Authors: The Temptress
“Aye, if she did not die ignobly instead.”
“I would not be so foolish as that!” Esmeraude held her maid’s skeptical gaze. “I have a scheme.”
Célie’s eyes narrowed. “Some mischief no doubt, in which I suspect I am shortly to find myself embroiled.”
“Of course, ’twould be far better if I ventured forth with a loyal companion. All those in tales do as much.” Esmeraude rolled abruptly across the mattress, catching the maid’s hands in her own. She saw the gleam in the older woman’s eyes and knew its import. “Will you accompany me? We could flee this very night, before
Maman
begins her competition for my hand, then none could say I acted unfairly.”
“I will not let you abandon your duties so readily as you desire, mademoiselle, regardless of your opinion upon the matter.” Célie huffed. “I have not been entrusted within your mother’s employ all these twenty years and enjoyed her care to betray that trust readily, however great your desire for adventure.” She spat the last word, as though ’twas an obscenity.
“Please, Célie? Would you deny me my very last chance, nay, my sole chance, to win my heart’s desire? Will you not see that I do not pay a dire price for daring to dream of a great love?”
The maid considered her for a long moment. “I should not so indulge you,” she said finally. Célie shook off Esmeraude’s grip and rose to her feet. “Indeed, you should not ask me to do so!”
Esmeraude smiled impishly. “But when have I been concerned with what I should and should not do?”
Célie chuckled. “Vexing child. You have always known your own intent too well to be biddable.” She smiled and Esmeraude smiled back, the fondness between them undisguised.
“You must come with me, Célie, you simply must. I cannot imagine being without you and your splendid good sense.”
The maid eyed her charge. “Where will you go?”
Esmeraude shook a finger at her. “Nay, nay, nay. You must pledge to accompany me in good faith before I will tell you.”
“Then you must pledge to at least look upon the men who arrive to compete for your hand before you flee.”
“But why?”
Célie’s expression turned arch. “’Twas you who said your heart would recognize the man for you.”
“I did look,” Esmeraude reminded her maid. “And the man for me was not there.”
“They have not all gathered as yet, and surely the one less intent upon winning a bride would not arrive first, like an anxious pup?”
Esmeraude nibbled her lip as she considered that.
Célie folded her arms across her chest, clearly prepared to argue her own side. “And ’twould be rude to depart so abruptly and condemn those men who did arrive to no reward. ’Twould make Duncan look to be a poor host, which surely is not your intent. Your parents might not forgive such a dishonor readily, even from you.”
“But I cannot stay!”
“Even if the man you seek might arrive yet? Or might even be here but as yet unnoted by you. Can you truly see to the heart of a man so readily as that?” Célie leaned closer. “Indeed, the man of whom you dream might already be in this hall. Would you risk losing him when he is so close?”
“Do not make me choose betwixt adventure and love! I would have both.”
“Aye, I know.” The maid leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “What if you left a clue, that a stalwart man might pursue you?”
Esmeraude’s dismay vanished at the suggestion. “A riddle!” She laughed, well pleased with this scheme. “I shall leave a devious riddle as a test, for only the man destined for me would both solve it and act upon its import. ’Tis a perfect compromise, Célie.”
But the maid shook her head. “Nay, you should leave a simple riddle.”
“Why?”
“Of what merit is a chase without competitors? And men are at their most valiant when they are threatened by the performance of others. If you wish to be pursued, you must leave a simple riddle.” Célie nodded confidently. “Indeed, you might find that your more familiar suitors show unexpected qualities when faced with such a challenge. ’Twould be a fine test of a man’s mettle, or of his determination to win you. I do not believe in your quest for this great love, nor do I approve of your desire to live as a maiden in a song, but it makes good sense to know the truth of a man’s character before pledging to him forever.”
Esmeraude tapped her lip with her fingertip and nodded. “’Tis a fine scheme. I shall do it.”
