Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition

by Vijaya Schartz

  Thierry frowned. “How long ago was that?”

  “Several centuries.” Sigefroi smiled. “Vineyards last a long time.”

  They came into view of a monastery overlooking the vineyard on the slope. Sigefroi pointed to it. “Let’s visit the monks and break our fast.”

  The monks received Sigefroi and his friends with the respect due his rank. They served a copious fare. The monks of Trier lived better than most.

  After the meal, Sigefroi turned to the abbot. “Could I bother you with a taste of your sweetest white wine?”

  The abbot nodded and disappeared through the refectory door.

  Gunter chuckled. “Getting tired of red wine?”

  Sigefroi smiled. “It will suffice for everyday fare, but for special occasions I need a sweet white wine, like the nectar I tasted at Emperor Otto’s table.”

  When the abbot returned, Sigefroi found the wine to his liking and suspected that was where Otto’s wine was made. Thierry and Gunter also approved with nods and smacking of lips.

  Satisfied, Sigefroi purchased with gold coins four dozen vine stocks to start another vineyard on his new estate, as well as ten barrels of last year’s wine. The order would be delivered shortly to his new domain.

  By the time the companions returned to Trier, the sun already curved into afternoon. Back inside the city walls, they rode past a two-story villa, lit by many torches in sconces, and displaying a stone phallus higher than two men. A comely lass, tall and blonde with wide blue eyes, stood in the doorway.

  She smiled invitingly while lifting her red robes to expose milky legs. “Half a silver coin can buy your fill of ecstasy, my lords.”

  Sigefroi chuckled. “Promises are cheap.”

  Gunter halted his horse and held his hand for his friends to stop. He turned in the saddle to face Sigefroi. “Can’t remember my last wenching. Perhaps it is time to refresh my memory. Are you coming?”

  Young Thierry blushed, looking expectantly at his lord, and Sigefroi surmised the lad had never known a woman. From an upper story window, muffled laughter drifted into the street.

  Sigefroi smiled. “I reckon it looks better than a roll in the muddy grass with a camp follower after a battle.” Surprisingly, he didn’t feel aroused as he had so many times before. Although he usually enjoyed such pleasures and had the coin for it, lately he fancied a svelte, exotic woman with tan skin and sun-streaked hair.

  On the breeze, Sigefroi detected the scent of perfumed oils such as burned in churches. It reminded him of a bishop who preached against sinful places but visited them often in secret.

  Reaching for the leather purse hanging at his belt, Sigefroi extracted a silver coin and tossed it to Thierry. “Here, lad. Have some fun for me.”

  Thierry caught the coin in mid air, his blue eyes widening as he grinned with delight. “For me, my lord?”

  “Aye. I still have much to do. Go with Gunter. I’ll meet you two at the abbey for supper.”

  Gunter frowned in disbelief. “Are you unwell, my friend?”

  Sigefroi waved away his comment. “Go. I will be fine.”

  With no more prompting, his two companions dismounted and tethered their horses to the metal rings in the wall. Sigefroi watched them hurry toward the inviting doorway, then he turned his destrier and rode away.

  * * *

  That night, at St Martin’s Abbey, Gunter, in high spirits, told funny anecdotes. Thierry, despite the foolish grin on his face, behaved with more confidence and maturity than he ever had. The three men sampled the renowned wine of St Martin’s own vineyards. Gunter approved when Sigefroi purchased several casks of the golden nectar for his new stronghold.

  In the following days, Sigefroi hired stone cutters, carpenters, blacksmiths and stone masons. He also acquired three families of serfs and procured a body of servants for his new estate. At the free market in front of the cathedral, he bought horses, goats, sheep, and a sow with piglets.

  While visiting noble friends and acquaintances from past battlefields, Sigefroi inquired about loyal soldiers for his personal guard.

  No luck in finding an architect, however. The best ones were busy building new churches, expanding and beautifying the cathedral, repairing the city walls damaged by decades of warfare, or restoring the imperial palace. No matter. Sigefroi had seen the best fortresses of the civilized world and could probably direct the most urgent work without the help of a master builder.

