“Thierry would take his name here and we would be gone in time that all those remaining would not be endangered further. ’Tis perfect!” Dagobert agreed. Alienor had never been a frail creature and he had no doubt that she could accomplish the task of scaling the wall. The babe could be strapped to one of them and they would be on foot afterward, but there was still a measure of gold within the keep and they could buy horses in the first town they reached.
’Twas only a chance, but ’twas a good one, and he permitted himself a grin, refusing to think any further about their destination.
“If only we can convince them to take the truce,” Eustache mused, tapping his fingers. “Let me negotiate this,” he urged. Dagobert’s brows rose in surprise at his friend’s insistence. “Do not be seen any longer on the walls, neither you nor Alienor, and let me negotiate this treaty. When Bema is past and they find you gone, they will have no notion how much time has passed since your departure.”
Dagobert nodded. Eustache’s ploy could give his family time if the attackers believed that he was so long gone that ’twas not worth their effort to give chase. “Take my banner from the keep on the morrow, for I will take it with me,” he ordered.
Eustache nodded quickly, his eyes betraying the fact that he was already thinking ahead.
The peace at Montsalvat during the following few weeks of truce improved the spirits of more than just its human inhabitants. The goats, whose milk production had steadily declined over the winter, now showed marked improvement. The cessation of the catapult assaults and the first warmth of spring together resulted in many new kids being born in the stables. The few children still in the fortress delighted in the little creatures, and the women breathed a sigh of relief that the availability of milk would improve.
Alienor took Thierry to see the frisky newborns, squatting down with him in her lap when he seemed unperturbed by the animals. The smallest of the kids stumbled forward on awkward feet. Alienor almost laughed at his unsteadiness until his yellow eyes met hers with surprising familiarity. His knowing expression cut her laughter short. Telling herself that she saw meaning where there was none, she reached out to scratch the little creature’s silky ears, biting her lip when she felt only one nub gracing his brow.
Thierry chose that moment to chortle with delight and the small goat started at the sound. He scurried immediately for the safe haven to be found beside his own mother, leaving Alienor wondering whether her fingers had felt aright.
Bema dawned unseasonably warm and sunny, the weather lightening the hearts of all as they finished their preparations. A great feast was being laid for the evening meal, the sum of all remaining provisions being used in some concoction or another, and the smells rising from the kitchens had every stomach rumbling before the sun had even reached its zenith.
Alienor knew the activity could not be missed by those who watched the keep from below, but Eustache believed that all would be mistaken for a final celebration. Dagobert had noted that many lords consumed all stores and ensured that a keep was devoid of assets before surrendering to a foe.
Wood was stacked in the bailey for a huge bonfire. They had broken up the furniture for the cause and some of the boys scrambled on the cliffs outside the walls for additional kindling during the long afternoon. The remaining trestle tables were set up in the hall for the feast. Barrels of wine that had been secreted away for the event were rolled from their hiding place in the stables and placed in the hall. More than one inhabitant came to Alienor for needle and thread to patch a favorite garment: all were determined to look their best for the naming of their lord’s son.
By the time the sun was glowing red over the mountains in the west, everyone was assembled in the bailey. Alienor surveyed the faces of the assembled with affection, knowing she would miss them all. She knew that she and Dagobert had no choice but to leave so that the rest might be safe, but she regretted that they would not be able to remain amongst these loyal and good people. Had it only been a year ago that she had arrived for the first time and thought Montsalvat forbidding? ’Twas hard to believe. Alienor caught Dagobert’s eye and smiled, knowing that their departure would be even harder for him.
The sun dipped beneath the line of the hills, plunging the countryside into darkness for but a moment before the men touched torches to the pile of wood. The tinder caught with a crackle, tiny flames beginning to glow at the root of the pile before larger ones leapt upward into the night sky.
“Light triumphs anew!” Dagobert shouted the expected words.
The company responded in unison. “Blessed be the Light!”
