Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition

by Vijaya Schartz

  The anger in Sigefroi’s face receded further in the face of logic. “Stop answering questions with questions.”

  Their eyes met and Melusine held his glare.

  “Stubborn woman! I swear, sometimes I feel bewitched by you.”

  That dangerous accusation again... Melusine had to diffuse it. “But you don’t believe in such evil things, do you?”

  She suddenly wondered, why would a Christian think her evil? She was only trying to survive and save their happiness as well as his beloved Luxembourg.

  Confusion flooded Sigefroi’s features. “I know you’ll do just as you please, but I beg you to stop vanishing like that. It can’t be good for you or our son. Our people are noticing your absences. I’m out of excuses and it undermines my authority. This ridiculous secret is festering, and for both our sakes it needs to stop.”

  “It cannot stop, ever!” Melusine immediately regretted the strength of her reaction and looked away from his drilling gaze.

  He turned her around, forcing her to face him. “Why? At least tell me why.”

  The earnestness in his eyes made her cringe. Temptation ate at Melusine’s gut. Here was a man in love with her. He wanted to know her. She should give him a chance to love her for who she really was.

  “Well?” He glared at her, waiting.

  What was she thinking? No righteous Christian knight would ever condone what she represented, the old gods, the ancient curses. He would see her as the very evil he was sworn to crush. Even if he could live with such a lethal secret, it would destroy him from inside, as a man, and as a ruler.

  Assailed by regrets, Melusine took a deep breath. He might understand religious language. “I guess you can tell your people I have a sacred duty, a pilgrimage I vowed to make each month to a secret holy place. On my life, I must keep my word or perish in eternal flames.”

  “Is that it? Why didn’t you say so? I can ask a bishop to relieve you of your vow.”

  “Please, don’t. This vow is beyond any bishop. Such practices have caused great harm in my family. Believe what you must, but I warn you, do not involve the Church, or it will be the end of us.”

  His shoulders relaxed a bit. “I can’t really go against God, but I find this vow strange and unsettling.”

  “I will be safe, if that’s what you fear. God will protect me.” Inwardly, Melusine hoped the Goddess would. The area was getting too populated. She would have to hide in her cave or go further away, far from her favorite cliffs.

  The sun now dipped toward the western plateau, and a flutter of warning rippled through Melusine’s body. “I must go.”

  She laid a gentle hand on Sigefroi’s shoulder and kissed his cheek, but he remained still and unresponsive. How she loathed having to leave him like that. The look of powerless despair on his beloved face would remain etched in her memory, like a sad reminder of how fragile their happiness truly was.

  She turned and hurried down the stone steps of the rampart, but she didn’t look back for fear that he would see her cry.

  Chapter Nine

  Three months later - December 963

  Sunset came early on these midwinter days just before yuletide. Seized by a chill as soon as she regained human shape, Melusine splashed awkwardly out of the freezing water and stood in the shallows on lead feet, holding her cumbersome belly. She stumbled toward the shore, clutching frosted boulders for balance. A skim of ice thickened at the river’s edge and cracked under her bare feet. She had to get warm fast, or the cold might kill her.

  A violent tremor shook her naked body as she stepped onto the snow-covered bank. She leaned against a boulder, holding her ample belly. Teeth chattering out of control, she peered furtively through the twilight rendered luminous by the white blanket draping the surrounding hills. She still couldn’t sense or see anyone watching her. Too exhausted to shield herself with a glamour, she hoped everyone was indoors, warming by a fire.

  Overhead loomed the cliff of the Bock, crowned by the new ramparts. At the sight of the light burning inside Sigefroi’s square tower, Melusine wondered whether her lord awaited her return in anger. For the past three months, his temper had flared, increasing to barely restrained violence each time she returned from her escapades.

  Dear Goddess, please soothe his impatient spirit.

  Eyes closed and jaw clenched, Melusine struggled to control her shaking. She made a clumsy dash in the direction of the newly completed tunnel, leaving tracks in the virgin snow among the rocks strewn along the shore.

