Castle of the Heart

by Speer, Flora

  “Are you jealous?” Selene asked, and watched Arianna’s fingers grow perfectly still, holding the heavy gold. “Do you wish it were you, marrying some fine nobleman? I can tell you I am envious of you.”

  Arianna stepped behind Selene to fasten the necklace, and Selene could no longer see her face.

  “Why should you envy me?” Arianna asked.

  “Because you have no dowry and therefore you will never be forced to marry. You will never have to bed with a man.” Selene felt Arianna’s hands on her shoulders, the fingers digging into her, and Arianna’s voice sounded strangled.

  “Thomas will be good to you, Selene, if only you will let him. He will love and honor you.” Arianna’s forehead rested on the back of Selene’s shoulder for just an instant. “Please try to be happy in your marriage. Please, please, try to love him.”

  Selene moved away from her friend, caught up again in her own terror, not looking back at Arianna.

  “Happiness and love,” Selene said softly, “are not earthly things. You are speaking of lust. I hold myself above that.”

  “Don’t hurt Thomas.”

  Selene turned around and looked at her. Arianna’s eyes were bright with tears.

  “He’s a man. I cannot hurt him,” Selene said. She put out a hand and touched Arianna’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, my dear friend. I know what I have to do, and I will do it. Oaths sworn must be fulfilled.”

  The wedding ceremony took place in the church porch, and then the wedding party went inside for a solemn Mass to bless the vows just taken. Thomas walked first, with Selene’s hand on his wrist, proudly showing off his new wife to the assembled guests. They were followed by Arianna and Sir Kenelm, who was Baron Guy’s liege man and Thomas’s close friend, and then by Guy and Meredith, and Selene’s parents.

  As she paced slowly down the aisle, Selene stared straight ahead, her eyes on the high altar. She felt her cheeks burning and knew they must be red. She could still feel the stinging blows of her mother’s hand. She will never strike me again, Selene reminded herself. Never. She bowed her head as, in honor of the nuptial pair, the abbot himself began to conduct the Mass.

  Once the religious service was completed, the guests retired to the large reception room for a daylong feast. King Henry and Queen Matilda and their eldest son, William, called the Atheling in honor of his Saxon mother, sat at the table on the dais at one end of the long room, with the bride and groom beside them, along with Arianna and Kenelm, Guy and Meredith, Valaire and Aloise, and several other important guests.

  The abbey cook had outdone himself, serving up fresh fish, roasted pigs, sides of beef, haunches of venison, all accompanied by complicated sauces, along with meat pies and vegetable stews, fine white bread, custards and sweetmeats, figs, raisins, and dates. The cellarer had ordered extra casks of wine for the occasion, the abbey’s stores being nearly depleted after a month-long royal visit, and there was plenty of beer and ale, cider and perry. There were frequent toasts to the newly wedded couple.

  Throughout it all, Selene sat quietly, eating little, willing herself to feel nothing, speaking only when someone spoke to her. She roused herself to make only the briefest responses to Thomas’s attempts at conversation, knowing full well her withdrawn behavior would be taken as evidence of maidenly modesty.

  The day passed rapidly with feasting and the entertainment of singers and jugglers and acrobats. Too soon for Selene, the time came for the bride to leave the table and be prepared for the wedding night. King Henry stood, slightly drunk, and toasted her on her way with words that brought a stinging blush to Selene’s sore cheeks.

  “Come,” Meredith said, putting an arm around Selene’s shoulders. “I have arranged that there will not be a crowd in your bedchamber. Aside from Lady Aloise and Arianna and me, we need only one or two more women.”

  Queen Matilda rose from her place beside the king. She had been a half-Saxon princess, daughter of the King of Scotland, and famous for her beauty and goodness. She was still lovely in middle age, with long gold braids, a sweet face, and the warmth of manner that derives from a kind and loving heart.

  “I will go with you, Meredith,” Queen Matilda said. She beckoned to an elderly woman at a nearby table. “I will bring with me Lady Constance, who would not frighten even the most timid bride. That will make five of us, and that’s enough to bear witness to the bride’s fitness, I think.”

