tell a king that his daughter wasn't good enough to be his bride? George would be lucky to keep his head.
Melitta would know what to do. Melitta would help him deal with this mess. Unless she believed he had thrown her aside to marry the princess…
He rose onto his toes, straining to look past the crowd so that he might see her, catch her eye and beg for her help. But she was nowhere in sight.
George's world crumbled around him. Without her, he had nothing.