They heard the children's excited shrieks over the music dancing through Jaume's pipes, then the low tones of knights and their ladies' silvery laughter. But even when the exclaiming crowd enveloped them, Doucette kept her mouth closed and her eyes on the wool she was combing for Na Claro,
Her sisters pushed the courtiers aside. Azelais gripped Doucette's shoulder. "You did this." She shook Doucette, hard.
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"I should have stayed and watched you myself, you devious--" Abruptly, she let go.
"What?" Doucette said.
Azelais was backing away. Whatever she had glimpsed in Jaume's eyes had caused her to think better of the scolding. She fluffed her black swan skin and vented her displeasure on Cecilia. "Stop laughing!"
"Your face, Azelais!" Cecilia chortled. "And little Doucette, demure as pudding. We mistook the shepherd, evidently. Wait until Father sees!"
Doucette's stomach tightened.
The sun's disk descended to the rim of the western hills. As if they had awaited its signal, her parents walked around the castle wall.
Lady Sarpine must have heard that the thorns had been cleared. She had put aside the torn riding skirts and dressed in queenly splendor, from the gold net edging her headdress to her silk gown and soft leather dancing slippers. Lord Pascau, too, looked very fine in a velvet robe trimmed with fur.
As they made their regal way to the oak tree, Doucette stood and ordered her lavender-sticky skirts. As usual, her hair had escaped from its braids. It probably resembled the hanks of Na Claro's matted wool, but there was no help for it.
Jaume, too, stood. He put away his pipes and collected the enchanted mattock. Despite his dirty face and thorn-shredded clothing, he waited next to Doucette as calmly as a man at home by his own fireside.
"Well, Jaume of Vent'roux?" Lord Pascau said.
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Jaume handed the mattock to the comte. "As you commanded, Sieur, the ground is clear."
"Let us put your work to the test." The comte raised an eyebrow. "Doucette?"
"Yes, Father." She stepped forward and curtsied.
"Take off your shoes, my dear, and walk to the cliff's edge. Barefoot, that's it."
It seemed a long, long walk.
Doucette hiked her skirts above her ankles and paced slowly. The ground was pleasantly warm under her bare feet, the rock outcroppings solid, the earth powdery in places with ash from the burned brambles. Wild herbs tickled her toes; she felt the furry softness of lavender, the gentle prick of rosemary twigs.
No thorns, she reminded herself. That was the key thing.
When she returned, her father's expression was inscrutable; her mother and Azelais looked sour. Engaged in flirting with an attentive knight, Cecilia paid her no attention. The other courtiers seemed curious, the castle servants and townsfolk plainly glad that one of their own had done so well.
Doucette met Jaume's eyes last, and his expression enabled her to curtsy gracefully to her parents. "I felt no thorns." Dipping one foot, then the other, into the pail of water that had appeared in front of Lord Pascau, she displayed each sole. The clean skin showed pink and unbroken.
"The first task is successfully completed," Lord Pascau pronounced.
Servants and townsfolk cheered. Some of the courtiers applauded; others looked stunned.
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Doucette assumed the latter included those who had lost their dawn wagers against Jaume. She was pleased to note cod-faced Lord Luquet among their number.
"Meet us here at dawn tomorrow for your second task." The comte dismissed Jaume with a twitch of his fingers.
"Thank you, Sieur." Jaume bowed to the assembled company and walked in the direction of the town.
Without giving Doucette a chance to put on her shoes, her sisters pushed her after the departing comte and comtesse. When they reached the castle, Lady Sarpine accompanied her daughters to their bedchamber and sent away the servant who had brought warm water for washing.
"Your father will speak to you before dinner," Doucette's mother told her. "Change that dirty gown immediately. Cecilia and Azelais, you girls attend me." The three of them swept from the room.
Doucette stripped off the offending garment and sank into the waiting tub. She washed, combed her hair, and hurried into the clean clothing laid out for her. Then she sat.
Not long.
When she heard the heavy step outside the door, Doucette clasped her hands in her lap to still their trembling.
