Enchantress Mine

by Bertrice Small

  “You read?” That knowledge seemed to surprise him.

  “Do you mind?” she worried.

  “No,” he said slowly, “I am just a little surprised. I did not think Anglo-Saxon women knew such things.”

  “Mother says that men do not like women with knowledge for it is not feminine. My father believes women need enough learning to read and write, and be certain that the bailiff isn’t robbing them. So I sat with my brother, Brand, in his schoolroom, and Brother Bayhard soon learned that if Brand was no scholar, I seemed to be. He always said that it was sad I was not the boy.”

  “You enjoyed your studies?” Basil was absolutely fascinated by this totally unexpected side of Mairin. He would not have expected such a thing of her, for when compared with Byzantium’s enlightened empire England was a half-savage country.

  “Yes,” she answered him, “I must be honest with you, my lord, I did enjoy my studies.”

  “I will find you a tutor!” he said excitedly. “When we are married you shall spend part of each day in study, my love. As long as such things please you, you shall do them. In Constantinople we do not disapprove of women learning. Indeed we encourage the pursuit of knowledge.”

  He could barely contain his delight. He had never considered the sort of woman who would make him happy. He enjoyed all beautiful women, and that, he realized, had been his problem. He had never looked beyond the beauty of a woman’s face and form which was probably due to the fact that many women of his own generation and social standing were indolent, indulged beauties who rarely troubled themselves to be anything other than exquisite ornaments. Those few who looked beyond their paintpots and dressmakers were rare creatures usually lacking in great beauty or fortune who were wise enough to realize that they needed more, and therefore sought it. They usually ended up in the church, or became scholars of renown with little time for husbands and families.

  Mairin on the other hand was that virtually nonexistent creature. She had been blessed with extraordinary beauty, and had a mind susceptible to, and capable of, learning. This, he realized, was precisely what he had been seeking in a woman. He intended molding her as a sculptor might mold his clay. She would be not only the most beautiful, but she would become the wisest woman in Byzantium. His creation. His instincts told him that she was virtuous. He would love her and provide for her so totally that she would never be tempted by another. She would be a shining example of perfection to other women. Beautiful. Learned. Virtuous. Remote. And his alone!

  “Come to me,” he said, and he drew her into his lap. She was cradled by one of his arms while his other hand reached out to turn her face to him. His eyes! The unbelievable color of a Persian turquoise looked possessively at her. “I love you,” he said. His voice was almost harsh. “I will teach you to love me. There will never be anyone else for us but the other. I will give you happiness beyond all other women. Now kiss me!”

  He suddenly seemed so fierce that she felt shy. Her face colored with his words. Catching her lower lip between her teeth she attempted to turn away from him. He forced her gaze back to his.

  “Obedience is the first rule of marriage, Mairin. You are young, unschooled, and a virgin. I expect shyness. I will permit you this lapse, but in the future, I will expect perfect obedience. Now give me your lips, and kiss me.”

  He was very masterful, she thought. Yet his tone, and his talk of obedience, seemed so severe. Still he was to be her husband. She had agreed to it, and it was a fabulous match. Mairin pushed her doubts away. Blushing, she raised her mouth to him and her eyelids fluttered closed. At his touch her heart raced madly for this was no gentle kiss. This time his lips took fierce and total possession of her, molding themselves against her innocent, soft flesh with a burning unmistakable proprietorship that left her quite breathless.

  “Ohhhhh,” she gasped softly when he finally released her. Basil chuckled, noting the sudden dawning of new knowledge within her violet eyes. Gently he tipped her from his lap, and standing up he turned without a word and walked from the room. Mairin stood rooted to the floor. His earlier gentle kisses had left her feeling somewhat giddy and tingly. This last kiss had sent the blood to pounding in her brain, her stomach churning with a wildness that she didn’t understand. If this was love, then it was incredible!

