Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition

by Vijaya Schartz

  Retrieving his gear, Sigefroi turned to Thierry menacingly. “Not a word of this to anyone, you hear? Don’t ever mention it, not even to me!”

  Thierry looked away in embarrassment. “‘Course not, m’lord.”

  The blond lad avoided his master’s gaze as he brought up the black steed and held it for Sigefroi to mount.

  “I don’t know what treachery this is, but I don’t like it.” Sigefroi hoped the steely tone would mask his growing embarrassment. “No maiden can defeat the best warrior in the realm in fair combat. Something is very wrong. I smell a rotten fish.”

  “Aye, m’lord.” Thierry looked dejected, as if he’d just lost all respect for the knight he’d regarded as a hero all this time.

  Sigefroi’s joy at taking possession of his new domain suddenly turned sour. Neither of them spoke during the short ride to the fort. Sigefroi hated being played the fool. How could this frail maiden counter him blow for blow? Had he drunk tainted wine? Eaten poisoned food? If not, her strength and cunning surpassed his own. How could that be?

  What bothered him most was his reaction to the elusive maiden herself. If he’d wanted to protect her the first time he glanced at her nude beauty, now he wished he could strangle the little hellcat. He’d show her he was the best warrior.

  Jesu! Even now, he lusted for her. Why didn’t he go wenching with Gunter when he had a chance? Shifting in the saddle to ease the discomfort in his groin, Sigefroi both envied and pitied the man who’d wed such a wild creature.

  He didn’t even know her name!

  Judging by the expensive armor and fine weapon, she enjoyed great wealth. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find out who she was. He would confront her and take back his oath, or strike a different bargain. He hadn’t refused a bride from the emperor to accept one from a nameless wench. Unfortunately, he’d given his word as a knight... a promise he could never break.

  And who was Melusine, the princess he’d agreed to take for wife? He’d never heard of such a lady in noble circles. The name almost sounded like Mal-Lucine, the evil goddess of antiquity who presided over childbirth and poisoned the mind of willful women with ideas of independence.

  Gunter had mentioned Mal-Lucine as a possible translation for Lucilinburhuc. Sigefroi, however, didn’t believe in the power of false gods, so he banished the thought from his mind until he could find answers.

  * * *

  Ten days later, the smell of fresh cut wood and the sounds of hammering filled the bailey. Sigefroi turned to meet Gunter coming at a run.

  His friend’s dark face shone with sweat but he grinned widely through his black beard. “Where do you want the guardhouse for the men-at-arms?”

  Sigefroi motioned to a spot inside the wall near the gate. “This should be the best location, with quick access to the gate and the rampart.”

  Gunter nodded appreciatively. “I asked the women and children to collect the best fallen stones from the rubble of the village fortifications. They are cleaning and piling up the reusable ones.”

  Sigefroi smiled at his friend’s efficiency. “And the stone masons are scanning the cliff for a possible quarry. The plentiful sandstone should be easy to work with, and suitable for strong walls.”

  Gunter guffawed. “Walls that bend rather than crack under the stone balls of the war machines?”

  “Exactly.” Sigefroi winked. “I want to be ready for anything.”

  The plump bailiff approached the two men with his family and servants in tow, all packed and ready to leave with carts and a few animals.

  The fat man bowed to Sigefroi. “I guess it’s farewell my lord.”

  Sigefroi refrained from showing his relief. The bailiff’s departure afforded him the free run of the villa. For the first time since his arrival, he was truly lord of his new domain, and it felt wonderful. “Good luck managing your new appointed charge.”

  The bailiff nodded. “The abbey of St Maximin has been most generous, and the new appointment will prove easier to manage than this one.” The plump man scanned the bailey with haughty detachment. “The lands are richer, too.”

  Sigefroi surmised that the bailiff would keep swindling from the monks wherever they sent him. After perusing the books, he had no doubt the man was cheating the abbey. As official protector of St Maximin, Sigefroi would send a missive to warn the abbot to keep a close eye on the man.

  Gunter waved and left to follow a worker calling for advice.

