Mairin took her mother’s hand and in a gesture of affection pressed it to her heart. Since Aldwine and his wife had taken her for their daughter, Eada had lost two babies. One had been a little boy who lived but a day. The other was a child so new in the womb that it had been impossible to tell whether it was a boy or a girl. The loss was doubly hard as it had been many years since Eada had last conceived a child. They had accepted the fact of her barrenness once. That she suddenly conceived again had been considered a small miracle rendered worthless with the unexpected loss of both infants. After that there had been no more children. Mairin knew how Eada had grieved for those lost babies, and perfectly understood her adoptive mother’s words.
“I will try to be friends with the lady Ileana, mother.”
“Yes, that would be best, Mairin. When your father and I have returned to England Basil’s family will be all the family you have. It is important to your future happiness that you find friends among members of the Ducas clan.”
Mairin’s wedding drew nearer. The imperial seamstresses worked frantically upon the wedding gown. The high-necked underdress with its long tight sleeves was made of cloth of gold, and molded to her figure. Over it she would wear a tunic dress of gold silk that was sewn all over with amethysts, diamonds, and pearls. Mairin’s hair would be unbound to indicate her virginity, but atop her head would be a crown of delicate gold filigree, diamonds, and freshwater pearls. The seamstresses sewing the gown were very excited and on the day of Mairin’s final fitting they stared open-mouthed at the future princess dressed in their creation.
Eada sighed. “I have never seen anything so beautiful,” she said to her daughter.
Mairin said nothing. She stared dreamy-eyed at her glittering reflection, and dreamed of the day when she would belong to Basil. Across the Bosporus building had begun upon the palace that was to be their home. Set into a green hillside the domed and columned building was of cream-colored marble. Marble steps flowed down the terraced hillsides to a small sheltered harbor with its marble quay. Each level of terrace was planted; an orchard of flowering peach, apple, and almond trees on one level, roses on another, sweet herbs on another, colorful garden flowers and spicy herbs upon another.
In the weeks before her wedding Mairin watched the construction from afar peering through a spyglass that the prince had brought her. The palace and its grounds would not be ready for months after the wedding, but the day before the marriage was to be celebrated Mairin could no longer bear only tantalizing glimpses of her future home.
“I must go across the water and see it!” she exclaimed to the prince who had come to pay his usual morning visit. “Oh, Basil, you must let me go!” With innocent artfulness she flung herself into his arms, and looked winningly up at him. “Please!”
He let his hands smooth down her young body. He noted the childish thickness was suddenly gone. Her waist was quite defined. He rested his fingertips at the base of that supple waist, and pulled her closer to him, feeling as he did a new fullness in her breasts. She had not a grown woman’s shape yet, but her youthful body was beginning to change quite rapidly. His lips teased at hers, and she boldly kissed him a quick kiss.
Basil laughed. “So, my beauty, you would see the fine setting I am creating for you.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she insisted. Her sparkling eyes were the color of amethysts now. They were always lighter, he observed, when she was happy. If he could only always keep her as happy as she was this very minute.
“Then, my perfect princess, we shall go across the water this very morning. I will show you the palace that is being built for you. A testament of my love for you, Mairin. I adore you, my beauty! There has never before been anyone like you in my life, and there never will be. You are unique, and you are mine alone!”
He looked down into her eyes, and Mairin once again felt herself filled with tumultuous mixed emotions. Did all brides feel as she felt? Surely not for there was no man in the world quite like Basil. In that moment she felt that she must surely love him, for what else were all these emotions that rolled within her? Shyly she touched his face with its soft curly fringe of dark beard. “I love you, my lord,” she whispered, “and you have made me so very happy.”
He smiled tenderly down at her. “Ah, my perfect little beauty! In your girlish innocence you have no idea how very happy I can really make you. In time I will show you. For now I am content that your love for me has begun to grow. I am content that after today you will belong to me forever.”
