“What would you suggest, Georges?”
“Armsmaster Remy thinks we should leave it barren as a warning to all who would do harm, but I says that such a thing won’t work, for how would som’n know that that’s what it means? Were it mine to decide, I think I’d plant one of the hollies in that place, say, black alder winterberry. I mean, Margaux says that we need such, for when the bark be boiled with other of her simples, a draught taken every morning is very effectual against the jaundice, dropsy, and evil dispositions of the body. Besides, those bright red berries among the glossy green leaves will look nice out there.”
“Then holly it is,” said Liaze.
Georges grinned and bowed again, then slapped his cap back on and headed for the door.
Liaze turned and went up the stairs and to her quarters and summoned Zoe.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I would have you go to Margaux and see if Sir Luc will be fit enough to dine with me this eve.”
“Oh, Princess, isn’t he just perfect? I mean for you, of course. But if you don’t want him, you can cast him my way.”
“Zoe, Zoe, run and see what Margaux has to say.”
Zoe bobbed a curtsey and then was out the door.
Now what will I wear? — Oh, speaking of wear…
Liaze stepped to one of the bell cords and tugged.
As the princess stood at the threshold of her extensive closet, peering at the manifold selection of gowns, there came a tapping on the outer door. “Entrez,” Liaze called out, and a woman, red-faced from hurrying, came into the room.
“Ah, Sabine. Good.”
“My lady,” said Sabine, curtseying. “You summoned.”
“Oui. It occurred to me that our guest, Sieur Luc, needs a wardrobe, for all he brought with him was what he could carry upon a single horse. I would have you and your seamstresses outfit him. He will need clothes to suit formal affairs, clothes for riding, clothes for work should he take that into mind, though the riding and work garb can come last, for he will not be ready for strenuous-” Liaze’s words came to a halt as the seamstress meekly held out a hand.
“What is it, Sabine?”
“Princess, Zoe already has us working on such… the cobbler, too. We took Sieur Luc’s measure this morning. And we have some formal wear for him even now.”
Liaze slowly shook her head and smiled unto herself and said, “I should have known.” She looked up at Sabine and said, “Carry on.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Sabine, curtseying, and then the seamstress withdrew.
It was only after Sabine had gone that Liaze realized her own unspoken assumption with the making of such a variety of clothes was that Luc would stay a long while.
“Have you someone back home waiting for you, Luc?”
“Leon, Princess.”
Luc sat at one end of a long black walnut table, Liaze at the other end. He was dressed in a dark blue that matched his eyes-trews and shirt, that is-though his silver-buckled belt was black as were his silver-buckled shoes.
At the other end of the table Liaze wore pale green-gown, bodice, slippers, stockings and shoes, and pettiskirts-and once again Zoe had woven ribbons through her auburn hair, the ribbons pale green as well.
“I meant anyone other than your foster pere,” said Liaze.
“Non. I have not known many other people, certainly none long enough to become fast friends.”
“No children of your age as you were growing up? Oh my, how sad.”
“We lived a league and a mile from the nearest village, and for as long as I can remember it was only when we went to sell wood did I meet any other children. Even then, I did not form any lasting friendships, for my pere and I were in town but for brief moments, long enough to off-load the wood and buy a few provisions and to borrow a book or two.”
“The village had books?”
“Oui. There was a small bookseller there. How he survived, I cannot say, for many in the town could not read. Yet he was always happy to see me, even though we only borrowed and did not buy.”
“Did not Pere Leon pay him a fee? — In wood, if nothing else.”
“Not that I ever saw,” said Luc.
“A mystery, that,” said Liaze, frowning. “A bookseller who doesn’t sell books and earns no fee for loaning them.”
“I believe that he saw how eager I was to learn,” said Luc. “Perhaps it gave him joy.”
They ate in silence for a while-medallions of veal in a white cream mushroom sauce, along with crisply sauteed green beans and squash, as well as croissants and goblets of a hearty red wine. And as they dined, Liaze watched her guest. Finally, she said, “Your foster pere must have been quite a teacher, not only in reading but also in etiquette, for your manners are impeccable.”
