Scarlet From Gold (Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “What are you doing to that ring?” she asked, stepping in close and bending low to watch with intrigue

  “I’m trying to make it special,” Marco answered as he let his mind imagine a delicate dance of the yellow and blue enamels he had created. He let the two threads of liquid circle around the ring repeatedly, then stopped, hopeful that he had done what he intended.

  He opened his eyes and looked.

  “It’s very pretty,” Mitment said. Marco looked at the spirit. Although she definitely had the attributes of a female, the guard had never seemed feminine to Marco; hearing the word ‘pretty’ come out of her mouth was almost jarring, compared to the usual swearing he had heard her utter during their journey together.

  “Wait,” he said as he stood up and went over to a cabinet. “It’s not done yet,” he said as he pulled together another set of ingredients.

  “What were you saying about your wedding?” Mitment asked.

  “I need someone to stand by me and hold the ring until it’s time to place it on Mirra’s finger,” Marco explained.

  “I know how weddings work,” Mitment cut in. “But you’re supposed to use a good friend, who’s a man, who people can see,” she enunciated her objections.

  “Oh la,” Marco answered as he started to mix his new potion, focusing more on his plans for the ring than on Mitment’s words. “It’s my castle and my wedding, so I can bend the rules.

  “Here now, watch this,” he said as he finished making the polishing cream he wanted. He placed the ring inside the cream, then rubbed it vigorously with a rag for a long minute. “And since I can bend the rules, I want you to be part of this wedding.

  “Now look at this,” he said, and he opened the rag wide, then held it near the lantern on the work bench.

  The formerly gray iron ring gleamed as though it were polished silver, where the iron showed. Much of the surface of the ring was a braiding of the yellow and blue enamels, that also mixed together in some places to make green threads among the others.

  “I’d say you could have a future as a jeweler, if nothing else,” Mitment said. Her insubstantial-looking fingers reached down and gently picked the ring up.

  “Marco?” Mirra’s voice called down the stairs from the kitchen. “Marco, are you down there?”

  “Here I come,” Marco said. “I’ll clean this up later,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the jars and containers and dishes scattered around the work bench. “Bring that along,” he motioned towards the ring in Mitment’s hand.

  “Everything is coming together. We’re going to use the main hall,” Mirra told Marco. “The chaplain is here, and the cook is getting ready,” she motioned at the numerous people who were scurrying around the kitchen engaged in activities. “Since we’ve given her no notice for tonight, Sweetness is going to serve breakfast to everyone tomorrow morning.

  “Shall we go to the hall?” she asked.

  “You look lovely,” Marco told her. She had changed into a delicate-looking gown that had the same blue, yellow, and green colors as his newly adorned ring.

  “Thank you. You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony, but since we’re doing things a little out of ordinary, I don’t suppose it matters,” Mirra answered with a shy smile. “Now, go put on something nice and then come down to the main hall,” she said.

  “Mitment, you stay with Mirra,” Marco directed.

  “You don’t want me to come help you get dressed? After the little show you and the lady put on up at the lake, you don’t have anything left to hide, you know,” Mitment said.

  “Go on, run up there,” the spirit added. “You better hurry and marry this girl while she’s foolish enough to have you.”

  Marco ran to his rooms, and found a valet waiting expectantly, with a suit already selected. Marco had spent little time around the man to know him well, but as the reality of a wedding came so close to him, Marco began to feel nervous.

  “How was your wedding, Reed?” Marco asked the man as he pulled on a jacket over his shirt. The clothes hung loosely from his gaunt frame, the result of his long travels.

  “Oh sir, my wedding was twenty years ago, and held right here in the castle, thanks to the Duke back then, who used the castle as his own. My wife’s a house keeper here, so getting married here – with the Duke’s permission – was like getting married in our own home, a little bit.”

  Marco shrugged his jacket into place, as Reed the valet put the sword belt around his hips.

  “You look dashing sir,” Reed told him as he stepped back to look at the ensemble.

