“Non, Zacharie,” said Liaze, stringing the weapon. “I would see for myself these raiders.” She tested the pull and said, “Besides, it will hearten the staff to see that I go unafraid.”
As she slipped the bow into the saddle scabbard Zacharie sighed and nodded in acceptance, for Liaze had always been headstrong, even as a child. Still, he had to admit, her instincts were true, and she was more than capable.
Liaze then mounted up and rode out from the stables and ’round the manor and across the lawn to where stood Rémy and the warband.
“My lady, with you on a horse,” said Rémy, the rangy man’s face twisted in alarm, “you are an obvious target. I suggest that you dismount and—”
“Non, Rémy. Rather would I let the staff see me astride than down among a protecting ward.”
“As you will, Princess,” said Rémy, though he shook his head. Then he gestured to the men, and, armed with crossbows and blades and armored in boiled-leather breastplates, they spread out to the fore and flank and aft, and toward the willows they all went, Liaze high in the saddle midst all.
And since all eyes were fixed on the Princess, none saw the crow winging away in the morn, going who knows where.
Slain Goblins—Redcaps all—lay strewn across the far reaches of the lawn, and at the edge of the grove lay a dead Troll, pierced through by a large crossbow bolt.
Within the willow grove and nigh the pool lay the Goblin Liaze had slain. On beyond, here and there they found a few more Goblins amid the forest trees. “These are the ones we slew as they fled,” said Rémy.
Farther on still, they came upon a scene of slaughter—nine Goblins in all.
“As you said last night, Princess, this must be the work of our lone chevalier,” said Rémy, “for there is but a single horse track.”
Liaze dismounted and studied the ground. “From the tracks, it seems he was surrounded.—Ah, look, there is the other half of his sword.” Liaze pointed at the fragment of blade embedded in the bark of an oak. At hand lay the beheaded corpse of a Goblin among the roots below. The head itself was not evident.
“Ah,” said Rémy, looking at the hoof marks. “His horse was running, and he swung so hard that he sheared through the Redcap’s neck and struck the bole, and that’s what broke his blade.”
Liaze nodded, then said, “I would follow the tracks back along his trail, perhaps to see whence he came.”
“As you wish, my lady,” said Rémy.
For much of the morning they followed the path of the knight’s steed, twisting and turning back along the way the knight had ridden. Now and again they found the hacked remains of a Redcap.
“He was pursued a goodly distance,” said Rémy, “for with all the jinks this way and that and riding up and down streams, surely he was trying to lose them.”
Liaze nodded. “It does not look as if he rode in from either the Winterwood or Summerwood, for generally his trail comes from the sunward bound of the Autumnwood. Still, as you say, it appears he was trying to lose his pursuers, and so could have come from virtually anywhere.”
Liaze sighed and looked about, then said, “Enough, Rémy. Let us return to the manor. Of those corpses deep in the woods leave them for the scavengers to find, though I would have a hierophant come and lay their spirits to rest, for I would not have my demesne haunted. As to the ones nigh the manor, burn them.”
“As you will, my lady,” said Rémy. He turned to one of the men. “Grégorie, blaze a trail for the hierophant to follow.”
Grégorie nodded and took a hand axe from his belt and notched the bark of a nearby tree, and as they all headed back along the route they had come, he continued to mark the way.
Even as Liaze rode into the stables and attendants took hold of her steed, Zoé came rushing out, crying, “My lady! My lady! He’s awake, and oh my!”
5
Transformation
“Oh my?” asked Liaze as she and Zoé strode toward the manor, the princess bearing her unstrung bow and the arrow-filled quiver.her
“What?” asked Zoé.
“You said, ‘He’s awake, and oh my.’ ”
“Oh, that. All I meant is that he is witty and charming and more handsome than ever. Why, he even has Tutrice Martine giggling like a jeune fille.”
“Has he a name?”
“If he said it, Princess, I was not present at the time.”
“Has he said why he was in the Autumnwood, or ought about the Goblins?”
Zoé shook her head. “Non. Zacharie is waiting for you before asking.”
“Where?”
“They are in the blue room, my lady.”
“Then run and fetch Rémy, for I would have him present when the chevalier tells his tale.”