“Oh, Leon did not teach me to read, nor drill me in manners of etiquette. His forte was in arms and armor, and the hewing of wood. Instead a number of teachers-itinerants, all-for years came and stayed with us throughout the winters. They treated my pere with deference, and always called him Armsmaster, and often engaged him in hushed conversations.” Luc barked a laugh. “I thought they were speaking of my progress, and I was determined to not let Leon down. Regardless, they are the ones who saw to my education, teaching me the lot: from reading to writing to ciphering to courtly manners and more, much more, even though most of the time all I wanted to do was learn everything I could of arms and armor and go ahunting in the woods. Yet Leon insisted I not shirk my studies, and told me that these other things I simply must learn, for I would need them one day. And so, from late autumn to early spring, I spent much of my waking time in lessons.” Again Luc laughed. “Why, there was even a dance teacher who came, and he taught me the quadrille and the minuet and the reel and the other dances of the court, though I never got the chance to put them to use, except in practice.”
“Oh, Luc,” said Liaze, smiling broadly, “how splendid. When you are well, we shall have to put your training to use here, for I have a penchant for organizing dances.”
Luc smiled and said, “I would be most happy and honored to dance with you, Princess, if I can remember how they went.”
“Oh, la!” said Liaze. “It’s rather like riding a horse: once you learn, you can take it up anytime thereafter.”
“Then I shall give it my best,” said Luc.
Again silence descended upon them as they concentrated on their food. But then Luc set down his knife and looked up at Liaze and raised his goblet in salute and said, “Here’s to pere Leon, for I just realized: you are the Princess of the Autumnwood, and this is indeed a court. And so my pere was right: I did need to learn to dance, else I would not have the pleasure of squiring an angel upon a ballroom floor.”
Liaze was glad that she had deliberately chosen to eat in this formal dining room, rather than the intimate one she had briefly considered, else she did not know what she might have done at that moment-something spontaneous, no doubt.
She raised her glass in return and said, “To pere Leon.” They laughed together and took a sip and then once more they concentrated on eating. And just as dessert was served-a raspberry tort with cream-Zacharie stepped within the chamber and leaned down and whispered in the princess’s ear. She nodded and said, “Have them wait for Luc and me to join them. We’ll be there anon.”
“Yes, my lady,” said the steward.
As Zacharie withdrew, Liaze lay down her spoon and said, “I suddenly have no appetite.”
“My lady, are you ill?” Luc set his napkin aside and stood, wincing a bit as he did so.
“Non, Luc. Please sit and deal with the tort and cream. When you are finished, there is a place we must be.”
“Princess, what is it?” asked Luc, yet standing.
“Remy is ready to light the pyre under the bodies of the Troll and Goblins, those from the lawn and the woods nearby. The ones deeper in-the Troll speared and Goblins you slew-we leave for the scavengers. Remy and Zacherie would have us join the others in seeing the de
ad of our enemies burn.”
“The others?”
“The warband and houseguard and any of the staff who care to attend. In this grim task it will hearten them to see the chevalier who sounded the alert and roused the manor and thereby gave us time to prepare, as well as to see standing among them the princess to whom they owe fealty.”
Slowly they walked across the long lawn, Liaze now in an ermine-trimmed white cloak against the autumn chill; Luc in a blue long-coat of soft wool. Luc’s limp was becoming a bit more pronounced with the walk, for it was far to the site of the pyre.
“Oh, Luc, how thoughtless of me,” said Liaze. “I shall have a carriage come and fetch us back.”
“Non, Princess. It would not do to have the warband and houseguard see me that helpless. Fear not, I shall rally.”
Finally, they came in among the men, as well as other members of the staff, and therein Luc did not limp at all.
Before them a great pile of wood was waiting to be lit, from logs to branches to sticks to shavings. In the slanting light of the waxing half-moon and the glitter from the stars above, amid the heap of combustibles, Liaze could see corpses of Goblins here and there within, and atop lay the Troll slain by Remy, the large crossbow bolt still piercing him through. A sheen of oil lay over all, the moonlight glimmering thereon.
