Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition

by Vijaya Schartz

  Bishop Adalberon cleared his throat. His benign smile alarmed Melusine to imminent danger. “Last time I saw you, my lady, you fell very ill. But you certainly look dazzling today.”

  “Well, thank you, Lord Bishop.”

  Adalberon’s smile widened. “Please, call me Adalberon. After all we are family.”

  “Of course.” Confused by such a display of affection from the prelate, Melusine still did not trust Adalberon. He watched her too closely, and unlike Sigefroi, he did believe in her kind and considered Fae folks to be evil.

  Adalberon caressed his eating dagger. “We never had this conversation about your family line, dear sister. I sent for the scroll of Strathclyde from St Martin’s monastery, but it disappeared from the library. The friar bibliothec seemed upset about it but could not or would not reveal what happened to that scroll. Would you happen to know where the document is?”

  “I never heard of such a scroll in these parts.” Melusine’s heart raced. If a scroll existed of her family line, she could be in great danger. And Adalberon’s persistence indicated that he suspected something amiss.

  Emperor Otto slammed his goblet on the table. Red wine dripped from his lips down his curly blond beard. “Sigefroi, my friend, were you hiding your delicious wife from me all this time? I understand now why you refused my previous offers for a bride.”

  Although offended by the emperor’s lewd behavior, Melusine appreciated the interruption and seized the opportunity to turn away from Adalberon. “And where is your lovely wife, sire?”

  Otto wiped his beard with the tablecloth. “She likes our peaceful residence in Memleben. She grew tired of my incessant travels and war campaigns long ago.”

  And probably of your incessant wenching and vulgar demeanor. Melusine smiled politely. “Convey her my deepest respect.”

  “I shall.” Otto glanced up at the square tower in the center of the bailey “Sigefroi, my friend, I have to compliment you on this splendid fortress.”

  “You should congratulate my wife, sire. She designed it and supervised most of the work.”

  Melusine found the grace to blush at the compliment. “I only utilized the natural defenses the terrain offered and took advantage of it, sire.”

  Sigefroi nodded. “All her ideas made this castle stronger and I had to agree.”

  Melusine smiled. Sigefroi had also authorized the convenient tunnels and escape routes that allowed her to get away each month.

  “Indeed? What a talented woman.” Otto winked. “And she still found the time to give you children?”

  Sigefroi raised his silver goblet. “Aye. Two sons in two years. I’ll drink to that.” He took a sip and picked at the food again.

  Melusine enjoyed being recognized. “But you should have seen the castle during the construction, sire. Soldiers and masons camped in tents everywhere, it was quite a sight!”

  Otto nodded and pointed with his dagger to his surroundings. “But now I see garrisons and stables, an armory, and a spacious kitchen. How many men do you keep here?”

  Sigefroi seemed to enjoy impressing his powerful friend. “Two scores of guards and a hundred soldiers in the lower levels of the keep. My lady and I occupy the top floor, our children and Melusine’s ladies the floor below us.”

  “This fort looks every inch as impenetrable as that of Luxembourg.”

  Sigefroi glanced at Melusine and smiled. “Quite.”

  Otto turned to Melusine. “Impressive work, my lady. I also like the banners and the fine linen. My compliments on the feast, too. You know how to entertain the most discriminating guests.”

  “Thank you, Sire.” Melusine bowed slightly. “I do my best for my lord husband.”

  Adalberon picked a piece of fowl from his trencher with delicate fingers. “How is it that such an accomplished woman as you, lady Melusine, finds the time to design fortresses?”

  Melusine controlled her impatience with the prelate. “How do you mean?”

  Adalberon took the juicy morsel to his mouth and chewed as he spoke. ”It seems your children and the running of your husband’s estates should keep you more than occupied.” He daintily dabbed at his mouth with the hem of the tablecloth and gave Melusine a questioning look. “Don’t you enjoy the role of chatelaine?”

  “Aye, Adalberon, I do.” Thinking fast, Melusine returned the false smile. “But even a woman can get bored on long winter nights, when the light is too feeble for needlework and all the spinning and weaving is done.”