  “And I,” said King Henry, “will join Guy and Valaire, and Sir Kenelm here, and who else? Ah, William, my son, you come with us. It’s time you learned of such matters. You are twelve years old now, and will have to be married yourself before long. The rest of you,” Henry added, raising his voice, “remain here and continue the revels. We will see these two well bedded and then return to you for more feasting.” A cheer went up at this, and again toasts were drunk.

  Selene had time to notice with some scorn how pleased Lady Aloise looked at these signs of royal favor, before Meredith and Queen Matilda urged her gently from the room and took her to her bedchamber. There they quickly undressed her. The servants brought in a small tub of hot water. Selene stood in it while Arianna sponged her, letting the water run over her shoulders and down across her belly and back into the tub. It was more a ritual than a real washing, since she had bathed earlier.

  Then, as required, she stood naked while the women examined her for obvious physical defects that might prevent her from bearing children. They were kind to her, and it was only a moment before Queen Matilda said, “Cover her, Meredith, the poor girl is shivering,” and a woolen robe was draped over Selene’s shoulders. Selene could hear laughter outside the door.

  “The men are here with Thomas,” Arianna said, looking white and shaken. She came to Selene and kissed her on both cheeks. “Be happy, my dear friend.”

  “Hurry, now.” That was Constance, the queen’s elderly lady. “Put her into bed.”

  The robe was pulled off Selene’s shoulders and she was hustled between the sheets. Aloise plumped up the pillows and tugged a blanket to straighten it. Selene met her mother’s eyes, then turned away, looking at the other faces surrounding her. She pulled up the linen sheet to cover her bare breasts just as the door burst open and the men spilled into the room. In their midst was Thomas, barefoot, chamber-robed, and blushing.

  “The groom has been examined,” the king announced, obviously enjoying himself very much, “and found fit to consummate the marriage.”

  While the ladies murmured their approval, Thomas was pushed toward the bed. Just as he reached it, he was stripped of his robe, and stood naked. Selene, averting her eyes from his body, saw Arianna turn her back on the scene.

  Now Thomas was in bed beside her, his bare leg touching hers, while Lady Constance held back the covers so all could witness it. Selene wanted to pull away from that frightening contact with Thomas’s body, but did not dare. Aloise and Meredith were on either side of the bed, drawing the blue woolen curtains closed. Selene saw Guy looking intently at her, and thought she saw sympathy in his face.

  “Let us leave them,” Guy said. “The work to be done here this night is best done in private.”

  “Come along, lads,” King Henry said, shooing his son William Atheling and Sir Kenelm out the door. “We’ve witnessed them bedded together. The rest is up to Thomas.”

  Sir Valaire, who had said nothing during the bedding, came to Selene’s side, just as Aloise was pulling the last curtain shut.

  “Obey your husband in all things,” Valaire said, and kissed his daughter on the forehead.

  Selene caught a glimpse of Aloise, her face devoid of all expression, closing the curtain, and then she and Thomas were alone in the bed. It was dark. She pulled up the sheet, moved her leg away from the unwelcome contact with Thomas’s leg, and sat very still.

  “Do you think they’ve really gone?” Thomas asked. When she did not answer, he thrust the bed curtains partway open and looked out. A gleam of candlelight came through the opening, shining softly up
on his golden hair and the strong muscles of his chest and shoulders.

  “Good. We are alone.” He was back inside the bed, but he left the curtains open. “I want to see you when I make you my wife,” he said.

  The two young people sat in the bed, side by side, looking at each other. Selene felt frozen, unable to move or speak or even close her eyes to shut out the sight of Thomas’s handsome, serious face. The moment drew out, longer and longer, until Selene, had she been capable of sound, would have screamed. She saw Thomas swallow hard, and bend his face toward hers.

  “I think I should kiss you,” Thomas said. His mouth covered hers, gently at first, but then with growing warmth, and his arms went around her.

