Joust of Hearts

by Genella deGrey

  Corin bowed slightly to Helena then took a seat next to Melisande. “The lady is quite motherly where you are concerned. No offense, of course.”

  “I can see no reason to take offense to your insightful assertion,” Melisande replied and added reflectively, “Helena never had children of her own.” She took a small nibble of the bread and replaced the leftover upon the table.

  “You are not a child—you are very much a woman. You should have little ones of your own.” After voicing his observation, he took her by the hands and gazed into her eyes with a pleasant sort of intensity. “Melisande, I realize you and I have only known each other for a day, but I so very much enjoy your company.”

  Melisande swallowed. “And I yours, Corin.” She felt the start of flutterings in her belly that had nothing to do with her upset stomach.

  “Tell me, my lady, would you ever consider an engagement to a relative of the Queen?”

  “Oh, Corin, you surprise me.”

  “You will think on it, then?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

  Melisande’s smile faded. “But I leave tomorrow for Dupree, when shall I see you? I would like to get to know you at least somewhat before I consent. I have many responsibilities at home, you see.”

  Corin thought for a moment. “What if I came along—with an adequate escort, of course—to Dupree Castle? The time together would prove to be most beneficial for both of us.”

  “I should ask Helena’s permission first, for I am sure she will insist that I stay one more night at Willowbrook before continuing on to Dupree.”

  Corin pulled her closer. “Melisande, you must come to realize that you are now at an age where you do not have to ask for things. You must tell her of your plans.”

  Melisande considered his words. “I believe you to be quite correct, Corin. I shall inform Helena before I retire this eve.”

  “You will not regret this, Melisande, I promise. There are some matters I must attend to before the morrow. And… I know Henry and Elizabeth will be very pleased to hear of our plans.” Corin kissed both of Melisande’s hands then left the room.

  Melisande felt considerably better. She thought to wander over to Helena and let the good news slip out. Despite the bravery she was displaying, she still could not bring herself to tell Helena that she was bringing a man home with her. At least not yet.

  Corin climbed into a wagon driven by one of his trusted men and minutes later they pulled out of the gates of Windsor.

  At a dark crossroad just outside of London, two men on horseback waited for Corin. He didn’t care that he should have been there at least four hours earlier. After all, they were hired by the Sinclairs and were paid to do what they were told.

  As the conveyance pulled up, Corin moved aside the small curtain to speak to the men. “What kept you? ’Tis cold and we have ridden long and hard for a message only to return immediately—”

  “Cease your prattle, or would you rather waste time chatting about court?” Corin snapped at the brigand.

  “What is your word, Sinclair?” the other man demanded impatiently.

  “With this final move, we’ll be able to declare ‘checkmate’. Dupree is all but in our hands. The lady suspects nothing. She is ignorant of our plans and is falling for me quite as I hoped she would.” The end of his statement was delivered with a smug grin he couldn’t stem. His brother, Jeremy, had muscle and men behind him. Corin had his looks, which had gotten him everywhere he’d wanted to be at court.

  “Sounds to me that you have a soft spot for her,” jeered the first man.

  “Evan, the spot I have for her is far from soft. But you would not know about that sort of thing, now, would you?” Corin slashed back at him.

  “Do not allow your rutting to ruin our plans, Sinclair.” His voice rose, coupled with no small amount of insolence.

  The second man, who was older than Evan, interrupted their banter. “Both of you, shut your mouths. I am sick of your bickering every time we encounter one another. Next time I come alone,” he said pointedly to Evan.

  “There will be no next time,” Corin barked at the oafs. “In two days, I will be arriving at Dupree Castle. And that, my friends,” he said sardonically, “is the message you are to take back with you. Drive on.”

  “Wait, Sinclair, Evan is right.” The other man delayed Corin’s departure. “Do not bed the wench too soon and disrupt our carefully laid plans. Timing will be essential.”

  “What I do with the girl is my concern, not yours nor those of our Yorkist allies. I want this to go just as smoothly as Jeremy does, if not more so. Now, tend to your business and relay my message to him,” Corin said and settled back upon his seat. “Drive!” he commanded.

  Once returned to the great hall, Corin mingled among the guests, for this would be his last night at court. For now, he mused to himself.

  * * * *

  A young man, masquerading as a court jester, made his way through the crowd of guests as a particularly interesting statement caught his attention.

  “I plan to marry Lady Melisande Dupree before the week is out,” a man dressed as a peacock bragged to another gentleman dressed as a Celt.

  The jester stopped dead in his tracks, took a few inconspicuous steps toward the conversation and tilted his head to improve his chances of hearing every word.

  “Have you informed your brother of this?” the Celt asked.

  “I have just sent word for Jeremy and his men to meet me at Dupree for an informal celebration two nights hence,” the peacock assured the Celt, laughing. “Indeed, it will be a celebration for the vanquisher. However, who knows how the conquered will label it?”

  The Celt chuckled. “This should be an easy siege for the Sinclairs. After what happened on Frederick Chancery’s grounds, you are due for a bit of good luck.”

