Still brooding over what the Duke had said, Aubrey ate sparingly of what was served at the large Midwinter banquet tables. He was a small person to begin with, and had an appetite to match, but the unwelcome reminder of his own ambiguous status made the food and drink infinitely less appealing.
"What, the viper's hatchling won't eat his own poison?"
The loud, slurred insult cut through Aubrey's thoughts; he turned his head slowly to see Leander of Wellam and Duncan of Fenrigh leaning back in their seats along the next table. He bit the inside of his cheek, and pretended to ignore them. There had been bad blood between them and him since their first year together as pages, and they never lost an opportunity to make a comment about a "snake like him" poisoning the food.
"Look at that, look at that!" Leander shouted with an unsteady voice; his usually pale face was flushed with the hectic color of too much drink. "Hardly eating enough to feed a bird! Bet he poisoned it himself—didn't you? Drops of his own venom, the little black snake, milked from his own fangs!" The two knights laughed to each other.
"Come on," jeered Duncan, "let's see 'em! Let's see your fangs!" The two made hissing sounds. By now, everyone had turned to look, waiting to see if Aubrey would respond in kind, or walk away with his usual cold disdain. It was past the point where he could tactfully ignore them, he knew; he would have to respond somehow. He hadn't brought a weapon with him—none were ever allowed within the dining hall, and he was too small to go up physically against either Leander of Duncan, let alone the two of them together. Perhaps if he simply stood up and moved to another seat...?
"What's this, then?" The two tables and what seemed like half the room went silent as Alanna the Lioness and the King swept down upon them. Jonathan glowered darkly, while his Champion seemed ready to lash out at any second, her violet eyes blazing.
"Duncan of Fenrigh and Leander of Wellam," said the King, "you disgrace this entire hall with your words and presence. You will apologize to Sir Aubrey, and leave immediately."
Duncan looked sullen, but rose unsteadily and muttered something in Aubrey's direction before stumbling from the room. Leander, however, had been made bold by an evening's worth of wine, and spat on Aubrey's shoe as he got up.
"The Black God take me before I ever ask the forgiveness of a common-born bastard and traitorous snake!" he snarled. "He's the one who disgraces this entire gathering—it's a terrible day for Tortall when the sons of treacherous dogs can sit with decent folk like us!" A murmur went up around the room—whether from agreement or disapproval, Aubrey did not care to know. The young knight watched the King's face—he Jonathan's moods well enough to know that this particular expression meant he would not pursue the matter here, in front of the entire court, on a feast day.
"Take him to his room to sober up," the King quietly told one of the palace guards, who bowed his head shortly and grabbed Leander firmly by the arm. The young nobleman left shouting all the way for the guard to unhand him. While everyone's eyes were turned, Aubrey seized the opportunity to try and slip away. He made it to one of the dark corridors before he turned back to look—he saw Alanna the Lioness watching him over the distance, looking at him with a mixture of irritation, curiosity and revulsion. He knew what she saw—a mirror image of his father, a companion of her childhood, a younger version of the man she had killed. "I'm not him! I'm not my father!" he wanted to yell out at her, at them all. His last remaining scraps of pride restrained him, though, along with the certain knowledge that nothing he could say would ever relieve their suspicions about him. He turned, and walked with all the dignity he could summon down the darkened hallway.
"What, the viper's hatchling won't eat his own poison?"
The loud, slurred insult cut through Aubrey's thoughts; he turned his head slowly to see Leander of Wellam and Duncan of Fenrigh leaning back in their seats along the next table. He bit the inside of his cheek, and pretended to ignore them. There had been bad blood between them and him since their first year together as pages, and they never lost an opportunity to make a comment about a "snake like him" poisoning the food.
"Look at that, look at that!" Leander shouted with an unsteady voice; his usually pale face was flushed with the hectic color of too much drink. "Hardly eating enough to feed a bird! Bet he poisoned it himself—didn't you? Drops of his own venom, the little black snake, milked from his own fangs!" The two knights laughed to each other.
"Come on," jeered Duncan, "let's see 'em! Let's see your fangs!" The two made hissing sounds. By now, everyone had turned to look, waiting to see if Aubrey would respond in kind, or walk away with his usual cold disdain. It was past the point where he could tactfully ignore them, he knew; he would have to respond somehow. He hadn't brought a weapon with him—none were ever allowed within the dining hall, and he was too small to go up physically against either Leander of Duncan, let alone the two of them together. Perhaps if he simply stood up and moved to another seat...?
"What's this, then?" The two tables and what seemed like half the room went silent as Alanna the Lioness and the King swept down upon them. Jonathan glowered darkly, while his Champion seemed ready to lash out at any second, her violet eyes blazing.
"Duncan of Fenrigh and Leander of Wellam," said the King, "you disgrace this entire hall with your words and presence. You will apologize to Sir Aubrey, and leave immediately."
Duncan looked sullen, but rose unsteadily and muttered something in Aubrey's direction before stumbling from the room. Leander, however, had been made bold by an evening's worth of wine, and spat on Aubrey's shoe as he got up.
"The Black God take me before I ever ask the forgiveness of a common-born bastard and traitorous snake!" he snarled. "He's the one who disgraces this entire gathering—it's a terrible day for Tortall when the sons of treacherous dogs can sit with decent folk like us!" A murmur went up around the room—whether from agreement or disapproval, Aubrey did not care to know. The young knight watched the King's face—he Jonathan's moods well enough to know that this particular expression meant he would not pursue the matter here, in front of the entire court, on a feast day.
"Take him to his room to sober up," the King quietly told one of the palace guards, who bowed his head shortly and grabbed Leander firmly by the arm. The young nobleman left shouting all the way for the guard to unhand him. While everyone's eyes were turned, Aubrey seized the opportunity to try and slip away. He made it to one of the dark corridors before he turned back to look—he saw Alanna the Lioness watching him over the distance, looking at him with a mixture of irritation, curiosity and revulsion. He knew what she saw—a mirror image of his father, a companion of her childhood, a younger version of the man she had killed. "I'm not him! I'm not my father!" he wanted to yell out at her, at them all. His last remaining scraps of pride restrained him, though, along with the certain knowledge that nothing he could say would ever relieve their suspicions about him. He turned, and walked with all the dignity he could summon down the darkened hallway.