“Aye. I couldn’t have chosen any better, my little hellcat!”
“Hellcat?” Although given in tenderness, the pet name struck too close for Melusine’s comfort. Despite the fact that her kind strived to serve humanity, most mortals would consider her evil. She frowned.
With infinite care, Sigefroi adjusted the small crown on her head. The way he touched her hair reminded Melusine of their passionate night. He smelled of soap and scented bath water. She couldn’t resist laying her hands on his hip.
Sigefroi stroked her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “The royal trinket suits you.”
The soft kiss that brushed her lips made her forget the servants hovering nearby, and she wondered whether she’d ever get used to such a crowded place. Melusine now wished for more than a kiss, but it was all circumstances would allow. The reluctance in Sigefroi’s eyes at letting her go warmed her soul.
Then he offered his arm. “Are you ready to marry me?”
“Aye, my lord. I would like nothing more.” In that instant, Melusine believed that Sigefroi would make her very happy indeed.
They walked out into the late morning sunshine. A colorful crowd of well-dressed lords and ladies in bright silk and velvet chatted in front of the villa, but Melusine’s yellow gown eclipsed them all. She congratulated herself for following the advice of the cloth merchant.
Families of serfs and servants had gathered by the guardhouse and the fencing yard. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen. As they passed the kennel, even the hounds in their enclosure barked and wagged their tails to their own festive tempo.
The white square tents of noble guests, sporting multicolored pennants, lined the inside perimeter of the fort. Banners hanging straight down from the top of the ramparts, fluttered in a light breeze. Except for the black boar on red field of Ardennes, Melusine knew none of the coats of arms and made a mental note to learn them all in the near future.
As the nuptial couple crossed the bailey at a stately pace, nodding at friendly faces, Melusine suggested, “You should design a coat of arms for yourself, my lord. You are no longer a son of Lorraine, or just lord over the vast forests of Ardennes, but the new military might of Lucilinburhuc.”
Sigefroi raised one eyebrow. “True enough. The thought occurred to me, but I haven’t made up my mind about a crest yet.”
Without missing a step, Melusine cast him a sidelong glance. “Looking at you today, I see a crimson lion, standing on its hind legs, clawing the air on a field of white. The lion symbolizes strength, nobility, valor, and the white field represents purity, a virgin land ready to be impregnated and tilled.”
As he nodded right and left to familiar faces, Sigefroi chuckled. “Is that how you see me, my sweet? As a rutting lion?”
Easy laughter escaped her throat. “Your victory cry in the furs certainly sounds like a lion’s roar, my lord. If I remember well, so does your battle cry.”
A shiver swept over Melusine at the recollection of Sigefroi’s mighty charge. Even with Caliburn in hand, she had cringed in fear. She also recalled her first impression of the knight, a great cat with feral eyes and a red mane, bloody from hacking off a thief’s hand.
Walking at her side, Sigefroi smiled appreciatively. “I like the red lion. Far better than anything I have considered so far. Can you draw?”
The question brought a joyous spring in Melusine’s steps. “I have a rare gift for the art, my lord.”
“That’s settled, then,” he said seriously. “I officially request your services to design my new coat of arms.”
Melusine congratulated herself. After impressing Sigefroi with her design for the coat of arms, she would have an easier time making him accept her ideas for the improvements of the fortress. Women didn’t usually participate in military projects. She would have to use persuasion, and since Sigefroi seemed immune to her gifts, she would have to prove herself.
The crowd parted to make way as the couple slowly advanced toward the tall linden tree under which a dais had been erected.
“And another thing, my lord. About Lucilinburhuc, or Lutzelburg...”
Sigefroi gave her an inquisitive glance. “Aye? What about it?”
“The name sounds light and small. It even means little fort. Why not give it the grandeur you are striving for. A name that will inspire respect in France, as well as in Italy, and throughout the German empire.”
Amusement played in Sigefroi’s amber eyes. “Something tells me you already have a name in mind.”
“How did you guess?” Melusine chuckled. “I would call our country Luxembourg, my lord. Lux for light in Latin, and bourg for the thriving city that will one day spread far around your fortress.”
