Chatelaine of Forez

by Vijaya Schartz

  Melusine raised her brow and sat up. "Still so sign of Damas?"

  Artaud shook his head and dropped heavily on a padded bench facing Melusine, his back to the roaring fireplace. "Not in his castle of Couzan, where I left my guards with the garrison. We could find no sign of him in the countryside either... although I suspect he is still around."

  Tendrils of steam emanated from his clothes, so close to the fireplace.

  "You are drenched. You need dry clothes." She rose and went to him. Kneeling, she pulled off one sodden, leather boot.

  While she pulled the other, he lifted his baldric with Caliburn still attached to it and deposited it with his surcoat on the rushes, where Melusine dropped the other boot.

  She rose, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and forced a smile. "Lift the back of your mail and bend toward me." As he did, she pulled the heavy mail over his head. "So, are you going to search for him all over Forez?"

  He grunted as the chain mail came off, then he raked long fingers through wet black hair. "We have no idea which direction Damas took, whether he is on foot or riding, and he has an entire day's lead on us. He is long gone or well hidden. A pursuit would be fruitless."

  She opened a carved wooden chest and removed from it a dry tunic and hose. Melusine pursed her lips as she handed him the clothes. "I'm sorry you couldn't find him."

  Artaud pulled his thick hemp tunic over his head, then glanced at Melusine with a hint of hope in his soft brown eyes. "Is there anything you can do to find him with your gift? Perhaps with your second sight? Or through the water basin you once spoke of?"

  "Nay." Melusine shook her head as she patted his chest with a dry cloth, then she caressed the strong planes of his pectoral muscles. "Not unless ‘tis in the direct service of the Goddess, or to save ourselves from lethal danger. Using my gifts against simple mortals comes at a price neither of us wants to redeem. ‘Twould be the fastest way to wreck both our lives."

  "I understand." Artaud caught her hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Is it how you ended up with the ondine curse in the first place?"

  Melusine's face flushed hot, and not from the fire. He'd never asked that embarrassing question before. "Aye." She lowered her gaze, unable to sustain the intensity of his. "I was so young... at the time it seemed the righteous thing to do. But using Fae gifts for revenge against one's mortal father is not tolerated in the Fae world."

  "What did you do to your father king?" Avid curiosity animated his voice.

  She bit her lips and sighed, feeling the heavy weight of her deed upon her conscience. "I banded with my sisters to condemn him to a life of solitude in a blue crystal cave, for ruining my mother's life." Her throat clenched and her voice cracked. "My sisters and I were very close."

  He pulled her next to him on the padded bench and took her hand with gentle care. "Did your father deserve his fate?"

  "Nay." She blinked off threatening tears and swallowed a sob. Then she shook her head with a heavy heart. "My father was not evil, just old, and blinded by misplaced fatherly love. He suffered dire solitude in his late years because of what we did to him."

  He squeezed her shoulder in a side embrace, inviting her to lay her head on his bare shoulder. "What happened to your sisters?"

  Melusine leaned upon him, welcoming his comfort. "Both my sisters have curses of their own... all because of my thirst for revenge." She glanced up at him. "I was their leader."

  He emitted a mirthless chuckle. "Imagine that."

  Her gaze focused far beyond the stone walls, and images of a happy youth on the Lost Isle filled her mind. How she missed her sisters. "Palatina, the erudite, lives like a hermit in a cave in Aragon, guarding a family treasure. And Meliora with the kind heart is forever forbidden to love, exiled to a monastery on Mount Ararat, with a magic hawk for sole companion." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I shall probably never see them again."

  "I am so sorry." He deposited a soft kiss on the top of her head.

  She wiped a tear then took a deep breath and straightened on the bench. "It took me two centuries in the service of the Goddess to come this close to redemption. I shall not jeopardize our only chance at a peaceful life. Catching Damas for revenge isn't worth it."

  "Aye. Let him run. Methinks he will not challenge me anytime soon. He has lost and he knows it." Artaud sighed deeply. "Too bad I won't see him executed for treason. ‘Tis likely for the best anyway. His execution might have roused the local Christians against us."

