Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition

by Vijaya Schartz

  He spoke first. “You look beautiful but why the frowning face? Are you sick from the journey?”

  “Nay.” Melusine’s chest tightened.

  Sigefroi lifted his foot from the bench and stepped toward her. “This is not the happy reunion I had imagined after months of separation.”

  Melusine stepped back. “Why did you do it?”

  Surprise arched his brow and he stopped in his track.

  “Why did you maim and kill all those women and children?” Her throat clenched and her voice cracked.

  His frown fell away and he suddenly looked sad, eyes downcast. “Oh, that?”

  “Please look at me and tell me it’s not true.” Against reason, Melusine wanted to believe his innocence. “Tell me you did not do this.”

  “But I did.” He turned sideways as he stared down at the narcissus. “When I saw Thierry lying in a pool of blood, something clicked in my mind. These villagers had poisoned us, slit the throat of our best knights. We were all dying, or so we believed. Nothing mattered but justice.”

  For the first time, Melusine realized that Sigefroi could have died as well. As much as she mourned Thierry’s death, she rejoiced to see her husband alive.

  Her voice trembled as she uttered feebly, “Justice? You call that justice?”

  “Aye.” Sigefroi scratched his brow then sighed heavily. “What I did in a moment of crazed battle frenzy cannot be undone. I will have to bear the guilt for the rest of my life. I will never forgive myself.”

  Melusine’s resolve melted but she could not give in. “I thought I married a courageous knight, not a vengeful executioner.”

  “I never claimed to be a saint.” He finally raised his amber gaze to her, as in supplication. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  He looked so vulnerable, but Melusine could not weaken. “Never.”

  His gaze hardened. “Who are you to judge me?”

  “Any human worth his salt would balk at such cruelty.”

  His cold stare searched the depths of her soul. “But are you really human, Melusine?”

  The slow, deliberate remark stabbed Melusine like a dagger between her ribs. She gasped for air but the pain did not subside. Chilling tendrils of fear made her shiver in her yellow gown. A drop of cold sweat snaked between her breasts. She must not panic. “What are you implying?”

  “Perhaps you can tell me why our peasants sighted an ondine on several occasions on our lands, and always on the days you disappeared from the castle. Maybe you can explain how one grows a serpent tail in the river eddy at sunset and reclaims human shape the next evening.”

  “My lord, I thought you did not believe in magic and legends.” Melusine fought not to faint. She stumbled toward the bench and dropped onto it.

  He did not move to help her but remained distant. “Legend, is it?”

  “Of course, what else?” She clutched the side of the bench to prevent the world from spinning around her.

  “Is it legend when many have seen it? When the archives speak of bishops who witnessed it, when the pope himself just charged me of investigating the facts?”

  “What facts?” Melusine wanted to heave.

  “Why is it that we did not find you the first day I saw you under the bridge? Were you hiding deep underwater?”

  Melusine felt trapped. Nowhere to run. Should she keep denying? Should she tell the truth? Nay. The truth would only get her killed.

  Sigefroi did not relent. “Why did you need tunnels leading to the river in both our fortresses?”

  Melusine struggled to remember all the details of the curse. It had been so long ago... If Sigefroi found her secret but kept it safe, they could still live happy together. She realized with a start that despite his savagery, she still wanted this man.

  Torn between her love for him and the refusal to accept his violent nature, she still wanted to remain at his side. Wasn’t it her destiny? The condition that would free her from the curse? Melusine couldn’t imagine returning to a solitary life, abandoning her husband, her children, her happy life at the castle.

  Sigefroi seized both her arms and forced her to gaze into his blazing eyes. She saw in his stare traces of a power she had noticed many times before, faint but there nevertheless... Fae power?

  “Tell me the truth. Are you that ondine?”

  “And what if I were?” The words escaped before Melusine could stop them. She realized, too late, that he had made her tell.

  He let go of her as if of a venomous toad and his hand grasped Caliburn. “I should kill you right now.”