The bedchamber door opened and the comte entered. "Little Doucette. How did you get to be such a clever girl?"
His fond smile unsettled her. "What do you mean, Father?" she asked cautiously.
"Tch, tch. No need for false modesty between us, child." He closed the door and stood in front of the fire, arms cocked
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behind his back and hands spread to its warmth, the picture of lordly ease. "Your magic helped that boy."
"Was the task completed to your satisfaction?"
A shadow crossed her father's face in the instant before a hearty laugh dispelled it. "Certainly. The Château de l'Aire now boasts the finest parkland in the realm. Offered the man a reward, in fact."
"Did he take it?" Doucette asked.
"No. The fool turned down a minor title and a good income, in return for the smallest consideration!"
"What consideration, Father? That he forfeit the other trials? Mother's idea, I imagine, to buy him off before he could succeed." Doucette was guessing, but she knew she had hit the mark when her father coughed into his hand.
"Ahem. Too keen for these old wits, my girl."
"Whatever I know of subtlety, I must have learned from you," Doucette returned, rather surprised at her own daring. Although the saints knew she needed to be bold. And vigilant.
Jaume hadn't taken their bribe, but Lady Sarpine was used to getting her way. What she couldn't buy or wheedle, she might secure by force.
"My child, the jest has been amusing, but it must end." Lord Pascau stroked his beard, then sat down beside Doucette. "I know you're unhappy we hid your swan skin. Unfair, you thought, to be denied the privileges your sisters enjoy. Though your mother had her reasons." His arm curled around her shoulders and squeezed. "You haven't helped this shepherd just to spite her?"
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"The tasks are Jaume's to complete," Doucette said evenly.
Her father chuckled, a strained sound. "And whose aid allowed him to get this far? Peasants don't work magic." Doucette clamped her lips together.
"Don't purse that pretty mouth at me," the comte said sharply. "You're no longer a child, whose misdeeds affect only yourself. I'll give you three reasons, Daughter, to rethink this disastrous course of action."
He held up one ringed finger. "First, such a misalliance stains your noble name. An Aigleron, married to a nobody? How would your mother, your sisters, face the court?"
"Their affair," Doucette said curtly.
The heavy arm tightened around her shoulders. "If you care not for honor, think of your comfort. Dwelling in a barren country hut, eating gruel for day upon day--what a wretched future for a gently bred girl!"
"A sorceress chooses her life," Doucette challenged him. "Didn't Tante Mahalt leave this place with only her swan skin?"
"Bold words, young miss. But what of the young man who professes to love you? How kind is it to encourage his unseemly ambition?" Lord Pascau shook his head sadly. "Mismatched as fish and fowl. The common folk won't trust you; the nobility won't accept him. Over time, the two of you can only wear into misery. Unless, of course, you breed. To what kind of future would you condemn your unfortunate children? Expectations beyond their station and no means to satisfy them, nothing but failed hopes and bitterness--"
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"Stop." Doucette wrenched herself away from the vise that circled her shoulders, the persuasive voice that dripped poison into her ears. "What do you want, Father?"
"Why, only that the young man win by his own merit," the comte s
aid smoothly. "That's just, isn't it?"
Before Doucette could respond, Lord Pascau stood. "It's settled. I have your word that you'll remain in your chamber from dawn to dusk tomorrow, while the lad proves himself?"
Doucette bit her lip. The tests weren't fair! Without her help, Jaume might fail and be sent away in disgrace. And if she followed after him, would the shepherd's precious honor let them marry after all?
The thought of losing him pierced her heart. She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. Her father's expression forbade further argument. Though perhaps a humble request...
Doucette forced herself to speak meekly. "Please, Father, couldn't I watch from a distance?"
"No," her father said. "After you've reflected on the matter, you'll understand." As if he had not just crushed her hopes, he crooked his arm in invitation. "Come, Daughter. Let us go down to dinner in charity with one another."