  Chapter 16 – A Wedding at Sant Jeroni

  The wedding took place with beautiful simplicity. The main hall, a grand and ornate formal space that Marco had seldom even walked through, was half full with members of the staff and a few attendees from the nearest village who had learned of and traveled to the suddenly-arranged event.

  Marco entered from the left of the chaplain as Mirra entered from the right, and when they met they looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

  “I’m glad you suggested this,” Mirra said softly, so that only Marco and the chaplain heard.

  “I wish I had thought of it months ago. I never knew it was going to be such a long wait to get here,” he answered.

  Mirra’s maid stood nearby, holding Sybele in her arms, as the young toddler squirmed anxiously, wanting to use her feet to explore the new room she hadn’t visited before.

  As the ceremony progressed, the priest asked if there were any tokens of attachment to be exchanged. The chaplain and the audience murmured in wonder when the ring suddenly appeared in midair, held out to Marco by Mitment.

  “Marco, it’s extraordinary!” Mirra breathed softly, looking down at her hand as Marco gently slid the ring onto her finger. “When did you order this? You’ve been planning this for a long time!” she smiled at him.

  “I just made it today,” he answered. “Inspired by you.”

  Mirra in turn handed Marco a polished silver cuff, an engraved, wide bracelet engraved with the crest of Sant Jeroni, that she slid onto his right arm. “Now you’ve got both silver and gold,” she said, looking at the contrast between his silver ornament and his golden-skinned hand.

  “I had this made over the winter, when we thought we would be married in the spring,” she sheepishly admitted. “I’ve had it ready and waiting a long time; I’m glad it can finally be worn.”

  “Shall we carry on with the ceremony?” the chaplain asked nervously as the couple’s conversation interrupted the wedding rites.

  He resumed the reading from the scripture. “You may now kiss the bride,” he told Marco, who snuck a nervous peek at the watching crowd first.

  “Get on with it!” Mitment hissed from behind him, and Marco promptly hugged Mirra as he began a passionate kiss that elicited a few whoops from the crowd, and then a round of happy applause.

  “I’d like to introduce the Marquess and Marquessa of Sant Jeroni,” the chaplain said proudly.

  “Everyone is invited to join us in the courtyard for greetings, and then you may all come back tomorrow morning for breakfast,” Mirra announced to the crowd. They immediately grew silent as soon as she started to speak, then cheered warmly when she finished.

  Outside in the courtyard, the last of the red sunset light glowed overhead and reflected off the buildings, adding to the illumination that a number of lanterns and torches provided, as a long line formed to pass by Marco and Mirra. The visitors shook hands with Marco, most with an air of shyness and uncertainty about the nobleman who so few of them knew because of his long absence from the castle. The women all hugged Mirra warmly, for she was better known because of her habit of frequently visiting all the residents of the area. Sybele was held next to Mirra, bright-eyed at first and excited, then drowsy later, and finally dismissed to be sent to bed at the end of the unexpectedly exciting day.

  Marco and Mirra remained in their station, continuing to speak to everyone who came to visit,
including many who came from the village after belatedly learning about the wedding.

  As the evening passed, Mitment came to stand behind Marco, and began to speak to him.

  “So, tonight is your wedding night, my lord,” she drawled the last two words. “Do you have boundless depths of experience in how to bring pleasure to a woman?” she asked.

  Marco tried to ignore her as a clan leader from the area came to offer congratulations.

  “I know you saw her in her skin this afternoon while you were swimming, so you may have noticed that her body is different from yours,” Mitment said. “Let me tell you the four most important things you must do tonight so that she will enjoy and always remember her wedding night fondly.”

  Marco tried to discreetly turn his head. “Stop it!” he murmured to the spirit that no one else could see or hear.

  “Is there some problem, my lord?” the clan chief asked.

  “No, none whatsoever. It’s just an honor that you came at such a late hour,” Marco faced directly forward again.