  Selene continued to sit bolt upright, her arms braced behind her, eyes wide open, her lips unresponsive as she coldly fought back the feelings awakened by the touch of his warm, naked body against hers. After a while, the kiss ended.

  “Selene,” Thomas murmured, one hand caressing her cheek, “I know you are frightened. Any young girl would be. I’ll be gentle, I’ll try not to hurt you. Please trust me.”

  “My lord, I know I must allow you to consummate this marriage.” Selene’s low-pitched voice was husky with tension. “I have been told what will happen. I will be an obedient wife, and allow you to do what you wish. I ask only that you finish it quickly.”

  “Quickly? No, my sweet love, it will be slow, and tender, and you will find pleasure in it, too. I promise.” His lips brushed hers again. “It is not only I who will consummate this marriage. We will do it together. With love.”

  “No, my lord.” She choked, feeling she could not bear the awful waiting any longer. “Do it and be done with it. Please.”

  Thomas said nothing to this. He took Selene by each shoulder and gently pushed her down onto the pillows and held her there. Then he kissed her again, a firm, warm kiss that was entirely too pleasant. His mouth caressed hers, pressing harder, then withdrawing a little, only to return more firmly a moment later. His upper body lay half across hers, and the golden hair on his broad chest tickled her breasts as he moved closer. Selene twisted, trying to get away from the tantalizing prickling that was making her nipples tingle and harden, but she found she could not escape. His arms held her securely. Her breasts began to ache, and Selene, who had been determined that she would feel nothing at all during this encounter, knew the beginnings of panic.

  She moved her hips and legs, trying to wriggle out from under him, but only succeeded in kicking off the bedcovers, and when she moved again, one of his bare legs slid between hers. Her startled outcry at the sensations this aroused was lost in his mouth. She managed another wriggle, and a hairy, muscular thigh surged upward between her own thighs. It felt wonderful. Selene gasped, and had to suppress an urge to move against him. Instead, she clamped her legs tightly around his, preventing further upward motion. Unfortunately, her movements only heightened her growing tension. Thoroughly frightened at her own reactions, she put her hands up to push frantically at his shoulders. Thomas broke off the kiss, but his lips remained only a breath away from hers.

  “No!” Selene panted, struggling against him. “Let me go.”

  “I cannot. This is what we must do, Selene. Let me show you how sweet it can be.”

  “I don’t want it to be sweet. This is lust, and it is evil.”

  “This is love. I love you, Selene. We are married. There’s no evil here, no harm to anyone. You are afraid now, but you won’t be for long. Come, kiss me back.”

  “Please, my lord, no.” She was close to tears.

  “Do you suppose that you could possibly call me Thomas?” he asked.

  He did not wait for her answer. His mouth was on hers again, moving slowly and tenderly. Selene reminded herself it was her duty to please him in all things. She stopped fighting him, and just for a moment she let herself begin to feel how pleasant was his nearness. Thomas was strong and clean, his youthful body hard muscled, and he smelled faintly of some unfamiliar, tangy spice that must have been tossed into his bathwater. His breath was warm and sweet. She told herself she was fortunate. He might have been old and fat and vile-smelling. She had seen one or two men like that at this court, men who swilled their wine and dribbled grease down their chins when they ate, and obviously never washed. She could not have endured the touch of one of those creatures. At least her new husband was attractive.

  “Thomas,” she whispered in obedience to his request, and was rewarded with a dazzling smile.

  He held her face between his hands and played with her lips, placing soft, quick kisses across her mouth, then on her chin and nose. Selene lay quietly at first, her hands still on his shoulders, but no longer resisting him. He kissed her eyelids, and drew his mouth along one cheek and back to her lips. Selene’s hands fluttered across his shoulders and into the thick, blonde hair at the back of his head. She felt his tongue brushing against her lips. She was so astonished at his action that she opened her mouth, and he thrust inside, his tongue moving against hers. Selene moaned, thrashing about on the bed, and felt the pressure of his thigh between hers again, pushing hard this time, until her legs fell apart completely and he was tight against her. She would have cried out and told him to stop, but now one of his hands was on her breast, teasing at a nipple. The motion sent flame into her belly, and then suddenly Selene herself was on fire.

