Quickly, Melusine pulled on her gown then snatched her cloak from the peg. What about the guard at the door? Sending the guard a distracting thought, she unbarred the door and slipped out of the bedchamber, hiding herself under a veil of glamour, an old trick she’d learned as a child. To the casual eye, it made her look like a slight shadow, a mere trick of flitting light brushing the walls.
When she reached the main hall, servants readied the tables for supper. She was famished. In passing, she snatched a piece of bread and a chunk of cheese from a platter and took a few voracious bites.
The stronghold’s gates would soon close for the night. She had to hurry. In the courtyard, soldiers walked the wall, and serfs hastened toward the gate to get back to the village. Under the glamour, Melusine slipped between the guards unnoticed then crossed the wooden bridge over the gorge to the village on the main plateau.
Lazy smoke rose from the holes in the many thatched roofs. Past the village fortifications under repair, she took the steep path down the cliff face. Dear Goddess! She had barely enough energy left to maintain the glamour and negotiate the trail. If her transformation happened before she reached the water, Melusine was doomed.
The descent seemed to take forever. Her foot slipped on a rock. Already, the first paralyzing webs impeded her footing. Her leg muscles ached. Just a little further down. Almost there. No one in sight. She must get rid of the gown.
Pulling the garment over her head, she stretched up to tuck it upon a rocky ledge where it would remain hidden from prying eyes. The last light waned in the sky, and the shadow of the cliff darkened the river. At sunset everyone returned to the safety of home. But once a month on Wednesday’s eve, Melusine found home in the cool waters of the Alzette River.
Naked, she walked on the muddy shore with great difficulty. She tripped over her feet when sharp pain surged through her hips. Almost at the waterline. The cold flow soothed her itchy scales as she stumbled in the shallows then rolled into the swift current.
Within moments, a membrane stretched between her legs, sealing them together, then her serpent tail lengthened, round and thick, gleaming gray. Although she had experienced the transformation over a thousand times, Melusine still hated the degrading change. She prayed this unique chance to redeem the curse with Sigefroi would work.
Dear Goddess, allow him to free me from the curse!
As twilight turned to inky darkness, she let go of the glamour shielding her from mortal eyes and drifted toward the fast current. Then she flicked her tail and dove.
Until the next sunset...
She already missed her legs. Sigefroi had very much enjoyed the pleasures that lay between her thighs... and so had Melusine.
* * *
Sigefroi blindly reached for Melusine among the sleeping furs, but his hand only met a pillow. Sitting up in bed, he scanned the chamber and realized darkness had fallen, and no light filtered through the cracks in the shutters. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept all day. The open dowry chests still sat along the wall, and Caliburn hung from his baldric. The delights of the night had been real.
“Melusine?”
No answer. Where was his betrothed? Why did she abandon him so soon? Had he disappointed her? A pinch of rejection squeezed his heart. No woman had ever treated him so lightly. Wenches usually clung to him even after he tired of them. Melusine’s casual treatment wounded his pride.
The aroma of pork stew teased his nostrils, making his stomach growl. Perhaps Melusine had gone to the hall for supper. Hastily, Sigefroi pulled on his chausses and donned a fresh woolen tunic from his garment chest.
Melusine should have awakened him, but Sigefroi refused to give in to frustration. He had much to be thankful for... a sword of power, riches, and an incredible woman to share his bed. The heavy door was unbarred. It creaked as he pulled it open.
Sigefroi nodded to the rugged soldier with a droopy moustache who stood guard before his chamber. “Did Lady Melusine go to the dining hall?”
The trustworthy fellow, handpicked for his loyalty on the battlefield, stood at attention. “Nay, m’lord. You must be jesting. The lady is with you. I’ve let no one through this door all day, except the servant who brought your morning meal.”
Tendrils of cold anger coiled around Sigefroi’s gut. He felt the blood drain from his face.
“What day is it?” he asked between clenched teeth.
“Well, ‘tis Wednesday’s eve, m’lord.” Concern narrowed the soldier’s bloodshot eyes. “Are you well, m’lord?”