  Panic threatened to drown Melusine. “My lord, you can’t. The curse would take you, too.”

  His hand stilled on the hilt and his amber eyes narrowed on her. “What curse?”

  “The curse that made me an ondine.” Melusine caught her breath and gripped the back of the bench for support. “It is my curse. But if you kill me or if you tell anyone, you and your male descendants will be doomed for nine generations.”

  Sigefroi emitted a long, sarcastic whistle. “Quite a curse for my ambitious plans to start a new kingdom.”

  Sigefroi slowly averted his eyes then remained quiet for a moment, his back to her. Finally, he faced her, a smirk on his face. “No one is perfect. We all have weak links in our chain mail, do we not?”

  Melusine held her breath. Her life hung on her next words. “Please my lord, in the name of what we had, do not tell anyone.”

  Sigefroi scoffed. “Tell whom? Tell what? That I made a pact with the forces of evil? That I owe my power to a changeling? A demonic creature?”

  “If the bishops find out, they will kill me in the most horrible manner.”

  “Woman, you are lucky that my faith doesn’t run deep and I do not fear the fires of hell. I do not care from whence my power comes, as long as it serves me. But the wrath of the Church could cost me my place in the civilized world.”

  “I am sorry, my lord. You were never meant to find out, only to benefit from my Fae gifts.”

  His eyes softened. “It would be a shame to throw away such a beautiful and powerful bride.” He paced away from her then turned about. “If I overlook your imperfections, will you forgive mine?”

  Melusine remained silent. He had offered a truce. But how could she forgive his cruel behavior? Then how could she not, when he just forgave her. He’d looked so regretful about what he’d done.

  Melusine thought back to her own mistake, her own moment of madness, when she had condemned her father to a solitary life and death in a crystal cave. Had she deserved to be cursed for it? Aye. But now that she felt remorse, Melusine yearned for forgiveness. And so did Sigefroi.

  She exhaled a deep breath. “I am willing to try.”

  Gently, he took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Then your secret is safe with me. But from now on, you must trust me. No more lies, no more excuses, and I want you to tell me everything about that curse. I want to know the whole truth about you and your past.”

  “Aye.” Although she had no choice, Melusine felt suddenly light, as if she had carried a heavy burden since her wedding day. “It feels good not having to lie anymore.”

  When he grinned, Melusine sensed his strength. A dangerous man to be sure, but a man unafraid of her most terrible secret.

  He winked. “Should we get you out of this holy place, my little hellcat, and move you to my temporary villa?”

  The word hellcat made her flinch, but Melusine knew it was Sigefroi’s way of showing affection, and she thanked the Goddess for such an understanding husband. For the first time in years, she felt hope swell inside.

  “Aye, I would like that very much.”

  * * *

  Two days later, Melusine walked sedately at Sigefroi’s arm toward the imposing entrance of St Peter’s Basilica. The circular courtyard looked as busy as when it served as the market place. Today, however the square rumbled with a festive throng in colorful attire. Bells rang, scaring the pigeons from the roofs and calling the most powerful no
bles and rich citizens of Rome to the venerable edifice for an unusual ceremony.

  From all over the empire, nobles had flocked to answer Otto’s summons. They came from faraway kingdoms, duchies, counties and marches to witness the coronation of a nine-year-old heir, whose father was still alive. A curious new trend in the Roman Empire.

  As she passed the threshold on Sigefroi’s arm, among the high nobility allowed to enter the basilica, Melusine walked as if she floated, disembodied, like in a dream. Since her new understanding with Sigefroi, her fear of churches had lessened.

  He dipped his fingers in holy water and pretended to touch fingers with Melusine as if to pass the holy water. She pretended to take it from him and signed herself. Only Sigefroi ever touched the dangerous water, but the traditional gesture made Melusine look like an irreproachable Christian.

  Many heads turned as the rulers of Luxembourg crossed the venerable edifice to reach their appointed place in the first row of dignitaries. Soon the vaults shushed as the emperor and his son took their seat at both ends of the altar.