  “Let me tell you what will be most important for her to experience tonight,” Mitment said, then began to give a graphic description of Marco’s obligations to Mirra.

  “Is there something wrong, my lord?” the next visitor asked, startled by the deep red blush that glowed from Marco’s cheeks.

  “No, no problem,” Marco answered. “Perhaps I’ve been on my feet too long. Please go on.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Mitment answered. “I like this girl you’re marrying, and I want her to feel she’s getting the most possible out of this relationship. Did you notice that birthmark on her thigh?” Mitment asked, and then began to describe another suggestion that Marco tried desperately to block from his awareness, while at the same time wondering which of Mitment’s racy suggestions were honest.

  The last guest finally came past the newlyweds, and Marco and Mirra looked at one another. Marco blushed once again, as Mitment reminded him of her first suggestion.

  “Just a moment, love,” Marco said to Mirra.

  “Please stop,” Marco beseeched Mitment. “Please let me have this wedding night!”

  “What?” Mirra asked. “Oh, are you talking to the ghost?”

  “Are you sure? I don’t plan to come into the bridal chamber, so this is your last chance to rely on my sage advice,” the spirit laughed, then walked away, leaving Marco confused.

  “Is it Mitment?” Mirra asked again.

  “She’s gone,” Marco sighed in relief.

  “Let’s go in the kitchen and get a bite to eat. I’m famished,” Mirra shrugged off whatever unknown interactions the ghost had with her new husband. She linked her arm within Marco’s, and the feel of her soft flesh against his instantly gave him a calm sense of relief.

  “I’m hungry too,” he agreed, and the two of them went to the kitchen to snack for several minutes.

  After they sat at the table and finished their food, Marco looked up and saw Mirra looking at him, a tentative smile on her face.

  “Shall we go to bed now?” he asked, and to his own ears his voice sounded shaky.

  Mirra’s smile widened. “I am absolutely ready,” she agreed, and stood up.

  Marco grinned back at her, and together the couple walked to the staircase of their residential tower. Mitment stood there at the foot of the stairs. “I’ll stand guard here to make sure no one comes up to disturb you,” she said with a wink as the couple passed her.

  “The maid took Sybele to her room for the evening,” Mirra said casually as they reached the floor where their rooms waited. “I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

  “I’ll miss her,” Marco said with a straight face. “But not tonight, I think,” he grinned, as they reached the door of his room, and held it open for Mirra.

  “So tell me what the ghost was discussing with you,” Mirra said, and then Marco closed the door.

  Chapter 17 – The Morning After

  “So you and Sybele will come to the palace with me today?” Marco asked the next morning. He and Mirra lay together in the bed in his room, nibbling on the food from a breakfast plate that had been left outside the bedroom door. “Lady Iasco will be surprised,” he said, as they continued the conversation they had begun the night before.

  “It will be nice to spend a few more hours with you before you leave us again,” Mirra sighed, then rested her head on Marco’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get dressed and start getting packed for the trip,” Marco said.

  “We have breakfast with the residents of the estate, remember, silly?” Mirra rolled up against him. “Sweetness will be very annoyed if we don’t go down and encourage everyone to eat her food. We have to make a public appearance.”

  Marco groaned at the thought. He was infatuated with Mirra, and marriage to her, but appearing in public for official duties as the marquess was something he found little joy in. Still, he told himself, the people of the estate deserved to know and see him as their lord.

  “Sybele must be wondering where I am,” Mirra answered. I suppose we must get going, but this is so wonderful to be here with you.” She kissed his cheek, then threw back the covers, and pulled on the robe that Marco had provided. “You go get Sybele and I’ll get dressed. After breakfast we can start getting ready for the trip,” she directed.

  Three hours later they rode out of the castle grounds, Marco and Mirra and Sybele, along with a horse that Mitment rode, and six attendants who Marco brought along to assure that Mirra would have suitable safety to escort her home when she returned to Sant Jeroni without him.

