Chatelaine of Forez

by Vijaya Schartz

  Chatelaine of Forez

  Curse of the Lost Isle, Book 5

  By Vijaya Schartz

  ISBN: 978-1-77145-179-6

  Published By:

  Books We Love Ltd.

  Chestermere, Alberta

  Canada

  Copyright 2014 by Vijaya Schartz

  Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2014

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

  Chapter One

  March 1028 AD - Forez (now in central France)

  Melusine stopped singing and shuddered in the cool water. Someone was coming. Fast approaching hooves trampled the underbrush. She straightened and gripped the well worn sides of the rectangular stone basin. Birds and insects had ceased their chirping. Through the trees, a single horseman on a black stallion galloped up the forested path to the sacred spring where she bathed.

  How had he crossed the magic barrier she'd erected down the hill? Could he be an immortal like her?

  She glanced at her blue robes, left in the middle of the clearing, at the foot of the tall, standing stone hugging the statue of the Great Goddess. Too far away. No time to step out of the catch basin and retrieve them. With a flurry of the hand, she wove a quick invisibility spell and willed the water around her to still.

  Her heart stumbled for a beat or two. This could be the blessed day the Great Goddess had promised her. The day she finally met her former beloved... Sigefroi. Although, in his new incarnation, he wore another name.

  The horseman emerged from the curtain of trees, impossibly tall, dark, muscular, in black leather gear, a crossbow across his back. A sword slapped his thigh, and a hunting knife adorned his belt. Half a dozen bloody hares hung from the back of his saddle. Definitely not her beloved Sigefroi. What now?

  The stranger glanced at her, raised a dark brow and nodded a salute from the saddle. A restrained smile touched his lips. How could he possibly see her through the invisibility spell? But he'd already crossed her privacy barrier. Fae blood definitely coursed through his veins.

  Melusine shrunk into her chilly bath, dreading to face him naked.

  It could be worse. It could be the first Wednesday of the month, when the curse made her a serpent from the waist down. In this increasingly Christian land, discovery in ondine form could cost her to burn at the stake.

  Since the local Christians avoided Pagan shrines, however, the stranger must be of the old faith.

  She took a deep breath and made her voice as formidable and intimidating as she could. "Who dares violate the sacred spring of the Great One?"

  "Count Artaud of Forez." The deep baritone rang loud and clear.

  Melusine's heartbeat faltered. Not an immortal, but worse. "Artaud of Forez?"

  "I own this land, and methinks you are the one trespassing." He dismounted with surprising agility for his size, sliding off the saddle like an acrobat.

  Melusine scrutinized the young man. According to the Goddess, Artaud had inherited the soul of her late Sigefroi, but how could it be, when they looked like opposites. Where Sigefroi had been wiry and fair, with gold reddish hair and a clear gaze, Artaud had broad shoulders, straight black hair, a hale face, and a dark, brooding gaze, as deep as a lake on a moonless night. Both looked fearsome, but in different ways.

  Count Artaud led his prancing stallion closer to the large rectangular basin where she bathed.

  Dear Goddess! Heat crept up Melusine's cheeks. She gathered her legs and encircled her knees with her arms for modesty. "How dare you!"

  "My horse is thirsty." His voice held a subtle challenge.

  The black stallion snorted as its master freed him. The beast drank noisily from the far end of the long basin.

  Count Artaud cast her a sidelong glance, his swarthy, square face unreadable. "The Great One would want to quench an animal's thirst."

  "Only a Pagan would know the Great One respects all creatures as equal." Melusine kept her voice even, but anger gripped her insides. How could this Artaud hold the soul of her beloved? He was a cold, dark stranger, not her fiery knight of old.

  His brow shot up. "I fear you have me at a disadvantage, my lady. I have never seen you at court or on my estates. Who might you be?"

