Artaud couldn't help staring back at Her, the image of her lovely body in the spring basin haunted his memory. Heat crept up his neck and cheeks. He could not possibly think that way about the Great Goddess.
He struggled to banish the lovely tableau from his mind and focused his attention on the keeling man. "Share the wealth of your meadow with your neighbor, and the powers that rule the heavens will reward you with abundance."
The man's eyes rounded, then understanding lit up his face. Did he believe Artaud could perform such miracles? The man smiled and bowed, mumbling thanks as he stepped back with utmost respect.
Artaud never mentioned any particular god or goddess. Let the man make up his own mind about what powers rule the heavens.
The radiant Lady Melusine, next in line, nodded her approval to Artaud. Noble maidens glanced at her with daggers in their eyes. He hoped the Great One would uphold her word. Still, he hated being told what to do, be it by man or god.
Lady Melusine approached him now and curtsied low, then she rose and met him at eye level. Again he noticed how small and delicate she looked. Something familiar, almost intimate passed between them, as if he knew her well... but a goddess had the power to muddle a mortal's minds.
"Well done, my lord." She smiled kindly. "You built your castle, and quickly, just as the Great One ordered."
Uneasy about such public talk, despite the relative privacy of his high seat, Artaud scanned the nobles outside the wide circle. All seemed otherwise occupied, deep in conversations. Even the women's attention had inexplicably turned away from him and the Great One.
Catching his furtive glances, Lady Melusine smiled mysteriously.
"Did you make it so no one could eavesdrop?" A goddess could certainly do that.
She had a slow nod. "Now that you have solid walls, you need protection from the dangers threatening you from inside, my lord."
"I know which of my barons are loyal, and which ones are liable to plot against me." He immediately regretted his defensive tone, especially in Her presence.
"Do you? Really?" Her unsettling clear stare made him doubt his abilities. "Just because you can detect a lie doesn't mean you know all they are hiding."
Was she tricking him, or could he have missed the signs? "What do you propose?"
"I should attend your inauguration feast in the great hall tonight." The calm, clear voice held a hint of mischief.
Artaud's heart had a happy flutter, but he could not accept. Inviting a Pagan Goddess into his hall could cause an uproar among his Christian barons. "I do not want to upset you, Great Lady, but I would rather not. My situation as a declared Pagan is precarious enough as it is."
"Still, I believe I should attend." The stubborn jut of her chin implied a command.
"Could I prevent you if I tried?" Artaud knew the answer to that.
"No, you could not." She smiled devilishly.
Artaud sighed. He remembered the stories told in the halls of his childhood. He wanted no witch hunt or religious bloodshed on his lands. "If you attend, I expect you to behave as a civilized noblewoman, not the divine entity I suspect you to be."
She inclined her head and curtsied. "As you wish, my lord."
How odd that she would do his bidding. When She turned away to join the festive crowd of the courtyard, Artaud watched her sinuous walk with longing. He caught himself and sighed. By Jupiter's balls, he would not let the Pagan pantheon meddle in his already complicated affairs. He knew, however, that defying the Great One could bring forth a storm beyond his control... one he might not survive.
* * *
Melusine always enjoyed the feel, the smells, the sounds of water, no matter when or where, even in Artaud's open bath house. The envious stares of other women did not bother her. Water was her element.
The arched ceiling and rectangular pool reminded Melusine of a smaller version of the Roman baths in Trier, a long time ago... with Sigefroi. She suspected heat ducts coursed below the stone floor, to keep the water at a comfortable temperature. One side, facing the setting sun, remained open to the inner courtyard, with a row of columns holding the edge of the roof, like that of a Greek temple.
According to Forez traditions older than Christian taboos, the guests had disrobed and enjoyed a common bath before the feast. Most women wore Christian crosses hanging from their necks. Melusine wondered how many of these noblewomen knew they were participating in a Pagan ritual, in the waters of a sacred spring.
Using her gift of sight, Melusine could see through the back wall. On the other side stood the statue of the Goddess, right where it always stood, but now encased into a private sanctuary.