  She hoped the bishop would not question her blunt lie. In a castle, the spinning was never done.

  “Where do you find the strength, my lady?” Adalberon’s shaven face remained impassible. “I also hear you do not attend church. Of course my brother will not tolerate a church in this fortress, but the town does have a priest. You could invite him to say mass at the castle on Sundays.”

  Sigefroi dropped his bone and licked his fingers with quick, irritated movements. “Adalberon, for the last time, I do not want priests to meddle in my affairs.”

  “Still, your lady wife should worry about your eternal soul, brother.” Adalberon turned to Melusine. “You would not be one to worship the old Roman gods, dear lady?” His eyes stared in strong disapproval. “This would be akin to worshiping the devil.”

  Relieved, Melusine emitted a nervous chuckle. The Goddess she worshiped was much more ancient than the Roman pantheon. “Be at peace, Adalberon. I do not. But I often pray to Our Lady.”

  Closing his eyes briefly, the bishop smiled. “Aye, the Virgin Mary can give a woman strength. But she would not approve of your dallying in architecture. God meant women to breed heirs for their lords, not build fortresses. Matters of war should only concern men.”

  A cheer rose from the tables of guards and soldiers near the kitchen building. In brand new uniforms, the men joyously welcomed the wine brought by servants. A kitchen maid came to the high table and ladled wild mushroom stew on top of the emperor’s meat. He caught her hand and stared into her eyes.

  When she did not lower her gaze, Otto laughed and let her go. Returning to his meal, he winked at Sigefroi. “I heard an ondine was sighted in the Saar River last week. Found anything more about it?”

  Melusine’s heart faltered for a beat. Far from missing the Alzette where she had bathed for centuries, she now enjoyed swimming in the Saar. On the cursed Wednesdays, she frolicked in the wide stream that carried merchant boats. Of course, she had to use a glamour, and swim further behind the hill in order to hide from the villagers, but she didn’t mind. Had someone seen her through her magic veil?

  Sigefroi frowned and hesitated just for a moment. “Sire, if you were not my friend, I would think you are spying in my territory.” The light tone belied the accusation, but Melusine could tell her husband was upset.

  Otto shrugged, picked up his goblet and sipped his wine. “So, was it a mermaid or not?”

  Sigefroi sighed deeply then offered a diplomatic smile. “I sent my men to investigate, but they found nothing. Not even a naked lass bathing. Sailors have a vivid imagination, sire.”

  Otto raised a blond brow. “What did the sailors see?”

  “They described an ondine of legends with a long serpent tail.” Sigefroi shrugged. “You know I do not believe in such ridiculous beings.” He chuckled. “But Adalberon will tell you the Church considers them spawns of Lucifer.”

  Waving the comment away, Otto grunted. “Too bad.” He burped. “In any case, we appreciate your keeping the river safe for merchant boats. The roads, too, are now free of highway robbers, thanks to your vigilance.”

  Sigefroi smiled. “Thank you, sire.”

  Otto nodded toward Adalberon. “The princes of the Church and I only want the prosperity of our towns and markets.”

  Adalberon offered Sigefroi a strained smile. “We are grateful for your loyal services, brother.”

  Otto winked. “Without peaceful trade, I would need to raise new taxes to finance this year’s military campaign.”

/>   “War again?” Sigefroi’s amber gaze twinkled with interest.

  At the mention of war, Melusine felt as if a lance had struck her chest. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Of course, Otto had come to recruit Sigefroi for his unending wars.

  “This is spring, is it not?” Otto raised his gaze to the sky, took a deep breath of cool air and released it slowly. “The Byzantines are a thorn on the Eastern borders of Italy. Pope John asked me to squelch the rebellion. I could use your help. I need an army of knights and horsemen to kill some Greeks... like old times.”

  Sigefroi’s face lit up at the mention of battle. “No foot soldiers?”

  “You know I don’t believe in foot soldiers.” Otto took a sip of wine. “An army of well trained horsemen constitutes an unstoppable war machine. This is how I win all my wars.”