  She smiled through the tears. "For the sake of our sons, we must be magnanimous. We want them to be loved by their people, not hated for the deeds of their parents."

  "You are right, of course." He kissed her hair softly. "I admire your wisdom."

  Chapter Thirteen

  The first Wednesday of November 1029.

  John-John ran through the frigid forest, as fast as he could around the bare trees, ignoring the puffs of his breath, the tug in his side, and the tears blurring his vision. At seventeen, he was a man in every way, old enough to take a wife and choose his own religion.

  He did everything in his old father's tavern and in the wine shop nowadays... so why did the brute still clobber him at every turn? The drinking and the beatings had worsened since his mother died, giving birth to a stillborn baby girl. That's when his father had decided to convert to the Christian faith.

  "The Christians are our best customers," he kept yelling. "My tavern is full of them."

  But John-John believed in the kindness and magnanimity of the Great Goddess. "The monks only want coins from the parishioners. Most of them are foreigners, parasites of this land."

  "The old deities are dying," his father always said. "For the sake of our flourishing trade, you must convert."

  Then, invariably, the beating would start. John-John had the strength to fight back, of course, but he might kill his old man, and frankly, he couldn't bear such a crime on his conscience. So he ran, to alleviate his pain, his frustration... until he collapsed and cared no more.

  When he stopped to catch his breath and get his bearings, he stood in the swamps, at the edge of a lake... It could only be Fae Lake, but glancing around he did not recognize the tall, widely spaced trees, or this particular section of shore. Was he lost? In his peripheral vision, something sparkled on a flat rock close to the waterline. It looked like gold.

  Curious, John-John approached the small boulder and marveled at the delicate object resting upon it, as if on a fancy pedestal. He took the jewel and turned it in his fingers. A diadem in the shape of a winged dragon. It had to be gold, finer than anything he'd ever seen in the goldsmith shop. Something a very rich noblewoman might wear in her hair.

  Gazing around the area, he saw no one among the bare trees. Something big swished in the lake then dove, leaving a whirlpool behind it. Something much larger than a big fish. Was this a sign from the Goddess?

  John-John saw his chance to buy a charge at his master's castle, be trained as a guard... anything to get out from under his father's boot. The old man was drinking the inventory anyway. At this rate, there would be naught left for John-John when his father finally died.

  Stuffing the precious diadem inside his tunic, John-John retraced his steps with a lighter heart. His life was about to change.

  * * *

  "Definitely a Pagan symbol. Interesting." Lady Damas of Couzan examined the gold object with obvious interest. Then she sat back on her high chair and narrowed her eyes at John-John. "Who did you steal it from?"

  "I do not steal, m'lady. I found it, just as I told you." John-John had expected to speak with Captain Gilbert, but the captain had returned to Montarcher a while back, and it seemed the lady of Couzan was once again in charge.

  "Where did you find it?" He could tell the plump lady did not believe him.

  "It was there, in the swamps, sitting on a flat rock for the taking. I believe the Goddess left it for me, so I could bring it here, and purchase a charge as a soldier, or a guard. This should pay for m
y armor, weapons, food and training."

  The lady of Couzan grunted, her eyes fixed on the diadem. "I have seen this dragon motif before." She raised her head and called loudly, "Damas, come out right now. You'll want to see this!"

  Lord Damas of Couzan swaggered into the solar from an alcove, hale and healthy, wearing a yellow tunic of rich wool with the red cross of Couzan. A sword hung at his hip.

  "Lord Damas?" John-John gasped in surprise. "I thought..."

  "You thought wrong." Lord Damas turned away from him and marched to his wife's side.

  The guards in the room bent on one knee with reverence, not surprised at all, but as if his public appearance was an important event. What was happening?

  Everyone knew Lord Damas had escaped the dungeon of Montarcher, but his bold return to Couzan would change things. Where was Lord Artaud's garrison? Had they sworn fealty to Lord Damas? Or did he have them all killed? John-john wanted to believe they were still alive. Perhaps in the dungeon.