A loud cheer followed, the infectious air of celebration claiming them all as they applauded the rising fire and sang a traditional refrain. Each man and woman paused before Thierry to make a gesture of obeisance, then Giselle took the babe and cuddled him. Dagobert extended one hand to Alienor, the other to Iolande, then led the two women—followed by Giselle and Thierry, and then the company—into the hall for the festive meal.
Hours later, the mood was more somber. Dagobert waited in the shadows of the portal to the hall. The inhabitants of Montsalvat had feasted like kings this night and they gathered now around the bonfire, their stomachs full and expressions happy.
Eustache paced off the distance from the curtain wall and gazed up at the full moon, and in that moment while he awaited his friend’s sign, Dagobert felt the full import of what he and Alienor proposed to do. They would no longer see any of these familiar faces or feel the security of such walls around them. He might have doubted his decision, if he had not known that he had no choice.
His gaze flitted from one happy face to another, each sight prompting memories he would cherish. He remembered the old ostler’s first efforts to teach him to ride when he had been a mere child; he recalled the cook’s tendency to slip him a morsel from the kitchens in the mid-afternoon; he thought of the midwife’s chatter when Alienor labored with Thierry. He smiled, the sight of Iolande laughing with Kado stealing the smile from his lips. He would miss his headstrong mother most of all.
And Eustache. A quick glance at his friend earned him a curt nod, signifying that the time was upon them. Dagobert looked out to the bonfire, which was vastly diminished from its earlier height. Time was slipping away too quickly for him.
Then he turned to find Alienor before him. She wore her wedding kirtle, the crimson and gold making her appear bronzed in the light cast by the fire. She smiled at him, that look all the encouragement Dagobert needed to step from the shadows and begin.
Together they would find a way. He reveled in the power of the love burning in his chest as he strode toward his wife. He recalled his first sight of her as she entered the chapel on their wedding day, her chin held high, that same dress swirling around her ankles. He was seized by an urge to pledge himself to her anew on this night.
With a smile for Alienor, Dagobert lifted Thierry into his arms, cradling the boy aloft that all might see him. “More than a year past, we blessed the vine,” he reminded the silent company. “And the vine has borne fruit yet again.”
“Blessed be the fruit,” chanted the assembly.
Dagobert lowered his son in his arms. Thierry was awake, his gaze steady as he met his father’s regard. “Aye. Blessed indeed be this fruit,” he murmured, feeling Alienor smile with pride. Opening Thierry’s garments with gentle hands so that his birthmark was exposed. “He bears the mark of his lineage,” Dagobert told the assembly, seeing that Iolande had come to stand beside him. She bore the pewter chalice last used on his wedding day, the cup and stem carved with twisting grapevines ripe with fruit. “As I bear the same mark.”
Iolande gestured to Alienor. Alienor stepped forward and unfastened Dagobert’s tabard, sparing him a smile when his own mark lay bare. A rebellious thought occurred to him.
He could not, he should not—but the idea still tempted him.
“Blessed be the fruit,” Iolande intoned, dipping her thumb into the wine and tracing the mark
on Dagobert’s chest with the red liquid. He was surprised to note her lack of distress, then reminded himself that Iolande had always hidden her thoughts well.
She repeated the blessing with the company joining in and dipped into the wine again, tracing another cross on his forehead. Finally, Iolande lifted the cup and Dagobert sipped of the wine, his gaze meeting his son’s blue regard as he swallowed. Something in the infant’s stare lent credence to his notion.
’Twas madness for him to make such a choice after they had lingered so long for this ceremony, but Dagobert could not shake his sense that his idea was right. ’Twas fitting that he should make this choice, to his thinking. He tried to see all the repercussions in the brief stretch of time he had to make the choice but could see only good.
He had been silent too long.
Dagobert felt the weight of the company’s attention. Their confusion and Iolande’s frown prompted him to dip his thumb into the chalice. He lifted his hand to trace Thierry’s birthmark with wine but stopped mid-gesture.
