Indeed, Fortuna might have welcomed Martin warmly had the globe of fire that burned over his head not been far brighter and more substantial than any part of herself. There was a reminder she did not need of how times and mortals were changing.
An educated man, Martin nodded in acknowledgement as he drew near, despite her hauteur. “Invoked again?” he asked with a tired smile, apparently needing no answer. They would not be both in the vicinity otherwise and Fortuna had to admire that he held the same work ethic as she. Martin dropped onto the cloud opposite her and sighed as he shoved a hand through his hair. “’Tis a curse to be so popular.”
Fortuna did not note that it seemed to suit him better than she. She could hate him without too much trouble at all.
Instead, she granted him a smile. “I intend to have some vengeance for that.”
“How?” Martin was wary, as a good churchman should be of an alluring immortal.
His response was most gratifying. Fortuna adjusted the folds of her Grecian garb of radiant gold and let her confidence shine in her smile. Martin blinked, as if he looked into the sun itself, and she knew she was not so far gone as that. “With a little mischief, of course.”
“You would not.”
“I most certainly will. There is no one in my pantheon telling me what I must and must not do.” Fortuna lifted her chin, emboldened by the fact that Zeus had faded to a wisp of smoke through his unpopularity. “We always had a sense of humor, at least. You Christians seem unable to laugh aloud.”
Martin granted her a quelling look. “Perhaps ’twas wise to end the sacrifices in your name. Perhaps ’tis good for all men that your power fades.”
“Pshaw!” Fortuna waved him off and peered through the clouds once more, feeling much invigorated by her decision. “If that were so, they would not call upon me so very much. You and your kind have made more of a mess of the world than ever we did.”
Martin fell silent, for he was not a fool, though Fortuna expected he would have more to say once he thought matters through. She liked thoughtful men—their silences gave one ample time to do what one must do, and do it unobstructed.
Fortuna lifted a finger to her lips and made her choice. She flung a little mischief down through the mist, then waited to see the result.
And in this instance, sadly for Bayard de Villonne, Fortuna did not smile.
* * *
Célie had no chance to flee. The two squires seemed to understand their knight’s plans even without him stating them outright, for they lingered so close to her that she could not take a step without bumping into one or the other of them. Her heart pounded in fear for her own fate and for Esmeraude’s.
The knight returned all too soon for her taste, his expression impatient, which was not a surprise given Esmeraude’s behavior. He slowed his horse to a walk and drew closer, speaking to her from his saddle. ’Twas undoubtedly meant to intimidate her, and Célie fought to hide how well the tactic worked.
“You know where she has gone,” he said smoothly, no hint of anger in his tone.
“Perhaps.”
“Then tell me.”
Célie shrugged. “Tell me first of your intentions for her.”
He smiled and the softening of his features was reassuring. “You are fond of her.”
“I have been her maid since she was two summers of age.” Célie lifted her chin. “I love her with all her faults and graces as if she were mine own child.”
The knight’s smile broadened and his eyes twinkled. “We should all be so blessed as to be surrounded by such loyalty,” he said with such resolve that Célie believed him. “I fear my lady is so accustomed to your affection that she does not know that matters could be otherwise.”
Célie started, for she had oft thought much the same. “She is not a wicked girl, sir. Indeed, her heart is most tender...”
“Yet she flees me and risks her own survival. Am I so fearsome as that?”
“She knows not what you desire of her. Indeed, nor do I.”
He dismounted and came to stand before Célie. His expression was earnest, his gaze so clear that she nigh believed him afore he spoke a word. “I rode to seek a bride and this alone is my intent. I would wed Esmeraude.”
His smile reappeared and the maid decided that this knight was a most attractive man. “I would see her never understand that there is any way to live than surrounded by those who are loyal.”
’Twas a sentiment that melted Célie’s reservations.
“You know what has passed between Esmeraude and I, madame, and I would have you know that I seek only to do what is right. In my view, the events of last night have made her my lady. Indeed, such incidents only occurred because I believed she had chosen me as victor in this Bride Quest. As you have seen, though, she has spurned my offer for her hand. I ask for your aid in winning her.”
“Truly, you will wed her?”
He inclined his head. “You shall have my pledge upon it.”
Célie watched as the knight pulled his sword from its scabbard. He held the blade so that the hilt cast a shadow upon the ground, a shadow in the shape of a crucifix. He held her gaze steadily as he spoke, his manner one of appropriate solemnity.
“I swear, by all I hold holy, to wed Esmeraude of Ceinn-beithe, to protect her as my lady wife, to defend her honor, to keep her well, to grant her sons if I am so able. I pledge it to you—” He arched a dark brow in query.
“Célie.”
“Célie, as one who holds my lady dear. I swear this to you, with God as my witness.” He closed his fist around the reliquary in the hilt, then kissed it.
Célie watched him return the blade to the scabbard and could not help but be impressed. Here was the manner of man Esmeraude needed! Here was a man determined to do right by his lady and to take responsibility for his deeds.
“She left a riddle,” the knight said and recounted it by memory. “Where does she mean?”
“Airdfinnan,” Célie confessed.
