Two days passed in a flurry of activity as the keep was thrown into overdrive. So much had to be done in so little time, Edwin swore he could see his mother's hair growing whiter with stress every moment.
Rooms had to be prepared, food stockpiled for a banquet and its guests, and quick repairs made to beautify the keep. Banners of a Black Bull on a field of white were hung off the battlements, the newest of them already lined with fading edges. Villagers had been conscripted en masse to complete all these objectives. Three dozen villagers, men, women, children, old and young, all working day and night, had only just managed to complete their work as the banners of Black Ravens on a field of yellow began to caress the northern hills.
Arnald, armored in as pristine a mail as could be found, hoisted open the wooden gate of the palisade as the first riders drew close.
From his spot on the wall, Edwin watched the riders enter the keep. Thirty, no, fifty of them, Edwin noted the size of the retinue, suddenly, the amount of food they had prepared seemed entirely insignificant. It would have to do, we are well into our winter stocks, Edwin prayed to the god that it would be enough.
Each rider was resplendent in magnificent suits of steel, each colored by well-crafted surcoats displaying various coats of arms.
Edwin spotted many he knew, the red boar of the Wents road up front, the knight clad in a full suit of steel with brass trimmings, his helmet shaped like that of a boar. He held a large banner high in both hands, the flag of Duke Talbot. Then there were the two golden hands grasping a coin purse, the banner of the Mowbrays, three red lions of the Clarys, and the dragon chasing his own tail of the Leicester's.
There were just as many he had never seen before: two stags with interlocked antlers, a knight holding a bleeding head, and three men with, oddly enough, a large rock. I'll have to ask Stuart about those. Edwin told himself.
"Hail, lords," Arnald bowed from his spot atop the wall, "Baron Robert of house Sonder bids you welcome."
Arnald, who had always seemed confident and stoic to Edwin, was clearly having trouble containing his nervousness in the face of so many powerful men.
Ten women, villagers from below, guided the horses into the courtyard to be fed and watered, but it soon became clear that there was nowhere near enough room for all fifty of the retinue and their baggage. Anna, from her place staring out an open window in the tower of the keep, quickly issued orders to separate the guests into the haves and the have-nots. Knights, a dozen of them, were comfortably fitted into the keep alongside their baggage; the rest, made up of squires, pages, advisors, or the like, were given lodging in the village below.
Edwin, watching the chaos below, scanned the crowd for Duke Talbot. It wasn't hard to spot him in the chaos. He was the single piece of calm in an ocean of chaos; his horse was larger than the others, a great stallion of pure white, groomed till it was almost shining in the summer sun. He looked young for his age, with no wrinkles or grey hair; in fact, he boasted a full mane of curly red hair that reached his shoulders. He wore a smile, too perfect to be worn in a lowly place such as this. He wasn't particularly tall, but his personality seemed to carry him higher than those around him.
Unlike all the others that surround him, he was unadorned in armor, instead opting for an elegant outfit of a well-fitted Tunic of Green laid atop another one with long sleeves of red. His Chausses were a light red with swirls of golden patterns riding down the seams on the sides. Anointed with enough jewelry of necklaces, rings, and a small circular ducal crown of gold studded with gems.
The crown alone would be enough to purchase all of our holdings. Edwin thought he wanted that kind of wealth so desperately.
With the aid of an attending knight, one of the ones displaying a rock, the duke was helped off his great stallion.
Robert emerged from the entrance of the Keep proper. He wore a smile just as great, no, even greater than the dukes. Robert's stress had melted away in the past two days, even as his wife's had dramatically increased. Even as Edwins' stress increased.
Robert eagerly walked up to the duke and grasped his hand. The display was odd to Edwin; John Talbot was a much higher noble than Robert; therefore, proper etiquette was for Robert to bow.
"Edwin," Theda dragged his attention from the duke and his father, "Your mother wants you to offer refreshments to the duke's retinue outside the walls."
She held a wicker basket stacked with wineskins. Edwin didn't need further instruction; despite wishing to continue observing the group below, he knew now wasn't the time to question his parents.
Weighed down by the dozens of wineskins, Edwin's going was slow. He made for the Southern tower, one of the three on the walls. Arnald nearly jumped when Edwin entered the tower to take the stairs down.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Edwin joked.
Arnald's face was pale; he leaned against the corner of the tower where an arrow slit gave a view to the sloping road that led to the gate.
"Thirty-five years of life and I have never once seen so many knights and lords." Arnald gulped as he turned to gaze at the retinue pitching their tents nearer to the village. "I hope I never have to deal with this again. Your father is lucky the pay is better than farming."
Edwin knew the only reason Arnald was managing so well, or at least managing in general, was that he needed the money to afford Thedas's bride price. He had been courting her since he was hired on as the gate guard, but apparently Thedas father disapproved of Arnald's, and so he set the bride price to two gold pieces, much more than he could earn realistically.
Returning to his duties, Edwin left the tower, emerging onto the courtyard. The duke and Robert were nowhere to be seen, likely in his office. Every knight was busy preparing their horses for the stay, explaining to the village helpers the importance of this or that piece of equipment and how it must be stored.
None of the knights paid Edwin any mind as he made his way through the gate. If they knew who he was, they didn't show it, not that Edwin minded; he was too focused on his task to wish to be bothered.