“You speak as though I had any other choice, sir knight.”
Those feline amber eyes of hers were enough to make a man giddy. Instinctively, Anselm took her hand and raised it to his lips. At least she didn’t try to stop him this time.
“There is always a choice, Princess. Whether we choose to accept it or not… ” With a regretful smile, he released her hand. “Well now, that depends upon the individual, does it not?”
A tiny smile curved Miriam’s lips, a smile so sweet that it caused Anselm’s heart rate to falter.
“I shall not answer unless you first stop speaking in riddles, Northman. Such talk as this will never trick me into revealing my secrets, I assure you. ’Tis a waste of time to try.”
“Trick you? That was never my intention, m’lady.”
“I was referring, of course, to our conversation of yester-eve.” By unspoken accord, they began walking toward the stables together. “Surely you can not have forgotten it already?”
“Ah.” Anselm slapped his hand upon his forehead as realization struck. “You refer to your handsome pirate lover, of course.” In actual fact, Anselm had given the faceless fiend quite a lot of thought last night until sleep had finally overcome him.
“He is not my lover.” Despite her words, Anselm detected a definite ‘not yet’ hanging unspoken in the air between them. For some odd reason, the hackles on his neck rose up like those of an angry dog.
“Were you intending to slope off and meet with him today? Is that the reason for your early start?”
“No!” But the denial was a little too quick. Miriam took a deep breath. “I wasn’t intending in going anywhere, actually. I am only here now because you forced me to come down and speak with you.”
“Forced?” Anselm treated Miriam to his famous smile, the weapon that had driven many a grateful maid into his bed over the years. “No, m’lady. I do not agree. As I said before, there is always another choice to be, be that good or bad.”
Miriam rolled her eyes at him, his efforts to ensnare her with his charm all but wasted on her.
“Oh, do shut up, would you? It’s much too early in the day to be fending off flirtations, no matter how insincere they might be.”
Anselm laughed, delighted that she saw him so clearly. “And there I was believing I was the only one who sees the unseen. Nicely done, Princess. Nicely done indeed.”
She only smiled in reply.
They reached the stables and, right on time, Percy appeared leading a horse in either hand. The poor lad was obviously having a hard time of it, keeping the fiery creatures in check, for they would insist on dancing over the cobbles and taking the odd sly kick at each other.
Miriam scowled. “Whatever are you doing with my horse, boy?”
“He knows,” Anselm said, gently taking Miriam’s hand. “For ’twas I who asked him to help me. Ride out with me today, Princess. Please? Show me something of this land of yours.”
Miriam’s eyes widened. “You planned all this?” she said, pulling her hand free. “I might have guessed. My word! For a stranger you are extremely sure of yourself, Northman.” She tilted her head to observe him, her hair falling in a loose tangle of shining waves. “And if I should refuse? What then?”
“But you won’t, I hope.” For some reason—one Anselm could not yet fathom—it was suddenly vitally important to him that Miriam did not refuse. “Or will you?”
Heaving a sigh, Miriam wandered over to where Percy battled with the two strange horses, his arms almost being wrenched from their sockets for his trouble—much to the amusement of the other squires who were outside again, sitting happily together in the sunshine, and calling out insults as they watched Percy struggle.
The moment Miriam took the reins of her chestnut mare, the excitable animal immediately calmed. ’Twas a most curious sight, witnessing the feisty beast suddenly become as meek as any lamb.
“There now, my sweet Eris.” Miriam kissed the horse’s velvety muzzle as it pressed its nose into her hand and gently nudged at her. Eyes closed, Miriam rested her forehead trustingly upon the animal’s bowed head. “Hush, my pretty one,” she murmured. “All is well. I am here.”
Inexplicably, Anselm found his mouth as dry as the desert. Suddenly he desperately wanted a drink. Water, ale, anything. Preferably something more fortifying.
Utterly transfixed, he could only stand and stare as Miriam—with her eyes still closed, her long, sooty lashes flickering upon her golden cheek—embraced the, now docile, creature.