She applauded Artaud for following the old bathing custom, so strangers could break the ice and get to know each other, without the constraints of class and rank their clothing usually revealed. Among the bathing guests, she recognized nobles from the outer bailey earlier, as well as pilgrims and troubadours, washing away the grime and the fatigue of the long, dusty road.
Many ladies immersed themselves to the neck for modesty's sake, but a few of them did show more glistening skin each time a handsome man caught their attention. Others even waded into the men's end of the long, rectangular pool.
"You won't get to be Lord Artaud's bride if you lust for a simple minstrel," a tall girl with wild red hair chided another, then laughed.
"Lord Artaud's bride?" Melusine couldn't help a gasp of surprise.
"Aye," the tall Amazon whispered to Melusine in confidence. "The feast tonight is not just for the castle's inauguration." She was slender but strong and somewhat muscular, with scars on her body... warrior scars. "Oh, by the way, I am Ida."
Melusine suddenly realized an unusual number of eligible virgins surrounded her at the feminine end of the pool. "You seem to know much about this place, Ida."
Ida smiled under a straight nose. "Since Artaud is now count and has his own castle, he is expected to take a bride."
"Truly?" It made perfect sense. Melusine assessed young Ida. Too tall and muscular to win Artaud's heart over her.
Melusine only now realized why the Goddess had ordered her to attend the inauguration. She looked upon the young women with new dread. She had not expected so many determined competitors vying for the heart of their overlord.
She took a calming breath. "You and all these maidens are hoping to become First Lady of Forez?"
"Not me." Ida chuckled. "I already am Lady of Forez."
"You are?" Melusine suddenly remembered Artaud had a sister and a young brother. Now she saw the family resemblance in the strong nose and the set of the eyes. While Artaud had black hair, however, Ida had a wild, fiery mane... from a different mother, Melusine remembered. Artaud's mother had burned at the stake as a witch shortly after his birth.
Ida tapped Melusine's shoulder and pointed. "Look! Here comes Artaud!"
The chatting in the pool quieted, and all eyes turned to the lord of the place. Women stared with shiny eyes and blushing cheeks, men with a trace of envy. A girl kissed her silver cross, as if making a wish... or warding off evil.
Melusine followed their gaze to see a very tall, broad-shouldered man, with unruly black hair not quite falling to his square shoulders. He shed his tunic and hose, dropped them into a servant's extended arms, then ventured naked down the stone steps, into the warm water.
Melusine held her breath. Artaud.
She forced herself to gaze upon the man the Goddess had chosen for her and shuddered despite the warmth. She couldn't afford to lose this man to a wide-eyed lass. Too much depended on her sacred mission.
Artaud immersed himself then rose, water flowing over the chiseled muscles of his chest and arms. His flat stomach seemed hardened by many hunts and battles. His square, shaved jaw remained locked, and his dark gaze cold.
If not for his reputation of fairness and hospitality, he would inspire dread rather than love. Then again, many had considered Sigefroi of Luxembourg wild and dangerous in his time.
Although just over a score in age, Artaud waded in the pool with a purpose beyond his years. A jaw muscle jumped when he spotted Melusine, but he did not acknowledge her. Artaud was no smiling politician, no courtly knight, but a deep and serious lord, fully aware of the responsibilities of his charge.
When he casually turned away, offering his perfect backside, Melusine had a choice view of the long scars on his muscled back. Warmth pooled at Melusine's core. She had remained celibate for decades. Still, Artaud was no Sigefroi. Her reaction to the stranger's powerful body, however, ignited guilt for disloyalty toward her late husband.
No matter. Melusine must fulfill her promise to the Goddess. Otherwise, not only the Great One might worsen her curse, but the people of this land, and Fae folk all over Christendom, might suffer dire persecutions.
Melusine also had the sinking sensation that Artaud believed her to be the Great One Herself. A dangerous conundrum. She would tell him the truth of the matter, but not here, and not in the Great Hall tonight either. Too many nobles and servants could hear. Such close proximity would not allow for a privacy screen, like the one she'd erected in the bailey around the dais.