  Melusine winced at the excitement, not only in Otto’s voice, but in Sigefroi’s eyes. He caught her staring at him and flashed a quick, reassuring smile. Had he read her mind?

  Sigefroi calmly sliced a piece of the roasted boar in front of him and dropped it on his bread trencher. “Since when are you doing favors for the pope? You put him on St Peter’s throne, isn’t that enough?”

  Otto tore a piece of boar for himself and bit into it then spoke through a mouthful. “In exchange for my military help, Pope John XIII will obediently crown my son as the future emperor of the Holy Roman empire.”

  Sigefroi whistled. “You didn’t waste time, my friend. How old is Otto Junior? Nine?”

  “Aye. I want the pope to crown him while I still live. That way, if anything happens to me in battle, no one will contest his right when his time comes to assume my throne.”

  “That is highly irregular, sire.” Sigefroi chewed reflectively.

  Otto waved away the comment. “I do not want my empire to be divided among my children upon my death. Charlemagne was a fool to split his lands between three sons.”

  A slight shadow crossed Sigefroi’s brow. “Careful, sire. Charlemagne was my ancestor. But I tend to agree. His empire did fall apart after his death.” Then he thought of Lorraine. “So was my father’s duchy weakened by its division.”

  At a loss, Melusine realized she could not keep her husband inside fortresses forever. Sooner or later, he would leave to do battle, and she feared her long ago vision of Sigefroi’s bloody massacre of innocents might come true.

  * * *

  A month later, Melusine watched from the battlement and forced a smile as she waved her white scarf in farewell. Outside the gate, on the steep road to town, Sigefroi on his warhorse flanked by forty knights, waved in return. In the knights’ wake, four abreast, rode several hundred horsemen, many from the castle and others provided by the bishopric of Trier.

  Barking hounds ran circles around the horses in their excitement at following their masters on the road.

  “Death to the Byzantines,” the riders sang as they raised their shields in rhythm to the battle cry.

  Melusine shivered at the dreadful sound.

  A few supply carts closed the train. At the junction of the Via Romana, Sigefroi’s army would meet with the troops from Luxembourg castle, and within a few weeks, they would reach Italy, then the Eastern border where the Byzantine Greeks stirred trouble.

  Melusine wished Sigefroi didn’t have to go, but Otto’s wishes were law throughout the empire. She thoroughly disliked Otto, a lecher and a cruel man under his blond ringlets and curly beard. Even Sigefroi recognized it. But Sigefroi must obey his emperor.

  What bothered Melusine the most was the happy light in Sigefroi’s amber eyes at the idea of new adventures. Had he grown tired of being a husband? Did three years of peace make him long for his former carefree life as a warrior?

  Next to Melusine on the rampart, Alyx sobbed disconsolately. Thierry in his brand new armor, rode with Sigefroi and Gunter at the head of the column. The lad’s first campaign would keep him away for months. For the lovebirds’ first separation, he was going into battle. Worse. There had been no time to marry the two lovers in the hasty preparations for war.

  Melusine hoped Thierry would return before Alyx gave birth, so they could get married in time to prevent the girl’s public shame.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two weeks later, on the Roman road

  After three years of castle life, Sigefroi relished the ride with his cavalry through the German empire. Following the Via Romana straight south toward Rome, the imperial army rode for two weeks without ever leaving the ancient road. They camped near rivers and lakes, requisitioned food from the towns and villages they passed, requested hospitality from monasteries and local lords.

  Although their hosts received compensation in tax exemptions, Sigefroi could see in their eyes the burden this service would bring on their annual food reserves. But it was spring, and they could work harder this summer to grow more crops to survive the winter.

  Sigefroi marveled at the Romans who had built the wide fare cutting straight through Saxony, Franconia and Swabia. With most of the stone bridges still intact, only once did the riders have to ford a shallow river. Centuries ago, the Romans had come this way to conquer the wild German tribes.

  But Sigefroi wagered that their pedestrian armies would have been no match for Otto’s mighty cavalry, half of them knights or seasoned warriors who had seen many campaigns. They fought not for silver or gold as most Roman soldiers did, but for their motherland, for God, honor, and for their families. These fierce and loyal men never questioned an order and would rather die than surrender.