  Finally, one morning, the slow convoy of hand-pulled carts and horse-drawn chariots left Trier to cross the Moselle River. The thick wooden wheels groaned under the heavy loads. Toddlers sat on top of their families’ meager possessions and other supplies for the fort. Going west, the train stretched for a quarter of a Roman mile along the Via Romana that cut straight through the green hills and valleys of High Lorraine. At the rear, the sow and squealing piglets traveled in the last cart, and behind it, goats and sheep followed on foot, bleating as young lads herded them with sticks.

  Sigefroi rode at the head with Gunter and Thierry, while the new men at arms protected the column’s flanks. Craftsmen, servants and serfs walked beside and between the carts. Among the serfs, a wife heavy with child struggled to keep pace. Sigefroi slowed his mount to let the train catch up.

  Although he felt sorry for the woman, he couldn’t show weakness in front of his new people. He needed to be feared as well as respected.

  He composed a stern face to address her gruffly from the height of his black destrier. “Woman!”

  “Aye, m’lord.” When the wife glanced up, alarm widened her eyes.

  “Get on a supply cart. You’re slowing us down.”

  The woman mumbled her thanks with a furtive smile. In haste, she hitched up her skirts and hobbled toward the nearest slow-rolling horse cart, followed by her skinny husband. She caught up with the moving cart and grabbed hold of the back rail. With her man hefting her from behind, she stepped up the short ladder then settled between sacs of oats and wine casks. Once ensconced, the woman nodded to Sigefroi and smiled with relief. So did her husband as he walked alongside.

  Their gratitude felt good, but Sigefroi revealed none of his pleasure. Was he getting soft? Nay, he reassured himself. The babe in the mother’s womb was his property, and he must protect his investment. In order to prosper, an estate needed nurturing.

  Despite their efforts, the score of mounted soldiers couldn’t keep the long train tight and tidy. People, carts, and animals made for an unwieldy caravan.

  Sigefroi sighed as he caught up with Gunter and Thierry. “At such speed, it will take three days to reach the fort, and I don’t want to wait that long.”

  Gunter’s brow shot up. “What do you propose?”

  “Can you oversee the caravan all the way home?”

  Gunter winked. “Easier than chasing stray enemy after a battle.”

  “I know I can count on you.” Sigefroi smiled.

  Leaving Gunter in charge of the convoy, Sigefroi motioned young Thierry to follow him. Thierry grinned and spurred his mount as Sigefroi forged ahead on the straight road. A cloud of dust billowed in their wake.

  * * *

  In a clearing on the knoll along the Via Romana, Melusine sat atop her white mare in full knight armor, watching the wide road. Two riders approached at a gallop. She recognized Sigefroi at his fiery mane. His young squire rode alongside.

  Melusine bunched her hair under the mail hauberk, pulled down the helmet, and adjusted the nose guard. With a click of the tongue, she spurred the mare down the slope.

  Her silver mail and long shield jostled awkwardly on her slender frame, but the bounce of Caliburn on her thigh reassured her as she rode. Besides, she had the advantage. This wouldn’t be a fair fight.

  Pushing the mare to a gallop, Melusine stormed through sparse woods and down the hill, then up the road toward the approaching riders, shortening the distance between them. Then she halted her mount short. Pulling on the reins, she made the white mare rear and paw the air in the middl
e of the road.

  In challenge, she drew Caliburn in a wide arc. She knew she cut a striking figure, framed by two green hills with the stark fortress at her back.

  The riders slowed. Sigefroi tugged on the reins and his body tensed. The squire followed suit. The two men came to a halt a dozen paces in front of her. Sigefroi grabbed the helmet hanging from his saddle and slipped it over his head. Then both riders drew swords.

  His identity safe under the full helmet, Melusine smiled. Surprise, indeed!

  “Return whence you came, Sigefroi of Ardennes!” she intoned in a strong clear voice, deep enough to be that of a lad. “You are trespassing upon nature’s domain. You have no power over these woods, nor can you control the animals that populate them, the rivers, the wind, or the skies above. Your title means nothing to the forces that rule this land.”

  Sigefroi’s grip tightened on the reins as he halted his destrier.

  “Who dares challenge me on my own estate?” He sounded calm and in control, but the black destrier fidgeted, betraying his master’s alertness.