  Eada and Aldwine hurried back into the room, both speaking at once. Mairin smiled and nodded, but she only half-listened to them. Her mind was far too occupied with Basil, and his extravagant promises of their future happiness. Messengers, her father was saying, would have to be dispatched to England informing the king of her marriage. Brand must be told too.

  Prince Basil would speak to the emperor to formally request his permission for the marriage to take place. It was unlikely that the emperor would object to his cousin’s happiness for the Byzantines were remarkably democratic in their attitude toward marriage. A rich man was never looked down upon for taking a bride from another social stratum as long as she suited him and was a good wife.

  Constantine X was pleased to give his royal blessing to the match. It meant that his cousin was committed to having a family, and the more of them that there were, the stronger. The emperor, however, had one concern.

  “Have you spoken to Bellisarius yet of your impending marriage?” he asked Basil.

  “There was no need for me to say anything until I had your blessing, my liege,” was the smooth reply. “I shall speak to him this night.”

  “He will not be happy with your decision, Basil. He is an intense man,” warned Constantine.

  “There is no need for him to distress himself. I love Mairin, but I love Bellisarius too. Why should I send him away merely because I marry?”

  “Will Mairin understand such a thing, Basil? Will Bellisarius, for that matter?”

  “She need never know, Constans. I intend to build her a palace in the hills across the Bosporus. She wants her own home. As much as she enjoys the city she prefers country living, and will come rarely to Constantinople I suspect. Bellisarius on the other hand detests the country, and never leaves Constantinople. I think I may safely keep my wife and my current lover apart. Don’t all men?”

  “A wife?” Bellisarius Phocus, Constantinople’s greatest actor of the century, looked upon his princely lover that evening with shock. “You are taking a wife on the first day of May? Sweet Jesus, Basil! How could you be so cruel? ’Twas on the first day of May last year that we met! I shall never forgive you, Basil! Never!” A single tear slipped down his long, elegant face to catch within the fringe of his perfectly barbered beard.

  “So that is why the day had sweet memories for me,” the prince exclaimed. Then he put a friendly arm about his lover. “I would not intentionally hurt you, Bellisarius, but the date is now set. It cannot be changed.”

  “But why must you wed?” The actor’s golden brown eyes filled with tears. “Do you not love me?”

  “Yes, I love you,” said the prince indulgently, “but you cannot give me children. Bellisarius. It is my duty to my family to have children. Besides, Mairin is exquisite. In beauty she is every bit my equal. I could not resist her, and already I love her.”

  “I have heard her hair is a most noxious color,” the actor retorted sharply. “Orange! How can a girl with orange hair hope to equal your beauty, my sweet prince?”

  “Her hair is a red-gold. It is as if a fire burns atop her sweet head. She is pure perfection in face and form. An innocent virgin. Best of all, Bellisarius, she is intelligent!”

  “She is an Anglo-Saxon, Basil!” he protested. “They are barely civilized! Have you seen that trade delegation of theirs? Long hair, and unkempt beards, and the most appalling clothing!”

  Basil laughed. “She reads, Bellisarius. She can do simple mathematics. She writes a fine hand. She speaks several languages. What say you to that?”

  “That I should like to meet your paragon. Perhaps we might find we have something else in common besides you.”

  “Oh, no, my darling,” the p
rince chuckled. “You most certainly will not meet Mairin. I will not have you shocking her by letting slip our relationship. She would not understand such a thing. Perhaps when she is older, and has learned our ways, it will be different, but not now. I am building her a villa across the Bosporus, and neither of you shall be distressed by the sight of the other.”

  “How thoughtful you are of us both,” sniped Bellisanus dryly. “How fortunate it is that I understand the necessity of your marriage even if your bride should not understand that which is between us.” He eyed Basil jealously. “I do not think it is as simple as you think, my prince. What you and I are to each other has never been a secret. What makes you think that someone will not speak to the girl, and divulge our relationship to her? Are you without enemies? What of the girl’s parents? When they learn of your eccentric tastes, will they still release their treasure to you? Are they so eager to have a prince for a son-in-law that they will put aside their barbarian scruples? I wonder.”