As Zoé hied away, Liaze strode on and found herself wondering what she should wear to meet the man who had called her his angel.
Liaze took a quick bath and chose a flowing russet dress with a yellow bodice, russet laces crisscrossing, the yellow so faint as to seem nearly white. She wore a light yellow, ruffle-trimmed pettiskirt beneath. Russet silken slippers shod her yellow-stockinged feet and peeked from under the hem. Zoé combed out the princess’s long auburn tresses, and upon her head she placed a circlet of gold, inset with a yellow diamond.
“Now for the earrings, my lady,” said Zoé, “do you prefer the—”
“Zoé, it’s not as if I am trying to impress this fellow, you know.”
“Oh, aren’t you?” said Zoé, feigning innocence.
“In fact, I think this circlet is too ostentatious,” said Liaze, removing the golden ring.
“Oh, but my lady, you are a princess and must wear something denoting such. It’s your station, you know. Besides, it will draw his eyes to your face and hair and—”
Zoé took up another circlet, this one twined ’round with small yellow ivy leaves, with russet and yellow ribbons falling down the back.
“Zoé! That’s for the harvest dance.”
Zoé groaned in frustration, then said, “Well, what about a ribbon or two twined through your locks?”
Liaze sighed and glanced in the mirror and said, “Oh, very well.”
In moments Zoé had fixed pale yellow ribbons among Liaze’s auburn tresses in such a way as to not bind the hair but let it flow gracefully—the ribbons flowing gracefully as well—with every movement of the princess.
Liaze stood and turned before the mirror, the dress belling out from her slim waist and down over slender hips to hang in elegant folds. Her breasts were high, pushed up by the bodice, though not immodestly so.
Zoé stepped back and eyed the result. “Oh, my lady, you are beautiful beyond compare.”
Liaze smiled unto herself, for she, too, was pleased.
“Princess, a necklace would—”
Liaze shook her head. “No, no more jewelry, other than this.” She held up her right hand, her ring finger graced by a wide gold band, with a ruby carved in the shape of a maple leaf and inset in a heavy golden collet, tiny sculpted heads of grain circling ’round.
She glanced at herself once more in the mirror, then said, “Now to the blue room to hear what this knight has to say.”
Liaze stepped to the door and out, Zoé trailing after. “Am I to go with you, my lady?”
“Yes, but only to usher away any company that might be hanging about. I think the chevalier would feel more comfortable telling his tale to just Zacharie, Rémy, and me, rather than among a giggling and sighing bevy of women.”
“Last I saw, my lady, only Tutrice Martine, Healer Margaux, and Aurélie were there, though several others had been with him earlier. But for Aurélie, Margaux shooed the gaggle out, yet Martine wouldn’t go.”
“If necessary, I’ll deal with Martine,” said Liaze.
Down one of the two staircases in the welcoming hall they stepped, and turned rightward at the bottom, for the blue room was in a wing opposite from the infirmary.
Past members of the staff they went, men bowing, women cu
rtseying, all looking after Liaze as she swept by, for they were used to seeing her in leathers or work clothes, and only on special occasions did she dress as a princess should—or so many of them opined.
Whispers followed her along the corridor:
Oh, my.
Stunning.
Belle.
They came to the door of the blue room, and Liaze paused a moment and glanced at her reflection in the pane of an outer window. Then she stepped within.
Zacharie leapt to his feet, as did Rémy. Margaux, Aurélie, and Tutrice Martine stood as well. In a chair facing the doorway sat the black-haired young man, and his deep-blue eyes flew wide at the sight of her and he blurted, “I thought you but a dream.”
6
Luc
Even as Liaze blushed, and behind her Zoé gave a joyful laugh, the knight got to his feet, somewhat gingerly and wincing a bit, and bowed along with Zacharie and Rémy. Martine, Aurélie, and Margaux curtseyed, Aurélie and Margaux smiling broadly, Martine with a neutral look upon her matronly features.
