“Lady Elena, I swear you must have been the most beautiful lady in the room. Do you think the king noticed? But of course, he must have…the two of you being so close and all. It’s so romantic the way he rescued you from those black-hearted kidnappers and kept you with him in the mountains.”
Elena suppressed the agonized groan that rose to her lips. Did even the servants assume she was Michel’s mistress? No wonder Michel regarded her as if she was still a child. She certainly retained the naivety of one. She listened with half an ear to Lissel’s chatter as the girl undid the ties to her gown and carefully lifted the heavy material over her head.
They were about the same age, Elena concluded, but Lissel was apparently far more possessed of worldly knowledge than she was. At least enough to have assumed Elena and Michel’s relationship was far more intimate than that of simply a guardian and his ward.
Elena again felt the absence of her mother in her life. Wasn’t it a mother’s place to make her daughter aware of such matters about the intimacies between a man and a woman, and the assumptions others would be bound to jump to in regards to a king sharing his home with his young, unwed ward? A proper chaperone? What did that mean exactly? There were dozens of servants living within the walls of the keep, not to mention the soldiers’ quarters down below. How many chaperones were required to ensure her virginity remained safe from the king’s manly passions? Was the man not guarded twenty four hours of every day? How was he supposed to conduct such liaisons without the knowledge of his guard?
Not that Michel had shown any sign of wishing to conduct a liaison with her since her return to the keep. Now that she understood the way things stood between them, and the expectations he was laboring under in regards to his intentions to his predecessor’s niece, she didn’t blame him for avoiding her company.
She was only just beginning to comprehend it didn’t matter if Michel had acted honorably towards her or not, since everyone apparently already believed they were lovers, or had been when she remained under his protection in the mountains. Elena very much feared those assumptions, despite their inaccuracy, would prove enough to force Michel to wed her.
She sighed heavily and moved to take the brush from Lissel’s hand where she was brushing the intricate braids from her hair with long strokes. “Is everything all right, milady?”
Elena summoned a reassuring smile. “Yes, Lissel. I suppose the excitement of the evening was too much for me. I have a slight headache. I believe we will finish dealing with my hair in the morning. Thank you for waiting up for me.”
Lissel blushed with pleasure. “Oh, yes, of course, Lady Elena. I am so blessed to have been chosen to serve you. There’s nothing else I can get for you? Perhaps a tonic from the kitchens for your headache?”
Elena shook her head and rose from her perch on the stool. “No, that is very kind of you. A good night’s sleep is all I require. You should seek your own bed as well. It has been a late night for both of us.”
Elena breathed a relieved sigh when the door finally closed behind Lissel’s retreating back, and then she crossed the room to stare out the window as she debated her future course. She was reminded of a similar night not so very long ago when she stood at this same window plotting her escape from Raulf. Such a foolish plan was denied her now, even if she could find the courage to execute it. Michel would simply find her and bring her back. Hadn’t she confided in him her half-formed plot to flee into the mountains to escape Raulf?
She supposed she could seek out Bishop Maren and inform him she wished to become a bride of the church. She immediately abandoned the notion when she acknowledged that even if the bishop could be convinced she had suddenly become aware of a calling to enter religious life, she doubted very much Michel could be convinced of such a bald-faced lie. As her guardian he would simply order her back to the keep and to abandon her foolish notion of becoming a nun.
She found it ironic that she stood before this very same window trying to plot her escape from having another marriage forced upon her. She would have gladly accepted death as a replacement for Raulf as a husband. Now, though she longed to be the woman who would share Michel’s life and his bed, she did not think her heart could accept knowing the life she most longed for had been forced upon the man she loved. She would rather spend the rest of her years alone and miserable than to make Michel miserable by being compelled to accept her as his wife against his inclination.
At the insistence of her pounding temples, she finally abandoned her watch by the window and sought her bed. Sliding between the fresh sheets, she fell quickly into a deep slumber. As if prompted by the turmoil of her waking thoughts, her dreams were troubled.
Raulf’s bloodied corpse awaited her at the cathedral altar where Bishop Maren in his priestly vestments stood waiting to bind them in the sacrament of holy matrimony. Elena tried to run away from her fate. In her dreams she cried out for Michel to rescue her, but Raulf’s amused laughter filled the cathedral, blocking out the sound of her desperate pleas. When she refused to draw any closer, his skeletal hand reached out to grasp her arm and draw her to his side.
Elena moaned in her sleep. Where was Michel? Why didn’t he come to rescue her? Would he just leave her to become a victim of Raulf’s evil lust? “No, no, please…”
Suddenly Elena became aware of something pressed into her palm. She looked down to discover it was the strange stone she found buried in the mud by the river. Clutching it close against her chest she peered down into its depths and saw a strange flicker echo deep within. Her lips curved in an astonished smile and she used her dainty handkerchief to wipe the mud away. Her new treasure appeared to appreciate her careful attention because the light returned, stronger this time, and delighted, Elena’s lips curved in a wide grin.