  As the troops entered yet another forest, the birds stopped chirping at the sounds of the army on the move. The high boughs echoed the creaking of leather and the clink of swords and scabbards. Barking hounds ran along the ranks.

  A few riders armed with bows and arrows broke away from the column and whistled for the dogs to lead their hunt for fresh meat. The rays of the sun through the new foliage warmed the leather leggings and glinted off the chain mail and the polished brass decorating the shields.

  Sigefroi held the reins loosely as he rode abreast of the emperor and his nine-year-old son Otto Junior, followed by Gunter and Thierry. Behind them stretched a wide column of over four thousand horsemen.

  Still reveling in his new knighthood, Thierry laughed, puffed up with pride at being part of the emperor’s chosen companions. While Sigefroi and Gunter enjoyed a high rank from birth, Thierry was the son of a landless knight, and this campaign would elevate his status, perhaps even grant him some lands for services rendered.

  By the time the sun lowered in the western sky, the army emerged from the tree line into a vast meadow bordering a wide river.

  Sigefroi recognized the stone bridge that crossed the expanse and knew they had reached the Danube River. On the other side, majestic mountains promised a challenge. He looked forward to crossing the Alps.

  Otto raised his arm to halt the column.

  Immediately, standard bearers galloped back along the ranks to relay the order. The column came to a stop. The horsemen behind them broke the ranks and dismounted on the grassy bank along the river.

  Sigefroi pulled on the reins then loosened the strap of the leather cap under his mail hauberk. His throat felt dry from the dust of the road. “Water the horses!”

  Squires took the horses to drink.

  The clatter of a gallop on the stone bridge caught Sigefroi’s attention. He squinted at a messenger riding fast toward them, carrying a gold and purple banner that floated in his wake. “An envoy from the pope.”

  Otto signaled for the imperial party to remain mounted as the papal messenger slowed his horse across the meadow and made his way toward them.

  The messenger halted in front of the emperor, dismounted then bowed. “News from the insurrection, sire.” He presented Otto with a scroll.

  Otto motioned to Sigefroi. “You open it. What does it say?”

  Sigefroi removed his gauntlets and bent down from the saddle to take the scroll. He broke the red se
al, unrolled the parchment and read it. “This report makes it sound more like a farmers’ revolt than a true military threat, sire... but we know better than that, do we not?”

  Otto’s clear green gaze turned to Gunter. “You’ve met these rogues up close. Tell us what you think”

  “Aye, sire.” Gunter pulled his horse alongside Sigefroi’s. “Barbarian farmers who sleep with a sword and kill travelers for sport, or to steal their horses.”

  Otto sent a stern look to Sigefroi. “I wish I could lead the repression myself, but the pope awaits me. Politics...” Rays of the setting sun caught on his blond beard. “I am counting on you to end the insurrection swiftly. I do not want to wait in Rome too long for news of your victory!”

  Despite his weariness from two weeks on the road, Sigefroi couldn’t hold back a grin. “Your confidence honors me, sire.”

  He felt exhilarated at the prospect of battle. Born for the battlefield, he excelled at it. Besides, he wanted to try Caliburn against a real enemy. Would the sword make him invincible, as Melusine had promised?

  The Emperor’s face relaxed. “You are the best I have. My reputation lies with you. The Italian borders must be pacified before the rebellion spreads to more villages.”

  Otto glanced at his young son. The boy, who had ridden with the men without complaint, now fidgeted atop his slender mare. His light complexion, blond hair and blue eyes made him look like a girl, but the set of his jaw and the determination in the boy’s steely eyes revealed a future leader of men.

  Otto sighed. “I cannot afford to give Pope John a reason to refuse crowning my heir. The future of the empire is at stake.”

  Sigefroi grinned. “Don’t worry, sire, Gunter and I will not fail you. After all, we learned from the best strategist in all Christendom.”

  Otto waved away the flattery. “Make camp for the night. We’ll cross the river in the morning.” He slid off his white stallion and gave the reins to his manservant. “It’s too late in the day to start crossing the mountains.”