  “Be warned, Bellisarius,” said the prince in low tones. “I want this girl! Should you attempt to spoil it for me I shall leave you.”

  “You will leave me anyhow,” said the actor. “I know it!” His voice had a slightly hysterical edge to it.

  “No,” said Basil softly. He caressed the actor’s curly blond head reassuringly. “No, my darling, I shall not leave you. A man can love more than one person at a time, Bellisarius, as I love you and Mairin. Each of you serves a different need for me, and I must have you both. You have always known that unlike you I am able to love both women and men. That eventually you would have to share me with a wife. You have never been jealous before. Do not pout now, my love,” he cajoled, and quickly kissed the actor’s lips.

  Bellisarius eagerly returned the kiss and sighing said, “You will break my heart yet, my lord prince, but then I knew it the moment our eyes first met, yet even knowing it I still loved you.”

  Basil smiled into Bellisarius’ eyes. “Trust me,” he said softly. “I will make everything all right for all of us. You know that I can, don’t you?”

  “I almost feel sorry for your bride, Basil,” said Bellisarius quietly. “I wonder if she realizes what a ruthless man you really are.”

  But Mairin in the flush of first love only saw what she wanted. The prince had swept her off her feet with his declaration of devotion, and his passionate possession of her innocent lips. His kisses had thrilled and excited her beyond anything she had ever known. She unquestioningly believed all he said, and longed for the day when her body would be ready to receive the full homage of a man’s love.

  Already she had grown in height, and was now taller than Eada. Her breasts, only buds upon her smooth child’s chest when they had first come to Constantinople, suddenly swelled and rounded, pushing the cloth of her tunic dresses outward. The garments had had to be altered as they quickly became too tight. Mairin found herself assailed by a variety of new moods that had her edgy one minute, and ecstatic with joy the next. If she had been a beautiful child she was quickly becoming an equally beautiful woman.

  Dagda silently noted the many glances his young mistress elicited as she moved unawares through the pattern of her days. Women, of course, were envious. Men, however, gazed longingly at Mairin. Twice Dagda saw the young Varangian guardsman Eric Longsword staring after Mairin with open lust in his eyes. Finding himself observed, the light of desire would depart the guardsman’s eyes to be replaced by a flat blue stare.

  The empress, Marie Irene, came from her palace to meet Mairin. She was a deeply pious, reclusive woman whose life had been devoted to prayer and good works. Her dark eyes scanned Mairin’s face anxiously. Then she smiled, obviously pleased by what she had seen. She patted the girl’s hand in a motherly fashion.

  “You are a good little maid, I can see it,” she said in a whispery voice so low they had to strain to hear her. “I shall make special offerings to the blessed Saint Anne, mother of our Blessed Lady Marie, that Basil has at last found a wife. You know, of course, that the chief duty of a wife is to bear children, my dear?” Her pale face with its dark eyes peered into Mairin’s blushing countenance.

  “My daughter is not yet old enough to conceive and bear children, gracious majesty,” said Eada.

  “She will be soon. I can see womanhood already dawning in her beautiful eyes. Listen to me, my child. It is hard to be a woman, to yield yourself humbly to the base and carnal desires of a man, but it is your duty as a wife to do so. Your mother has undoubtedly told you of the shameless way in which children are conceived. It is God’s punishment upon us for Eve’s sin that we be humbled so, and must be tolerated. You can do your soul great good, however, if you will simply concentrate upon your beads during the degrading act.” The empress peered anxiously at Mairin, fearful that perhaps she had shocked the poor innocent with her bluntness.

  Mairin swallowed back the urge to laugh. Sex was not a taboo event among the Anglo-Saxons who harking back to a more primitive time entered into it with joyous abandon. Eada and Aldwine’s marital happiness was no secret. Brand and Mairin had on several occasions unwittingly caught their parents in a lusty embrace. They had always been free to ask their parents about matters pertaining to the flesh and Eada answered with honesty and with love, confiding to her daughter that though such delights might first prove awkward, they were nonetheless pleasurable.