  Although she'd known they would soon meet, Melusine had no ready answer. An ondine? A cursed immortal? The woman you are destined to marry? The love of your past life? The enchantress who might bring your doom? She couldn't find words he might accept, even less understand. While she remembered their lifetime together, he did not.

  No sympathy softened the neutral face as his dark stare pierced her. He removed his black leather gloves and sat on a jutting stone next to the well worn edge of the old basin. "Devil got your tongue?"

  Visions of hellish creatures flashed upon Melusine's mind at his mention of the devil. Christians believed in the devil... and Christians wanted her dead.

  "Melusine..." She cleared her choking voice. "My name is Melusine."

  She fancied her first name innocuous enough. Better than Melusine the Fae, immortal, cursed by the Great One, excommunicated First Lady of Luxembourg, the love and the bane of your past existence.

  "Lady Melusine..." He rolled the words on his tongue. His dark, liquid eyes softened and unfocused slightly. "An unusual name for an unusual woman."

  "‘Tis an ancient name, my lord." Tempted to prod his mind and find out what he thought of her, she stopped herself. If he could see through her spells, and Fae blood coursed through his veins, like Sigefroi, he would be impervious to her magic... but not to her charms.

  Changing tactic, she smiled and relaxed against the hollowed stone basin, exposing her submersed nudity through the clear water. "I hear you have done well, Lord Artaud. Your lands of Lyon and Forez thrive, and your people consider you a fair and wise ruler."

  He cast her a sidelong glance, then shifted his gaze to the statue of the Great One dominating the clearing. The quenched black stallion walked away a few paces and grazed the luscious grass of the hillock.

  Awe widened his eyes as he faced her again. "What else have you heard about me?"

  Although Melusine had kept her promise not to spy on Artaud, she knew a few things about him. "The river gold makes you richer than any king. So does the trade on the pilgrimage road to St Jacques of Compostella. Travelers speak highly of your hospitality."

  Bird trills and the chirping of insects had resumed, and the sweet scent of wild flowers filled the air with vibrant life.

  "What you hear is true." He faced her but kept his gaze at eye level. "I'm also a Pagan count ruling over Christian barons. That alone can get you killed these days."

  "Then we have much in common, my lord." Melusine smiled seductively. "Only a devout Pagan would visit the sacred spring and the shrine of the Great One. Why else would you come here?"

  He barely cracked a thin smile. "To water my horse."

  His jest bothered her. So did his cool response to her charms. Hard as she tried, Melusine could not see in this man any remnant of her past love.

  Had she waited these few decades for naught? Had the Great One tricked her? No. The Great One never lied. Still, even though Melusine did not intend to share this stranger's fate, she should warn him of the dangers threatening his rule.

  She trailed her fingers on the water surface, blurring it. "This hill is not just a sacred shrine from time immemorial, Lord Artaud."

  His dark gaze alighted upon her with a new spark of inter
est. "State your meaning."

  "‘Tis the site of your future castle of Montarcher."

  Suspicion narrowed his eyes. "How do you know of my future designs?"

  Melusine's heart skipped a beat. "The Great One sees and knows all, my lord. You must build your castle in haste to face the coming dangers."

  A muscle in his square jaw jumped. "What dangers?"

  "Your enemies are gathering." Melusine didn't know the future, only that Artaud would need help. "Many envy your riches, my lord. Others resent your faith. But from here, you can fend them off."

  "Why here?" His tone held curiosity.

  Melusine straightened and gazed in the distance. She was destined to protect him, but she felt naught for this stranger. "This is a sacred site, my lord. From here, the statue of the Great One will bless and protect all your lands."

  His brow rose and his eyes softened but still stared at her. "Truly?"

  Melusine shrank under his scrutiny, wishing she wore clothes. "Truly, my lord."

  "Thank you for the warning, my lady." He rose and whistled. His stallion trotted up to him. In one light vault, Artaud landed in the saddle.

  Melusine's heart jumped. Had she done right, or had she spoiled everything? In any case, she must speak with the Great One. There must be a mistake. She could never love this dark, brooding man. He was not her long lost love.

