The Dark Queen

by Susan Carroll

  Adding a splash of wine to the powder, Ariane stirred the brew, then proceeded to measure out a dose into a small vial.

  “Ariane?”

  Ariane jumped at the sound of Gabrielle’s voice. Besides Captain Remy, she had thought herself quite alone in the catacombs beneath the house. Her hand shook so badly, she was obliged to set down the vial before she dropped it.

  “Gabrielle! You frightened the wits out of me. What—what the devil are you doing here?”

  “I thought I lived here,” Gabrielle replied with a faint arch of her brows.

  “You know what I mean. I believed that you and Miri were in the orchard. What are you doing down here?”

  “Well, among other things, I was trying to discover why we are hiding a man in our cellars.”

  Ariane had counted it a fortunate thing that Miri and Gabrielle had been out of the house when she had returned with Remy. The less her sisters knew of this dangerous affair the better, especially if the soldiers did come. But she had been foolish to hope she could keep anything concealed from Gabrielle for long.

  “My dear, this is nothing for you to worry about,” she began.

  “Nothing to worry about?” Gabrielle cried. “Ariane, you have a naked man lying barely conscious in the next room.”

  “You have been back there to look at him?” Ariane asked in dismay, then the import of her sister’s words registered. “He is stirring at last?”

  “Yes, he is awake. Or at least he was when I left him.”

  “Then I must go to him at once.”

  “Not until you tell me what is going on, Ariane.”

  “Gabrielle, please. I have no time for explanations. Just go back upstairs. I don’t want you and Miri involved in this.”

  Gabrielle cast her an exasperated look. “Miri is so occupied right now in nursing an injured fox she found, I doubt she will even notice you have a man hidden in the house. As for myself, it is hard for me to become involved, since I don’t have the vaguest notion of what this is.”

  She peered suspiciously at the remains of the medicine Ariane had been mixing. Unfortunately her gaze lighted upon the small wooden box where Ariane had stored the de Medici gloves.

  “What’s this?” she asked, reaching to open the lid.

  Ariane slammed her hand down upon the box. When her sister stared at her in surprise, Ariane grimaced, realizing her nervous behavior would only rouse Gabrielle’s curiosity further.

  “What have you got in there?” Gabrielle demanded.

  “Nothing to interest you.” Ariane shifted the box farther away from her sister. “Just some—some powders I got from Madame Jehan, very sensitive to—to the light so they must be treated carefully. I needed them to brew medicine for Captain Remy.”

  “And just why are we hiding Captain Remy?”

  Ariane was going to have to offer her sister some sort of explanation. “Nicolas Remy is a great hero of the Huguenot army. They call him the Scourge or some such. He serves the king of Navarre.”

  “He mentioned something about that.”

  “You spoke to him?” Ariane asked in alarm. “What else did he tell you?”

  “Not a great deal, and when he started talking about his king, I thought he might still be a bit delirious. Is he highly placed in the king of Navarre’s service?”

  Gabrielle’s voice sounded light, but something about the question caused Ariane to study her sister’s face. Gabrielle’s lashes swept down, blocking Ariane’s effort to read her eyes. But given Gabrielle’s avowed ambition to find herself a king, any interest she displayed in Navarre could not be good.

  “Never you mind,” Ariane told her sister sharply. “Neither Captain Remy nor his king are of any concern to us.”

  “Then why are we helping him? I don’t even understand why this Captain Remy is a fugitive. Isn’t there supposed to be a truce between Huguenots and Catholics because of the proposed marriage between Princess Margot and King Henry?”

  “Apparently, there are—are complications, too lengthy to be explained.”

  “Do try, Ariane.” Gabrielle said, folding her arms with a stubborn smile. “I have all the time in the world.”

  “Well, I don’t. It doesn’t matter why Captain Remy needs our help. Here on Faire Isle, we have never refused aid to any honest man. So Gabrielle, if you would please just . . . just . . .”