But she’s not my type! he told himself, watching as the horse reached for a strand of her mistress’s hair with a wobbling upper lip.
Laughing, Miriam stepped back. “You must not eat my hair, Eris. Bad girl.”
“P... Per—” Anselm cleared the squeak from his throat and tried again. “Perhaps you ought to tie it back.” Although it would be a great pity if she did. He rather liked the way Miriam’s hair tumbled about her face and shoulders in a glorious riot of blue-black. Had she even troubled to brush it this morning? Somehow he did not think so.
“I shall not,” Miriam replied, somewhat curtly. “Over my hair, at least, I still have some small measure of control.” As if afraid she’d said too much, she gave a sudden burst of laughter. “Come then. Let us ride out together, Northman. Your squire must accompany us, though, and my maid, too, for I am not allowed to venture from the palace grounds alone.” She looked about her with exaggerated concern and then grinned wickedly. “It’s on account of my virtue, you see,” she explained in an extremely loud whisper which had poor Percy blushing to the roots of his sandy-colored curls.
Anselm laughed. He couldn’t help himself. What kind of woman was she? But Miriam still hadn’t finished.
“My future husband will indeed be a lucky man,” she continued. “For he will be at liberty to dip his wick wherever he chooses, even after we are wed.” Her amber eyes glowed with mischief. “Alas for me, I am but a lowly woman. Apart from having the pleasure of his bulky presence in my bed, I will have no further share in his good fortune.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “For the law dictates that only the man I marry has the right to make me bleed.”
“Miriam!” She was too much, but Anselm liked her exceedingly for it.
“Princess Miriam,” she corrected him, one fine dark eyebrows arched. “Remember your manners, Northman.”
“Then in return, you must call me Anselm.”
“Very well. Anselm.”
To hear his name uttered by those sweet lips sent shivers racing along Anselm’s spine and lower still until they reached the vicinity of his useless cock. Ever since his near-fatal injury at the hand of his old master, Anselm’s once active member had fallen into a near dormant state. After so many months of useless flaccidity, therefore, it came as something of a shock to suddenly feel life stirring within his snug-fitting trews. A moment later and the sensation was gone again.
Perhaps he had imagined it?
Still smiling, Miriam rested her hand upon his tense forearm. “So, tell me. Are we to be friends, you and I, Sir Anselm?”
At her touch, another bolt of lightning flashed within his groin. Now he’d definitely not imagined that! Grimacing and squirming as discreetly as he could, he felt the sap rising within his body once more. “I-If you like.”
Why now, for the love of Erde? And why her? A bloody princess! Surely the Spirits were mocking him. Anselm raised his gaze skyward to the thready wisps of cloud drifting high above in the endless dome of blue. Yes, thank you. Most amusing, I’m sure.
He could not decide whether he was relieved or disappointed when Miriam finally removed her hand from his arm.
“There are many wonders in these lands, sir knight,” said she, blissfully unaware of Anselm’s turmoil. “What would you like to see first?”
The nearest whore house?
But of course,
he couldn’t say such a thing. Instead, he opted for somewhere else, somewhere that might prove equally perilous. “How about we begin with a trip to the harbor?”
“The harbor?” Miriam’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Anselm shrugged. “Oh, no reason in particular. It’s just that young Percy here has always fancied himself as a bit of a sailor, haven’t you, my lad?”
Now Percy had never expressed such a desire in the whole of his life, but he was far too well trained to publicly disagree with his master. “As you say, m’lord,” he answered politely.
“Well, then,” Miriam said, shortening her reins for departure. To the harbor it is.”
Anselm had to admire her. Except for the slight flushing of her cheeks, which could easily be put down to the rising heat of the day, Miriam was reacting quite calmly to the prospect of their trip to the harbor. ’Twas almost as if her pirate lover did not exist.
And if Anselm had anything to do with it, he soon wouldn’t. Indeed, the captain’s sailing days were now well and truly numbered.
