“I am not!” Della denied, but she still didn’t raise her hand to eat. The smell of meat made her stomach curl. She pushed the trencher aside and leaned back into her chair. The hall was moderately quiet. After the stint of drinking, the men just wanted to sit in silence. Already many of them had gone off to find their beds.
“You are still at odds with him, then?” Gunther sighed in obvious disappointment. “Methought as soon as he stopped his mock celebration and you came down from yer prison tower, the two of you would reconcile.”
“Methinks you should mind to your own, Gunther.” Della sank into her chair in dejection, trying to edge away from him.
“Yea, m’lady, you and Brant are my own. Yer the only family I have and you look as if you could use a friend to talk to.” Gunther shook his head. “So, little sister, I will see yer wars waged no longer. Tell me what goes on that you cannot find peace in yer marriage.”
“Gunther,” Della began harshly, sitting up to face him. She softened her tone when she saw the caring in his expression. “I cannot. It’s too humiliating. Besides, you have sworn your loyalty to Brant.”
“Yea, that I have,” he admitted. “But I would also swear it to you. Tell me, should I kneel before you with my oath?”
When Della didn’t readily answer, Gunther shot her a mischievous smile. Standing, he moved as if to go before her. She shot her hand out to stop him.
“Nay, Sir Gunther.” She could not stop the grin that threatened her features. Giggling despite her sorrowful mood, she said, “Sit down. I have no wish to see you kneel before me. I will take your silent oath.”
Gunther sat back down at her side, absently waving the attention of a few of the men away. “So, what is it then?”
“I already told you it’s too humiliating.” A blush stained her cheeks. She refused to look at him and instead trained her eyes forward. When he didn’t speak, she peeked at him.
“Yea, that is it? He is no good between the linens?” Gunther tried to look concerned and failed.
“Nay!” Her blush deepened and Gunther winked at her. “Do not make your pleasantries with me.”
“I’m glad to hear the ealdorman’s performance is not in question, fer there is naught I can do about that.”
“Nay, it is that it is in too much question,” she answered, disheartened.
“What is this?” Gunther was apparently shocked. His smile faded as his eyes rounded in surprise.
“Gunther, he is too virile and not in my bedchamber,” Della stressed her words carefully. She didn’t know what made her confess such a private thing to Gunther, but she needed a friend and he was the closest one she had. He wasn’t like the gossiping servants. He would be loyal to her, he’d sworn to be.
“Yea?” Gunther took a thoughtful sip of mead. “Who?”
“I know not—Serilda, one of the maids, several of the maids.” She shook her head as she pushed the tray further from her. The smell was still getting to her. Nausea waved up in her chest to war with the lonely despair.
Mayhap, I have been poisoned, she thought, dispirited.
“Serilda?” Gunther shook his head and laughed. He pounded his fist on the wooden tabletop until those in the great hall stopped and turned at the commotion. As he threw himself back, his drink spilled onto the floor.
“M’lady, would you like to share the jest with all of us?” Roldan leaned past Gunther with a hopeful smile, eyeing her from the other side of the table.
“Nay, Roldan. Turn back to yer mead,” Gunther denied for her. A maid righted the fallen goblet and set it on the table. Then, filling it quickly, she retreated back down the platform. Gunther lifted his goblet to Roldan and announced for all to hear, “Let not m’lady repeat her poisonous barbs. They are likely to make e’en you blush.”
Roldan laughed, believing to understand. The man turned back to his meal and the soldier with whom he conversed.
“I am glad you find my husband’s bedsport with Serilda amusing.” Della glared at him once they were again free to speak. She stiffened, about to stand.
“Nay, Della, stay. I did not mean to imply methought it amusing.” He tapped her arm lightly to keep her beside him. “I cannot believe Brant did not tell you. It was a mean jest, truly.”
“What?”
“Serilda on his lap. He saw you belowstairs and pulled the closest maid into his embrace. Methinks it was to make you jealous. I see it has worked.” Gunther nodded in personal satisfaction.
“But, then, he didn’t bed her?” Her breath quickened at the thought. She trembled, hardly able to believe it true. Carefully, she watched Gunther’s face for a lie.