  The boasting peacock gave the Celt a look of displeasure regarding his last comment and took him by the fabric of his crude costume. He spoke in hushed but gruff tones through clenched teeth. “The house of York will sit on the throne of England and will become more powerful than the ancient Roman Empire ever dreamed.” He shoved the offending man away, stormed across the crowded room and up the winding stone stairs.

  The jester pushed through the dancers, upsetting people in the way of his speedy departure. A few men shouted at him to watch his steps and everyone stopped in the middle of what they were doing, whether it was dancing or conversing, to glare at the jester, but he ignored them.

  From where she stood conversing with the Bergavnys, Melisande observed a familiar-looking jester hastily cross the main floor and burst out of the doors to the garden.

  After a moment more of observation, she recognized him. “Parker!” she declared under her breath. Hastily she excused herself and ran through the doors after him.

  A fog was beginning to settle in the garden. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears and the damp mist felt cold and thick in her lungs. Melisande made it to the center of the courtyard just in time to see him climb the last few stairs at the top of the wall and disappear over it. Melisande followed his path and paused when she saw the end of a rope slide between two turrets on the wall. She ran to the spot, trying to see down into the inky darkness, tearing her mask and hat off to improve her vision.

  The clues of this eve’s riddle finally began fitting into place for Melisande—Parker… The not so unfamiliar kiss of the Norseman— “Of course! Devin!” she said in wonderment. But her heart soon sank as she remembered how she’d spoken of Corin to him. She took a deep breath and shouted over the wall into the night, “De-vin!!”

  Devin shed his makeshift costume at the edge of the small copse of trees where they had hidden their horses. He was just mounting his steed when he espied Melisande high above across the lawns, looking over the wall. He made to turn and run to her when Parker, who had just come from over the wall, grabbed him fiercely by the arm. “’Twould not be wise to go to her now. We need to gather men and travel north as soon as possible.”r />
  Devin glanced at Parker but turned back to Melisande as he spoke. “Parker, it would be beneficial for you to remember your place.”

  “My lord, if you wish to save her we must leave at once.” Parker’s voice held an odd mixture of demand and beseeching.

  Devin threw off Parker’s hand. He wanted nothing more than to run back to Melisande’s soft arms and feminine scent. He’d had just about enough of sleeping out of doors on the cold, hard ground, likely smelling of sweat and horses. His heart begged to return to the masque and his lady, when something Parker had said caught his attention.

  “What do you mean, ‘save her’?”

  “I overheard whispers of a plot by one of the Sinclairs. They plan to take Dupree Castle by way of marriage to the Lady Melisande!”

  With a curse, Devin headed for his mount. “We’ll need to alert our allies, for we cannot win the day with just these few.” He indicated the handful of men still with him.

  “Aye. And we must hurry, for I heard they will take Dupree two days hence.”

  Devin swore under his breath and mounted his horse. With one final glance at Melisande, he spurred his mount forward.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After a somewhat lengthy amount time leaning over the wall, trying to see through the murky night air, Melisande walked as if in a trance to her room. Dismissing the Queen’s attendant when she was mostly disrobed, she tossed her headdress into a corner, stripped out of her gown, and crawled into bed.

  Anger and sadness seemed to be playing a game of chase with each other in her head.

  How many times can I lose a man?

  ‘You will know me by my kiss’—indeed!

  I will never see him again.

  He did not tell me he was the Black Knight.

  I could feel him looking at me from across the room.

  He again deceived me by not telling me it was he.

  I long for him.

  I despise him.

  I love… Nay!

  Melisande placed the pillows over her head in an attempt to silence the warring voices. If God was merciful this night, she’d fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

  * * * *

  “Do wake up. I need to speak with you for a moment.”

  Helena’s voice breached the wall of peace Melisande had found that couldn’t possibly have been more than an hour old. She sat up and the pillows fell from her face. “Aye?”

  Helena sat on the bed next to Melisande. “I did not see you after you ran out into the gardens. I was worried—”

  “Helena.” Melisande took control of the conversation. “I have made a decision and wish for you and Lord Bergavny to give me your blessing.”

  “What is it, dear? I confess to being apprehensive about what you have to say.”

  “Corin Sinclair and a few of his servants will be accompanying me to Dupree. We will need to break our journey for one night at Willowbrook.”

  Helena lowered her gaze as if resigned to the fact that she had naught to say that would sway Melisande’s decision. She finally raised her countenance to Melisande’s once again, but Melisande detected a mask of granite in place of the normally friendly countenance. “Pray, lady, why would you escort Mr. Sinclair to Dupree thusly?”

  Melisande suspected that Helena would not take well what she was about to say next. Resolved to stay firm in her decision, she continued, “Corin has asked for my hand and I wish to show him Dupree Castle.”

  Helena was silent for a few long moments. She finally sighed and nodded. “Very well, Melisande. I can see you have made up your mind,” she said stiffly.

  “Aye. Thank you for understanding, Helena.”

  “’Tis not a matter of understanding, ’tis merely a recognition of your words.” Helena stood, opened the door and turned toward Melisande. “What of your love for Sir Devin?” she asked none too subtly.