“Then I shall pledge to accompany you and to protect you from harm as best I am able. I have little doubt that you will do whatsoever you will, with or without me.” The older woman smiled. “And I have a strange thought that your chances of emerging unscathed from your adventure are somewhat better with me in your company.”
“Thank you, Célie!” Esmeraude leapt from the bed and hugged her maid with enthusiasm.
“Know that I am persuaded to this course solely to ensure your happiness.” Célie’s words were spoken with gruff affection, and she touched her charge’s cheek.
“Oh, and I will be happy, I know it well.” Esmeraude fell back upon the mattress and leaned against the pillows. “The King of the Isles will no doubt ensure it.”
The older woman paled. “What nonsense is this?”
“He will not approve of
Maman
inviting foreign knights to compete for my hand. Nay, not he. Indeed, he has lost too much land to the Scottish king by way of the Norman knights who have settled holdings.”
“But...”
“But naught, Célie. Those holdings are carved from the King of the Isles’ territory yet surrendered to foreigners by the Scottish king. Though the King of the Isles does not approve, he has few means of ousting foreign knights once their households are established here.”
“Like your
Maman
and her household.”
“Aye. And truly, now that the Scottish king is returned to the graces of the King of England, the King of the Isles must be uncertain of his territories indeed.”
“Where did you learn so much of these matters of men?”
Esmeraude spared the older woman a devilish grin. “I listened when I was not supposed to.” She tapped her chin with a fingertip, frowning slightly as she continued. “Nay, the King of the Isles is the only one who will save me from the invitations
Maman
sent to Norman knights. We shall go directly to him and entreat his aid.”
“God in heaven.” Célie sank to a chest and crossed herself. “Never let it be said that you are timid of heart, child.”
“Oh, Célie, you worry overmuch. The King of the Isles
likes
me.”
The maid’s eyes narrowed. “In what manner does he like you?”
Esmeraude scoffed. “He is ancient, Célie, you have naught to fear of his amorous intent. We had a pleasant conversation when last he visited Ceinn-beithe, not more than that. He oft has told me tales and brought me fripperies from afar. Perhaps he even has heard tell of a fitting man. Do not scowl at me so.” Esmeraude smiled confidently. “I am certain that I can charm him into supporting my quest.”
“As am I,” the maid agreed darkly. “You could charm the birds from the trees, child, and that with scarcely any effort at all. My concern is only what he will demand in return for granting your wish.”
Esmeraude waved off this reservation. “Some trinket or other. A lock of my hair. Perhaps the favor of a kiss.”
Célie looked less persuaded of this than she, but Esmeraude was undaunted.
She patted the plump mattress, well pleased that all was resolved to her satisfaction. “Come, Célie, and slumber with me this night. Adventures, I am given to understand, require considerable planning and a measure of foresight.”
Célie granted her a hard look. “You are determined in this?”
“Aye! I can barely wait to begin. ’Tis all so exciting.” Esmeraude bounced in anticipation, making the ropes that held the mattress creak. “Do you think some minstrel will compose an ode of my adventure? I should dearly love to be so heralded, to know that I have not lived a common life.”
The maid harrumphed, clearly not seeing the marvel of the adventure or any immortality among the bards.
“Get yourself onto your knees, child,” she said in the tone she reserved for matters that were not to be argued. “We shall also have need of all the prayers we can say. Adventures, I am given to understand, oft require divine intervention to end merrily.”
Excitement bubbled within Esmeraude even as her prayers fell dutifully from her lips. She would have an adventure of her own. A
quest
, like one of Duncan’s tales.
She could imagine naught better.
* * *
Bayard de Villonne was certain of his pending triumph. He had crossed to England to attend the Wearing of the Crown by Richard and to present the good news. Richard was not readily swayed from his plan to besiege Montvieux, but Bayard had prevailed.