Though she could hardly bring herself to do it, Doucette bowed to the inevitable. Her cold fingers brushed his velvet sleeve as she allowed her father to escort her from the room.
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Chapter nineteen
***
H urry, Cecilia. We're late." Azelais lit a candle from one already burning on a table and shielded the flame with her hand. Under the hood of her cloak, dark brows knit with annoyance. "It's your fault, Doucette, that we must rise before dawn and tramp out into the wet."
"Father, not I, set the time for the trial." Doucette abandoned the pretense of sleeping. She sat up in bed and draped her swan skin over her shift for warmth. "Besides, I don't hear rain."
"You will," Azelais insisted. "The clouds came in last night."
"I can't find my cloak," Cecilia said.
"Make one," Azelais snapped. "Your wardrobe is a shambles."
Cecilia laughed. "Good advice, if sourly given." She tapped her swan skin with her wand and swirled the resulting hooded garment over her shoulders before pushing past Azelais. "Goodbye, Doucette."
Azelais's candle flickered. "Clumsy featherhead," she muttered.
"Don't tempt me, Sister."
The door swung shut. The quarreling voices receded down the stairs.
Doucette slumped against the bolster. Everyone would be gathering without her. Jaume would wonder where she was and
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worry. She got out of bed and stood at the window overlooking the upper courtyard's dim expanse of wet stone.
Around her, the castle felt quieter than usual. Even the roosters in the lower courtyard seemed unwilling to disturb the expectant hush. Doucette pulled her coat of feathers close.
The previous day's hazy warmth had vanished. In the gray sky, clouds hung low, trailing ghostly pennants that blurred the outline of wall and tower.
By slow, sullen degrees, the light brightened. Doucette knew when her father had finished announcing Jaume's second task. Headed by Lord Pascau and Lady Sarpine, a stream of people entered the courtyard from the direction of the new parkland. As servants returned to their tasks, they talked in low voices, carefully avoiding the vicinity of Doucette's window.
Her absence must have been noted. News of her disgrace would spread, and everyone know that the comte had forbidden his daughter to see or speak to the shepherd, lest she help him as she must have done the day before.
But they didn't have to tell her what the second task was.
Azelais had said it pleased their father to cast them all in his little entertainment. Since Azelais's mattock hadn't thrashed Jaume to pieces, Cecilia's Animated spade would be next.
With it, Jaume might be asked to trench a new channel for the river, or terrace the entire hillside he had cleared the day before. Whatever the task, Jaume would have to use" the tool to finish the task in the allotted time. Like the mattock, the enchanted spade was dangerous.
And Vent'roux folk didn't care for magic.
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Doucette tucked her chin into the swan skin's dappled feathers and brooded. She couldn't even warn Jaume about the spade. There'd be more eyes than old Na Claro's on him today.
Though not, perhaps, as many as she would have supposed, Doucette decided, as courtiers straggled back to the castle in ones and twos. Wet weather and boredom would drive the watchers back inside, unless Jaume actually touched the spade to earth and awoke the Animation spell laid on it.
The chamber door banged open, and Cecilia danced into the bedchamber, her face alight with amusement. Her cloak hood was thrown back; droplets beaded her fair hair like diamonds. With a tap of her wand, she turned the wet cloak back into a swan skin and shook it smartly before resettling its white perfection over her shoulders. "Someone missed you-you-you," she caroled.
Doucette turned to the window to hide the flare of pleasure. "What was the test?"
"Spade, dear spade." Cecilia chuckled. "You guessed, eh? More wits than we thought, under that mare's nest." She sidled up to Doucette and tweaked her tangled hair. "Father told your charming suitor to dig a pond in the middle of the hillside by sundown and fill it with water."
"Then what happened?"
Cecilia considered her. "What price the news?"
"I'll give you my pearl earrings," Doucette said impulsively. "Tell me."
"Done!" Cecilia clapped her hands. "Father was wise indeed to keep his little lamb penned inside. You're besotted with that
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young shepherd, aren't you? Oh, it's too delicious! Makes all my unsuitable men seem positively respectable."