  “Run along and play?” Gabrielle’s lips thinned. “I am not Miri, Ariane. I think when you choose to hide some dangerous stranger in our cellar, I am old enough to be told about it.”

  Ariane realized there might be another reason behind her sister’s questions than mere curiosity. “Oh, dearest, forgive me,” she said, ashamed of her own insensitivity. “I never thought what it would mean to you to have some stranger beneath our roof. But I promise you Captain Remy is a good man. You don’t need to worry that he would ever offer you the least insult or—or—”

  Gabrielle regarded her blankly for a moment, then as comprehension dawned, she flushed. “My God, Ariane. I wasn’t worried about anything like that. In his current state, Captain Remy couldn’t ravish anyone and I fully know how to look out for myself.”

  “Yes, but I fear the mere presence of a strange man here must stir painful memories—”

  “Any wound I have ever felt is long since toughened over,” Gabrielle said. “Or at least it would be if you would stop pro-bing.”

  Gabrielle’s haunted eyes told Ariane otherwise, but when she attempted to press her sister’s hand, Gabrielle shied away from her and flounced up the circular stair. Ariane winced as the trapdoor slammed closed behind her.

  Well, Ariane sighed, she had managed to get rid of her sister, but not in the way she would have chosen. Why couldn’t she seem to make Gabrielle understand that all she wanted to do was to take care of both her sisters, protect them?

  The wooden box containing the gloves remained in full view, perhaps not the wisest place to leave it, knowing how determined Gabrielle could be when her curiosity was aroused.

  Ariane’s gaze roved around the workroom, seeking an adequate hiding place. Shifting the ladder, she carried the box up to the topmost shelf, shoving it far back behind some cobwebs. Gabrielle might claim to be undaunted by men, but she had a deathly fear of spiders.

  For the next three days, the Dark Queen’s soldiers prowled Faire Isle, searching for Captain Remy. The royal guard descended upon Belle Haven, poking and prodding through every corner of the estate, even tossing through the hay in the barn. But they were eventually obliged to depart in frustration to continue the hunt elsewhere.

  By the third day, word reached Belle Haven that the soldiers had given up and left the island. A sense of relief settled over the household, shared by everyone except Miri Cheney.

  She wandered through the house like a disconsolate shadow. No one even remembered what day it was, Miri thought resentfully, that the time had come to pay homage to the stone giants at the cliffs of Argot.

  The ceremony appeared in danger of being forgotten with Papa still away at sea and her mother gone. Not that Miri was sure Maman had entirely believed in the ancient ritual, but she had always paid honor to the old ways. At the moment, Ariane seemed able to think of nothing but that wounded soldier she was hiding and whatever mysterious work kept her busy in the workroom below stairs.

  Miri’s only hope for a companion on the pilgrimage to the giants rested with Gabrielle. And that, she feared, was a slim hope indeed. But she trudged upstairs in quest of her sister.

  She was disgusted to find Gabrielle lying abed in the middle of the day, her golden hair wrapped up in a veil. Her elegant gown discarded, she was stripped down to her shift, some glistening white concoction patted on her face.

  “What on earth are you doing, Gabrielle?”

  Her sister popped open one eye. “Treating my skin to keep it fair, which is something you might give some thought to instead of always running around in the sun like a little gypsy.”

  Miri’s eyes rov
ed over the mess Gabrielle had made in mixing her ointment, her frown deepening when she saw the cracked eggshells.

  “The hens are not going to like you wasting the fruits of their labor for something so frivolous.”

  “Pardon me if I am not overly concerned about the opinion of someone who is eventually going to end up on my dinner plate. If anyone is distressing the hens, it is likely you, bringing home that fox.”

  “Renard is quite healed. I already released him.”

  “Renard? You named the fox after Ariane’s suitor?”

  “No, the name belonged to the fox first. I daresay the comte stole it from him.”

  Gabrielle started to smile, then froze as though any movement would be enough to disrupt her skin treatment.