To win the hand of a rural maid in a barbarian contest had seemed so simple that both Richard and Bayard had enjoyed a hearty laugh over the matter. Bayard, after all, was handsome and well mannered, a knight and a champion. There could be none of his ilk gathered at this remote holding - Richard had jested that the maiden would fairly leap into Bayard’s bed. ’Twas that, in the end, which convinced the king to stay his hand.
For now.
Bayard guessed that ’twas seldom, indeed, that a man like him ventured this way. He had been to Outremer and back, he had been to Corsica and Sicily, he had fought at the right hand of the King of England, sampled women of nigh every hue, met royal princesses, dined with princes and potentates. He had foiled assassination attempts against his liege lord, he had plunged into battle against the Saracens, he had been entrusted upon diplomatic missions.
Perhaps Richard guessed aright when he suggested that this northern demoiselle would not be able to resist Bayard.
’Twould be moot, of course, if she chose another spouse before he arrived; ’twas the only way Bayard might lose this contest. And that his discussions with the king had made him sorely late, which did little to ease his concern. Bayard encouraged his palfrey to greater speed, fearing that the battle would be lost before he entered the fray.
He had to win Esmeraude, for the sake of his family.
So, on this morn, he made unholy haste. His squires raced their palfreys to keep up with his own; his destrier galloped at his right hand, breathing noisy displeasure all the while.
Finally, they crested a rise and Bayard spied the palisaded walls of Ceinn-beithe. The village buildings and the surrounding camp of tents were touched with the gilt of an early sun. Beyond the coast, the sun also touched the shimmering surface of the sea and pierced the mist enveloping distant isles.
Bayard, though, studied the scene before him for hints that he had arrived in time. The fields were still and devoid of so much as a sheep, a poor portent indeed. His heart leapt as he spied the last of a small party disappearing into the village gates.
Perhaps just in time.
Bayard slipped from the palfrey’s saddle, donned his helm, then flung his fur-lined cloak over his shoulder. Andrew straightened Bayard’s tabard and gave his knight’s scabbard a last buff. Truly, Bayard’s arsenal gleamed after the boy’s efforts and the knight thanked him with sincerity.
Michael held the destrier’s leads, a position of considerable responsibility. He stroked the beast’s nose even as he adjusted the caparisons hanging from the fine saddle. Argent stamped, impatient for a run. Bayard leapt into his saddle as he had on the day of his dubbing and the boys cheered.
“I shall meet you at the village gates. Ensure that the palfrey is prepared for a lady.”
“Aye, sir.”
“May Dame Fortune smile upon you, sir.”
“Aye, Michael.” Bayard smiled himself. “May she always continue to do so.” He winked at the boys, whistled to Argent and gave the destrier his spurs. The boys shouted encouragement as Argent galloped down the path to Ceinn-beithe.
’Twas good to ride the great stallion again, to feel his strength and vitality. The blue caparisons flew out behind him, the white edges flickering. The silver bells upon the harness jingled madly, their peal not unlike a thousand fairy bells.
Argent had not borne his master since Winchester and it showed in his vigorous run. His hooves were polished to a gleam and his coat was so thoroughly brushed that he seemed wrought of polished silver himself. His mane and tail, a darker hue of grey, streamed like silky feathers as he ran.
The blue leather saddle was the beast’s pride, for he was more vain than any Bayard had known. Argent pranced high as Bayard slowed him before the village gates, snorting and fighting the bit, clearly pleased with his fine appearance. Two young men hovered at the gates, but stepped back at the sight of Bayard and his steed.
Bayard gave Argent his spurs, not waiting for approval to enter. The men stared after him, astounded. Aye, ’twas much as he had expected - none had seen the likes of him or his finery here before. His bride would be claimed by midday at the latest. He would be most glad to see this matter resolved.
He galloped through the narrow streets, letting the clatter of heavy hooves announce his presence. The village was quiet, most clearly having gone to watch the festivities in the hall, but those who were yet in the village halted their labors to stare.