The very mention of a Pagan immortal in Forez would send Christian barons, bishops and priests on a holy crusade. Melusine had seen it all happen before. Mortals feared what they did not understand and sought to destroy it... preferably by fire.
* * *
Before the feast, a servant led the high ranking nobles on a tour of the new castle. Melusine mingled with the curious guests, who commented excitedly on the impressive structure. A fortress would describe it best. She liked the gray granite. Although darker than sandstone, it reminded her of Luxembourg.
Here, she saw coffers, heavy curtains and wall tapestries. The library shelves remained bare. In the guest rooms, the beds had simple brand-filled mattresses on a frame of tight ropes, with a down upper mattress, covered with brightly colored wool blankets and furs.
Melusine had seen richer abodes in Flanders and Luxembourg. Even her palatial cave held more riches and creature comforts. Artaud's domain was among the richest in the western empire, so why did he not live according to his wealth?
"The highest levels of the keep, where Lord Artaud resides, are off limits, of course," the male servant announced.
Melusine sighed. She would have liked to see Artaud's bedchamber. She wondered whether it resembled the one she'd shared with Sigefroi long ago.
At the end of the tour, they finally reached the great hall, where benches and trestle tables had been set for the feast, with white tablecloths reaching the floor, and bread trenchers in front of every place. Servants took a firebrand to the many candles of the central chandelier, lowered from the rafters to facilitate the task. Others lit the fat tallow candles of the candelabra gracing the tables. The aroma of roasted meet wafted from the nearby kitchens. Melusine's stomach rumbled again. It had been a long time since she'd attended a banquet.
"After the feast, tables and benches will be removed, so servants, soldiers, and entertainers can sleep on the floor." The servant bowed. "Now, you may look for your places at the tables. Each noble house is represented by its family crest."
As the noble guests scattered, Melusine wondered where Artaud would seat her. She had not shared her cursed family crest. She scanned the tables arranged in U-shape. Artaud stood behind his chair at the high table in the outer curve of the U. Dressed in simple black leather, he talked to young Ida, the red-haired Amazon from the baths, and to a very young man, who dressed and looked very much like him. His brother?
As if he knew she watched him, Artaud glanced in Melusine's direction and motioned for her to join him.
Melusine approached and curtsied. "My lord?"
"Lady Melusine, allow me to introduce my sister, Ida of Forez."
Even in a soft woolen gown of bright yellow, Ida looked more like a slender warrior than a maiden. She offered Melusine a warm smile. "We already met, brother."
Artaud raised a brow at her then went on. "And this is my younger brother Guillaume of Forez. We call him Guilli for short."
Although tall for his years, Guilli couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen. He shrugged off his brother's comment then snapped a small bow and grinned. "You can call me whatever you like, my lady. I'm used to Guilli."
"Then Guilli it is." Melusine smiled at such youth and innocence. She discerned no trace of Fae blood in the siblings, since they had a different mother.
"Would you make me the honor of sitting next to me at the high table?" Despite the polite invitation, Artaud's face remained matter of fact. A simple, political maneuver.
Melusine swallowed the lump in her throat. This heartless man wouldn't make it easy for her to seduce, or even less love him. She kept her voice light. "Do I suspect a ploy to avoid favoring any of the ladies vying to become your bride?"
A rare, brief smile brushed his lips. "So, you know the reason of our gathering?"
"Women talk in the baths, my lord." Melusine pushed away the image of his powerful, naked body. "Ida told me all these maidens have high hopes."
"Let them think what they will." His voice held warmth despite the indifferent comment.
Melusine noticed many ladies in small groups, glancing at her, some faces tense with envy, others frozen in disapproval. A few whispered behind fluttering hands.
She returned her gaze to Artaud. "I am but a stranger, my lord. If I sit next to you, people will talk... and ask questions."
"Don't they always?" A quick wink lit up his eyes before his face stilled again.