He frowned. “I do not know this place.”
“’Tis the abode of her sister Jacqueline and her spouse, Angus MacGillivray. ’Tis not far.”
He grimaced, then smiled, his words revealing that he knew something of Esmeraude already. “Then perhaps ’tis not far enough that the lady can find trouble for herself en route.”
Célie laughed, much reassured. “Oh, my lord, Esmeraude could find trouble in two steps without seeking it at all!”
“Then we had best make haste. Would you be so kind as to show me the way?”
“I would be delighted to do so.”
The knight smiled, then granted her his hand with much gallantry and helped her climb into the saddle of one of his palfreys. The squires climbed into the saddle of the third steed together and the knight clearly intended to ride his destrier.
He did not release Célie’s hand immediately and she looked at him. “Madame, I would appreciate any suggestion you might grant me in banishing my lady’s reservations regarding our match.”
He looked so concerned that the servant’s heart melted. ’Twas not within Célie to say naught when she had an opinion. “She would wed for love alone.”
The knight frowned. “And what else?”
“She loves a tale, my lord, more than aught else.” Célie sighed. “And she is desirous of adventure before she weds, for she fears a life of monotony and duty above all.”
A considering light dawned in the knight’s eyes and he looked away, his brow furrowed. “Indeed?” he mused.
“I would have you know, sir, that I favor your suit.” Célie took a deep breath. “I wish you success in this endeavor, for I think the match a good one.”
His sudden smile was so bright that the maid had to blink. She wondered if she had ever seen a man so confident in all her days.
“I thank you,” he said, then gave her fingers a squeeze. “But, madame, ’tis not in my nature to lose.”
He released her hand and walked away, then swiftly donned his h
auberk and cloak. He mounted his destrier, a sight that made her old heart sing. Célie could not imagine how Esmeraude could refuse so finely wrought a man, especially one so determined to win her.
Though Célie knew Esmeraude well enough to guess that this knight would have more adventure in his courtship of that demoiselle than he likely anticipated. She smiled, uncommonly glad that she would be witness to his suit.
’Twould make a fine fireside tale for those left waiting at Ceinn-beithe, on this Célie would willingly wager.
* * *
Had her father been as selfish as Célie maintained?
Was Esmeraude truly like him?
The two questions plagued Esmeraude as she rode. The sound of Bayard’s pursuit faded to naught behind her. She reached a road, then slowed the palfrey to a walk. Esmeraude glanced over her shoulder in indecision.
Indeed, by abandoning her maid to a knight whose intent she did not know to see to her own safety, Esmeraude was selfish. Though she hoped that Bayard would be chivalrous to Célie, she truly did not know what to expect of him. He had treated Esmeraude with kindness, but then, he had desired something of Esmeraude.
Célie had no such advantage.
’Twas true that there was little Esmeraude could do if she returned and found the maid abused by the knight. Not only was Bayard larger and stronger than she, but he had two healthy boys in his employ. Seeking him out would only grant him the chance to force her to wed him.
But she could see to Célie’s safety in another way. Bayard would either return to Ceinn-beithe or he would pursue Esmeraude. She had left the riddle and he might well solve it. He would certainly be able to pursue her as far as this road without difficulty, for the horse had left a broken trail through the undergrowth.
She would wait for him.
In secret, of course. Aye, ’twas the only way to be certain of Célie’s fate. If Bayard and Célie did not appear shortly, then she would retrace her steps. Esmeraude urged the steed onward, then led it beneath the shelter of the trees on one side. She returned to the road and removed all hints of the horse’s passing, then joined the steed without leaving a trail herself.
She would follow Bayard if he came and perhaps she could intervene if he meant to abuse Célie. She had been raised in this countryside and did not doubt that she could hide her presence as she covertly trailed behind the knight.
She gripped the reins and stood in silence, the steed sufficiently well trained that it echoed her manner, its only movement the flicking of its ears. Her sole fear was that it would make some acknowledgment of the other horses when they appeared.
Bayard was his name. Was he then Bayard de Villonne, the son of Burke de Villonne? Esmeraude’s mother, Eglantine, held Burke in great esteem—perhaps the son shared the father’s noble character. The possibility cheered her while she waited.
A short time later, Esmeraude heard the canter of horses’ hooves and the sound of a party breaking through the undergrowth to the road. She slipped her hand over the palfrey’s muzzle and stroked it softly, praying that the beast would remain silent.
“Which way?” Bayard asked, his voice carrying to her refuge.
The palfrey’s ears pricked and it strained its neck toward the road. Esmeraude leaned closer herself for a peek and her heart leapt at the sight of Bayard. He wore his full knightly garb save his helmet and his destrier pranced beneath his weight. The boys rode one of the palfreys behind him, and Célie rode the third. She looked well enough and Esmeraude quickly understood why.
“Airdfinnan lies that way,” Célie said firmly. “’Tis two days’ ride, sir.”
So the maid had won her own safety by offering to guide Bayard’s pursuit of Esmeraude. ’Twas not a bad choice on her part, though Esmeraude did not intend to be found by them.