  He shuddered at the thought. With the return of Lord Damas in Couzan, there would be war in the spring, and John-john did not want to fight for Damas. Unfortunately, he belonged to his lord, whether he liked him or not.

  Lord Damas took the jewel from his wife, and as he examined it, his eyes widened. "I remember this diadem."

  "You recognize it, too?" The lady's eyes shone with cold hatred.

  Twisting his hands in front of him, John-John wondered whether that was good or bad news for him. Would they still believe he stole it? Would they want to recruit him against Lord Artaud to kill Pagans? John-John would rather die.

  Lord Damas stared at the silver signet ring on his hand as it flashed then turned to gold. "By all the saints!" He dropped the diadem that clattered to the flagstone. "What devilry is this?"

  John-John couldn't believe it. The silver ring had turned to gold. There must be magic at work. After all, he'd found the jewel at Fae Lake. He said a silent prayer to the Goddess. Please protect me, O Great One.

  The lady of Couzan picked up the fallen diadem and examined it more closely. "Did it just turn silver into gold?" Excitement and greed quickened her words.

  "I wonder what else it can do." Lord Damas unsheathed his sword and touched the blade to the jewel still in his wife's hands.

  The sword, like his signet ring, flashed then turned into pure, shining gold. John-John gasped. So did everyone in the solar. It seemed more guards had come to watch, or was it to confirm their lord had returned?

  "Hell and damnation!" Damas brandished his gold sword, laughing out loud. "I could get very rich with such a magic object, if it turns other metals to gold."

  Was that what the Goddess intended? John-John realized he might have been better off keeping the jewel for himself. He'd be rich forever... or he'd get killed for it by greedy neighbors, or highway bandits.

  The walls of the keep rumbled deep, like an incoming storm, but the sky remained clear outside the open window. Then an unlikely creature flew past, emitting a roar, loud enough to scare an entire army.

  John-John blinked a few times in disbelief. Then the beast flew across the window again. A dragon? A large, golden dragon, coasted on the air current, diving and rising. And his roar, directed at the keep, belched with flames, spreading the stench of brimstone.

  "A dragon?" Fear pitched the lady's voice higher than before.

  "‘Tis a bad omen," wailed another woman.

  A deep voice hissed then a loud, chilling whisper echoed through the entire castle, permeating the walls. "Return this object where it was found immediately, otherwise, all impure souls who touched it or gazed upon it will die a horrible death."

  John-John's legs shook, and his heart flapped as if to fly away from his chest. Was he going to die? The soldiers' eyes widened in fear.

  Lord Damas pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at John-John. "Did you steal this evil thing?"

  "No, m'lord. I found it, I swear." How could John-John have angered the Great One? Obviously he'd misinterpreted the sign.

  The walls trembled as the dragon made another pass across the window. "My threat still holds. Let go of the gold diadem."

  As Damas still held on to the magic jewel, the dragon blew his flames through the open window. Lord Damas dropped the diadem as if it burned his hands.

  John-John caught the precious thing before it hit the stone floor. Such magic object should not get dirty.

  Lord Damas, rigid and pale, held his burnt hand and stared at John-John. "It doesn't burn you?"

  John-John jostled the jewel from hand to hand like a burning ember, although it didn't feel hot at all, so he stopped. "Nay, m'lord."

  Lord Damas vociferated something under his breath then pinned John-John with a narrowed stare. "Return that thing where it came from, immediately. You brought evil and bad luck to this castle. If you value your life, stay away from this fortress from now on."

  John-John swallowed hard. His legs shook under him.

  Lord Damas motioned to two guards. "You two, accompany him to make sure he returns it." His gaze upon the guards hardened with intense meaning. "Then you know what to do."

  The guards glanced at each other then nodded.

  "Report to me when it's done." Damas turned on his heel and walked out of the solar.

  The two appointed guards stared at John-John, armored hands tightened on their spears.

  "Go, go," the lady prompted John-John. "Return this evil thing where you found it, and never come back."

  Still trembling, clenching the diadem, John-John darted out the door, followed by the two guards.