Many among the guests looking for their places at the table wore silver crosses on their chests. Others had the Christian symbol embroidered on their tunics or emblazoned on their sleeves.
A few stared at Melusine harshly. Did they guess she was Pagan?
Melusine shuddered at the thought of being investigated, and discovered as an immortal. She had no doubt what would happen if anyone suspected her true nature. In Christian eyes, she represented pure evil. She'd seen it happen before. Even her fierce Sigefroi had been forced to submit to Holy Mother Church, in the end.
The guests found their places according to their family crest and rank, and set their best bejeweled cups on the tables, but remained standing. Servants filled the cups with wine. The level of noise in the hall rose, as animated conversations bounced off the naked gray walls, broken only by two massive fireplaces.
Next to Melusine stood a very impressive lord and his short, plump wife, both dressed in the richest golden clothes she'd ever seen. The man's bowed legs, richly adorned sword, solid stance and wiry frame, however, marked him as a seasoned warrior.
Artaud squeezed Melusine's arm, making her blood rush at the familiarity. "Lady Melusine, may I introduce you to my most trusted army commander, Lord Damas of Couzan, and his virtuous wife."
The wife barely acknowledged Melusine's presence, turning her head to speak with a young boy about Guilli's age, who might be her son.
Lord Damas bowed stiffly. His unsettling steely eyes, in a tan face framed by slick silver hair and a short-cropped beard, appraised Melusine. Although not as tall or broad as Artaud, he had an intimidating presence... and a red cross emblazoned on his golden chest.
Melusine nodded politely.
When Artaud sat, the guests followed his example in a cacophony of chairs and benches grating on flagstone. Melusine took her place at Artaud's left hand, and pulled out the eating dagger hanging from her sash to set it next to her trencher on the white tablecloth.
Commander Damas sat next to her with his plump wife. Ida and Guilli sat on Artaud's right. All faced the empty space inside the U formed by the tables.
"May the festivities begin!" Artaud announced, raising his silver goblet.
The men in the hall raised their cups, to toast their lord's health. "Santé!"
After they drank, the men passed their drinking vessel to their women. Artaud offered his to Melusine. She was surprised to notice the simpli
city of the silver goblet. Despite the lovely filigree, it looked modest in comparison to Lord Damas's elaborate golden chalice encrusted with polished rubies and emeralds.
Artaud watched her intensely as she drank the sweet, red wine. Melusine's gaze unfocused, and a strange lethargy took hold of her as she remembered similar banquets in the halls of Luxembourg. Sigefroi, too, had liked to watch her drink.
A flurry of activity brought servants carrying roasted pigs, geese, and hare on silver platters. Then came more food and wine. Soon, light and merriment filled the Great Hall.
Commander Damas, at Melusine's left, leaned his head toward her. "Are you a prospective bride, my lady? If you are, it seems you already have the field advantage."
"I wouldn't presume, Lord Damas." Melusine cleared her throat. "Lord Artaud has not met all the young ladies, yet." She speared a small piece of hare with her dagger and chewed the delicious, juicy meat.
"Well, if he doesn't choose you..." Damas winked brazenly. "I would like to be considered as a second choice."
"You?" Melusine choked on her mouthful of hare, swallowed hard, had a sip of wine, and patted her lips with the hem of the tablecloth to hide her outrage. "But my lord, you are married! And your lady wife is sitting next to you."
"A man of my stature can satisfy more than one woman, my lady."
"I am flattered." She pointed to the ruby cross on his golden chalice. "But I thought the Church..."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Rules to control peasants do not apply to the highest nobles." His leering smile widened.
Melusine glanced beyond him at his thin-lipped wife, who purposely turned her head to ignore their conversation. "In any case, Lord Damas, I'm saving myself for marriage."
‘Twas not really a lie. Over two hundred years old, and once married for over three decades, Melusine was no blushing virgin. Still, she would save herself for her beloved. A good thing mortals could not read a Fae's mind.
Chatelaine of Forez Page 2