  Sigefroi watched the bailiff and his party make their way slowly through the wide open gate and onto the bridge. Then he climbed up the stone stairs carved along the wall and leading to the top of the rampart.

  Looking up, he considered the gray clouds announcing more spring rain. He hoped the fair weather would hold for a few more days, enough time to finish the sowing. Already, the air had warmed and the fowl had returned to the woods. Soon, he’d go hunting again.

  The top of the wall afforded a panoramic view of the activity. On the far plateau across the gorge, a group of serfs felled trees to clear the edge of the forest for new fields. The timber and larger branches would provide good lumber. Carpenters and masons erected huts in the village for the new families of serfs and free workers.

  Over a week had passed since his arrival, and no royal princess had turned up at the fort. Sigefroi breathed easier. Perhaps he’d imagined the humiliating encounter with the wild maiden at the end of a tiring journey. After all, he’d seen her in dreams. She could have been an illusion.

  His men had searched the countryside and found no trace of a warrior woman. Too bad. Sigefroi couldn’t get the little hellcat out of his head. He would miss her.

  Down in the bailey, Thierry glanced up at Sigefroi. When their eyes met, the boy turned away. Since the day of his stinging defeat at the hands of the brazen maiden, the lad avoided him. Sigefroi shook his head. He’d lost his invincible aura in the eyes of his squire. The boy would have to accept the fact that his hero was only human.

  In truth, Sigefroi couldn’t deny that the fateful fight had taken place. So why had the bold creature lied about a visiting princess? Why make him swear to marry the lady? To what purpose? It made no sense.

  Still pondering the enigma, Sigefroi instinctively gazed east up the Roman road. In the distance, a small van made its way toward the Alzette. He counted five horse-drawn carts. Ahead of the train, a richly dressed lady rode side-saddle. Several loaded mules, a goat, and what looked like young servants followed.

  A cold premonition gripped Sigefroi’s gut. Hellfire and damnation!

  “Gunter!” he shouted over the hammering of the carpenters below.

  “Aye,” the bearded man answered from the bailey, then ran up the stairs to join him at the top of the rampart.

  Sigefroi pointed toward the approaching convoy. “What do you make of this?”

  Shading his eyes to peer in the distance, Gunter whistled. “You have good eyesight, my friend. Quite a wealthy train, by the looks of it. Good beasts and fine carts, but I see no armed escort.”

  A guard appeared on the rampart, running toward them. “M’lord!”

  “Aye, Medard. We’ve seen it.”

  “Should we inquire, m’lord?” The young soldier’s eyes widened with eagerness.

  “Aye. Take an escort and find out who it is.” Sigefroi waved a dismissal then thought better of it. “Wait!” He hesitated, not sure how much to divulge. “If the lady is coming here, leave the escort with her and return to inform me immediately.”

  “Aye, m’lord.” Medard bowed and turned back to climb down the stairs.

  Sigefroi struggled to hide his apprehension. Why had he given his oath? Would the wild maiden have killed him if he hadn’t promised to marry the princess? At the time, he believed it. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Gunter frowned. “You think she’s coming here?”

  Sigefroi cringed. “It’s mid afternoon. I don’t know of any other decent stop for this sort of convoy less than a day’s ride away.”

 
; Gunter rubbed his black beard. “I see your logic. I’ll go pick the best men to escort them here.”

  After Gunter left, Sigefroi remained atop the rampart, staring at the advancing van. Each passing moment seemed to confirm his fears. Despite the distance, the small woman sitting side-saddle on the white mare at the head of the van looked somewhat familiar. The girl sat very straight and had long hair streaked with sunshine.

  His heart faltered. It looked like the maiden herself, the same he’d fought on the road, the same he’d seen bathing nude. The woman of his dream. Some gut feeling deep inside told him he was right.

  By the foot of St Andreas! But he should’ve known. Indeed, she never intended to kill him, only to marry him! Rage invaded his mind.

  But he could have his revenge no later than tonight. The little minx thought herself so smart, but she was only a maiden after all... and Sigefroi knew how to handle wenches.