The prince sent his servants for a barge after politely requesting Eada’s permission to take Mairin across the water. He led his bride-to-be from the Garden Palace down to the Boucoleon Harbor where only imperial vessels were allowed to dock. Smiling, Eada watched them go. Basil had invited her to accompany them, but she believed Mairin needed this time alone with the man she would marry tomorrow.
Eada liked Basil. He seemed a good man. He was ever gentle and considerate with Mairin. Had he been pretending, Eada knew she would have sensed it. He had gone out of his way to reassure Eada that he would not consummate his marriage to her daughter until Mairin had begun her monthly flow, and was fully a woman. Eada believed he would keep his promise though she concluded her daughter’s flowering was an event not far off. Recently Mairin’s body had begun to rapidly develop. Her waist was quite defined, her hips rounding, the buds of her breasts swelling, a soft down of peach-colored fuzz beginning to sprout along her arms, legs and private parts. Mairin would soon be a woman grown.
And yet there was something undefinable about Basil Ducas that disturbed Eada although she could not quite put her finger upon it. She had tried speaking to Aldwine about it, but her husband had always had a blind spot where Mairin was concerned. From the moment he had brought her home from London he had said no mere Saxon would do as a husband for Mairin. Now he had done even better than some minor Norman lordling. He had found a prince of Byzantium for his precious daughter and he would hear no word of dissent where Basil was concerned. Eada could only hope that her female intuition was being oversolicitous in this particular situation. She loved Mairin every bit as much as her husband did, perhaps even more.
The barge carrying Mairin and Basil swiftly crossed the water. The prince was enchanted by his betrothed’s excitement over the new palace and its gardens. Color stained her fair skin as the barge touched the marble quay. It was immediately made fast by a slave who leapt from the vessel to tie it to one of the marble columns sunk into the sea next to the quay. The slave then offered a hand to Mairin who eagerly jumped from the boat. Coming behind her Basil led her up the terraced hillside to the main building.
“The rooms are just now being laid out,” he told her. “There is no decoration upon the walls yet. We will have beautiful public rooms for entertaining and dining. Our own private apartments with their baths, and room in a separate wing for our many children. Do you know,” he said, taking her into his arms, “how very much I desire you, my perfect one?”
“I think, my lord, that I must desire you also. I ache and long for things I do not even yet know or understand,” she answered.
“Soon,” he murmured against her soft hair, “soon you will be a woman, Mairin. Tomorrow night I will take you to my bed, and I will begin to prepare you for that time. In doing so, I will give you pleasure.”
“Will that give you pleasure also, my lord?”
“I will teach you to give me pleasure, my perfect beauty,” he assured her nuzzling his lips against her ear while shivers of hunger sped down her spine.
Her fragrance was haunting, he thought, as he held her, her red-gold head against his shoulder. The warm lilac essence wafted about her, and aroused his senses. Bellisarius was a charming lover, but this beautiful young girl aroused him more than any lover he had ever had. That he could not possess her fully only made the situation of their impending nuptials more piquant. The self-control he would evince until the time Mairin became a woman would in the end only make that first posse
ssion more pleasurable. He actually looked forward to his self-denial.
Mairin snuggled against him feeling safe and loved. It amazed her that this handsome and sophisticated man should have chosen her as his wife. Constantinople was a city of beautiful women, and yet he had picked her. Mairin was no fool. She understood how great her beauty was, yet she knew she lacked all the other traits she so admired in the women of Constantinople, traits she had assumed he would want in a wife. She wanted to make him happy, but she was not certain how to go about it. She knew that as long as Eada remained in Constantinople she would help her to solve these mysteries.
His hand smoothed down her head. “What are you thinking of, Mairin? You are so still and silent against me.”
Shifting her position so she might look up at him she smiled and said, “I so very much want to make you happy, my lord. I was thinking on it.”