Liaze acknowledged them all with a nod as she came into the room, a room with pale blue walls and heavily padded blue velvet chairs trimmed in white and arranged for conversation nigh a large fireplace. Against one wall stood a black oak sideboard. On another wall a black oak escritoire sat open, with quills and parchment and an inkwell at hand, as well as a few books on the shelf above, and an armless blue velvet chair waiting for someone to sit and take pen in hand and write.
As Liaze stepped in among the gathering, Zacharie said, “Princess Liaze, may I present Sieur Luc, knight-errant. Chevalier Luc, Princess Liaze of the Autumnwood.”
Dressed in black boots and a black silken shirt open at the neck and black trews held by a silver-buckled black belt, Luc stepped forward and again bowed, once more wincing a bit, stray locks of his shoulder-length ebon hair falling down ’round his face, though the bandage on his forehead and wrapped about held most of it back. Liaze extended her right hand, and Luc took it in his and kissed her fingers. When he straightened up—not quite a head taller than she—he looked down into her amber eyes with his of indigo blue, and a thrill shot through Liaze and she almost did not hear him say, “Princess, I truly did think you but a wishful dream, and I am so happy to find that you are quite real. But here I must correct an assumption: I am not a knight, though someday I hope to win my spurs.”
Both Rémy and Zacharie seemed taken aback, but Liaze said, “Pfah! Given what you have done for my demesne, a knight you surely are.”
“But, my lady—”
“Rémy, your sword,” said Liaze, holding out her hand.
Rémy placed the rapier in Liaze’s hand.
“Kneel, Luc,” said Liaze.
Wincing and with Zacharie’s help, Luc managed to get down on one knee, and Liaze touched him on each shoulder with the tip of the blade, saying, “I, Princess Liaze of the Autumnwood, by my right of sovereignty declare you a chevalier. You may have knelt as a warrior, but now rise up, Sieur Luc, as a Knight of the Autumnwood.”
As Zacharie aided the man to his feet, “Please, Sir Luc, sit,” said Liaze, glancing at Margaux the healer and then again at the knight. “I would not have you stand any more on ceremony, as battered as you must be.”
As Luc stepped back to his chair, Liaze gave Rémy back his rapier and then turned to the women and said, “If you will excuse us, mesdames.”
Zoé faced the three and made an “after you” gesture toward the door, and Margaux and Aurélie bade their good-byes and stepped away. Tutrice Martine hesitated a moment, but then turned and with her nose somewhat elevated followed after. Zoé shot Liaze a grin and brought up the rear, and as she exited she closed the door after.
Liaze sat down as then did Luc, Rémy following, but Zacharie remained standing and asked, “Tea, my lady?”
“With cheese and bread and scones and jellies,” said Liaze. She looked at Rémy and then at Luc. “We were backtracking your trail all morning, Sir Luc, and I am quite famished. Rémy?”
“Oui, my lady,” said the leather-clad armsmaster, and he turned to Zacharie. “I’d appreciate a bit of beef as well.”
“And you, Sir Luc?” asked the princess. “A tot of brandy or glass of wine to soothe your aches? I am told you took quite a battering.”
“Oui, my lady . . . that I did. I believe beef and bread and a bit of fruit and a hearty wine would go a long way toward easing my hurts as well as restoring my strength.”
Zacharie nodded and stepped to a bell cord. In but a moment a servant appeared, and Zacharie spoke to him.
When Zacharie took his seat, Luc turned to the princess and said, “You were backtracking my trail?”
“Oui,” said Liaze. “And it seems you slew a goodly number of Goblins along the way. I would ask, whence came you? And what brought you here to the Autumnwood? And what of the Goblins and the Troll?”
“As to whence I came,” said Luc. “ ’Twas from a small woodcutter’s cote, sunwise through three, no, four twilight walls. The woodcutter is my père, or mayhap I should say my foster père, for I know not who sired and birthed me.”
“You are an orphan, Sieur Luc?” asked Zacharie.
Luc shrugged. “My blood parents, alive or dead, I do not know, hence I could be an orphan, but then again not, though an orphan I might as well be. My foster father—Léon—tells me that he found me in the woods one day. And none in the nearby villages knows ought of who my père and mère could possibly be.”
Rémy sighed and said, “Though I briefly knew my parents, I am an orphan, too. Slain by Redcaps, they were.”