Having left the sanctuary of the palace, Anselm, Percy, and a taciturn maidservant followed Miriam as she led them along a well-used path beyond the postern gate over a patch of sandy scrub-land. ’Twas a bleak cheerless sort of place where nothing really grew save for a veritable forest of prickle-some bushes that snagged their cloaks as they passed by. Thankfully, the path broke from cover soon afterward, heading to an airy clearing high up on the clifftop.
By common accord, they all reined their horses to a standstill, pausing to admire the incredible vista that lay stretched out before them. If heaven existed, then surely it was here in this remarkable place where the vast cerulean sky met the azure Wendel Sea; where loud-mouthed gulls sang a song of freedom as they soared on the wind.
“Isn’t this marvelous, Percy?” Anselm cried, turning to his slack-jawed squire. “Did you ever see such a sight?”
“No, m’lord. I never did.”
The sea back home was a very different beast. On a warm summer’s day, perhaps, the waters around Norland might occasionally turn a calm and playful green. But those rare halcyon days were all too few and fleeting. More often than not, the northern seas were a uniform steely gray, untamed and cruel, churning out powerful waves that crashed and pounded upon the rocky foreshore, foaming with an oftentimes deafening roar.
Out on the horizon, however, their grim Northern sea became almost tender. Above a watery world of inconceivable depths, it courted the leaden sky. Gradually, the dour lovers came together, uniting until it was impossible to tell where the air ended and the water began.
With her tranquil, unrippled waters, the Wendel sea was far more comely.
Far below the rocky promontory from which they surveyed the world, looking down from the vantage point of the Gods, the blue sea beckoned them, coaxing them down from the very edge of heaven.
Like tiny insects, a group of children frolicked upon a spit of pristine white sand. Anselm watched with envy as they ran hand-in-hand to the water, squealing like piglings as the water’s edge lapped gently over their naked toes. How badly he longed to join them. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the warm, briny air. He could almost feel the blissful kiss of cool water upon his feet and the gentle suck of the sand beneath as the waves retreated again. The temptation of the bay was a most seductive lure.
On opening his eyes, to his astonishment, he found Miriam watching him.
“Perhaps you might like to ride in the ocean before we return home,” she said, adeptly reading his mind. “The horses would enjoy a swim.”
“That would be wonderful, m’lady,” Anselm replied, discreetly pulling at his tunic which was sticking unpleasantly to his back.
Miriam’s maid gave a loud cluck of disapproval. “Oh, m’lady! It would not be seemly. Sea-bathing with two strange men, indeed. Whatever would your brother say?”
But Miriam only smiled. “Ah, but Rodmar is not here, is he, Hannah? He’s away in the north, busily finding new lands to rule and more people to conquer.”
“Mirry!” Outraged, the maid splayed her plump hand over her sturdy bosom. “What a terrible thing to say—”
“How so? I speak the truth and well you know it.”
But the stern-faced matron was undeterred. From where she sat at a distinct disadvantage aboard a low, stocky pony, she began lecturing the princess in a rapid tongue Anselm could not decipher. ’Twas a peculiar language, one that seemed to rely upon many wild hand gestures.
Anselm arched his eyebrows at Percy who looked quite dumbfounded, his eyes flicking from one woman to the other as the barrage of incomprehensible words continued to fly between them.
“Enough!” Miriam cried, at length, her patience finally spent. “Remember yourself, Hannah,” she warned with words they could all understand. “We may be friends but sometimes you go too far.”
Hannah sniffed loudly. “In that case, I shall say no more. Do as you please, Princess.”
With an irritated growl, Miriam clicked to her horse and rode on.
On the steep descent, the coastal path narrowed and they were obliged to ride single file for a time. Anselm brought up the rear, following a rather disgruntled Hannah. The maidservant’s angry mutterings were punctuated by frequent disapproving sniffs. Occasionally she glanced over her shoulder, glowering at Anselm as though he were to blame for the ill mood of her precious charge—either that or she imagined he was about to deflower her.