“Maybe it was truly a magic stone,” Elena thought to herself. ‘Perhaps it was the kind of magic that could grant wishes,’ she tacked on hopefully. As if in response, the stone began to glow beneath her hands. “Oh, aren’t you beautiful,” she exclaimed softly as the light spread from the stone’s center until it reached its outer borders. “Will you save me from Raulf?”
In answer to her hushed plea Elena was suddenly swept away from the cathedral smiling happily when Raulf roared his outrage at her fresh escape. Grinning, Elena flew ever higher away from her dead suitor and laughed with true joy when the stone carried her through the very peak of the cupola and out into the warm night.
It was like dancing through the stars, she decided amazed. A full moon watched her as she glided by with the shining stone in her hand, and seemed to wink in her direction, as if they shared a secret. Laughing Elena waved in his fat, happy direction as she flew past, then the stone led her higher still until there were thousands upon thousands of stars surrounding her. The stone she held in her hand now gleamed as brightly as if it was one of them. She thought to leave the stone here with its brothers. One of them should get to go home, she reasoned, as though even in her dreams she realized it was impossible for her to do so.
Her parents were dead. She was being sent far away to live with her uncle. Now her uncle was dead too. Everyone she loved was gone, except Michel, and he didn’t want her. In her misery she fell from the stars and landed back in her bed in the keep, no longing grasping the stone in her hand. It must have stayed behind with the other stars. She was glad at least one of them found their way back home. She didn’t have a home anymore. Where would she go? What would she do? Who would take care of her? Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed as if her heart was broken.
“Why do you weep, daughter?”
At the sound of her mother’s voice, Elena only wept louder. It had been so long since she’d heard her voice, or felt the gentle glide of her hand through her hair. She turned her cheek against it and breathed in her mother’s familiar scent. “Mother? Why did you leave me? Why does everyone I love have to leave me? I’m so tired of being alone.”
“I’m sorry, Elena. I did not wish to leave you, but sometimes w
e don’t get what we wish.”
Despite her youth, Elena had already learned that unwelcome lesson the hard way. “I know. I wish you had taken me with you.”
Her mother’s gentle laughter echoed in her thoughts. “I think it is not for me you weep, daughter. At least not tonight.”
“No,” Elena reluctantly admitted.
“What has upset you so?”
“I don’t know how to make him love me,” Elena confessed in a soft whisper.
Her mother didn’t laugh. She only continued stroking her hair in a soothing gesture. “You cannot force him to love you, Elena. You can only offer your own without a price attached to it.”
“What will happen to me if he decides he doesn’t want me?”
“You will find your way, daughter, I promise. I left you too soon. There’s so much I never had the chance to tell you…to explain.”
Puzzled, Elena asked, “Explain what?”
But her mother didn’t answer. Elena felt her drift away and even in sleep, she felt the fresh loss as keenly as she did the first.
Chapter Seventeen
Michel planned to seek Elena out in the morning before he began his day and finish the conversation they started the previous evening. He didn’t like the memory of her devastated expression when he had been unable to respond to her direct question about whether or not Barnabas had asked him to marry her. He could hardly dispute the truth of her assertion since he was fairly certain there had been no shortage of those present at the reception the prior evening to share with her the contents of the scroll Barnabas left upon his death appointing Michel his niece’s guardian.
But as was the case with so many of his finely laid plans since he ascended to his grandfather’s throne, the morning did not follow the carefully constructed path he laid out for it. Before he had a chance to track Elena down, he was called away from the keep to address a problem that had come up at one of the mines. He returned to the castle early in the evening with just enough time to change into fresh clothes and keep his appointment with Bishop Maren. Though the bishop had indicated he would be happy to present himself at the keep at the king’s convenience, Michel preferred to meet with him at the bishop’s residence in an effort to avoid prying ears at the keep overhearing their conversation.
The young bishop answered his own door to Michel. “Your Highness, please come in. You honor me with your presence.”
Michel waved off the other man’s formal greeting and responded frankly, “If you wouldn’t mind, I would prefer you call me Michel when we are alone.”
An answering smile tilted up the corners of the other man’s lips, “As you wish, Michel,” He hesitated over the familiar form of address, and then added, “If you will address me as John.” At Michel’s raised brow, the young bishop added quickly, “When we are alone of course.”
Michel nodded, then followed the bishop into a room he assumed the priest used as his private office.
“May I offer you refreshments, Your…forgive me, Michel?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a goblet of cool ale,” Michel replied frankly bringing an understanding smile to the other man’s expression.
“Of course.” His host gave his instructions to his hovering servant and waited by the open door, until the servant returned with a tray of light refreshments, including the requested ale, then the bishop closed the door and set the tray on his writing desk. John poured the ale into two goblets and passing one to Michel offered, “Long life, my king. Before we begin I hope you will not mind if I express my joy at your speedy recovery from what many of us feared would prove fatal injury? I know for a certainty my joy is reflective of the majority of the citizens of Calei.”
“Only the majority?” Michel echoed with a smile, raising his glass and drinking deeply of its contents.
The bishop laughed and retook his seat. “I imagine you have suffered through a few very busy weeks since you returned home. I trust your wound is fully healed?”