  The empress’s words were therefore astounding. Still Mairin knew that she must be polite to the anxious empress whose motives sprang from genuine caring. She instinctively knew Basil was a man of deep passion. He had even admitted to finding her innocent enthusiasm for his kisses preferable to women who bore their lords’ embraces in silent submission. She could not imagine why the empress had taken it upon herself to address her in such a solemn fashion.

  “I thank your gracious majesty for even taking the time to come and see me let alone offering me your sage advice,” she said politely. “I will remember your words.”

  Eada beamed with pride. She had taught her child well, for Mairin’s manners were flawless, and her tact commendable. Honored that the empress Irene Marie had taken the time to personally welcome Mairin into the Ducas family, Eada could not, however, imagine why the older woman thought it necessary to impart such gloom to Mairin. The thought of concentrating upon one’s beads during supreme passion was too amusing for words.

  Led by the empress other members of the Ducas family now came to pay their respects, and each brought a gift for Mairin. Not all of them were wealthy, nor of the noble branch of the family. They took great pride, however, in being related to the emperor, and being again in the spotlight by virtue of Basil’s marriage to the beautiful foreigner. The prince’s father was dead, but his mother came immediately after the empress.

  Ileana Ducas was a tiny, elegant woman with a somewhat forbidding mien. She had her son’s coloring, but where his hair was wavy, hers was straight. It was severely fashioned into a knot at the base of her neck. Basil’s turquoise eyes were warm, but his mother’s were flat and expressionless, lighting up only when she spoke of her only child. She was magnificently attired in bright scarlet silk heavily encrusted with gold embroidery. Even the empress had not been as grand.

  She brought Mairin jewelry, a marvelous necklace of gold filigreed squares encrusted with amethysts. “To match your eyes,” she said dourly. “My son said your eyes were the color of amethysts, but they look more violet to me. You are very young, but I suppose I should thank you for taking my son away from the hedonistic life he has persisted in living these past years. I do not approve of his companions. I trust you will be a good wife to him, not some silly little fool who worships the ground he walks upon, and permits him to continue his licentious behavior. Give me grandsons as quickly as possible! It was my misfortune that among all my babies only Basil lived. Children settle a man even more than a wife.” She peered at Mairin. “You are old enough to have children, aren’t you?”

  “Not quite,” said Eada protectively.

>   “Then why does he marry her if not to get himself sons?” demanded Ileana Ducas irritably. “My son should be having children, not consorting with them.”

  “We love each other,” Mairin exclaimed innocently, “and I will shortly be old enough to consummate our marriage.”

  “Love?” The older woman laughed harshly, but then she sighed. “Love, my dear, is pure illusion though you will not believe me now. In time you will learn that the only reality in this world is that which you can hold within your two hands. I know my son. He loves you for your perfect beauty, and your innocence. The latter you will lose quickly enough living in Constantinople. Guard the former as carefully as old Empress Zoe did, else you’ll lose Basil entirely one day.”

  At the distressed look that passed over Mairin’s face Ileana’s own features softened sympathetically. “There, child, I have grown bitter with age, but I am not as unkind as I seem. I only seek to prevent you the pain that I have suffered.” She smiled a wintry smile. “I shall endeavor to be a good mother-in-law, and not interfere, Mairin. If you should ever need my help, or my counsel, however, do not be afraid to come to me. I have only Basil’s best interests at heart, and since I know you do too, we shall be friends and allies. There is no need for history to repeat itself,” she finished.

  When Eada and Mairin were once more alone Mairin exclaimed, “What a strange woman Basil’s mother is! At first she frightened me but as she spoke I realized that I felt sorry for her, yet I do not know why.”

  Eada shook her head. “Perhaps her husband was not as kind to her as Basil is to you. A woman’s whole world is her man and her family. To be treated unkindly by the man you love is a great sadness, but to bear babies that die is the deepest pain of all. May you never know such sadness, Mairin.”