  * * *

  As he rode into the woods, away from the apparition, Artaud allowed himself a shaky breath. He let the earthy scent of humus and leaves calm his racing blood.

  This was no ordinary woman, so beautiful, with eyes the color of clear water on gray river stones. He had to steel himself against her loveliness. Despite her small size, she could only be the Great One Herself. She looked exactly like the statue of the Great Goddess, down to the dragon-shaped diadem holding up her fluid blond hair. A jewel of the purest gold… and Artaud knew gold.

  How he would have loved to remain longer, to bask in Her divine presence and in Her bounty... but he would have made a fool of himself... and risked being forever cursed. The Great One often displayed a moody disposition.

  Artaud did not believe in coincidences. Her message had come on the very day he had decided to build his castle on that strategic hill... the true reason for his visit there. Since he had told no one yet, not even his siblings, a simple mortal could not have known about his intent.

  So, when She said trouble was coming, Artaud believed her. The clergy plotted against him. His riches made his barons envious. He must heed the warning and build his castle on the hill of Montarcher without delay.

  As he rode, enjoying the galloping rhythm of the black stallion, his mind returned to the lovely Melusine, naked in the spring, as light and luminous as a sprite. He shook his head to dissipate the reverie. Gods and goddesses should be worshiped and feared from afar, not become the object of human affection.

  Mingling with such beings always engendered strife and misery. Artaud knew it only too well. Horror stories from such misalliances abounded in his family line. His maternal grandfather turned to stone, his grandmother burned at the stake for practicing black magic. He shuddered at the thought.

  He should consider himself blessed to have seen the Great One and talked to Her. Still, although grateful for the blessing and the warning, he hoped never again to see Lady Melusine.

  * * *

  A light breeze, from the window carved in the rock, billowed the white veils of Melusine's four-poster bed. She paced the silk rushes of bright blue and gold, unable to decide what to do next. The cave she'd hollowed into a luxurious palace decades ago now seemed empty. Her hopes of a happy life with her past love died the moment she met Artaud. She never wanted to see that dark, brooding man again.

  Defying the will of the Great One, however, could cost her greatly.

  Melusine knelt on the plush rug and sat back on her heels. Taking a deep breath, she stilled her mind and exhaled slowly. Whoever dared call the Great One incurred many perils. Still, she must risk it.

  Melusine bowed her head. "O mother of Heaven and Earth, Great Angel who stands in judgment of our mistakes, my only path to redemption, listen to your daughter in need."

  The breeze stiffened, the bed veils flapped, and a cold draft filled the palatial cave, along with an icy whisper. "Who dares summon me for personal gain?"

  "Your unworthy daughter, Melusine, O Great One." An icy shiver scrambled up her spine. "I met Lord Artaud of Forez, today."

  "Melusine, child, your path is laid in front of you." The Great One sighed. "Why call me now?"

  "This Artaud cannot be my beloved Sigefroi. I feel nothing for him. This must be a mistake."

  "I make no mistakes." The threat in the hissing voice made her shudder.

  "But how could I possibly wed a man I cannot abide, even less love?" Melusine's voice squeaked despite her desperate attempt at control.

  "Did you think your path to redemption would be easy?" The loud whisper chilled the air. "You failed the last time around. Consider yourself blessed to be given a second chance at redeeming your curse."

  "I know... the ondine curse." Melusine steeled herself. She must face the Great One's wrath. "My heart still belongs to Sigefroi. I could never bring myself to love that cold, brooding stranger. There must be another way."

  "No, child. This is the only way." The disembodied voice boomed and bounced off the stone walls. "You must seduce and wed Artaud of Forez. He is immune to your magic and can see through lies, so only heartfelt love for him can save you now."

  "Could I not wait for his next lifetime?" Melusine dared to hope. "Who he will be and how he will look in his next incarnation might bring about my old love for him."