  Miri drew up a stool close to the bed. She could not help recalling how differently things had been other summers. By this time Papa would have already herded all of them into the wagon to make the journey to the cliffs of Argot. The wood for the bonfire would have been loaded, the supper they would share with the giants packed up into the basket. She and her sisters would have been laughing and chattering with excitement, Maman smiling with indulgence.

  Miri suddenly felt very lonely. She cast an aggrieved glance at Gabrielle, who appeared on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

  “I suppose you are trying to look beautiful because of that Captain Remy we are hiding,” Miri said scornfully.

  That caused both of Gabrielle’s eyes to pop open. She eased up onto her elbows to scowl at Miri. “How do you know about him? I am surprised you even noticed he was here.”

  “I am indifferent to men, not oblivious,” Miri replied with dignity. “It would be difficult not to notice something was amiss when those soldiers came tramping through the barn and stables looking for the captain, upsetting all my poor animals.”

  She added grudgingly, “However I did feel a little sorry for the man. When I sneaked down to the dungeon to peek at him, he looked very old and sick.”

  Gabrielle plunked back down upon the pillow, closing her eyes. “I am astonished you were allowed to see him at all. Ariane guards the man like a dragon. But if you had been able to obtain a better look, you would have seen that Captain Remy is far from old. I suppose it was his beard and his pallor that fooled you. He is quite young, and when he is not recovering from a wound, I would imagine he is also rather vigorous.”

  Miri stubbornly shook her head. “His body might be young, but his soul is not. If you look at his eyes, it seems he has seen too many bad things. Sometimes I am afraid your eyes are getting like that.”

  With obvious effort Gabrielle forced a placid expression. “I can’t read eyes and if I did have that ability, I wouldn’t waste it on Captain Remy. He is only a common soldier.”

  She paused, then asked in a softer tone, “Er—but what else did you read in Remy’s eyes? Perhaps you noticed something in his eyes about—about—”

  “About what?”

  “About . . . about his king.”

  Miri had a feeling that was not at all what Gabrielle had meant to say. Her sister rushed on, “I am only interested in the captain because he serves the young king of Navarre.”

  “A king.” Miri sniffed. “What about the giants?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Gabrielle drawled, shifting to a more comfortable position.

  “The stone giants. The ceremony.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Am I the only one who recalls the respect due to the old ones? I cannot even get Ariane to take the time to speak of it.”

  “Our older sister is much preoccupied these days, with weighty matters that appear to be far too taxing for we children to understand,” Gabrielle said with an acid bite to her voice that told Miri her two sisters must have been quarreling yet again. Small wonder she preferred the company of her animals.

  “Even if Ariane will not take time for the ceremony, you and I must go,” Miri urged her sister.

  “Tramp all the way up those cliffs to prance around in the moonlight before some huge blocks of stone? You have to be jesting.”

  “But Gabrielle—”

  “You need to concern yourself with something more important, like brushing out your hair once in awhile.”

  “You brush your hair quite enough for the both of us and—” Miri bit down hard on her lip to swallow the rest of her retort. “Oh, please, Gabby. This is so important. Come with me, just this one last time.”

  “No, Miribelle. Visiting the giants is pure foolishness. Now go away and stop bothering me. I cannot keep talking. The pomade is starting to harden.”

  The pomade wasn’t the only thing, Miri thought, studying the taut set of her sister’s mouth. Gabrielle twisted onto her side, turning away from her, and Miri gave up her pleading with an unhappy sigh. But as she stood up and trudged toward the door, Gabrielle called after her.

  “And don’t you even think of sneaking up there alone either. Ariane will have your hide if you go off by yourself. Until we are sure those soldiers aren’t coming back, she wants all of us to stay close to the house.”

  Miri stalked out of the room. Neither Gabrielle nor Ariane could understand. She had to go and for a reason too frightening to discuss with either of her sisters.

  Her nightmare of the blood-soaked city and its terrible bells was growing worse, presaging some great evil that was drawing steadily closer. An evil that might be placated if she paid proper respect to the stone giants. Perhaps attending the ritual would not work, but it would certainly be better than another night of tossing upon her bed, sleepless and afraid.