Sigefroi stopped walking to gaze at the light clouds overhead. “Luxembourg. It sounds noble and grand. Luxembourg... It evokes a safe haven for the righteous and a fearsome place for our enemies. A good name for a military stronghold, a fortified city, or even a kingdom. Aye, I like it.” He grinned at Melusine. “By the saints! You are a surprising source of great ideas, my sweet. Luxembourg it shall be!”
They reached the dais and Melusine lifted her hem to climb the few steps leading to the wooden platform where an altar stood, covered with embroidered white linen. On the tablecloth sat a bouquet of early spring flowers, and incense burned in a metal dish, releasing a cloying scent.
To the side of the altar, a bishop in gold vestments over his purple robe spoke in confidential tones with a man in black and red silk. The bishop loomed tall from the added height of the golden miter on his head.
Melusine struggled to hide her aversion for clergymen. For centuries they had persecuted her kind. But she must not panic. As long as they didn’t suspect her nature and there was no holy water at hand, she would be safe enough.
Smiling, Sigefroi took Melusine toward the two men. “Brothers,” he called, “Allow me to introduce my bride, Princess Melusine of Strathclyde.”
Both nobleman and bishop turned toward Melusine. She noticed the family resemblance among the three brothers. But despite similar height and various degrees of red in their hair, she also noted major differences. The frail nobleman looked soft, older than Sigefroi, while the bishop’s thick brow made him look stubborn and inflexible.
Sigefroi’s bearing loosened and warmed in his brothers’ presence. “Melusine, meet my brother and Liege Lord, Frederick, Duke of High Lorraine, and my brother Adalberon, Bishop of Metz.”
Melusine curtsied demurely and kissed Adalberon’s offered ring that sparkled above gloved fingers.
Tall and wiry, Bishop Adalberon nodded then shrewdly scrutinized Melusine through faded brown eyes. “You must enlighten us about the genealogy of your illustrious family, young lady. I hope we get a chance to discuss it.”
“I hope so, too, Your Grace.” The truth be told, Melusine fiercely hoped to avoid the subject altogether. Fortunately, there should be enough excitement to make the bishop forget.
The Duke of Lorraine smiled sweetly, as if beholding a holy vision. “Welcome into the fold of our family, Princess Melusine.” He held and kissed her hand. “Be assured that my brothers and I are delighted to see our favorite knight finally betrothed. We are counting on you to tame his maverick heart and keep him safely here, away from Otto’s battlefields.”
Melusine froze. She hadn’t thought of Sigefroi going to war anytime soon. “I’ll try my best to remind him of his duties at home, Lord Duke.”
Frederick chuckled. “Please, little sister-in-law, call me Frederick.”
“Aye.” Melusine offered a wide smile. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Frederick. Are there other siblings here today?”
“Nay. Gosselin probably didn’t get the message, and Gilbert is fighting in Italy. As for our sisters, both are close to giving birth and can’t travel.”
Trumpets blared from the ramparts, heralding the beginning of the ceremony. All conversations ceased. The crowd turned to the makeshift altar under the tall linden tree.
B
ishop Adalberon barely glanced at Melusine. “Are we ready?”
Melusine was rudely reminded that in the eyes of the Church, a woman had little value other than her dowry, her genealogy, and the sons she could bear.
The mass enunciated in Latin seemed to last forever, punctuated by awkward hymns, badly sung by the enthusiastic crowd. At the bishop’s prompting, the assembly genuflected and made the sign of the cross.
Standing in place for so long, her back to the crowd, Melusine focused on the Bishop’s purple robes billowing in the breeze as he turned and performed elaborate ritual gestures. Her mind wandered as she studied the precious gold chalice and saucer.
The aroma of roasting meat, fish, herbs, and fresh bread drifted from the kitchen, overpowering the penetrating smell of incense. While all the eyes focused on the unfolding ritual, Melusine, although apparently bent in prayer, directed her inward eye to the ongoing preparations for the feast.