Michel shrugged off the other man’s concern. “Well enough, but it was not to discuss my health that I requested this meeting.” At the other’s gesture he should continue, Michel added, “I wished to speak with you privately about a few matters.”
“Of course, I am at your service…Michel.”
Michel paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Two concerns actually. I was wondering what you know of the history of the curse upon the royal family, but before we begin, may I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“You seem very young to have risen to such an exalted position within the hierarchy of the church.”
Unoffended, the bishop laughed. “I might say the same of you, Your Highness.”
Michel nodded, acknowledging the other man’s point, then countered, “But my title is bestowed upon me by right of birth. I do not believe the church operates in the same manner as a monarchy.”
“True, but there are times I wonder,” John admitted with a rueful smile. “You cannot guess as to why a native Caleinian has been assigned to this office?”
Michel considered the bishop’s question. “I imagine an outsider would be uncomfortable with the mysticism that seems to permeate the entire population, not all of which I think the church is completely comfortable with.”
“True, and very perceptive of you.”
“Then why elevate a bishop at all?”
“Have you perhaps had an opportunity to inspect the cathedral your subjects built to honor our Lord?”
Michel admitted somewhat guiltily, “Regrettably not. I have been extremely busy getting my house in order since my arrival.”
“No doubt, my king. Might I be so bold as to suggest the Almighty is an incomparable ally?”
Michel let out a rueful laugh. “Duly noted, but what significance would a visit to the cathedral have on the answer to my question?”
“Had you visited the cathedral, my king, you would no doubt notice the fine materials and liberal use of gold in its construction. In fact, I believe no expense was spared, nor any grudged, by the generous citizens of Calei in providing a fitting home for the worship of our Lord.”
“Ah, of course. Calei is a wealthy parish.”
“Wealthy and historically generous to the church’s mission,” John confirmed.
Michel was not certain if the other man was issuing a challenge to his new king or not, but as he had no issue with his predecessors’ generosity to the church, he did not feel any need to make an issue of it now. “Rest assured, Your Excellency, as king I applaud Calei’s generous support of the church and have no intention of instituting any changes as to the throne’s previous support of the church’s mission.”
“You reassure me, Your Highness. I will certainly include your generous words in my next report to my supervisors in Rome. They will no doubt be relieved to receive them and to send their own best wishes for your successful reign.”
Curious, Michel inquired, “Were all the contenders to the throne avid supporters of the church’s presence in Calei?” Somehow Michel had difficulty of conceiving Raulf kneeling in humble supplication before anyone, even the creator of the universe.
His companion shrugged, and with an amused sparkle in his eyes, admitted, “But of course, my king. You remarked earlier on the people’s mystical natures. Do you believe they would long tolerate a king who despised God and those tasked with performing his mission on earth?”
Michel realized somewhat belatedly he would do well to present himself at Mass at the earliest opportunity. He thought the bishop had just given him a hint, without overtly giving his new king unasked for advice, as to how to endear himself to the hearts of his own people. “Thank you for your insight. It is obvious the church’s superiors knew well what they were about in appointing you to the office you occupy. I would be happy to include a token of my gratitude for their foresight and a personal note expanding on my appreciation in your next report to your supervisors in Rome.”
“You ar
e too generous, my king. But I believe you had other matters demanding your attention that you wished to discuss with me this evening, specifically the history of the curse on the royal family?”
At Michel’s confirming nod, he added, “I can certainly understand your interest given the very personal nature of the consequences to you and your heirs, but unfortunately I fear there is little I can do to assist you. Yours was the first… ah… ‘clue’ I was privileged to witness.”
“Mine as well,” Michel acknowledged, grinning over the bishop’s obvious discomfort with the topic of their conversation. “What did you think, Father? Forgive me…John.”
The bishop’s eyes lit with an answering smile and he countered, “As a priest or as a Caleinian?”
“Both, I believe.”
The bishop nodded and began, “As a priest I am well versed in the kinds of events that defy logical explanation.” At Michel’s raised brow, he added with a smile, “We call them miracles.”
“And what does the church call them when the events are not of a benevolent nature?” Michel challenged.
“There is no shortage of church teachings on the subject of Satan and his minions, but I am certain you comprehend the church’s reluctance to attribute a particular evil to Lucifer’s handiwork.”
Michel nodded his understanding, “Or no doubt there would be plenty of men willing to take advantage of such a convenient excuse to exact a personal vengeance.”
“Yes,” the bishop sighed resigned, “When all too often men do not require the urging of the devil to commit their monstrous atrocities against one another.”
“I do not disagree. What is your opinion in regards to the curse under discussion?” Michel asked curiously.
His companion hesitated before admitting quietly, “As I said, yours was the first such occurrence I witnessed personally. King Barnabas was already king when I was appointed bishop here, but I cannot deny I was much affected by the maid Rowena’s, ah…I hesitate to use the word performance, because I do not believe that what we witnessed that evening was an act on her part. The voice that came from the girl… I don’t believe it would be possible for her to change her voice and her appearance that dramatically without some type of intervention beyond the understanding of this world.”
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