  The emperor wore his jeweled crown in evidence atop his blond ringlets. Otto junior, his childish blond head bare, looked frail and vulnerable as he sat on his oversized throne.

  Pope John, whom some influential families outside the empire only recognized as Bishop of Rome, made a grandiose entrance to the sound of harp music. An impressive number of bishops in purple robes filed in perfect order behind him and lined the back of the altar. Then Pope John started the ritual mass, and Melusine recognized the polished Latin of a true scholar.

  When the time came to crown the young prince, Pope John walked to Otto’s chair and reached for the crown on the emperor’s head. Otto waved him away. A murmur flew over the assembly as the pope stepped aside. Otto then rose and walked to his son’s throne on the opposite side of the altar.

  As if they had rehearsed it many times, Otto Junior knelt in front of his father.

  The emperor then lifted his own crown and held it aloft for all to see. “I, Otto the First, Emperor of the Western Roman Empire, crown you, Otto the Second, as my heir and successor, with all the powers of Holy Mother Church, to govern over the kings of Christendom with justice, strength, and wisdom.”

  In a deliberate, solemn gesture, he set the crown upon his son’s head.

  The boy’s voice came loud and clear. “God willing, I, Otto the Second, when my time comes to reign, will defend Holy Mother Church and rule over Christendom with justice, strength and wisdom.”

  When the young boy rose, very straight, wearing the big crown, he looked taller. Filled with obvious pride, he gazed at the crowd of nobles with new confidence.

  Bells pealed, filling the vaults with their carillon, and other bells answered from churches throughout Rome. Many nobles cheered, others applauded. A few hats flew toward the high arches of the central nave. Melusine wondered how many of the guests felt delight and how many only sought to gain the emperor’s good graces. Otto was a hard man to please and many coveted his favors.

  The two emperors, father and son, followed by Pope John and the bishops, now walked down the central aisle out of the basilica. Sigefroi offered one arm to Melusine then led the nobles in a long cortege. The procession crossed St Peter’s square then snaked through the streets of Rome.

  In the city, the populace looked happy. Was it for the crowning? Most did not really care who ruled the empire. But the baked goods and honey sweets the children in the cortege threw at the good citizens probably accounted for some of their happiness.

  On the way to the pontifical palace for the traditional agape, Melusine felt like a queen. Against all her expectations, Sigefroi had embraced her cause and become her champion. As long as they showed a united front, nothing could hurt them, and Luxembourg would continue to prosper. The Goddess would be served. Leaning confidently on Sigefroi’s strong arm, she smiled at him then waved at the delirious crowd.

  Somewhere in her heart, however, Melusine doubted her good fortune would last. What If the Church found out? Her happy family would be doomed, along with all the good people of Luxembourg.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luxembourg - Spring of 973

  “What?” Melusine still could not believe what she just heard.

  Little Kunigonde at her breast, she stared at the imperial messenger, muddy and drawn from a hard ride. The women’s quarters of Luxembourg castle were usually closed to men, but the urgency of this morning’s message hadn’t allowed any delay.

  The messenger cleared his throat. “The emperor is dead, my lady. Long live our new emperor, Otto II.”

  “So suddenly? How did he die?”

  “Wounded by the Saracens in southern Italy.” The man’s gaze darted everywhere to avoid staring at her naked bosom. “Looked like just a scratch when he returned to his palace in Memleben. But then the fever took him. He fell unconscious and died in his sleep a few days later.”

  Melusine did not know the Emperor had been wounded. How would his son, now seventeen, deal with war and politics?

  She covered her breast and gave the child to Alyx. “So young Otto is now emperor...”

  The messenger, obviously more comfortable now, gazed straight at her. “Aye, my lady.”

  With Otto dead, Melusine realized there might be a shift in the complicated weave of allegiances that kept the balance of power. Otto had reigned through force. Many kings and dukes would not be so intimidated by his young son.

