Behind the deacon, Anne ascended the narrow steps, with Guy after her. Ahead of them, the knights took up a bawdy song, whose words were made up mostly of references with double meaning, to plowing and tilling, and whose refrain went, "To bed, to bed, we'll put them to bed: a field must be plowed when a fair maid is wed." Guy wished he could see Anne's face, but there would be time enough for that.
At last they had reached the state bed-chamber--the chamber where, Guy was sure, Anne had herself been conceived. Richard of Mowton had not been the kind of man to fuck his wife outside the marriage bed. Guy took Anne's hand again, firmly and suddenly, and felt her shudder at his touch while he gathered her arm under his to lead her into the chamber.
There they stood behind the bishop, as he took from his deacon's hands first his miter and then his crozier. Holding the crozier in his left hand more like a sceptre than like the shepherd's crook it was supposed to represent, Bishop Hamo solemnly made the sign of the cross with his right. The episcopal ring that had come from Rome glittered in the light of the candles set about the chamber to illuminate what Guy could not help terming to himself the revels of his bride-night. Richard of Mowton had undoubtedly put out the candles' flames, at his bride's request, but Guy would leave them burning, the better to survey Anne's charms--and woe betide her bottom, should his own lovely bride protest that he shamed her thus, to see her unclothed.Coming soon! If you can't stand to wait to read a medieval by Emily Tilton, try The Count's Discipline or Tamed by the Highlander!