  Slowed by her girth, Melusine reached the boulder concealing the opening at the bottom of the craggy cliff. She squeezed behind it to slip into the cave-like entrance. The door further in the shadows creaked as she pushed it open. She quickly donned the sheep-skin slippers and fur-trimmed mantle she had left there on her way out. But even the thick garment didn’t melt the chill in her aching bones.

  Too exhausted to use magic, she struck flint to tinder. It took several attempts with frozen fingers to make a spark and light the torch in the sconce. Finally it flared. She closed and barred the door. Lifting the torch from the wall she reveled in its warmth. But she needed to hurry home, just in case that tremor was the baby coming.

  Water dripped from the carved stone ceiling, and small night creatures scuttled underfoot as Melusine forged ahead. The torch flame flickered, barely penetrating the gloom. Soon, she reached the foot of a narrow snail-like stairwell that spiraled its way straight up to the castle’s underground cellar.

  A flash of pain through her swollen belly bent her over. Melusine cried out, momentarily blinded. A kick? Or a contraction? She remembered to breathe as she waited for the pain to recede.

  Dear Goddess, please, not now.

  She couldn’t make any noise for fear of revealing the secret passage. Hundreds of stone steps rose inside the shaft above her, carved through the cliff. Like so many tests of her endurance... but the torch only lit a few of them. If her childbirth was near, more contractions would follow. She must hurry before the next onslaught.

  At least, she no longer felt cold. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her back as she began the difficult ascent. Sudden warmth whooshed down her legs. Steamy liquid drenched her slippers and cascaded down the steps. Light-headed, Melusine hugged the wall for support.

  One high step at a time, over and over, she kept climbing, focused on her goal. She must control the fear gripping her chest. She couldn’t give birth alone in this rat-infested shaft. For the sake of her child, she had to reach the safety of her bedchamber.

  A third of the way up, the next contraction caught her, but this time the intense pain made her crouch and grip her mid-section with a muffled cry. In her agony, she let go of the torch. It bounced down and down the steps in a flurry of sparks and echoed long after its light had sunk into the spiraling pit.

  Complete darkness enveloped Melusine. Panic threatened to overcome her, but she controlled her breathing and eventually recovered from the harrowing contraction. She couldn’t possibly go back all the way down to retrieve the torch in her weakened condition. She would have to manage without it.

  Feeling her way in the dark along the roughly-hewn stone wall, she struggled up the steps. Another onslaught, then another, sapped her waning stamina. Gasping from the pain, she gritted her teeth and kept climbing, now crawling, panting and moaning like a wounded animal. Finding strength in desperation, she did not relent, even as her fingers and knees, raw from the rough stone, grew wet and sticky with blood.

  “Hold on, little one,” she murmured. “Don’t come out quite yet.” In such a state of fatigue, Melusine couldn’t summon magic, but she could pray. “Dear Goddess, I beseech you, protect your rebellious disciple, but above all, protect my precious daughter fighting to come into this world.”

  Intent on her goal, Melusine lost track of time and contractions. When the stairs flattened out to a landing, relief flooded her and she sat in darkness, her back to the stone, for a short respite. The door to safety was close at h
and.

  But the child inside her demanded to be born. Painfully, she rose and felt for the handle, then tugged at the heavy door with a grunt. When it swung on well-oiled hinges, she knew she was in the wine cellar, but darkness reigned here, too.

  Pushing the heavy door closed, she leaned her back against it with a sigh, then she pushed the bar locking the door from the inside. Safe.

  She let her hand explore the shelf where she knew sat a candle. When she found it, she groped for the flint and struck it. Then she blew gently on the sparks to light the wick.

  She sighed as a soft glow spread, lighting a row of clay bottles corked and sealed with red wax, couched in square wooden niches. The shelving lined the stone walls and rose in straight rows up to the arched ceiling.

  Glad for the familiar surroundings, Melusine scanned the area. The Goddess be thanked, no one had seen her. Clenching her jaw, she straightened her frame and walked erect across the cellar. She still had to climb the last excruciating steps that led to the castle above. After sunset, everyone would be gathered in the knights’ hall for the evening meal.

  At the top of the stairs, Melusine crossed a servant girl on her way to the kitchen.

  It was Alyx. “M’lady?”