  Straight in the saddle, Melusine held her sword at the ready. “My name holds power and I do not give it lightly.”

  Sigefroi’s gaze through the helmet slits darted to the tree line, as if he expected an army to rush out of the woods and fall upon him. After a short pause, he relaxed and erupted in laughter.

  “Young man, you have balls of bronze to defy me alone!” He drew his mount closer, studying her. “I have every right to be here, and I will defend that right with my life if need be.” There was no mistaking the threat in his even tone.

  After so many years of isolation, Melusine felt rusty dealing with mortals. It set her nerves on edge. She managed to steady her breathing. “Is your heart so pure, Sigefroi, that you do not fear death or the forces of evil?”

  “A righteous knight knows not fear, and I stand in my right.” He led his war horse in a wide circle around her. “Two archbishops sealed the deed to this land.”

  Melusine tipped her visor and spat in the thick dust covering the stone road. “The princes of the Church are naught but the pope’s minions... men of little faith and great ambition.”

  Sigefroi chuckled. “Some truths are better left unspoken, lad.” He brought the big black horse about to face her. “Now, step aside and let us through. You are no match for my warring skills. I refuse to fight a youth with no whiskers yet.” His gaze fell upon Caliburn. “Even one with a fine blade.”

  The remark took Melusine off-guard. “Why ever not? Since when does Sigefroi The Bloodthirsty hesitate to kill a boy?” As he didn’t answer, she added, “I’m not as young as you think, and you’ll have to fight me to get through. I leave you no other choice. “

  “Pray, do not challenge my patience, lad!” The destrier sidestepped as Sigefroi raised his voice. “Faith! Be gone, or I might grant your death wish.”

  Melusine let out a derisive laugh. “I wager you wouldn’t want your squire to think you a coward, and I say you are if you do not fight me here and now.”

  A few paces away, the squire watched and listened intently.

  “If you get the better of me,” Melusine said with emphasis, “you may do with me as you please, but if I defeat you, you’ll do anything I say.”

  “I never concede.” A dangerous glint in Sigefroi’s eyes told Melusine he had taken the bait.

  “Even in exchange for your very life?” She managed to sound vexing. “We’ll see...”

  “I always win,” Sigefroi declared matter-of-factly. “Let’s get it over with. On horseback, or on foot?”

  “On foot, if you don’t mind. My mount is no match for a warhorse.”

  Sigefroi dismounted with a grunt and slapped the destrier’s rear. The warhorse trotted toward the squire who dismounted to retrieve the huge beast. While Sigefroi adjusted the shoulder belt of his shield and balanced his broadsword, Melusine slid off the white mare in a fluid motion. Her small size and lack of training might place her at a disadvantage, but she was quick and agile, with resources Sigefroi couldn’t suspect.

  Without warning, Sigefroi charged, uttering a blood-chilling battle roar. Melusine would have frozen in fright, were it not for Caliburn guiding and strengthening her arm in the appropriate countermove. Protecting its bearer was the magic sword’s purpose.

  Barely avoiding a lunge, Melusine side-stepped just in time, deflecting Sigefroi’s sword in a clash of steel that sparked, releasing a flinty smell. The armor impeded her movements, and the shield strap bit into her shoulder.

  Although her endurance would outlast his, exhausting Sigefroi by keeping to the defense would take too long. Attacking was also out of the question, for Melusine didn’t want to kill or maim the man of her destiny. She only needed to humble him.

  Sigefroi lashed out, battering her shield with a resounding blow. Under the sheer force of it, Melusine lost her footing. Dear Goddess! He proved stronger and faster than she’d anticipated. Focusing on balance, she called upon Fae power to spring back up. She needed more strength.

  Without skipping a blow or missing a step, Melusine slowed her breathing and called upon the unseen forces that rule the universe. Mentally, she rooted herself in the earth like a tree, her head drawing strength from the sky. A shimmer of power flashed on Caliburn and glanced off her mail.

  The next mighty thrust found Melusine prepared. Ducking sideways, she reacted with the right amount of speed and strength, forcing Sigefroi back as she feigned an attack. She now enjoyed the sport of avoiding the knight’s blade as if she’d practiced the game all her life. Aye. Fae folks learned quickly.