A spasm crossed his face. It was so quick that she wasn’t even sure it had been there. He felt as if a powerful hand had just tightened its hold upon his heart. Dear sweet Jesus! How innocent and how very, very sweet she was! Then he realized that he did indeed love her deeply. Not simply for her great beauty, but for the pure and good heart that she seemed to possess as well. “How fortunate I am in you,” he said quietly. “You do not have to make any special attempt to please me, my perfect love. Your mere being gives me pleasure. The knowledge that tomorrow you will be my wife offers me the greatest happiness of all. Ahh, Mairin! We will have the most beautiful and perfect life together. I promise you!”
Chapter 6
“Mother! I am bleeding!” Mairin looked down at the crimson stains upon her thighs. Then with dawning realization she cried out, “Mother! I am a woman!”
For a brief moment Eada closed her eyes in resignation. It had been bound to happen, but why, oh why, now? Why the night before Mairin’s wedding? There could be no possibility of consummating the marriage until Mairin’s first flow was over, but she had hoped her child would have a little more time. Hiding the emotions that assailed her she briskly went about the business of showing her daughter how to cope during this monthly occurrence. Eada could see she was pale, her fair skin clammy.
Mairin complained of pain in both her belly and back. Eada tucked her into a soft bed, feeding her a warm, medicated drink. Then Eada sat by Mairin’s bedside until her daughter fell into a deep sleep. Satisfied that her child was comfortable she hurried off to find the prince.
To her surprise Basil was very sympathetic. “There is no reason,” he said, “for our plans to change, my lady Eada. I know that younger women have married and borne children, but Mairin is more innocent than most. She has not the sophistication of a woman of Byzantium. There are some men to whom it would not matter, but I am not like them. I want to introduce Mairin slowly to the pleasures that can be between a man and a woman. I have no great need to immediately possess myself of her maidenhead. I want her to savor and fully enjoy her awakening before we consummate our union.”
“Can you consummate that union?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized it. Horrified, Eada clapped her hand over her mouth, her face crimsoning.
The prince laughed, amused by her regretted boldness. “Yes, I most certainly can consummate my marriage to your daughter, lady.”
“My lord, I do beg your pardon, but I have heard rumors,” Eada apologized. “I cannot help but be concerned for my child’s well-being. Eventually we will return to England, leaving Mairin in a strange land. We may never see her again. I only want her happy, my lord.”
“She will not be discontent with me, lady. I will give her all she needs to be happy,” he said quietly. “I love Mairin, and whatever you have heard about me has nothing to do with my devotion to your daughter.”
Eada knew that she must be satisfied. “My lord,” she said, “I have committed a terrible breach of good manners with you. I swear I do not seek to be an interfering mother-in-law.”
“To seek the well-being of a child is no sin, lady,” he interrupted her. Then he said reassuringly, “The words that have passed between us this afternoon are private ones. I shall not allude to this conversation again if you will not.”
“My lord is most kind,” Eada replied. She was relieved that Aldwine should not know of this incident. Curtsying to Basil she hurried from the room.
The following day dawned clear and warm. The bright sun shone down upon them from a sky of pure turquoise. Mairin followed the ancient custom and had risen early to gather flowers from the gardens before the dew was even off them. She still felt somewhat shaky, a condition brought about by her new status as a grown woman. Her wedding, however, was to be a small, quiet affair. If the bride was slightly subdued no one would gossip. Indeed she suspected her apparent modesty would be applauded.
As Basil was not an immediate member of the royal family, his marriage was not a dynastic one. His title had come to him through his mother. The wedding ceremony would take place not at the great domed basilica of Hagia Sophia, but at Hagia Eirene, a smaller church opposite it.
In early afternoon the prince and a band of musicians came to escort the bride and her parents to the church. The musicians, garbed in scarlet, gold, green, and peacock blue silks, played merrily upon pipes and drums.
With her long, thick hair unbound to show her maiden state, the bridal crown glittering upon her head, Mairin was led from the Garden Palace by her parents and Dagda. The bride was escorted to the church which lay across the Imperial Gardens. The groom and his musicians went ahead of them. Within the church a soft golden light permeated everywhere. The sunshine coming through the beautiful windows reflected off the pale yellow walls and Mairin’s beautiful white-and-gold bridal garments.