  She could not help it – her reaction was utterly uncontrollable, some demon or devil had hold of her. This was not Selene behaving like this. Selene would never, never clutch at a man this way and pull his head to hers and push her tongue into his mouth to meet his tongue in a breathless, passionate duel. Selene would not rake her fingernails along his back until he cried out, caught at her hands and held them over her head so he could nibble and suck at her small, hard breasts while she screamed and then wrenched her hands out of his grasp and forced his head up so she could devour his lips again and again. She felt his hands playing across her abdomen and along her hips, felt her own body rising to meet his touch. But this was not, this could not be, Selene.

  He knelt between her thighs and she saw his manhood, huge and stiff. She licked her swollen lips, feeling a surge of heat and moisture through her loins, and somewhere deep inside her another Selene cried out in horror at the panting, heaving entity who reached out to touch that erect symbol of all that was lustful and evil, and stroke it with heavy desire.

  “Ah, Thomas, I am afraid!”

  It was a wild, hysterical sound, and Thomas paused for an instant, reining in his own almost uncontrollable desire, to kiss her trembling mouth and reassure her, but then he could not wait, not any longer. He wanted her so desperately, and the way she writhed on the bed, the sight of her heaving breasts in the dim candlelight, the movements of her small, strong hands on his body, all combined to drive him close to madness with urgent need.

  “It must be now, Selene,” he said, moving against her.

  Her eyes widened as he sought entry to her most intimate place. With an almost superhuman effort, Thomas stopped his forward motion, giving her a little time to adjust to his presence. To his surprise, there was no more evidence of fear. Instead, she moved boldly onto his manhood, pushing herself upward, her lips parted and her expression rapturous. Her cry as he took her virginity was one of intense pleasure, not pain. She wrapped her arms and legs about him and bit at his shoulders and screamed again and again, like a madwoman, matching him thrust for thrust in a wild frenzy of hot, pounding desire. Thomas was consumed in her fire. He blazed brighter and brighter with white-hot, unquenchable heat, flaring into a final, nearly intolerable explosion of all his pent-up desire as his very essence poured into the avid, moaning creature of flame and ice who lay panting and throbbing beneath him, her emerald eyes staring sightlessly into his while she cried out her own passion over and over again in wordless sounds.

  He thought he had killed her. He was still on top of her, his face tucked into the curve of her neck, and she lay so perfectly still and sile
nt that he thought she was dead. Horrified, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, the grey-shadowed lids shut tight, the thick, black lashes heavy against her cheeks. Her bruised and swollen lips were slightly parted.

  “Selene.” She did not respond. He tried again. “Selene, my love.”

  She drew a deep, shuddering breath, and Thomas uttered a wordless prayer of thanks. He kissed her lips. Her eyes flew open.

  “What are you doing, my lord?” It was her usual low-pitched, throaty voice, and cold. So cold.

  “I am loving my wife.” Shaking off a twinge of fear at her tone and formal mode of address, Thomas rolled to one side, releasing her from his weight and pulling her into his arms to cuddle her against him. She came quietly, letting him arrange her body as he wanted. “I love you, Selene. You are wonderful.”

  His lips brushed her forehead. He sighed happily. She was silent.

  “I did not hurt you too badly, did I? I tried to be gentle, but I have never felt such passion before.” When she still did not answer, he added, “I thought you enjoyed our lovemaking, too. You seemed to.”

  “I will always do my duty, my lord,” she said.

  “It’s no duty when it’s love,” he whispered, hugging her close.

  Selene moved her head to a more comfortable position against his shoulder and lay quietly until his even breathing told her he was asleep. Then she carefully disengaged herself from his embrace and sat up in the bed, chin on knees, staring down at her husband. The single candle he had left burning by the bed so he could see her had guttered low, but still she could make out his form and his square-jawed face. She put out a tentative hand to brush back a lock of golden hair that had fallen over his forehead. But before she had made contact with his flesh she snatched her hand away.