Just now inside the hall, the servants spread white linen on the trestle tables for the noble guests. More tables outside would accommodate the families of serfs, craftsmen, servants, soldiers and entertainers. Gunter directed the operations quite efficiently, she noticed.
At one point, the bishop stopped the ritual for an austere discourse, where he reminded women of their duties of obedience, faithfulness, and childbearing. He made no mention of a man’s duty regarding marriage, as if all men were above sinning!
Adalberon offered Melusine and Sigefroi the Eucharist in the form of bread and wine, the most important part of the ritual. A short blessing of the couple followed the communion. No vows were exchanged, but since the Church had blessed their union, Sigefroi and Melusine were now bound in holy matrimony until death.
When Sigefroi and Melusine finally faced the crowd as husband and wife, the trumpets announced the end of the religious ceremonies and the beginning of worldly festivities. Clutching her husband’s arm, Melusine stepped down from the platform. A cheer rose among the guests, punctuated by hoots, good wishes, and friendly jibes.
Through the throng of congratulating guests, they made their way to the villa. Melusine smiled as a group of excited children showered them with flower petals. Between the tables set outside, Melusine walked proudly along Sigefroi and they entered the main Hall.
Inside the villa, the decorated hall dripped with banners and ribbons floating down from the rafters. A tumult of excited voices bounced off the walls. Melusine let Sigefroi guide her to the high table, on a low platform, at the far, narrow end of the hall. The delicious aroma of fresh bread and venison made her stomach growl. She hadn’t had anything to eat all day.
She and Sigefroi sat at the center of the high table. Duke Frederick took his seat by Melusine. Bishop Adalberon, who had removed his miter and golden vestments, now only wore purple robes. He sat by Sigefroi. The bishop looked so thin, ascetic and rather pale, but Melusine suspected that his wiry frame could handle a sword, and the determination in the set of his jaw made her wish he never became her enemy.
Further down the high table, Gunter cast wistful glances through the wide open door. She followed his gaze to the maids sitting outside in the courtyard with the soldiers. Melusine presumed he’d rather sit with them than share a silver cup with the bishop. On both long sides of the hall, trestle tables accommodated the lesser nobles, leaving the center space open for servers and entertainment.
Melusine smiled to Frederick on her right. She sensed in the older brother a kind and fair lord, devoid of ambition.
“Where is your lady wife?” she inquired while a kitchen lad poured the wine.
“She doesn’t care for travels.” Frederick frowned slightly. “But she asked me to convey her best wishes.” His eyes twinkled. “I see my mother’s crown suits you well. She would be very pleased.”
“Thank you.” Melusine’s insides melted at the thought that Sigefroi’s family accepted her so easily... but only because they didn’t know what she was.
Rising from his chair, Sigefroi gently knocked on his silver goblet with the blade of his poniard. When the surrounding noise hushed, he raised the goblet.
“Let us drink to the new House of Luxembourg,” he enunciated clearly. “With the emblem of a crimson lion standing on its hind legs against a field of white, may the House of Luxembourg prosper, rule, and protect our good country.”
Frederick turned to Melusine, arching a brow. “The House of Luxembourg, did he say?”
She simply nodded, but her heart beat faster as Sigefroi went on.
“Aye, I have great plans for Luxembourg. As you probably saw on your way here, I have already started new fortifications on the Rham plateau. Next, I will build my stone castle on the Bock, and soon I foresee a thriving city with a free market, shops, crafts of all kinds. Let our new town prosper and our enemies tremble at the roar of the Lion of Luxembourg! Long live Luxembourg!” He drained his goblet, then smacked it down on the table and sat.
A serving lad hurried to refill his cup.
Gunter then rose, goblet in hand. “Long Live Luxembourg!”
Following his example, lords and ladies at the trestle tables stood up and cheered.
“Long live Luxembourg!” they repeated three times in unison, then the men drank while the ladies waited to partake of the wine from the same goblet.
Duke Frederick grinned and leaned behind Melusine to address Sigefroi. “My coffers will profit greatly from a prosperous town in these parts, little brother. Besides, the project will keep you busy here, away from the empire’s borders.”