  Hurrying down the narrow stairs, he wondered what Lord Damas meant. Did he order the guards to kill him? Was he afraid John-John would tell about him retaking his castle? As he raced across the bailey, then through the wide open gate, John-John dreaded the heavy jingling clip of the guards following him.

  While he ran down the rocky incline outside the castle walls, the dragon flew low and near. John-John could see the exquisite golden scales of its gleaming body set afire by the low, reddish sun.

  "I'm taking it back right now," He yelled, out of breath. "I apologize. I didn't mean to steal. I didn't know it was magic."

  Pumping his legs, John-John sprinted toward the woods. Behind him, the dragon roared. He heard it dive and belch fire.

  The two guards following John-John screamed. He glanced back to see them burst into flames. They gesticulated as they ran, like animated human torches. One fell, burning bright. The other guard soon collapsed as well. They illuminated the meadow better than the setting sun.

  Not waiting to see what would happen next, John-John raced for the relative safety of the woods. The dragon glided high over the tree tops ahead of him, as if showing the way.

  Soon, twilight darkened the sky. Panting for breath, John-John found himself in the swamps at the edge of Fae lake. ‘Twould be a long, cold winter night. Fortunately, the giant moon in the east, through the bare trees, showed him the way.

  On the flat rock where he had found the jewel, sat a luminous lady in a coat of white fox fur. She had long blond hair under a white fur toque, and the moonlight enveloped her in a golden halo. He could barely see her face, blinded by her radiance. She could only be the Great One.

  She smiled at him. "You came. You are very brave, John-John."

  "You know my name?" John-John dropped to one knee in front of Her, offering the jewel on his open palms. "My Lady. I didn't mean to steal. I thought you left it for me."

  "I did." She took the gold diadem and gazed at it, smiling. "And you fulfilled your mission beautifully."

  "My mission?" Confused, John-John wondered at this most unusual day. "But until today I had never met you."

  "I can read your mind, John-John."

  "Of course, you can." A question remained unanswered in John-John's mind. "But what was today's mission?"

  "You drew Lord Damas into the open, in front of his guards, soldiers, and his entire household. The news of his return
will now spread far and wide, and force him to confront Lord Artaud sooner than he planned."

  "War?" John-John had been right.

  "Lord Artaud has a better chance of victory if he forces Damas to fight before he can recruit a substantial army." The Lady smiled, although he could only guess at her face.

  "I see..." John-John had been right to trust the Goddess.

  "And I have one more request to ask of you." The Great One's voice soothed him.

  "Anything for you, Great Lady."

  "Since Lord Damas banished you from Couzan, and your tavern stands at the crossroads, at the edge of Couzan and Montarcher lands, I believe you should become Lord Artaud's subject."

  John-John realized how much the Great Lady favored Lord Artaud. "I do like him, O Great One, but my father swore fealty to Lord Damas."

  "That will not be an obstacle." The golden aura around the Great One intensified. "From now on, you will report to Lord Artaud in Montarcher."

  "Aye. I shall." Shivering in the cold, John-John allowed his doubts and fears to surface. "But what if my father..."

  The Lady paused and kindness flowed from her presence. "Your father will never hurt you anymore."

  "He won't?" John-John had his doubts, but the Great Lady never lied. He returned a hopeful smile.

  She plucked a deep blue flower from the rock moss and offered it to him.

  John-John took the flower, of the most unusual blue, blooming on a rock, on a cold winter night. "What is this?"

  "Something to remind you that you served the Great One well."

  Pride bubbled in John-John's chest. "What should I do with it?"

  "Keep it alive around your home, where it will thrive all year round. Keep a pure heart in all decisions. If you do, fortune and happiness will follow you for the rest of your life."

  "All my life?" John-John's heart pumped in his chest.

  "Aye. Then when you die, a long, long time from now, this blue flower will grow on your grave for thousands of years, and nowhere else. It will tell all, there lies a good man with a pure heart."

  "Thank you, Great Lady." Shivers skittered across John-John's skin. The Great One had blessed his entire existence.