  “Get my maids to my bedchamber immediately.” Melusine’s voice sounded calmer than she felt.

  Alyx regarded her mistress with unmasked horror. “M’lady, you are unwell!”

  Of course, Melusine must look a fright. She couldn’t help a humorless chuckle that prompted another contraction. “The baby’s coming.”

  Melusine flinched and leaned against the wall, this time giving in to her agony with a long drawn-out moan that ended in a full-blown scream.

  “Get the midwives!” Alyx shouted hysterically above the other women’s screams, bringing around a buzz of help, as if she’d disrupted a beehive.

  Strong arms came to support Melusine, and she thankfully yielded in exhaustion from the latest onset. While soothing words drifted to her ears, she offered no resistance when the women carried her to her bedchamber.

  * * *

  By morning, Melusine lay in a clean bed, with her tiny daughter suckling at her breast. Swaddled in soft linen and wrapped in wool for warmth, the child made small contented noises. A blaze crackled in the fireplace, and the soft glow of oil lamps lit the bedchamber on this gray winter day.

  When the servants retreated toward the door, Melusine knew Sigefroi had arrived. She braced herself for his reaction.

  The ring of his boot steps stopped at the edge of the thick rug covering the chamber floor. He stood there for a moment, imposing, as he took in the scene.

  Melusine smiled feebly, but Sigefroi’s gaze was riveted upon the gluttonous child feeding at her breast.

  “A lady of your rank shouldn’t be nursing,” he said roughly.

  “I know, but I so enjoy the feel of it.” Melusine modulated her voice on purpose, shamelessly using her gifts to soothe his disappointment.

  Curiously enough, Sigefroi calmed somewhat. At least, her powers seemed to be working fine. She remembered that her mother had lost her Fae gifts while in childbed, but it must have been part of her particular curse.

  Sigefroi’s expression softened. “I’ll find a wet nurse.”

  Melusine offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s not an heir, my lord, but a beautiful daughter to marry away and make alliances.”

  Sigefroi grunted. “So I heard.”

  The strong planes of his face relaxed a bit more as he approached the bed. The baby stopped suckling and stared up at him. Unlike most just born babes, this one didn’t seem blind but wide awake.

  Sigefroi peered into the innocent face. “Is she whole?”

  “Aye, my lord.” With one of her hands supporting the baby, Melusine closed her camisole with the other. “She is perfect in every way, strong and healthy, with much patience and grace... most unlike her father.”

  His laughter burst across the room. “Amen to that.”

  Although fathers rarely cared to name a daughter, Melusine offered. “What shall we name her?”

  The tiny hands grappled at empty air and Sigefroi extended a stout finger to the baby’s grip. “I haven’t a name for a girl.” He chuckled as the child strained to grasp his finger. “Do you?”

  The sight of this fierce warrior charmed by an innocent babe prompted Melusine’s smile. “I’ve been considering Liutgarde, a strong and noble name for a wise woman.”

  As if approving, the baby burped.

  Sigefroi laugh softly. “Liutgarde of Luxembourg. It sounds regal. Liutgarde it will be, then. And since my brother Adalberon is coming to celebrate Yuletide with us, we should have her baptized at Christmas midnight mass.”

  Melusine swallowed hard and shivered despite the warm bed. Baptism meant holy water, the scourge of all Fae folks. It had been known to kill pure-blooded Fae. Even if Liutgarde survived baptism unscathed, it would deprive her of her Fae gifts, and longevity.

  “So soon?” Melusine’s throat constricted, strangling her voice. “It’s only two days away.”

  Pride shone in Sigefroi’s eyes. “What better occasion to present our newborn to our gathered vassals?”

  He freed his finger, kissed his daughter’s feathery head then brushed Melusine’s lips. After a slight hesitation, Melusine returned the kiss. How she missed him. It had been weeks since they had spent any time together.

  “You need your rest, sweet wife.” Judging by the sheen of desire in his amber eyes, he had missed her, too. Sigefroi cleared his throat. “But you must be hungry. Fatherhood has left me famished, too! I’ll have food brought to you from the hall.”

  He smiled to mother and child then retreated toward the door.