“Aye. Just ravenous.” Hellfire and damnation! He’d forgotten Melusine’s day of freedom, once a month from sunset to sunset. Sigefroi cleared his throat. “I now recall the Lady is praying in the seclusion of my alcove before the wedding. She won’t join me for supper.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The soldier’s blinked several times as if confused. “Should I have the lady’s supper carried to your bedchamber?”
“Nay!” Had Melusine stolen out the window? Impossible. The bedchamber was on the second floor of the villa, and the shutters were locked closed. How did she slip past the guard unnoticed?
Uncomfortable about pushing the issue, Sigefroi sighed. “Lady Melusine wants to see no one. I’ll bring her supper myself. Guard this door with your life until I return.”
The soldier straightened, puffed up with new pride. “Aye, m’lord.”
* * *
That night, Sigefroi couldn’t find sleep. He paced his chamber by the dim light of dying embers, unmindful of the chill from the open window. Stopping to gaze at the cloudy night sky, he breathed deeply. Where was Melusine?
Although his betrothed possessed everything he had always wanted in a wife, some sinister foreboding warned Sigefroi against marrying her. Was it a genuine omen from the Almighty, or just the fear of being chained to the same woman for a lifetime?
A small voice in his mind told him something was very wrong with his future bride. How could she disappear so completely and escape the guard’s notice? He couldn’t stand not knowing where she was. He cursed himself for letting the little hellcat make a mockery of his authority. But he had sworn on his knight’s honor, and he must keep his word.
Sigefroi expected his friend the emperor might feel slighted by his choice of bride. Marrying against Otto’s wishes could damage his laboriously earned privileges at court. But honor-bound by his oath, Sigefroi couldn’t afford the risk of the emperor prohibiting his marriage.
A quick wedding would not allow time for an interdict. Sigefroi hoped there would be no unpleasant reprisal. Otto had a legendary mean streak.
All that for a woman.
He wondered where Melusine would spend the night. Or with whom? A noose tightened around his gut. Probably wounded pride, or could he possibly be jealous? The discovery unsettled Sigefroi. He’d never experienced that nasty twinge of the heart. He’d always considered it a sign of weakness.
Making a conscious effort to let go of the unwelcome feeling, he turned his gaze to the night sky.
The third full moon of the year rose over the eastern wall through a veil of clouds that formed a blue halo. At dawn, he planned to go hunting with Gunter and Thierry. The long ride might calm his nerves. Besides, the cook needed fresh venison for the wedding feast.
Away from Melusine’s bewitching presence, Sigefroi now questioned everything she said. Yet, he could not ignore the silver and the gold sitting in his chamber, neither could he doubt the miraculous sword he’d seen in action. Besides, how could he deny his attraction to the wench, or the divine completion he felt in joining with her? If a higher dominion bound them together, who was he to object? In any case, she seemed to fit his master plan, and that mattered enough to indulge her strange whims.
Sigefroi never considered himself a devout Christian. So why would God reward him with such an opportunity? But what if Melusine’s dowry came from unholy sources? He shrugged away the thought. Nay. He didn’t believe in witchcraft or in Pagan gods... although h
e wasn’t so sure about the devil.
He attributed his many successes to skill and determination. He alone had brought about this providential boon. When the bishops asked, however, he would prudently state that his bride was most likely chosen for him by God.
After all, he hadn’t sold his soul or sealed a pact with the devil. He’d only promised to take the bride and give her one day of freedom each month. How could that tarnish his immortal soul? He couldn’t refuse power offered at such a small price, and just when he needed it the most. After all, Sigefroi strongly believed he had a great destiny ahead. So he silenced the warning voice in his mind.
Dropping to the bed furs fully dressed, Sigefroi tucked both hands under his head and stared at the bed canopy. Funny how he’d slept alone all his life, then suddenly couldn’t find peace without the lithe body of his betrothed beside him. It took an effort to close his eyes. Fitful sleep came at last, ridden with disturbing dreams of water serpents slithering into his bed.
Sigefroi awoke in a cold sweat. A loose shutter banged against the outside wall. The night sky paled, close to dawn, and the fire had long died in the hearth. He rose and lit a candle, then closed the noisy shutter, trying to conjure away the vague unease left by the dissipating nightmare.