  When Sigefroi rushed again, Melusine countered with ease. She couldn’t help but admire his physical strength, enjoying the full brunt of his wrath, a mighty wave of hot, unrefined energy. With every move, his battle-hardened muscles bulged under the mail tunic. She smelled the musky sweat pearling on his brow and his breath warmed her face. The formidable knight grunted and lunged with the powerful grace of a lion, but Melusine kept him at bay, enjoying the growing rage and frustration in his eyes.

  Sigefroi’s murderous glare drilled into her through the helmet slits. Would he recognize her? Nay. Melusine realized he didn’t see her as a person anymore, but as an enemy, a vile thing to crush like a viper on the road. Such barbarism burned in his amber gaze, such determination. The close proximity of this ferocious man frightened and thrilled her at the same time.

  Parrying high, Melusine caught a glance of the squire who held the horses at a safe distance. The lad watched with open curiosity, obviously enjoying his master’s skillful demonstration. But Sigefroi’s well-honed skills wouldn’t bring him victory this day. To keep a semblance of fairness, Melusine kept fighting, making the combat look evenly matched.

  When Sigefroi dealt a particularly fierce blow, Melusine sent through her parrying arm a wave of energy like a lightning bolt. Sigefroi was thrown back, flying through the air. His sword and shield clattered on the dusty stone of the road. His helmet flew off. He hit the ground in a pounding of metal. Flat on his back, the knight didn’t move.

  In two steps, Melusine had Caliburn’s point at his throat. “Do you yield?”

  Sigefroi blinked, and the slow realization of his desperate situation showed in the widening of his eyes, along with a spark of rage, and something else... Surprise!

  When he did not respond, Melusine repeated louder, “Do you yield?”

  The words came with difficulty. Sigefroi, no doubt, had to swallow a great deal of pride. “I... do... yield,” he croaked.

  “In exchange for your life, I shall exact an oath.” Melusine made her voice carry so that the young squire could also hear and understand. “Within a week, a royal princess by the name of Melusine will ask for your hospitality. Not only will you treat her according to her noble rank, you will betroth her and take her for wife.”

  “What?” Sigefroi, in his surprise, had started to rise, but Melusine pressed Caliburn’s point harder against the mail at his
throat, forcing him to lie still.

  “Swear on your knight’s honor, or I kill you right now!”

  In no position to bargain, Sigefroi finally said in a strangled voice, “I swear it.”

  “Louder!” Melusine insisted, applying more pressure.

  The mail shifted as Sigefroi swallowed, and blood trickled at his throat under the sword’s sharp tip. “I swear it on my knight’s honor!”

  Drawing back the weapon, Melusine returned the great sword to the scabbard. Sigefroi sat up slowly, coughing, shaking his red mane, and rubbing a grazed throat. Melusine didn’t wait for him to get up or retrieve his broadsword.

  When she whistled, the white mare came at a trot. She mounted swiftly and turned the horse around.

  “Wait!” Sigefroi shouted in a broken voice.

  Melusine halted the mare and turned in the saddle, a wide grin on her face. She’d been waiting for this moment to deliver the coup de grâce.

  The knight rose on unsteady feet. “If you won’t give me your name, at least let me behold the face of my victor!”

  The humiliation in Sigefroi’s eyes and voice delighted Melusine. Slowly, she lifted her silver helmet and pushed back the head mail, letting her long hair cascade over slender shoulders. Staring at him with glee, she however measured her deliberate reply.

  “You were bested by a maiden, my lord.”

  Sigefroi’s thunderstruck expression made her laugh.

  “But have no fear, your honor is safe with me. I shall keep your defeat a secret.” After a mock bow to Sigefroi and his dumfounded squire, she spurred the mare away and didn’t look back.

  * * *

  Sigefroi couldn’t believe what had just happened and stood openmouthed, staring after the lass riding off into the woods. By St Andreas’ foot! He’d been undone by a maiden, the very same he’d seen bathing in the Alzette two weeks past.

  He slapped his thigh in frustration, immediately regretting the shock that intensified the pain in his arm. Was this a bad dream? No. His sword lay on the road. So did the helmet and shield. He’d planned to find the maiden, but she’d found him first and humiliated him. How? Something didn’t feel right.