Oh, if only she knew. With his cock, the act would be nothing short of a miracle.
Trusting that his mount wouldn’t take him over the edge of the cliff, Anselm loosened his reins so that he might unfasten the ties on this travel-worn tunic. Then, closing his eyes, he leaned back and basked in the delicious heat of the day. The Norlands suddenly seemed a very far away, and he for one was not sorry for it.
As good as her word, Hannah didn’t utter another word for the rest of their journey.
Miriam sighed and shook her head. No one sulked quite so soundly as Hannah. No doubt she would stay silent for the remainder of the day… or perhaps even longer, as she had on some occasions.
So be it. What was done was done. It couldn’t be helped now. Besides, Miriam was still smarting over the way her old nursemaid had tried to undermine her in front of Sir Anselm and his squire. Even so, the tension gnawed at her. Perhaps she would try to make her peace with Hannah once they returned home.
As they descended the coastal path, the sheltered harbor momentarily came into view. Despite her simmering temper, Miriam’s heart suddenly fluttered within her breast. Would Fabien’s ship be in port yet? He had said he would be back today, which in itself was most unusual for the pirate captain rarely involved Miriam in his plans, only telling her as much—or as little—as he wanted her to know.
A tiny shard of doubt pierced her heart. What would it be like once they were wed—if indeed, they ever made it that far? Miriam chewed the inside of her mouth. Yes, Fabien was undeniably handsome, but what kind of husband would he make? Immediately she berated herself for having such a disloyal thought, but still it lingered.
They reached the bottom of the cliff path and turned right taking the rough track that led through the village that had sprung up about the harbor. Old graybeards sat mending their nets outside their tiny huts and they called out polite greetings as the little party passed by. Down on the dockside, fishwives stood in huddles—children playing with the baskets and panniers at their feet—exchanging gossip as they waited for the boats to return home with the day’s catch.
With a sudden gasp of excitement, Miriam spied her quarry.
Down by the harbor wall, rocking gently in her usual mooring was the corsair ship, the Anna-Lucia. Fabien was back.
Miriam hastily swiped the back of her hand over her clammy brow. Her heart pounded so hard she felt quite lightheaded.
“Princes
s?” Anselm reined in beside her, studying her face with a frown. “You’re looking rather flushed. Are you unwell, perhaps?”
“N-No. Not at all. Really, I am perfectly well,” she said with a wide smile. “I’m just a little warm, that’s all.”
Anselm was clearly unconvinced. However, he was too polite to point out the obvious, that having lived here all her life, Miriam was the last person of their party who should have been affected by the heat. Besides which, it wasn’t even noon yet, barely mid-morning, in fact. Still quite cool by Haldenberg standards.
Just as surely as if the ship had called out to her, the Anna-Lucia reclaimed Miriam’s attention, reeling her in like a fish on a line. For once the vessel looked deserted. Sails neatly tied and decks gleaming, curiously empty of cargo and crew.
How long had Fabien been back? Why had he sent no message?
Anselm leaned over in his saddle. In a voice that was for her ears only, he murmured, “That is his ship, I take it?” His tone of mild disapproval was like a slap in the face, instantly banishing her happy thoughts and recalling her to the present.
Oh, what had she been thinking? What madness had persuaded her to bring Anselm here when he already knew too much?
“Miriam? Rouse yourself, Princess. I fear we have attracted an audience.”
Turning to look in the direction Anselm indicated, Miriam saw Fabien and his second staggering back up the street from the direction of a popular nearby watering hole… and they weren’t alone. They had four women keeping them both company.
“Miriam!” With a well-endowed doxy snugly tucked beneath each of his arms, Fabien actually dared to smile when he saw her. “Hello, my dear one, and a very good morning to you… And to you… And to you, there, young sir.” Slurring slightly, Fabien acknowledged each of her companions in turn.
To Miriam’s utter mortification, he hadn’t even the grace to feign a look of shame. Instead, Fabien hugged his whores all the tighter, making them squeal and squirm.
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