After pulling off his tunic, he threw cold water on his face and armpits from the washing basin. Not bothering to dry himself, he donned a warm tunic, a pair of chausses, and a leather jerkin. Sigefroi reached for his baldric, from which hung Caliburn next to his poniard, and buckled on the belt. After smoothing his hair under a hunting cap, he retrieved from a trunk his crossbow and arrows then plucked his spear from the wall rack.
Sigefroi stalked out of the bedchamber carrying his gear, and reminded the guard to let no one inside. Then he made his way quietly down the stone stairs, toward the kitchen.
There, by the light of a single candle, Gunter, poniard in hand, sat at the massive table, in front of a fat wedge of cheese. Sigefroi carefully laid his hunting gear against the wall, but it rattled a bit, startling one of the scullions who slept around the embers of the main fire.
Gunter rolled his eyes. “How can you leave a warm bed with a sweet wench?” he whispered, shaking his dark head. “You truly prefer hunting in a cold, damp forest?”
A twinge of guilt twisted his gut. Sigefroi had never lied to Gunter until Melusine came into his life. But he’d sworn to tell no one of her monthly escapades.
He sat on the bench, next to his friend. “Some men grow weak when they marry, but I intend to stick to my soldiering ways. No princess will take the warrior out of me.”
When Gunter chuckled, a scullion stretched and rubbed his eyes, bewildered at seeing his lord at the kitchen table.
Gunter’s black beard came alive as he chewed thoughtfully, nodding in appreciation. The cook who fussed about the kitchen brought more bread and ale for Sigefroi, as well as dry sausage to complement the cheese already on the table.
The two men ate quietly. Sigefroi wasn’t hungry but needed strength for the hunt. Outside, a rooster crowed... almost dawn.
The cook wrapped more food in a thick cloth, tied the corners together, then slid the bundle on the table toward the two men. “For your midday snacks, m’lords.”
When Sigefroi rose, Gunter picked up the food bundle. Both knights gathered their gear. As an afterthought, Sigefroi grabbed another handful of bread, cheese, and sausage from the platter for Thierry, who had probably skipped breakfast to saddle the horses.
The two men stole silently through the dimly lit hall, stepping around the womenfolk who still slept. Outside, in the dusky courtyard, fresh soldiers prepared to relieve the night guard.
Near the stables, Thierry, sleepy-eyed, his blond hair tousled, waited with the three horses. The lad barely controlled in one hand two braces of eager hounds pulling on their leashes.
“Did you eat?” Sigefroi asked the youth.
When Thierry ignored him, Sigefroi shoved the food in the lad’s free hand.
Thierry mumbled his thanks but kept his eyes downcast. The boy’s sullen attitude bordered on disrespect, but Sigefroi didn’t want to address the delicate matter in front of Gunter. He’d made the lad swear never to mention his defeat to the maiden.
Sigefroi hung his gear to the saddle then vaulted onto his mount. When he took the hounds from Thierry, the panting dogs calmed somewhat under their master’s firm hold. The guards opened the gate for their lord’s private hunting party, saluting as Sigefroi passed them by.
As they crossed the bridge, the damp mist that bathed the valley below enveloped them and the village beyond in a gray cloud. The thick veil muffled the cries of early birds and the sound of hooves on the disjointed planks. Through streams of fog, the three hunters crossed the village in silence, the hounds pulling on their leash, tails wagging fiercely.
While Thierry lagged behind, Gunter brought his steed abreast of Sigefroi’s destrier. “I’ll go for a short gallop. Care to join me in a race?”
Sigefroi shook his head. “Nay. I’ve much on my mind and would rather meditate upon it.”
“As you like.” Gunter spurred his horse and galloped ahead along the fields, disappearing in the thinning mist.
Acutely aware of Thierry lagging behind, Sigefroi entered the forest of the western plateau as the damp haze melted into dew under the first rays of sunrise. He released the hounds, who scattered in a sniffing frenzy.
