The king’s glance held Michel’s, filled with both understanding and speculation and then he issued a caution of his own, “Because you have never known of it does not in any way change its course, or your part in its resolution.”
“I think, Your Highness, your illness has made you fanciful.”
“No doubt, but I believe, young prince, it is you who deludes yourself. You still believe you can turn from the promise your grandmother made on your behalf, but I think your reluctance to accept who and what you are will in the end not alter your destiny.”
“There is no such thing as destiny. A man’s future is what he makes of it.”
“Yes, I once believed as you do, and certainly there is no disputing a man’s choices set his course, but I have come to accept fate has its own hand to play and it is not easily thwarted, despite a man’s intent to the contrary.”
“Perhaps.” Michel reluctantly conceded and felt a shiver of his own destiny press down upon him. Hadn’t he sensed the inevitability of his return to his grandfather’s kingdom in a way none of his brothers did? Hadn’t the tales Amele shared with him about his former home stirred his blood? There was no doubt but that he’d been caught up in the romance of the stories he heard. What young boy could resist tales about a city spun from gold, perched high upon the highest peak of a majestic mountain? Of wars fought over the question of who would be its king, and then being told that he and his brothers were the rightful heirs to its rich throne. Was it destiny that led him to take this course or his own determination to avenge his grandfather’s bloody death?
How was any man to answer such a question? He shook off his unsettling musings and turned back to the king. “Even if you speak the truth, I am certain, Your Highness, you did not request this meeting to debate the course of fate in the making of a man’s life.”
“No, though I have enjoyed our conversation immensely. You do not address me as if I am an imbecile whose illness has robbed him of his wits.”
“I see no evidence of a decline in your wits, Your Highness. Those who presume as much, will, I think, learn too late of the foolishness of their mistake.”
“Let us hope you speak the truth. Which leads us to the reason I requested this introduction.” The king struggled to sit up straighter against the back of the divan and Michel hurried to assist him.
Nodding his gratitude, King Barnabas faced him with steely resolve. Michel thought it only the other man’s fierce, unbending will that was keeping him alive. “You have two sisters, I believe.”
At the mention of his sisters, Michel’s protective instincts went on full alert. Certainly, the man did not think to use his sisters as some sort of bargaining chip in whatever his plan was to induce Michel’s cooperation. “Yes, but they will not return to Calei.”
Nodding, the king proclaimed the obvious. “You seek to protect them.”
“Of course. They are my sisters.”
“No doubt a precious treasure to you and your family.”
Confused by the winding trail of their conversation, Michel merely nodded his agreement.
“I too have a precious treasure to protect. My niece, Elena. Though I never fathered children, I cannot imagine a daughter of my own blood could be dearer to me.”
“You are concerned for her fate when your illness…” Michel allowed his voice to trail off rather than baldly announce the unpleasant truth.
“When my illness takes its inevitable course,” Barnabas inserted starkly. “Yes, my enemies will seek to use my Elena for their own ends.”
“She remains with you in Calei?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you not send her away?”
“To whom shall I send her? I have no family. Nor does she. Her mother was my sister. She and her husband died in an accident in the mountains when Elena was but a young girl. Calei is the only home she has any memory of.”
“Surely there is someone you can trust who would be willing to take her in.”
“Of course, but of what use is their willingness to do so against the ones who would rule after I am gone? They will use my beloved Elena to gain the people’s acceptance.”
Michel did not doubt the king’s conclusion, but he was still trying to figure out why the king summoned him to his side at this late hour. “I am not certain what you believe I can do to assist you.”
“You can marry her.”
“What?!!!” Michel made no effort to disguise his shock at the king’s suggestion. “No, that is quite impossible. I have no intention of marrying. At least not anytime in the immediate future.”
“I realize it is a great deal to ask, but the arrangement is not without benefit to you. The people love her.” When Michel would have interrupted, the king silenced him with a weak sweep of his hand. “Though I recognize you do not need to marry my Elena to gain the people’s acceptance they will regard you all the more favorably for seeing to her protection.”
“I am willing to see to your niece’s protection, Your Highness, but I will not promise you I will marry her to ensure it.”
The king nodded as if he had expected no more from his guest and then motioned to his servant to bring him a scroll resting on the wooden table that appeared to have been pushed to the side of the small room in order to make space for their gathering. The servant hurried to see to the king’s request. Barnabas accepted the rolled scroll from his servant’s hand and then placed it in Michel’s reluctant grasp.
“This scroll has my seal upon it. There are witnesses among the populace of the city who will attest to its authenticity. This parchment makes you my legitimate heir.” When Michel would have returned the rolled scroll to his hand, the king hurried to add, “Not that you need my blessing to vouch for your right to assume the throne of Calei, but again it will ease your way. Not all will welcome your return. You will have a fight on your hands.”
At Michel’s acknowledging nod, the dying king added, “But when war is done, the more difficult struggle for peace must begin. A throne can be taken by force of arms, but a people’s hearts and loyalties cannot be won with a sword, no matter how skillfully it is wielded. I think you are not a fool to dismiss so valuable a weapon.”