  Miri crept back downstairs, fearful that Ariane might come upon her and read from her eyes what she was about to do. Stealing a furtive glance behind her, she didn’t breathe easy until she was safely out of the house. Then she raced to fetch her pony for the journey to the one place where she was sure there was still some magic left.

  The light was fading as Miri led her pony up the steep hillside, murmuring encouraging words in Butternut’s ear. The path ahead was rugged, most of the vegetation stripped away from the rocky surface of the cliffs, forcing her to proceed carefully.

  Below, the dark ocean lashed against the cove, its foam breaking against the defiant rocks in a wild slash of spray. The sight was dizzying and Miri tried not to look down, fighting back the tangles of hair that the wind whipped into her eyes.

  Somehow she had forgotten how wild and remote this part of the island was, far different from the sheltered valley that housed Belle Haven. Or perhaps the journey up the cliffs of Argot had not seemed nearly so daunting other years with Papa’s strong hand clasping hers.

  She hugged close to her pony and trudged onward until she could see the summit of the rocky hill, the massive circle of dolmens silhouetted against the twilight sky. Miri paused to catch her breath, heartened by the sight. Her Maman was lost to her, perhaps her Papa as well. Her sisters were acting different and strange. Her beloved pony was growing old. But at least this was something she could count upon never to change . . . the stone giants standing as fixed and immutable as ever.

  The rising moon bathed the ring of towering stones with a solemn and mysterious beauty. Ariane claimed the dolmens had been erected in a time long ago when the arts of engineering had been better understood, and that the circle was in fact some ancient way of charting the movement of the heavens. But Ariane always tried to find a logical reason for everything.

  Miri put more faith in the old tale of a race of gentle giants who had once inhabited the island. When superstitious fools from the mainland had threatened them, the Earth Mother herself had worked her magic to shield them, turning them all to stone. Miri wondered how anyone could doubt the story. This was not a place of science and reason, but magic and legend.

  Urging her pony onward, Miri ascended higher up the hill. She caught the first tang of wood smoke, telling her that someone had already lit the bonfire.

  While the thought pleased her, it caused her eager steps to slo
w as well. Although she had known most of the people from Port Corsair all her life, she still felt shy around anyone not from her immediate circle of family and servants. Other years, she had had the comfort of her father to cling to, or she could fall back to stand in the shadow of Maman and her sisters.

  When she heard the hum of voices, she halted completely. The wind carried the sound to her, a high-pitched intoning of some odd guttural words she did not understand. The chanting had an eerie quality to it that caused the hairs at the back of Miri’s neck to prickle. She didn’t recall any such strange song ever being part of the ceremony before.

  “What do you make of that, Butternut?” she whispered.

  The pony whickered, clearly wanting to return to the bottom of the hill. But Butternut had never liked high windy places. The chanting increased in pitch and intensity, rendering Miri uneasy, but she had come too far to retreat now.

  She led Butternut to where he would receive some shelter from the widest of the standing stones. Miri had never in her life had to tether any creature to keep it from straying. Patting the pony’s mane, she looked deep into Butternut’s eyes and murmured, “You stay here, please.”

  Then she crept round the side of the stone giant, determined to investigate before she revealed herself. A bonfire illuminated the clearing in the center of the stones, a cluster of strapping girls dancing around the crackling and leaping flames.

  These girls were none she recognized from the town. The faces reflected by the firelight seemed coarse and frightening to Miri.

  She was being silly again. No doubt they were only peasants from some of the isolated cottages dotted beyond the cliffs, a wild breed of folk who scratched out a living by fishing the rougher waters on this side of the island.

  The young women undulated their hips, beat at their breasts, and tore at their hair in a frenzy. One buxom wench with a heavy bosom and an unkempt mane of dark hair raised her thick arms to the heavens and gave a piercing shriek.

  “Oh, great Comte Ashtoreth. Look down and find favor with your handmaidens. Choose one of us to be your bride.”