Nay, she would follow and she would wait. Surely when they made camp, she could steal her maid away and leave this knight in the forest.
He would return to whence he had come then, or at least Esmeraude hoped as much. She waited until they were far down the road, then urged the palfrey from the shadows and lent chase.
They took the road she anticipated and Esmeraude was glad, for it twisted and turned as it climbed the hills to the east of Ceinn-beithe. ’Twas easy for her to remain out of sight and she would be so until at least midday on the morrow. After that, the road ran straight as an arrow to Airdfinnan’s gates.
Esmeraude resolved to fret about that when the time came. She took one last glance back from the apex of the hills and smiled at the sight of Ceinn-beithe’s village touched by sunlight. It looked so peaceful and her heart swelled with affection for all those she loved there.
Her smile faded when she spied a considerable party departing the village gates. They were numerous and she had no doubt that there was at least one suitor in their number. Did they ride to Airdfinnan or did they surrender the chase?
There was no way of knowing from here and Esmeraude was not inclined to wait. Nay, she would learn the truth after she was safely at Airdfinnan and whatever suitors lent chase also arrived there.
She had best concoct another riddle while she rode, and to do that, Esmeraude had to decide where she would go next. She dug her heels into the palfrey’s side and trailed Bayard’s party, considering the possibilities.
Chapter Six
Bayard was well aware that he was being pursued.
Indeed, in the past few years, he had learned to be uncommonly aware of his surroundings. And he knew the rhythm of his own steed’s hoof beats well enough to recognize the missing beast’s presence. The palfrey behind them started and stopped, which meant it carried a rider whose dictate it followed.
Bayard knew who that rider must be. Annoyance simmered through him. Why would she flee only to trail him? What manner of feminine game was this? Indeed, a man could readily conclude that she sought to vex him apurpose, perhaps to hold his interest.
His Esmeraude had no need of such a ploy. They rode onward, Bayard setting a pace that he knew his palfrey could readily match, and he pondered the complexities of women.
Or more accurately, of one particular woman.
Once Bayard ceased to be thoroughly irked, he had to admit that he was impressed by her tactics. The other three with him were unaware of the lady’s presence, for she kept a goodly distance between them. He glanced back once or twice, but she was always behind a curve of the road. And he only heard the palfrey’s hoof beats when he suddenly halted his own steed.
She was clever, his Esmeraude. Pride warmed him and dismissed the last of his irritation. A wife of such resource would suit him well. He listened to her progress, glad that he could ensure her safety so readily as this, and even allowing the lady a measure of the adventure she evidently craved. ’Twas harmless to continue thus, for he heard no others upon this rural path.
Perhaps she merely wished to be wooed and courted, as women so often did. Bayard had no argument with that. Indeed, he knew that the finest prizes were those less readily won.
He caught a glimpse of Esmeraude when they paused at midday, though Bayard gave no outward sign of having done so. He “forgot” a satchel of provisions and a wineskin when they packed up to ride again, for his lady had need of sustenance and he knew she had none.
Aye, he was protective of those beneath his hand and he told no lie when he pledged to the maid that he believed Esmeraude to already be his lady.
When dusk fell, they made a camp in a clearing not far from the road. The boys gathered wood and lit a fire, then brushed down the steeds. They had dried meat with which to make a simple stew, bread and cheese and apples, which along with the wine would make a fine repast. The smell of the cooking meat carried through the woods and Bayard noted one slender shadow drawing nearer.
He liked that she had the good sense to not linger too far from the fire. He had heard tell of wolves in these woods and he would lose neither steed nor betrothed.
Indeed, ’twould suit him well if Esmeraude joined their ca
mp for then he would be fully assured of her safety. As he stirred the meat, Bayard knew precisely how he would encourage her to do so.
He had remembered a tale he had heard sung recently in France, a long tale of love and loss. It had come into his thoughts with an abruptness that was not characteristic of his memory, but Bayard was reassured by the timeliness of the idea. ’Twas no doubt a portent of success that he should recall this tale now, when he sought to win a lady with a love of tales.
He could not fail.
* * *
Esmeraude settled in the woods as close to Bayard’s fire as she dared, knowing that the woods were filled with predators on her every side. The palfrey needed no command to remain by her side, its ears flicking.
Esmeraude had one frightening moment shortly after her arrival. The palfrey nickered suddenly, when it clearly spied its usual companions on the far side of the clearing. To Esmeraude’s dismay, one of them nickered in return. She feared discovery and rose to cover the palfrey’s muzzle to encourage it to silence.
But no one in the camp appeared to notice. They were all occupied with their tasks—the boys gathering wood, Célie aiding with the preparation of a meal, Bayard tethering the beasts and beginning to groom his destrier.
The scent of their meal made her belly growl in protest, but Esmeraude had no intent of making her presence clear. She nestled against a tree, cursed the fact that she was unprepared to spend a night in the woods, then yawned mightily.
Though Esmeraude intended to remain awake, she was more tired than she had hoped. She flushed, even in solitude and shadow, recalling all too readily why she had not slept much the night before. She dozed to the murmured sound of conversation and could not halt herself from slipping into the realm of dreams.
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