  “Will there be a public funeral?”

  The messenger nodded. “In ten days, my lady. When the emperor was wounded, a message was sent to his heir and to Lord Sigefroi in Italy. They should be back very soon.”

  “If my lord husband is on his way home, I have much to do.” Melusine had missed Sigefroi so much, she couldn’t wait to see him again. “Thank you my good man. Go to the kitchen to get some food, and rest as long as you wish.”

  * * *

  A few days later, when the horn sounded joyously from the watchtower, Melusine knew it was Sigefroi’s party. She climbed the stairs to the top of the rampart to catch a glance of the riders fast approaching on the Roman road. About a hundred knights rode hard under the white and red banner of Luxembourg.

  From her vantage point, Melusine could see the entire valley. As she turned, she gazed with pride upon the plateau across the gorge. The new town had grown and now spread far and wide. She marveled at how much had changed in Luxembourg since the crowning in Rome, seven years ago.

  Many acres of forest had become green fields and pastures. The craftsmen Melusine had brought from Rome now held shop in the town. Each month, new families came to settle from Trier, Aachen, Metz, Verdun. The word of Luxembourg’s prosperity spread throughout the empire.

  The men took employment among Sigefroi’s soldiers. The women and children worked the fields, tended the flocks, or apprenticed new trades. Many learned weaving, glass-blowing, or tanning, and most pottery shops took new apprentices.

  The river brought traders and visiting merchants. Throughout town, smithies resounded with hammering blows and the breath of bellows, as the smiths mended chain mail and forged new weapons. The silversmith catered to the castle, of course, but also to the prosperous houses of merchants and craftsmen, and to the landless nobles of Sigefroi’s entourage.

  The castle library had become a study room where Melusine’s children, Henri, Frederick, and young Thierry, named after Sigefroi’s deceased squire, attended school with other children and adults from the castle who wished to learn. Not that the boys cared for knowledge. They much preferred the fencing yard, or violent fist brawls in the stables, from which they returned bruised and bloody.

  With a twinge in her heart, Melusine thought of her nine-year-old daughter, Liutgarde. The girl still hated her mother and resided in a convent in Trier, where the nuns saw to her education.

  As the riders closed the distance, Melusine barely recognized Sigefroi on his destrier. Now thirty three, he did not radiate the same stren
gth as ten years ago. He rode stiff and weary in the saddle. While Melusine had not aged one day since they met, Sigefroi showed the wear of endless seasons on the battlefield.

  If he must become the most powerful man in the new empire, he would need more youthful strength. Melusine wondered whether her knowledge or her magic could help him overcome old age. Caliburn made his arm invincible, but what if his body weakened so much he couldn’t wield the sword... what then?

  The riders disappeared into the woods on the road ascending the plateau. Melusine climbed down the rampart and fetched Kunigonde to welcome Sigefroi at the gate. Gone for many months, he had yet to meet his new daughter.

  Soon, the clattering of hooves on the drawbridge brought cheers from the assembled castle folk. Stable boys ran for the horses. It seemed to Melusine that it took Sigefroi a little longer than usual to dismount, and when he pushed back his mail hauberk, his flaming hair looked dull and streaked with pale sandy strands.

  Never before had Melusine noticed the creases in his stern face, and suddenly she felt sad. The man she loved was growing older.

  She walked to Sigefroi, the baby girl in her arms. “Welcome home, my lord. Meet your new daughter, the mild and lovely Kunigonde.”

  “You named her after my mother?” Sigefroi took the baby from Melusine and held her high for his knights to see.

  The men whooped and clanged swords against shields.

  Under this ovation, Sigefroi lowered the child and took her in one arm then encircled Melusine with his other arm and kissed her cheek. “I like her already.”

  Melusine held Sigefroi’s waist as they walked toward the keep. “This child needed a queenly name, since she will marry an emperor some day.”

  Sigefroi laughed. “An emperor?”

  “Aye.” Melusine winked. “I have my sources.”