Although the church in Constantinople had separated from the church in Rome several years earlier, Mairin could see little difference between the two other than language. One church used Greek, the other Latin. As the bride and groom stood before the priest, their crowns were joined together by a slender gold ribbon signifying the bonds of matrimony that would join Mairin to Basil. Three times the priest led the bridal couple around the altar. The invited guests consisted of Aldwine, Eada, Dagda, Eada’s serving woman, Nara, Princess Ileana, the Emperor Constantine, the Empress Irene Marie, Timon Theocrates, and his wife, Eudoxia. The members of the wedding chanted joyful matrimonial hymns, and threw rice at the couple to insure the bride’s fertility. Then they slapped the prince upon the back in congratulation. When the religious ceremony was over Basil and his bride led their guests back to the Garden Palace to be served bride cakes and wine.
It had been a simple wedding, and health was drunk to the newly wedded couple. Noticing that Mairin was tired, the prince called for a litter. They were wished well and sent quietly upon their way. Dagda and Nara had already gone on ahead to the Boucoleon Palace. Eada had promised her daughter that Nara would be hers when she wed. As for Dagda, Aldwine Athelsbeorn understood that he would serve Mairin and her new husband for he was first Mairin’s loyal man.
Mairin lay back in the litter, and for a moment her eyelids drooped. Walking by her side Basil smiled. She was so very beautiful. He took her hand in his, and her eyes opened.
“What kind of a bride am I to fall asleep?” she scolded herself.
“A tired one,” he laughed. “It has all been very exciting, my beauty.”
She heard his emphasis upon the word “all,” and realized that her mother must have told him that she was at last a woman grown. Mairin was relieved. She did not think she would know how to broach such a personal subject with a man even if that man was now her husband.
“Lie back, and rest,” he said gently. “We are almost home, and will speak then.”
She understood he did not wish to discuss their private life aloud before the servants. Nodding she said, “Yes, my lord.”
The Boucoleon Palace overlooked the imperial yacht basin. Its wharf was decorated with fantastic statues of lions, dragons, griffins, and other beasts both mytho
logical and real. The palace was constructed of the finest marbles with mosaics of pure, blazing colors. It sat within a landscape of pavilions and fishponds, fountains, and gardens. Its peaceful setting was misleading for within the Boucoleon twenty thousand people lived and worked as courtiers, soldiers, priests, servants, civil servants, and entertainers. In the workshops of the Boucoleon artisans manufactured high-grade silks—a state monopoly—dyes for fabrics, and weapons of excellent quality.
It was here that Mairin would live until her own home was completed. Prince Basil’s apartments overlooked both the gardens and the sea. The little wing of the palace in which they were to live had its own private courtyard and entrance. The prince helped his bride from the litter, and carried her across the threshold of her new home. Blushing, Mairin hid her face in his shoulder. Her heart hammered with excitement and not a little fear, but to her surprise he settled her upon the bed in the bedchamber saying, “Rest now, Mairin. I will join you later for supper.” Then he was gone.
She was too tired to argue. The cramps that had earlier assaulted her belly now returned with a vengeance. She even felt queasy. “If this is being a woman,” Mairin muttered, “I think I should just as soon not be one!” She turned onto her side, but she was no more comfortable in that position than she had been upon her back. “Nara!” she called out. The serving woman appeared almost instantly.
“How may I serve you, princess?” asked Nara, very aware of her own elevation in status.
“Go to my mother. Tell her I would have some of the elixir she fed me yesterday for the pains in my belly. Tell her also I would know how it is made so I may brew it myself in the future.”
“Yes, my lady, I will go immediately, but may I suggest in the meantime that you try some of the red Cyprus wine?”
“Pour me some,” Mairin ordered. Then she asked, “Do you get pains, Nara, when your link with the moon is broken?”
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