Remy handed Liaze a torch, and said, “Princess.”
“A torch for everyone!” Liaze called out.
Brands were lit and handed to all attendees, and they spread out to encircle the pyre.
Remy walked ’round the great heap, and when he came back to Liaze he said, “Ready, Princess.”
Liaze stepped forward, her torch held high and she cried, “Thus to all our enemies!” And she thrust the burning brand within and then stepped back.
At her side, Luc did likewise, as did Remy and the warband and Zacharie and the houseguard and the various members of the staff.
Slowly at first and then with a whoom! the massive pile caught fire, and a great plume of dark oily smoke rose into the starry night sky, moonlight and firelight illumining all, red from below, silver from above. And within the roar of the blaze they could hear a popping and sizzling.
“Quite savage,” murmured Luc to the princess.
“I know,” she whispered back, and reached out with trembling fingers and took his steady hand in hers.
v
9
Contemplations
That night, in her bed, thoughts of Luc spun all ’round Liaze: Why would anyone abandon him in the woods, and he nought but a babe? Mayhap he was stolen from someone and left in the forest to die. Mayhap his pere or mere, or whoever it might be, put him at a place where it was certain the woodcutter would find him.
And why would an armsmaster become a woodcutter? Was he simply tired of combat and took up a more peaceful occupation?
And this bookseller who never charged and perhaps couldn’t make a living in a village where few could read, what of him? Is he a fugitive in hiding?
And the teachers: were they willing to work for room and board and little else, or did the armsmaster have a stash of gold or silver or copper to pay them for Luc’s education?
And the training that Luc underwent: for what purpose? Did the armsmaster know that this babe that he had cared for would one day become a knight-errant? Perhaps that was the goal all along. Perhaps the armsmaster himself had been a chevalier, or mayhap he always wished to be one and is living out his dream through Luc.
And the horse and weapons: who and where did they come from? Remy says that the sword is of the best bronze, and Eugene tells me that the steed-Nightshade-is elegant and of great worth. He says that when he travelled in the mortal world, he saw such in Andalusia, though most were grey or white and some were bay and only a few were black, and the blacks are highly prized.
Is Luc telling the truth, or is he simply a charming rogue?
Rogue? Luc? No, I think not.
La, here I lie awake, consumed with thoughts of Luc, yet I wonder if he, too, is lying awake, mayhap thinking of me, mayhap as he first saw me.
Liaze flushed, and a surge of yearning filled her being. After a moment she rose from her bed and stepped to a basin and poured cold water from an ewer. She splashed the chill liquid on her face and neck and breasts, trying to cool down. She padded back to her bed and slid under the covers, yet she still felt the heat of a passion unquenched.
After long moments of tossing and turning, once more she rose, and this time went to the nearest window and drew wide the drapes and lowered the sash and threw open the shutters, and moonlight and air streamed in. In the brisk autumn night, she stood and looked out upon the manor grounds. Argent rays slanted across the sward below, the silver half orb low in the sky and nigh to setting. A ruddy dim light reflected against distant trees; red coals from the pyre yet lived. Below and pacing their rounds, two members of the houseguard strolled by, and Liaze drew back into the shadows, unwilling for them to see her standing nude in her window above.
Thoroughly chilled and leaving the window open, back to her bed she went, and, shivering, climbed under the covers for warmth. Yet in spite of the cold, her ardor had not diminished, and she felt the heat of it, and with thoughts of Luc-his eyes, his smile, his soft voice, his gentle and open way, and his long and lean body-it was quite a while ere she fell into a shallow and restless sleep.
“My lady, my lady, ’tis time to rise.”
The voice came from a distant place.
“My lady,” again came the call, this time seeming right at hand.
Liaze opened her eyes. Zoe stood at one of the windows, having just drawn back the remaining drapes and opened the shutters wide. Sunlight streamed in at a high angle.