  "The time to act is now, Melusine." The glacial voice chilled the room.

  Tears rolled down Melusine's cheeks and her throat clenched. "Please, O Great One, have pity."

  "Time for pity has passed." The voice hissed. "Pagans are suffering."

  "I implore you." How could Melusine succeed if her mission was doomed from the start?

  The silence hung heavily in the air, then the Great One sighed. "The old faith is losing ground. Forez is the last Pagan bastion, surrounded by Christian lords. Corrupt bishops covet our lands and our riches. Embrace your destiny, Melusine, or all will be lost for Fae folk everywhere in this world."

  Melusine shuddered from the icy breeze and from the enormous responsibility, but she remained silent.

  "Can I count on you?" the Great One demanded in a stern voice.

  "What if I fail?" Melusine could marry without love, but the Great One demanded much more from her. "What if I cannot truly love this man?"

  "For the magic to overcome the obstacles, you two must love each other with every fiber of your being. Only true love can save us all. You cannot fail, Melusine. There is too much at stake," the Great One hissed softly. "If you do fail, I will worsen your curse."

  "Worsen my curse?" The horrors implied shook Melusine to the core. "What can possibly be worse than being an ondine, half woman half serpent from the waist down, for an entire night and day each month?"

  "I could make you become an ondine an entire night and day each week." No regret or compassion of any kind tinged the flat comment.

  An icy spike of dread stabbed Melusine's heart. She would have collapsed if she didn't already sit on the floor. She couldn't allow her horrible curse to worsen. "All right. I accept my destiny. I promise to try."

  "Trying is not enough, Melusine. You must succeed... or else." The hissing whisper faded to silence.

  The breeze gentled and warmed, drying the beads of cold sweat on Melusine's forehead. Her heart beat like a demented drum. She had resigned herself to her serpent curse long ago, but she refused to make it worse. And for the sake of all Fae folk everywhere, she must succeed... yet, she could not imagine ever loving that black-haired, dusky knight, with a brooding gaze as dark and cold as a moonless winter night.

  Chapter Two

  Six months lat
er - September 1028.

  Artaud sat outside on a dais, under the highest tree, in the outer bailey of his newly built castle of Montarcher. As tradition demanded, he received suggestions and grievances, and settled petty quarrels among his subjects with regard to justice.

  For the sake of privacy, the onlookers formed a wide circle out of earshot. His young brother, Guillaume, Guilli for short, and their tall sister, Ida, chatted with other nobles. At such times, he envied their carefree life, for although they helped him rule his lands, the responsibility rested upon Artaud's head.

  A serf, wishing to speak with him, advanced from the line of peasants and nobles come to pay him homage. The man shuffled to the center of the circle, where Artaud sat on a high chair, alone, three steps above the ground.

  A headache pounded in the back of his head. If he had to settle one more goat bleating or geese attack complaint, his brain would explode. An unexpected cool wave soothed the inside of his head like a refreshing tide. He closed his eyes for a moment and mentally thanked the Goddess for the respite.

  As he opened them again, he saw Her, the Resplendent One, standing in line with a couple of peasants, in a bright blue shift held by a golden sash. How odd that She would wait in line.

  Artaud's newfound peace of mind knotted into dread. Why had the Great One come?

  The man now kneeling at the foot of his dais went on and on about his neighbor's horse grazing on his painfully grown pasture, taking precious food away from his dairy cows. A good thing no one stood close enough to hear. The banality of Artaud's duty might tarnish his reputation as a warrior.

  Tell him to open his meadow to his neighbor's horse, and his special grass will grow thick and lush, sweeter than ever before.

  The words in his head did not surprise Artaud. He'd had similar experiences before, sometimes hearing a stray thought. This time, however, the Great One stood only a few paces away. She stared straight at him with those limpid gray eyes, like the clear spring water where he saw her bathe six moons past. Had she just given him an easy answer?