Adalberon nodded gravely. “You also need to build churches and monasteries to insure the salvation of the souls in your charge. Prosperity without God’s guidance leads to eternal damnation.”
As Sigefroi didn’t respond, Adalberon turned to Melusine. “Don’t you think so, my lady?”
Melusine felt the blood drain from her extremities. Churches meant priests, bishops, holy water, baptism, all dangerous threats. “We must see to basic necessities first,” she said with a neutral smile. “Safety and survival of our expanding population are the most pressing matters right now.”
Sigefroi glanced at Melusine with a look of surprise on his face then turned to his bishop brother. “I already support several churches and monasteries on my other estates.”
Adalberon frowned. “I understand, but...”
“I will not have Roman prelates dictate the rules in my own home, as I’ve seen it happen too often.” Sigefroi downed more wine. “As much as I love you and I support Holy Mother Church, I hope you’ll forgive me for wanting to be the only master in my house.”
When Adalberon gave a non-committal shrug, Melusine sighed with relief and gave Sigefroi a grateful smile. He picked up her hand from the table and brought her fingers to his lips.
“I’m impressed.” He chuckled, tickling her fingers. “I didn’t picture my little hellcat as such a shrewd politician. Wenches usually stay clear of political debates.”
“I guess I’m not your average wench, my lord.” Melusine smiled.
Sigefroi rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Young servants ladled on the bread trenchers a first remove of thick pea soup and ham with soft cheese and applesauce. Meanwhile, lads refilled the wine goblets. Controlling her appetite, Melusine ate moderately, knowing that many other removes would bring more delicious foods.
After so many years of solitude, all this activity around her made Melusine dizzy. Soon, the insistent pounding of a small gong quieted the din of conversations. Lively music of reed flutes and tambourines accompanied bouncing acrobats, contortionists, and jongleurs in bright red and yellow costumes, tumbling down the center of the hall.
Tiny bells at the ends of their long pointed hats and at their ankles jingled in rhythm as they vaulted and twisted in mid air. As if by miracle, they landed back on their feet then bowed, only to start a new round of cartwheels and somersaults. The wedding guests watched with fascination.
Among the enterta
iners, a mischievous dwarf imitated and missed the most difficult moves, tripping over himself. Knocking down an acrobat, he stole the jongleurs’ balls, tickled the contortionists, and ended up getting chased by his companions.
Running like a hen chased by the cook, the tiny jester screamed in a piercing voice all the way to the high table. There, he stole Sigefroi’s hand-water bowl and spilled it over his own head. Uproarious laughter and tears of merriment erupted from the delighted guests.
Bishop Adalberon remained stoic during the entertainment. Melusine noticed that he barely touched the food and didn’t drink the wine, leaving the run of his silver goblet to a delighted Gunter.
Next came a remove of fresh fish with boiled dandelion greens and viper’s grass roots, followed by the breathtaking performance of a tattooed man who swallowed swords and daggers without apparent injury.
Each partridge and pheasant in wine sauce came with smoked mushrooms and hazelnuts. Melusine did enjoy more than her share.
“I see you like my catch,” Sigefroi teased with obvious satisfaction.
“Aye, it is delicious, my lord,” she managed between bites.
A strange man with black skin, wearing only white silk pantaloons and a turban, exposed his hairless chest to the appreciative stare of the noble ladies. A few men looked unhappy about it. The rest, already in their cups, exhibited a jolly mood. The Moore, as the ebony man was called, came from faraway Spain. Melusine wondered whether her sister Palatina had seen any of these black Moores while spying on her southern neighbors.
After juggling with fiery torches, eliciting cries of admiration from the crowd, the black man swallowed a foul-smelling liquid then belched fire from his mouth, like a dragon. His performance received a standing ovation.
During a lull in the entertainment came the roasted goose stuffed with sweet chestnuts, served with honeyed oat cakes.
By the time the sun set, the chill of early spring nights intruded on the festivities. The guards lit the torches in the hall and closed the doors. The villagers returned to their homes, the servants to the kitchen, and the soldiers to the guardhouse. Only the noble guests went on feasting.
Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition Page 53