  In front of his entire household, the new Lord of Lucilinburhuc would retake control of his life. A good politician always turned a defeat to his advantage. Sigefroi would save face by taking credit for the marriage bargain and have some fun at it, too. If he scared her enough, she might even rescind the deal. Although he would enjoy bedding her.

  In any case, the villa wasn’t ready to entertain a princess. Fortunately, Sigefroi still had a few hours before the lady’s arrival. His hospitality wouldn’t be found wanting.

  Bursting into the kitchen, Sigefroi startled scullions and cooks by ordering an impromptu feast, as well as the baking of fresh bread in the middle of the week. Then he gathered maids and servants and set them to scrubbing the recently vacated villa, the hall and especially his private rooms.

  Used to giving orders to soldiers, he saw with satisfaction that the help scurried at his commanding tone. Sigefroi truly enjoyed playing castle lord.

  An hour into the preparations, Medard entered the busy hall and bowed, then looked around, as if afraid to talk. The hall grew silent in expectation.

  “Speak!” Sigefroi barked.

  Medard blushed and swallowed hard. “It is Princess Melusine of Strathclyde, daughter of King Elinas. The lady sends her greetings, m’lord.”

  “A name and title? That’s all she gave?” Sigefroi found the young guard’s timidity irritating.

  “Well,” Medard took a deep breath. “She says she comes to wed you, m’lord.”

  Servants caught their breath in surprise.

  “She brings a fine retinue, m’lord,” Medard added with growing excitement. “Choice horses, and wooden chests full of dowry.”

  “How much dowry?”

  Medard shrugged. “The lady didn’t say. I’m not good at counting, m’lord, but the coffers filled with gold and silver are bigger than those in the imperial armory where we used to store the hauberks.”

  A murmur of approval washed over the servant folk. That much gold and silver amounted to an impressive fortune.

  “Thank you, Medard. You can return to your post.”

  The guard saluted and left the hall.

  “And she travels without an escort?” Gunter frowned. “That’s suicide!”

  “The lady is quite safe, I can assure you.” Sigefroi allowed himself a private smile at the memory of his stinging defeat.

  “Still, the roads are dangerous.” Gunter looked shocked. “Did you know about this?”

  “Aye, my friend, I knew of it.” Sigefroi managed a conniving wink. “I can use a bride with enough gold and silver to buy me a small kingdom.”

  The fact that the little hellcat had emasculated him in front of young Thierry didn’t seem important anymore. Even now, the squire who helped in the hall wouldn’t meet his gaze. But marriage to the spirited princess might serve Sigefroi after all. In fact, he looked forward to a proper rematch... on his bed furs. The princess would find out then who wielded the mightiest sword.

  “You arranged an alliance without telling anyone?” Gunter laughed and slapped his friend’s back. “You devil of a man. Why all the secrecy? To avoid our jibes?”

  “And right I was, I reckon.” Sigefroi’s chuckle lacked conviction.

  If the royal maiden yielded such a fortune, she could wed any noble she fancied. So why did she corner a small lord over a well landed duke or a prince? The question chafed at the edges of his mind.

  “Tell us more about the lady!” Gunter insisted, curious as a crone. “Is she pretty?”

  “Aye.” Sigefroi didn’t have to feign the flush of embarrassment that crept up his face. “It is an arranged marriage.” He cleared his throat. “She’s wealthy, but as is oft the case, I know very little about her. I met Lady Melusine only twice, and we barely exchanged a few words, but she can tell us more at dinner.”

  Gunter roared, and the castle folk returned to their chores with renewed ardor in a buzz of animated conversations.

  Only young Thierry, who’d been feeding the oven fire, didn’t look happy with the news. He bent his head and quietly left the hall.

  Sigefroi understood the lad’s disappointment at his mentor’s defeat, and even more at the coverup to hide his shame. Sigefroi knew they should talk soon but hadn’t found the right words yet. As incredible as it sounded, he’d simply lost a fight to a lass. Sigefroi still couldn’t face the facts. His honor, however, commanded that he keep his oath, and his body yearned for the enchanting beauty of Princess Melusine of Strathclyde.