"Cecilia, please." Doucette went to the box where she kept her treasures and pulled out the earrings. "Take them. Only tell me what Jaume did."
"Thank you, I will." Cecilia fastened the pearls to her ears and winked at Doucette. "But I would have done so for nothing, because that is the answer.
"Nothing?"
"Yes." Cecilia giggled. "It's the cream of the jest. He wandered over the hillside, mournful as a lost pup. No idea where to begin, without you to tell him. I was yawning at once. Azelais and the rest won't last much longer. Why stand in the fog, when we can sip warmed wine and amuse ourselves in perfect comfort indoors?" Cecilia picked up a mirror and admired the pearl earrings. "None of Father's new knights are quite as good looking as your shepherd, but they're sure to be better armed."
"You'd know," Doucette said rudely.
"Someone should." Cecilia smirked at her reflection. "Time I inspected their blades for myself." With an airy wave, she flitted out of the room.
Doucette sat on the window seat and leaned her head against the frame. The mist had gotten thicker. Cold drops condensed out of the clouds and ran down the castle's stone walls.
Jaume didn't act aimlessly. He must be searching for something. What could it be?
Water. Doucette heard the word as clearly as if he had spoken it in her ear.
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Of course. Springs arose in the caverns under the castle's foundation, supplying its inexhaustible wells. Tante Mahalt had explained to Doucette that long ago, each county's noble family had built a fortress to protect the source of its power. For the Aiglerons, that stronghold was the Château de l'Aire, and the power twofold: enough fresh water to outlast any siege and a magical source as well. Lavena's Cauldron.
Doucette closed her eyes. With a spring and an enchanted spade, Jaume could make a pond in the hillside. She curled her legs underneath her and hugged her knees, trying to contain her rising excitement.
Wouldn't they be surprised! Azelais and Cecilia, especially, would see that Jaume was braver, stronger, smarter than a hundred knights. If he remembered how they had commanded the mattock, and his will proved strong enough to alter Cecilia's Animating spell, Jaume could complete the second task!
Unless he tried to dig in the usual way. Doucette groaned out loud and buried her head in her arms. If Jaume touched the blade to the earth, the spade would cleave to his hands until it had finished its task. By then, he might have been shaken to his death!
She hoped Jaume wasn'
t so stubborn that he would try to do the task without magic. She had to trust him to remember that the trial would require sorcery, because Doucette's father didn't believe a shepherd--a peasant--capable of mastering an enchanted tool by himself.
It was torture, not knowing, but none of the bedchamber windows overlooked the hillside. The day stretched endlessly
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ahead of her, and she had nothing to do with it but wait and worry.
Her parents' displeasure with Jaume's first success had been clear enough. What would they do if the shepherd triumphed again? And, while Jaume's quest for her hand had overshadowed all else, Doucette had still to face the consequences of her flight to Tante Mahalt's.
How long would Lady Sarpine make her disobedient daughter wait?
When Na Patris came up the stairs in the late afternoon, she found Doucette huddled on the window seat, heedless of the raindrops that dripped from the window frame and into her hair.
The baker set her tray down on a table and closed the shutters firmly. "A hot drink, little lady, to counter the weather? You don't want to catch a chill. That'll do your young man no good."
"My young man?" Doucette said warily. She knew her parents didn't approve, but she hadn't considered what the servants might think about Jaume's proposal.
"Isn't he?" the woman said. "Not a noble, our Jaume. No title, no riches compared with the courtiers' estates. Not saying I'm impartial, but he's a fine man, little lady. If you don't want him, it wasn't kind to put him through this."
"I didn't!" Doucette said, indignant at the woman's insinuation. "Asking Father was his idea."
Na Patris's surprise was almost comical. "Oh?"
"Yes. He said I deserved a proper wooing, went on about his honor. Men," Doucette said.
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"Hm." The woman handed Doucette a mug of mint tea, then bustled around the room, collecting dirty dishes onto her tray and tidying the bedclothes.
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