  The babe in Melusine’s arms now stared at the door, as if trying to understand. In her confusion, Melusine hadn’t contested Sigefroi’s decree of having her baptized, but panic now settled in.

  “Dear Goddess, protect my child. I couldn’t bear losing her to the baptismal font!”

  Have no fear for your daughter. Melusine welcomed the reassuring voice of the Great One in her mind. Unlike you, Liutgarde can survive the ordeal. Only her longevity and her powers are at stake. Let her make her own choices. She is fully aware and wiser than you were as a child.

  “I made my mistakes and I’m still paying for them.” Melusine couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. She understood the cruelty of her past actions, and the guilt over punishing her father made her angry at herself.

  Ask your daughter... the voice whispered, then silence filled the room. The Goddess had departed.

  “Liutgarde,” Melusine said softly, gazing into the baby’s blue eyes. “Would you ever forgive me if I condemned you to a short life in a limited realm? Would you judge me harshly for depriving you of your Fae gifts?”

  The child only burped in response.

  “For you, baptism would mean no foreknowledge, no reading others’ thoughts, no supernatural powers to help you out of dangerous situations, no centuries of experience accumulated in a single lifetime.”

  The child stared at her as if she understood.

  Could Melusine subject her daughter to such a punishment? On the other hand, it also meant no abuse of power in childhood as it happened for Melusine and her sisters, no Fae curse, and no persecution by the Church. Liutgarde would live at peace among mortals, and hold a rightful place in this new order that now flourished in and around the Western Empire.

  Do not fret, mother.

  Surprised at the intrusion of another voice in her mind, Melusine stared at her daughter. The dark slits of the baby’s eyes stared intently, as her tiny hands moved forward. She worked her lips, forming bubbles as if she struggled to speak, and the voice in Melusine’s head rang clear and true.

  I do not need immortality to serve the Goddess, mother. I can worship her as the Madonna if that’s what She wants. And you should know that we come back and live again. I’m not afraid of mortal life.

&nbs
p; Tears rolled freely down Melusine’s face. “Is it what you really want, little one? We will lose this wonderful link between us.”

  A sacrifice to make. Do not fear, mother. Whoever I become, as a Christian, the angel blood that flows in all Fae folks will still course in my veins. And so will it flow in my children, who will guide humanity on the path of wisdom.

  “Aye, little one, I know that. Still, it’s a great sacrifice to ask of a Fae.”

  Not so great as you think, mother. Liutgarde yawned and closed her dark blue eyes. I am tired and need to sleep.

  As the baby’s eyelids closed with long chestnut lashes, Melusine heard a contented sigh, then Liutgarde’s breathing slowed to a peaceful rhythm while the small body relaxed in total abandon and drifted off to sleep.

  Joy bubbled inside Melusine’s chest. For once in her life, something felt right. “Thank you, Great One, for the gift of this wonderful child.”

  * * *

  Christmas Eve 963

  Melusine slipped into a gown of fur-trimmed green velvet, a pricey fabric imported from the southern reaches of the Empire. It would suit the formal ceremony. She shuddered with apprehension. Since Sigefroi had forbidden regular mass inside the castle, she had so far eluded contact with holy water. But today, even childbed confinement hadn’t been excuse enough in Sigefroi’s eyes. Everyone expected to gaze upon their noble mother and child on the Christian God’s birthday.

  Well, a few educated bishops probably knew that the Christian savior had been born in the spring to herald the age of Pisces. The Church marked the event at Yuletide only to prevent the Pagans from celebrating Saturnalia around the solstice, or the ancient Roman holiday of December twenty-fifth, celebrating the birthday of the unconquerable sun.

  Melusine checked herself in the small oval silver mirror. She had recovered quickly and presented a perfect image of health. Color had returned to her cheeks. By the glow of many oil lamps, she looked even prettier than the maiden she had been a year past.

  The remaining plumpness also suited her. Only swollen breasts betrayed her recent ordeal, for she had insisted on feeding the child against Sigefroi’s wishes. She wasn’t ready to abandon her daughter to be raised by a stranger with the other castle children. She wanted little Liutgarde to remain at her side as long as possible.