Liaze yawned and stretched, Zoe suppressing a yawn in echo to Liaze.
“What mark is it, Zoe?”
“Midmorn, Princess,” said Zoe, holding out a robe. “You’ve slept quite late.”
“Oh, my,” said Liaze, scrambling from bed and slipping into the garment. “And here I thought I would never get to sleep.”
Zoe laughed and said, “Ah, visions of Luc kept you awake, eh?”
“Zoe!” exclaimed Liaze, and she headed for the bath, Zoe trailing behind and smiling unto herself, for the Princess had not denied Zoe’s claim.
“I wonder if he plays echecs? ” said Liaze as she slid into the warm water.
“Echecs?” asked Zoe.
“It is something amusing we can do and it will not tax his injuries.”
“Oh, my lady, isn’t there something else even more amusing that-”
“Zoe!” snapped Liaze, even as she reddened.
Zoe turned away from the princess, and grinning widely the handmaiden began fluffing a towel ere laying it across the fireguard.
“Why, yes, I do,” said Luc. “Pere Leon and I spent many an eve in the game.”
“My whole family plays echecs,” said Liaze. “It came to us through pere and mere. Of all of us, perhaps Borel is the best, but he met his match when Camille came into our lives.”
“Camille?”
“Alain’s new bride.”
“And Alain is your brother,” said Luc. “The one who was cursed.”
“Oui.”
Margaux came into the infirmary. “Princess, though this is but his second morn here, and though he is badly bruised, I believe Luc is fit enough to take other quarters.”
“Ah, splendid,” said Liaze. “We shall install him in the guest wing.”
“He will yet need treatment for his forehead and those awful knocks he took,” said Margaux. “Still, he can come here for the salves and the ointment and the drink.”
Luc groaned. “I will yet have to drink that evil concoction?”
“Certainement,” declared Margaux, smiling.
Luc sighed and turned up a hand and, grinning, said, “If I must, I must.” He turned to Liaze. “Healer’s orders, you know.”
“Come, Luc,” said Liaze. “I shall show
you to your quarters.”
Standing nearby, Zoe said, “The azure suite, my lady?”
“Oui,” said Liaze.
Zoe turned away and smiled to herself, for the azure suite was as close to the princess’s own rooms as a guest could be and not have accommodations in the royal wing itself.
That afternoon the falcons returned, winging in one by one-first from the Summerwood, then the Winterwood, and lastly the Springwood, for it lay the farthest away-and they bore messages: no Redcaps or Trolls had attacked the other manors. When that last message had come, Liaze sighed in relief, for Alain and Celeste were safe, and Borel was away, visiting Lord Roulan, Lady Michelle’s father. But Arnot, the steward of Winterwood, reported all was well therein. Only the Autumnwood had suffered an incursion; perhaps they had been after Luc, but then again it could have been a raid on Autumnwood Manor itself.
“Check.”
“Ah, Princess,” said Luc, “perhaps you have fallen for what my foster pere calls… hmm, let me term it a gambit.”
“So you say,” said Liaze.
“Oui, so I say. Chevalier to red king’s three.”
They were sitting at a small cherrywood table in a chamber in the sunset wing. Other small tables and chairs of like wood sat here and there in the room, with damier boards for playing dames, or echiquiers for echecs. The playing sets were of varying colors, and some were carved of ivory or amber, or of onyx and jade and other semiprecious stone. In one corner sat a large round table, cherrywood as well, with chairs about, a deck of taroc cards thereon. Against one wall sat a long sideboard, and as with all the furniture, it was cherrywood, too. On the opposite wall heavy brown stones embraced a large fireplace, and logs blazed within.
The floor of the chamber was of pale brown marble, and the walls of a slightly darker hue, with the ceiling white.
On the walls themselves were sconces ’round, holding lanterns alight. Portraits of Borel and Liaze and Alain and Celeste, as well as their parents-Valeray and Saissa-looked out upon the players. As if fixing them in his mind, these Luc had studied over the past three days of gaming with the princess.
Once Upon an Autumn Eve fs-3 Page 5