This choice he had and he would leave it to his son.
Dagobert wiped his thumb on his tunic to the shock of all. He closed Thierry’s garments against the slight chill before he surveyed the assembly. “I do not pass the quest to my son,” he said simply, drawing a gasp from all around him.
Iolande raised her eyebrows high but said naught.
Dagobert took a deep breath before he explained. “The quest of my father and his father before him has brought many changes to my life,” he said, his conviction growing with every word. “Events that would have been beyond the experience of most men. I saw Alzeu killed before my own eyes for his quest, saw lust for vengeance in the eyes of a trusted neighbor, sampled the hospitality of the king’s dungeons and barely escaped the bite of the executioner’s blade. I would not take back my vows, even had I known all of this would be my destiny.” Dagobert took Alienor’s hand, lifting her fingers to his lips and pressing a kiss there “My vow to my father also brought me a bride like no other. For the love of this woman alone I would endure it all once more.”
The crowd murmured in approval of his words and he was not surprised to find Alienor’s eyes glazed with unshed tears.
“This woman has given me a strong son within a year of our nuptials, even as the king’s forces await outside the gate. They would destroy all those who would take the pledge to regain the birthright of our bloodline. To pursue the quest means almost certain death, and having tried my hand, I consider my oath satisfied—if not for the wits of my wife and my mother, I would not stand here before you. This is too heavy a burden for me to choose for my son, long before he can choose for himself. I would give him the chance to grow to manhood before he swears to take this path, give him the chance to live, whether he ultimately takes that chance or no. He is my son and I claim him as my own blood, naming him Thierry de Pereille that he might have whatever protection may come from my family name on his path ahead.” He looked down at the baby in his arms. “But he will not be hunted. He will not be burdened unless he so chooses.” Dagobert took the chalice from Iolande’s hands and lifted it aloft for his final words. “I bid you welcome Thierry de Pereille as a son of the Light, son of mine, and fruit of the vine!”
“Welcome, Thierry de Pereille!” the crowd shouted as one.
Dagobert drained the chalice in one draught as was the custom, then choked when Eustache thumped him unexpectedly on the back.
Iolande took the chalice from his hand, filled it and passed it to Alienor. She then drank of the wine herself in turn, then passed it around the assembly. Dagobert stared down at his son, barely hearing the congratulations of those clustered around him until a familiar voice pierced his thoughts.
“Are you sure?” Alienor whispered, and he threw her a grin, never having felt so certain of anything in his life other than his love for her.
“Aye,” he said firmly, watching her smile at the conviction in his eyes before she reached up to kiss him. Dagobert held her tight, his heart thumping as he hugged his family close to his chest. There were just the three of them and ’twould be more than enough.
Somehow they would find their way.
The sounds of revelry continued unabated in the bailey as Alienor and Dagobert changed into their traveling clothes in the solar. Their finery from the evening was crushed into their already-bulging packs.
Alienor had been most surprised by Dagobert’s choice this night. Perhaps they could break free of the king’s judgment and find a haven to raise Thierry. She had not asked their path once they escaped the keep, telling herself that she wanted there to be no risk of anyone overhearing their plans. She suspected that Dagobert had not decided.
Thierry had fallen asleep after his feeding. Alienor helped Dagobert slip the dozing baby into a strange pack slung tight against his chest that Eustache had devised.
“’Twill be safe enough?” she fretted, earning an encouraging smile from Dagobert.
“’Tis most secure, love, and he will likely sleep while we risk our necks,” he teased, and she smiled back at him.
Alienor lifted her pack and slipped the straps over her shoulders as she cast one last glance at the draped bed that had served them so well.
“We shall find another on which to make merry music,” Dagobert whispered in her ear, and she felt herself flush even as she turned to swat him. He pointed at Thierry with twinkling eyes, implying that she would wake him up, and Alienor shook one finger at her husband in mock disgust.