  Mitment sat atop the horse that appeared empty to all the riders in the group except Marco. She rode along silently for an hour, then finally urged her horse up near Marco’s. “So, did you sleep well last night?” she asked.

  Marco blushed faintly.

  “Her ladyship will want to know that you’re rested and alert when we get to the city. That’s the only reason I ask,” the guard spirit grinned, then let her horse drift back into its position in the group, and they rode on.

  By mid-afternoon they reached the city. “Let’s stay at Gabrielle’s!” Mirra suggested, with an eager tug on Marco’s sleeve. “It will be so wonderful to see her again!”

  “I don’t know if she’s got enough room,” Marco stated dubiously.

  “We could stay up in your old room, under the gables,” Mirra continued. “We could sleep out on the roof I suppose, but I wouldn’t want to scandalize the neighbors!”

  “Ah, I see,” Mitment commented.

  Marco was deliriously happy. A large part of his mind was simply content to bask in the joy of having married Mirra; the suddenness of his proposal, and the immediacy of her acceptance, made it seem to be a perfect, fated ending to their romance, which had been both short and long. Now the gentle, beautiful woman at his side was truly married to him, and would trust in him and be sure to be waiting for him when he returned home from his next adventure.

  That next adventure was uncertain. Iasco was going to assign him to some task, and he would go out and seek to accomplish it. That sounded simple, he thought, but in the back of his mind he remembered the simple assignment he had received from the spirit of Ophiuchus, to go collect a scale from the Echidna; that simple assignment had nearly left him dead time and time again.

  “Marco!” Mirra’s voice was louder than it had been, and he realized she was looking at him; she had spoken, and he hadn’t paid attention.

  “One night of marriage and already bored with her, my lord?” Mitment asked snidely. “So the truth about men is revealed even in the Golden Hand.”

  “Yes,” Marco answered as he reconstructed Mirra’s question, “I’m sure Gabrielle would allow some of our people to stay in the spare room that Glaze used. We probably can fit everyone in if Carter and Woods can sleep downstairs in the workshop,” he agreed, thinking that those two of the guards were used to much less genteel domiciles than Gabrielle’s home would provide.

  They co
ntinued to ride through the countryside and entered the city gates in mid-afternoon, then rode through the familiar streets towards the square where Gabrielle’s shop was located, next to Applied’s Alchemy Shop. Marco and Mirra and all the rest dismounted in the square, a neighborhood that seldom saw mounted visitors, and they went to the door. The blinds were down in all the windows, and the door was locked.

  “Bang on it Marco,” Mirra urged, and he complied by knocking loudly.

  “I could go around back and climb in,” he suggested a minute later, when no one came to the door. “Just like old times,” he gave a warm smile in remembering the nights he had regularly snuck out of the shop to go swimming with Kieweeooee.

  Just then there was a rattle at the door, before it swung partially open. Gabrielle stood in the doorway, peering out. “I’m sorry, the shop is closed,” she told her visitors.

  Then she realized who she was seeing. “Oh heavens!” she smiled, and her eyes sparkled immediately. “Oh heavens, look who’s here to visit!” She looked around Marco and Mirra at the others who stood behind them. “Gracious, so many visitors! This is delightful. Won’t you come in?” she asked as she opened the door wide to allow them to enter.

  Marco and Mirra held hands, after Mirra took Sybele from her maid, and the small family entered the shop together. Mirra leaned forward while holding Sybele and hugged Gabrielle tightly as soon as they were inside the front of the shop.

  “Young lady, what’s this I see on your finger?” Gabrielle asked as they broke their hug.

  “We’re married, Gabrielle! Just yesterday! Marco asked me and we had the ceremony in the evening,” Mirra gushed.

  “You married this pretty girl?” Gabrielle looked over at Marco. “I saw that coming a long time ago, ever since those days when she would go up to wake you up in the mornings and then fix your breakfast. You’re a lucky boy to have such a sweet girl. You’re both very lucky to have each other,” she said.