Chapter Eleven

E nide knew she would have to be the most ungrateful girl alive not to treasure her wedding day. "Treasure" being the operative word. The new dress Guinevere had given her weighed a ton. She could barely walk, she was hauling so many gemstones.

Of course, it was all to impress the cartload of kings imported for the celebration.

Enide took another step, holding fast to King Arthur's elbow. He patted her hand and tucked it more firmly into the crook of his arm. How kind he was to give her away. Enide's eyes watered threateningly as she glanced again at the crowd. To reach the altar, she must first swim through an ocean of glittering, gaily-bedecked strangers .

Oh! There was Gawain. Yawning. He looked suddenly embarrassed and covered his mouth. She felt her own lips twitch when he winked.

It wasn't so far now, though honestly, this was the longest aisle she had ever traversed. King Arthur stood aside, and Sir Erec stretched out a hand. A warm, strong hand. His hound-dog brown eyes drank her in with such warmth, she felt a smile on her face and did not recall the effort of putting it there. The Archbishop of Canterbury began to talk, but she could not pay attention. Not with Erec holding her hand. Only when Erec said, "I do. I will," in a voice that was surprisingly shaky, did she remember she too must speak before all these people. Her echoing words were whisper soft. She heard the murmurs of those witnessing the vows.

"How lovely."

"Aren't they beautiful?"

"They are so perfectly matched."

Why should people assume they were perfectly matched just because they made a pretty pair?

The archbishop pronounced them man and wife. Enide started. Matched or not, they were wed.

*

Arthur and Guinevere had arranged splendid entertainments: harpists, pipers, dancers, tumblers, jesters. Food and wine bowed the table. Enide imagined the celebration would last until daybreak. Still, Erec did not have to drag her away. She was tired of the effort of being lovely. How was anyone supposed to be lovely in a dress weighing more than a horse?

"My darling wife," he murmured, closing the door to the bridal chamber, where fabric of finely spun gold covered the furnishings and garlands of flowers ringed the bed. "My beautiful, beautiful angel."

"Please, milord," she said, "Call me Enide. Just Enide."

A cloud passed over his face. He nodded. Coming closer, he clasped her hands.

"You'll forgive my haste?" he whispered, close to her cheek. "The betrothal might have been too short for decorum, but Lud, it was too long." His breath, warm and sweet, tickled her neck. It was pleasantly disorienting.

"I…no. I mean yes."

His kisses—cheek, ear, neck—felt delicious. Then he put a hot hand on her shoulder, kneading her tired muscles.

He pressed his mouth to hers. Then he murmured, "Enide?"

She loved the taste of her name on his lips. " Hmm ?"

He pulled his head back. "I've hacked through armor thinner than this dress. You can't be comfortable."

"No." She giggled. "It's awful."

He scooped her up. All thousand of thousands of pounds of her. "We'll fix that."

He continued kissing her as he carried her to their featherbed. It was heaped with rose petals. Erec brushed them aside as he set her down. He had surprisingly little trouble with the fastenings on her gown. He noticed her amazement when he used one hand to flip open a buckle that had given Guinevere's maids a particularly hard time.

"I don't think it's meant for a dress," he said, shrugging. "They stole it from armor."

"All right," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He laughed. "Sweet," he said and started with his kisses again.

She felt warm all over. With each caress, he called her "lovely", or "beautiful", but she did not mind, because she thought the same of him. He was exquisite. This was exquisite.

Ooof! He was heavy though. She winced without meaning to. She didn't want him to stop.

"Enide, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

I know. Gawain promised . "Oh!" She didn't say that out loud, did she?

"I'm sorry." Erec shifted his weight. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she squeaked. "I was just surprised."

He smiled, reddening slightly. "Sorry." He moved his hips.

Oh! Surprise! Well, no, she knew about that. Mama had given her a hurried, garbled account, and then Guinevere explained it more matter-of-factly. It made more sense now than it did then. She hadn't been quite able to picture what they were talking about.

"Enide?" His voice sounded strained. "I love you."

That focused her attention. She made herself say, "I love you, too."

A knight and his lady knew the words they were expected to say. But did it count if they didn't know if the words were true?