“Now the truth is revealed about this ploy,” she teased in return. “’Twas no gallantry to insist you carry both babe and bundle, for you mean to use him as defense.”
“Such grave offense do you give me with your accusations, my lady,” Dagobert replied, feigning an injury.
Alienor laughed, knowing that he jested so that they might both find the leaving easier to bear.
Iolande appeared at the door and Alienor immediately sobered, knowing that the time of partings was upon than. To her surprise, Iolande was dressed in dark traveling clothes, as well, and her blue eyes sparkled.
“Kado, they have not crept away without us,” she called over her shoulder, much to Alienor’s confusion.
Her grandfather’s appearance in his travel-stained cloak doing naught to clarify matters.
“What nonsense is this?” Dagobert demanded.
Iolande lifted her chin. “We are navigators,” she declared.
Dagobert and Alienor exchanged a glance. “I do not understand,” he confessed.
“Aye, for you do not know where you go,” Iolande replied.
The truth of that—and Alienor’s suspicion—was revealed in Dagobert’s expression. “We shall find our way.” She stepped closer to him, slipping her hand into the breadth of his to show her support.
“Why not find my way?” Kado demanded.
Alienor blinked with surprise, not missing the way Iolande smothered her smile.
“Your way? But where do you go?” Dagobert asked.
Kado threw back his head and laughed at the question, pointing a triumphant finger at the younger man. “Finally, someone asks!” he crowed, clapping one hand over his mouth when he recalled the sleeping babe. Kado’s voice dropped to a whisper when he continued. “I have been four months and none have asked why I came, when or where I return.”
“But you came to find Arpais,” Dagobert said.
Kado nodded quickly. “Aye, but why did I come for Arpais?” He folded his arms across his chest and regarded his granddaughter and her husband with an indulgent eye. “Only Iolande thought to ask me this and so we have made our plan.” He waited expectantly.
“Why did you come for Arpais?” Alienor asked when it became clear that Kado was not going to enlighten them.
“She is blood of my blood,” he said.
Alienor saw Dagobert nod at the same time as she did. They knew this and she wished Kado would make his point. They wasted too much time in departing from the keep.
/> “Your blood is important?” Dagobert guessed.
“Aye!” Kado practically shouted, leaping forward to shake Dagobert’s hand. “I should have known that you of all people would guess the truth, for does the knowledge of these matters not run in your own veins?”
“I do not understand, and the night is slipping away,” Alienor said. “Of what import is your blood?”
“She is impatient, this one,” Kado whispered to Dagobert.
Alienor watched her husband suppress a smile even as his grip tightened momentarily over her fingers. “Often,” he agreed. “Though I am untroubled by this.”
Kado turned a bright eye on her. “Have you not guessed the truth?” he whispered, clearly enjoying the fact that neither she nor Dagobert had. “Arpais was sent with me to make an alliance with these hidden kings.” Kado dropped his voice so that they had to strain to hear. “A blood alliance.”
Alienor’s brow puckered in a frown. “But why Arpais?”
Kado leaned forward. “The khan and I were half-brothers,” he confided, and Alienor felt her eyes widen in shock. She was related to the khan? “And Arpais’ mother was the khan’s cousin. The blood royal ran strong in Arpais’ veins and we thought to begin a new line of kings, to fortify the fading of both lines.”
Kado grimaced, flicking a telling glance at Iolande who seemed to be suppressing a smile. “Little did the khan expect that Alzeu would have an aversion to planting his seed in any woman other than his wife.”
He indicated Dagobert and shook his head. “And their son was as yet too young to suit our purposes,” Kado sighed. “While I tarried here at Montsalvat, hoping to change Alzeu’s thinking, Arpais met Robert. The rest of the tale we all know well enough, I wager.”
Alienor glanced to Dagobert in amazement, relieved to find him looking as astonished as she felt. Their gazes met. She lifted one hand to their son, dozing peacefully against Dagobert’s chest, and they looked of one accord at Kado again.
Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 31