  Melisande was momentarily startled by Helena’s bluntness. “I-I want a man who will tell me the truth, not one who is deceptive. I want a gentle man. Corin fits that description perfectly. He is there for me and is extremely considerate and attentive.” Melisande listed her reasons as if she were trying to convince herself as well as Lady Bergavny, but pushed the thought aside.

  Helena stared at her in a most knowing way. Melisande knew that once again her eyes had given her true feelings away. What could she ever hide from Helena without being found out?

  “Sleep well, Melisande,” Helena said flatly and shut the door.

  Melisande expelled the breath she’d held. Corin was right, she thought. Telling someone is much easier than groveling at their feet, asking permission.

  * * * *

  The wagons were being loaded and the entourage stood nearby waiting to board when a large, cherrywood box, decorated with matching wood scrollwork fit for a king, big enough to carry at least four people inside, came forward drawn by six identical, dark brown geldings.

  Corin stepped forward to inspect the thing, and Melisande and Helena exchanged glances.

  “Have you ever witnessed such a sight?” Melisande whispered to Helena.

  “’Tis indeed a most convenient thing to have when traveling in bad weather.”

  Melisande merely nodded.

  Ian hailed the ladies over and Helena turned to Melisande. “My dear, would you care to sit facing forward or aft?” she asked, indicating her wagon.

  Melisande glanced over at Corin. He smirked then opened the beautifully carved cherrywood door, indicating that she should join him therein.

  Her gaze returned to Helena. “Corin and I will be riding in his transport,” she replied matter-of-factly. Verily, she had no idea what to call it, and hadn’t known previously that anything of the like even existed.

  “Without a suitable companion? I hardly think—”

  “I pray your pardon, Helena. I have made this decision as one who is in control of her own person.”

  She observed Helena’s hands fist at her sides. “Melisande, may I have a word, in private?” She turned to walk in the opposite direction of the departing party.

  Corin placed his hand on Melisande’s arm and began to speak in a hushed tone. “Melisande, ’tis naught but folly to allow—”

  “Corin, I will take her offer of conversation, but do not concern yourself. I am most confident her words will not interfere in the least with matters that are already in my itinerary.” She reinforced her words by flashing him a smug grin. “Very well,” Melisande called out to Helena as she gently pushed Corin’s hand aside. She followed Helena around to the front of the horses.

  “Aye, Helena?”

  Helena expelled the breath. “It has occurred to me that this man has more influence on you than you are willing to admit.”

  “And just how do you mean?” Melisande enquired with a tilt of her head that she knew was less than polite.

  “You have not been yourself since the masquerade last eventide and—”

  “Before you waste your breath, let me explain to you that this is not Corin’s doing. He merely pointed out to me that I am not a child and should not have to ask someone else’s permission to live my life.”

  “The Queen told me that you and Corin shall be married soon. Is she correct?”

  “It is as I told you, he has asked for my hand. Whether the wedding is sooner or later, it matters little.” Uncomfortable with this exchange, Melisande jerked her chin to the right, unable to meet Helena’s eyes. If she prods me further I shall summon a priest to read the banns and give the mass, forthwith.

  “I do not believe you are in love with Corin, Melisande. I also do not believe he is right for you.”

  Melisande’s gaze snapped back to Helena’s. She had had enough of this discourse and raised her voice a notch or two. “Well, everyone must have thought Sir Liam was right for me—do you think I did?” Helena had naught to say to Melisande’s revelation, so Melisande continued, “God has given me another chance at life and happiness. This decision will be mine alone to make an
d no one is going to tell me whom I shall or shall not marry.” Melisande turned her back on Helena and walked around the front of the horses to Corin’s side.

  Corin and Melisande had started out on opposite benches but, after a short while, he moved to sit next to her, wanting to tell her a colorful jest he had once heard at a gaming table.

  When he did, Melisande blushed and giggled as any delicate maiden would. “Those women do not really do that, do they?”

  “That is what I have heard tell.”

  “So, you have never had one then?” He saw that she held her breath in anticipation of his answer.

  Not just one. “Nay, I have not.” He expertly hid his lie under a shy smile.

  “That is very refreshing to hear, Corin. It merely shows that you are of noble character.”

  “Gramercy, my dear one…” He reached over and squeezed her hand. He knew it was time to move her with endearments and soft words. There could be no telling, once they reached Dupree, how amorous—or not—she would be toward him. At the very least, it would take a sennight for her to accept the fact that Dupree was now in the hands of the Sinclair brothers. If he moved too fast now, she may suspect… Then again, it might strike her as obligation to marry him, if only to keep the inhabitants of Dupree at ease regarding the taking of the keep and their lady. “I believe nobility of character is only recognized by another with such qualities.”

  Melisande smiled demurely.

  The terrain became denser as they left the outskirts of London. There was a definite bite in the air and the wind howled through the trees outside. The wheels bumped and banged under them, causing the cab to rock and jump. Melisande folded her arms and shivered.

  “Cold, dear one?” he asked.

  “Aye.” Melisande nodded.