Michel regarded the scroll in his hands, though he did not unfold it to see if it indeed contained what the king claimed. “You did not need me here to give me this. Before I accept it I would know the price attached to it.”
“And you will honor that price even after I am dead?”
“Yes, if I agree to it, I will honor it.”
“I ask that you see to my Elena’s protection.”
“I have already sworn to do so without this added inducement.”
The king’s lips curved at Michel’s blunt reminder. “And I ask that you do not wed another until you have at least met my Elena.”
“It is no hardship on my part to agree to your request as I’ve already informed you I am in no hurry to marry. Is it your presumption that once I meet your niece I will be so overwhelmed by her feminine charms I will agree to wed her?”
“Not my presumption, but my hope at least. The parchment gives my consent for the marriage of my niece to you and no other. It also places Elena under your guardianship at my death.”
“Would it make any difference if I assured you I am not a man easily charmed by feminine beauty? My sisters are the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Your niece would have to be a paragon indeed in order to tempt me.”
“She is that, young prince, but I will content myself with your pledge to see to my Elena’s protection and to assume guardianship over her when I pass from this world. And to answer your earlier question, yes, it was necessary for me to meet you first so I could ascertain for myself that you are a man of honor and worthy of the trust I place in you.”
“It is you who honors me, Your Highness, by entrusting to me your greatest treasure.”
“Yes, that is true, but I think King Nathaniel’s grandson is worthy of my trust.”
Chap
ter Three
Elena knelt by her uncle’s bed and held his hand, praying his labored breathing would not stop this night. Baron Raulf had been in earlier, no doubt debating the count of days or hours he must continue to bide his patience before he became king. For both of them knew the current king could not hang on much longer. Though she refused to meet the baron’s glance, she was aware of the way his eyes swept over her, as if disrobing her with his glance.
Elena understood it was not only the throne of Calei he was anticipating claiming. There was possessiveness in his increasingly bold gazes in her direction she found unsettling, as if she already belonged to him and would soon share his bed. Elena tried to comfort herself with the notion there would likely be many contenders to the throne, but she reluctantly acknowledged it was a false hope she consoled herself with. Baron Raulf’s men filled the great hall at meals. His soldiers escorted her whenever she left the castle, even to attend mass, and stood watch outside her door at night.
Bitter tears stung her eyes at the thought of his hands caressing her virgin flesh. She would rather die than submit to the intimacies he would force upon her. She suspected knowing of her reluctance would only make consummation of the deed more appealing to him. Raulf was a man who enjoyed another’s fear. He no doubt amused himself with visions of her cowering before him, begging him for mercy.
If she thought her maidenly pleas would gain her a reprieve from his lust she would not restrain her lips. For what was foolish pride when measured against the rape of her person? But of course in the eyes of the law and the church there would be no rape. The baron would wait to satisfy his lust for her until after their marriage vows were exchanged and then her reluctance would be meaningless. He could force himself upon her for the entertainment of his cheering soldiers on the floor of the great hall and none would contest his right to do so. A wife had no right to deny her husband.
Sometimes when she was alone in her bed at night her desperation drove her to contemplate taking her own life. Though suicide was a mortal sin, and she would condemn herself to suffer the fires of hell for all eternity if she chose such a cowardly escape from her difficulties, she did not immediately dismiss the idea. Elena firmly believed there were fates worse than death, but she wasn’t certain she could equate being raped by the baron with an eternity spent being consumed by the flames of hell. Maybe she would have a fortuitous accident that would result in her quick death. She supposed it would have to be a true accident and not a contrived one. God would not be fooled by subterfuge.
While she waited for an unlikely accident to claim her life, she considered other ways out of her worrisome future as the baron’s wife. She could leave Calei. It was true she was closely watched, but it could be done, either when she was in the kitchens consulting with the cooks for the meals, or on her way to morning mass. Her guards were not all that attentive. They understood as well as she did how limited her options for escape were. Where could she go after all? She could not take refuge in one of the homes in the city, even if its residents were sympathetic to her plight. She had a feeling the baron’s vengeance would be swift and brutal against anyone who thought to stand in his way. She would not put any of her uncle’s faithful subjects in such a perilous position.
Even if she thought to lose herself in the mountains surrounding the city, her refuge would soon turn into her tomb in the winter snows still covering the peaks. Her education had not prepared her to survive alone in the wild. She didn’t have the slightest notion how to wield a blade or bow in her own defense. Lost in the wilderness she would likely soon become a meal of one of the wild animals who wandered the vast empty spaces in the surrounding mountains where men did not dwell and travelled only in well-armed parties. If given the choice, she thought she would sooner become a meal of some vicious swine rather than the baron.