  Disrupting Sigefroi’s thoughts, Medard came running and yelled from the wide open doors of the hall. “M’lord, the lady’s gone!”

  “What?” Answering to the urgency in the guard’s voice, Sigefroi met him outside. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Come see for yourself, m’lord. Her caravan is gone. Vanished. She’s not on the road anymore.”

  “Could she have turned onto a smaller road?”

  “Possibly, m’lord. But she would have to know the land better than we do.”

  In a few long strides, Sigefroi reached the rampart wall and climbed the stairs to join the soldiers gathered to gaze at the road below.

  “Return to your posts,” he ordered grimly.

  The guards scattered at his command.

  “One moment she was on the road,” Medard explained behind him, panting, “then when we looked again, she was gone. No more convoy, no carts, no horses… even our men sent to escort her are gone, m’lord.”

  Sigefroi stared at the empty road. He could see several miles in each direction... nothing. By St Andreas’ foot, what new game was the wild maiden playing now?

  Chapter Four

  When Melusine suggested to the astonished guards a little known roundabout way up a forested hillock, the men had readily agreed. This route avoided the steep cliff trail that might prove too difficult for her heavy carts.

  Riding at a sedate pace between two rows of castle guards, Melusine welcomed the protection of the woods. Sigefroi’s gaze from the rampart had made her nervous, so she’d sent a distracting thought to the men on the wall and veered off the straight Roman road. The gentle slope led to the far plateau. They would emerge from the forest into the fields surrounding the fortified village. It would take longer but made for an easier ride.

  Lord Sigefroi probably wondered where she went. Melusine allowed herself a slow smile. Her disappearance would add to his frustration. She counted on his anger and wanted him off balance.

  Melusine hated to arrive three days late, but it couldn’t be helped. The fat bailiff had only vacated the premises this morning, and she’d wanted him out of the way. The rotund man, familiar with local legends and lore, might have suspected her as a Fae. Also, Melusine knew from spying through the divining basin that the villa was small, and she needed privacy to seduce her knight.

  She could only imagine Sigefroi’s shock at recognizing her and derived a certain pleasure from his quandary. Any Christian knight valued honor and immortal soul too much not to keep a solemn oath. The ruse had worked beyond all expectations. Now, she couldn’t wait to see his face.
He’d be livid, but she found it easier to sway a knight whose feelings raged out of control than to conquer a cool, calculating lord.

  The young servants in the van talked animatedly about the prospect of castle life. Melusine had recently taken them into fosterage from humble families too happy to seize such an opportunity. At Lucilinburhuc, the lads and lasses would receive an education, learn valuable skills, and secure a better life than their parents could ever have hoped for them.

  When her convoy emerged from the thick forest, Melusine noticed all the new activity. Groups of men and women worked in the fields. The large tree trunks lying at the edge of the forest had been sliced and cut for lumber, and the smaller branches neatly stacked into piles for firewood.

  As they rode by, dirty children gawked, and workers stopped to stare at the unusual cortege. As she neared the village, she noticed that the battered wooden towers on the village fortifications had been dismantled.

  The train entered the village at a slow pace. Melusine observed new huts mushrooming everywhere. The population seemed to have quadrupled. She had to admire Sigefroi’s sense of organization. Dear Goddess, how she wanted to be part of such a grand project. Excitement flushed her cheeks, making her giddy.

  Melusine never had a chance to build a new country before. But here, according to the Goddess, she could start a dynasty that might rule from the North Sea to Bohemia and the plains of central Europe.

  As they approached the wooden bridge that spanned the gorge and led to the fort’s wide open gate, the guards fell behind to allow for traffic. Laborers and servants came and went freely over the bridge from the caste yard to the village, lugging lumber, masonry blocks, baskets of victuals, livestock, lengths of hemp rope.

  Once inside the fort, the flurry of activity seemed to increase. The smell of wood and the din of construction dominated. The breeze also carried the aroma of fresh bread and roasting venison.