He stopped his destrier to allow his squire to catch up. When Thierry reached his level, Sigefroi rode alongside him. “Life isn’t always fair, Thierry, even for a knight. You’ll soon learn that God throws obstacles in our way, and we must make the most of it.”
The youth cocked his head. “Aye? So what happens to honesty and trust, then? Not only did you lose the fight, m’lord, but you lied to your people, even to Gunter.”
Sigefroi smiled sadly. At least he’d broken the boy’s apathy. “Aye, that I did, and I regret it, but there was no other way.”
The lad shook his head. “I don’t understand!”
“I’m only a man and far from perfect, but I need the respect of my people. I’d risk my life for Gunter anytime, but he’s suspicious enough of Melusine as it is.” Sigefroi kept his gaze on the trail ahead, unable to face the boy. “The knowledge of the incident would burden his mind and spread doubts about my ability to rule. I can’t afford to show any weakness.”
“But you told me yourself that I should always tell the truth.”
“Aye, that’s what I expect from you.” Sigefroi sighed “But sometimes, truth and courage alone can’t win the battle. It takes intelligence and strategy. And some battles are meant to be lost. Life is a battle, lordship is a battle. Even love with a woman is a battle.”
Thierry stared at his lord questioningly. “Love?”
“Aye.” Sigefroi stared back into the boy’s eyes. “When you find the lady of your heart, the terror of losing her will be worse than the fear that grips a warrior on the battlefield. God only knows what a man does for love.”
Thierry blushed and offered a timid smile. “Really?”
“Aye.” Sigefroi chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“But you don’t love Lady Melusine, you only pretend.” Thierry glanced up, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you?”
“Things are... complicated, lad.” Damn the boy for being so direct. “Although at first I was bound by honor alone, my feelings for Lady Melusine have grown deep and strong. She is very courageous, smart, and quite beautiful.”
“I never thought you of all people would fall under a woman’s spell, m’lord.”
“The best of us do.” Sigefroi caught sight of Gunter waiting ahead in a clearing. “Can I trust you to keep my secret?”
Thierry straightened in the saddle. “Aye, m’lord. Your secret’s safe with me.”
They caught up with Gunter who had halted his steed. The dark man smiled, patting the horse’s neck, then he resumed riding with them. “As you suggested
during the banquet, I had homing pigeons sent to the neighboring lords to announce your wedding. Lady Melusine was clever to push it back a few days. We’ll have a better turnout for the feast.”
“Aye.” Sigefroi realized with annoyance that Gunter wouldn’t let him forget about the wedding, even during a hunt. “Any word from my brothers?”
“Nay, but they should have received the message by now. I also sent for musicians, storytellers and jongleurs from Trier.” Gunter would never waste an opportunity for drinking, feasting, entertainment, or wenching.
Sigefroi smiled. “I never envisioned something so grand. You did well beyond my wishes.”
“Someone had to make the decisions around here.” Gunter sounded almost petulant. “You were too busy plucking the lady night and day, not even leaving your chamber at mealtime.”
“And I appreciate your taking over my castle so quickly while I was otherwise occupied.” Sigefroi wondered whether Gunter could hear the slight sarcasm in his tone. “I noticed the guards didn’t slack off a bit.”
Gunter raised a dark brow. “I see the lady didn’t have the usual effect of bettering your mood! Was she less than satisfactory in the furs?”
At Gunter’s worried tone, Sigefroi exploded in laughter and tightened his hold on the reins to steady the warhorse. “Nay, my friend. No problem lies there.”
Gunter relaxed. “Is she to your liking, then?”
“Aye, quite.” Damn the ever inquisitive bastard! Always fishing for gossip. Sigefroi recalled with delight his sweet Melusine rutting under him. “Beyond anything I could have imagined.”
The big man guffawed. “I’m relieved. What is it, then? Wedding jitters, like a blushing bride?”
“Don’t push your luck, my friend.” Sigefroi fought to sound menacing. “I’ll have your hide if you ever dare call me a blushing bride again.”
Gunter’s brown eyes twinkled with mirth. “I wouldn’t dare provoke a war hero.” His gaze lighted on Caliburn. “A new blade? Fine weapon, judging by the scabbard.”
Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition Page 51