She wondered if the church would judge a flight into the mountains a form of suicide on her part. She didn’t think so. There was always the chance she could be taken in by a kind traveler or humble citizen who lived beyond the limits of Calei. There must be someone in the world who would be willing to provide her with a safe refuge. She was not afraid to work for her keep, though her useful skills were somewhat limited. She could direct the staff of a large kitchen, but she had no idea how to cook a meal herself. She had never made her own bed or washed the linens. She didn’t sew her own clothes. Somehow she didn’t think her ability to paint pleasing pictures would be a highly prized skill in the eyes of those who lived beyond the confines of the luxurious keep.
Such was the hopelessness of her plight that she prayed for the opportunity to put just such a bold plan into action. She no longer had any real hope of her uncle’s recovery though she still prayed for a miracle. She knew her beloved Uncle Barnabas was dying, but if he could just hold on a little while longer until the spring thaw was more certain, she might have a chance. So she added a prayer that she would have the courage to take it if and when the opportunity presented itself. As if sensing her dark thoughts, her uncle turned his head in her direction.
“Elena.” She squeezed his hand and bent close to his lips so he wouldn’t strain himself to be heard.
“I’m here, Uncle Barnabas. Is there something you need? Cool water perhaps?”
“No, child,” he whispered and then added with an effort, his hand squeezing hers with surprising strength. “I want you to know you won’t be alone. I have made arrangements for your care after I am gone.”
“Don’t speak such, Uncle Barnabas. You will recover soon.”
A resigned smile curved his lips at her attempt at deception. “The true king will return. He has promised to protect you.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I will rest easier now.”
He nodded, and giving her hand another, gentler squeeze, he dropped back to sleep. Elena dipped a fresh cloth in the cool water by her uncle’s bedside and wiped his sweat-covered brow and face with it. For a moment she felt true hope rise within her breast when he informed her he had made arrangements for her care, but her relief quickly turned to dread at the thought he would most likely place her under Raulf’s control at his death. Was the baron not her uncle’s closest friend and confidant?
Her uncle referred to the true king. If only that were true. She would willingly take her chances on the mercy of a stranger rather than rely on the foolish hope the baron possessed any. Regretfully she accepted her uncle’s illness was making him delusional. She waited until his restlessness stilled and knew he had fallen into a deep sleep, and then rose on stiff legs to seek her room for the night. Her uncle’s faithful servant and friend met her concerned glance from where he sat across the room. “Go take your rest, milady, I will sit with my lord overnight.”
“Thank you, Joseph. I know he draws great comfort from your presence.”
She was aware of Raulf’s men following her down the long, silent hall to her room. They held open the door; one of them entered ahead of her to make certain no unpleasant surprises awaited her there, and then bowing he retreated from the room. He gestured for her to enter and then pulled the door shut behind him. As exhausted as she was Elena did not immediately seek the escape of sleep. Instead she wandered over to gaze out on the view where the moon hung suspended above the surrounding mountains. In the reflected light of the glowing moon they brought visions of heaven to mind.
She always assumed she would live out her life in her uncle’s kingdom. Calei was the only home she could recall. She had only the vaguest recollections of her parents and her former home. Now she knew she would soon set out to carve a new life for herself in whatever lands lay beyond the mountains, or she would die in the attempt. She would let fate decide whether it would be the former or the latter. Her decision made, a peace settled over her spirit, and she turned away from her uncertain future to rest in her soft bed, knowing such comforts would soon become a part of her past.
Chapter Four
Elena thought she must be dreaming, or perhaps she was trapped inside
a nightmare, she swiftly corrected herself as her middle was slammed against a hard saddle and her head bounced against the side of what she would swear was a galloping horse. When she tried to move her hands to right herself, she realized they were bound together. She had no memory of being taken from her room. They must have drugged her while she slept, she concluded bitterly. She winced as she was once again slapped against the saddle with an audible thump. Her kidnappers must not have tied her very securely, she realized, as with each tortuous stride of her racing mount she felt the binding holding her in place loosen a bit more. She reasoned at any moment she would fly off the back of the galloping horse and land very painfully on the hard ground.
Despite her rage at the indignity of being stuffed into some kind of sack and being tied face down on a galloping horse, unlikely hope stirred within her heart. Her kidnappers had unknowingly done her a great service by aiding her plans for escape. Now if she could only get away from them, she could put her plans in motion. This certainly wasn’t the way she envisioned leaving the city. The truth was even if she could separate herself from the evil men who took her, she would be alone in the mountains without food or drink.
Shaking off her dire fears, she forced herself to concentrate on the bright side of her predicament. She was on her way to her new life and every powerful stride of her mount’s charging gait took her farther away from the fate she prayed constantly over the past weeks and months of her uncle’s illness that she would be able to avoid.
Her burgeoning joy was short-lived as with the next stride, her racing mount broke his rhythmic stride and leapt across some barrier in its path, causing Elena to bounce hard against his back when he regained his footing, and then fly off into the air. Moments later she endured a painful impact, and then rolled down a steep incline, over stones and tree branches before coming up hard against the wide trunk of a mature tree bringing her uncomfortable flight to an ignominious halt.
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