They sat a moment in silence, and then Liaze said, “Go on with your tale, Sir Luc.”
Luc smiled and said, “As to riding into your demesne, I am simply arove, yet I am so glad that Léon and I chose this way for me to go.” Again Luc’s indigo eyes caught Liaze’s of amber. He held her gaze for a moment, and then looked away toward Rémy.
“And as to the Goblins and Trolls I fought, I know nought of their mission, or even if they had one. However, shortly after I rode into the Autumnwood, I sensed someone trailing me, and it happened to be that band. Thrice or mayhap four times they assaulted me, but, in spite of their being Redcaps, I think they were not after blood. Instead, I believe they were out to capture me, though as a hostage I deem I would prove to be of little ransom worth, foundling that I am, and my provisional sire nought but a woodcutter.”
“We thought as much,” said Rémy. “—About them being out to capture you, I mean.”
“And why might you think that would be the case?” asked Zacharie.
Luc shrugged. “As I said, ransom could not be the reason.”
“Unless they knew who your true père might be—or your mère,” said Liaze. “What do you know of them?”
Luc turned up his hands. “Nothing.—Or wait, almost nothing.”
“Almost nothing?” said Liaze.
Luc fished the amulet out from under his shirt. Liaze winced, for when he had done so, she could see dark bruises where he had been beaten.
“Only this,” said Luc, looping the chain over his head and holding out the pendant to Liaze.
As the princess drew back, Rémy’s hand fell to the hilt of the dagger at his side, but he did not draw it.
When Liaze hesitated, Luc said, “I give it to you freely, my lady. It will do you no harm.”
Tentatively, Liaze held out her hand, and Luc dropped it into her palm.
It did not sting, but instead felt chill.
She turned it ’round in her fingers and studied it closely. It seemed to be nought but a sapphire in a silver setting on a silver chain. There were no markings on it, and the chain had no clasp.
“My sire, my foster sire Léon, that is, told me it was around my neck when he found me. I was then but a wee babe, and for some reason, the chain was shorter then—it seems to have grown as have I. Regardless, when he tried to remove it for safekeeping, it nearly killed him. It seems that I must g
ive it freely, else it will do great harm.”
“A magic talisman, then?” asked Liaze, handing it back.
Luc nodded, and looped the silver chain over his head, dropping the amulet down the front of his shirt.
“My foster father says that it must have come from my real parents.”
“Have you taken it to a mage, a seer, to find out what he could tell you?”
“Non, Princess. Though on my errantry I hoped to do so.”
“Were you swaddled in blankets?” asked Liaze. “If so, what of them? Were they fine or coarse? That might tell you something of your origins.”
Luc shrugged. “Fine or coarse, that I do not know, my lady. For by the time I knew to ask, they were no longer about.”
In that moment the servant returned, followed by several more, and they brought platters of breads and meats and cheeses and grapes and an assortment of melons and fruit, along with scones and jellies and jams and clotted cream and a large urn of tea. And there were two bottles of hearty red wine, as well as one of white.
Along with utensils and napkins and various porcelain and glassware, they set it all on the sideboard and decanted the wine and then withdrew.
As Luc started to rise, Liaze said, “Stay where you are, Sir Luc, and ease your hurts. I will serve you up a trencher myself. What would you have?”
As soon as everyone had settled, ’round a mouthful of bread Rémy asked, “And, as the son of a poor woodcutter, where did you come upon your fine steed and clothes and weaponry?”
“Ah, that is a mystery, indeed,” said Luc, cutting off a chunk of beef and popping it into his mouth. He chewed a moment and then said, “My foster father had trained me in weaponry. It seems in an earlier time Léon had been an armsmaster. And so I learned my lessons well: the bow, the lance, the blade. He had a small collection, you see. Épées, rapiers, foils, sabers, spears, shields and bucklers, and other such gear, two of each, it seems. Yet he only had a single steed, and so my training ahorse suffered somewhat.”
“You took his only steed?” asked Rémy, taking up the decanter of red wine and offering it about, pouring a goblet for Luc and himself. Zacharie and Liaze continued drinking tea.
Once Upon an Autumn Eve Page 4