Unabashed by her refusal, Damas plucked a hare haunch from the platter with his fingers and dropped it on his bread trencher. "I hear the Archbishop of Lyon insists Artaud must marry a bride from a devoted Christian family."
Melusine shuddered at the notion. "I see."
Damas shook his head. "No you don't, my lady. If he marries outside the Church, the archbishop will be justified to seize his lands and claim the gold from his rivers and mines."
"Truly?" Melusine couldn't believe the archbishop's shrewdness. Then again, the man had the reputation of a pig and an opportunist.
Damas's wife leaned over the table. "Are you from a devout Christian family, my lady?"
"I beg your pardon?" Melusine swallowed hard and took a sip of wine. This simple matter of marrying Artaud, to redeem her curse and salvage the Fae world, was quickly growing into a nightmarish challenge.
A sour smile stretched Lady Damas's plump face. "You see, Artaud's Pagan upbringing is not conducive to a good marriage. But many of his barons are loyal to the Church. So, they brought their Christian daughters for his consideration."
Melusine scanned the long trestle tables on each side of the U, and found herself hating all these young (and not so young) virgins. She now understood the kind of pressure Artaud had to deal with every day. It certainly explained his brooding mood.
She glanced at him on her right, deep in conversation with his sister and younger brother over matters of lands.
Then Melusine realized land would also be a consideration in taking a bride, and she had no lands to offer. Worse... she would have to hide her curse from him. She couldn't risk a refusal on the account of becoming an ondine one day each month. Even a Pagan lord might object to marrying a cold-blooded mermaid... or a cursed changeling.
Chapter Three
Montarcher castle - September 1028
Artaud struggled not to sigh in boredom as the potential brides, one by one, approached the high table, still loaded with the remains of the agape. They curtsied, then announced their names and titles, and listed their particular skills, endearing qualities, their family estate, and the nature and amount of their respective dowries.
This short brunette had a lovely smile but left him indifferent. "Everyone lauds the quality of my embroidery, my lord."
"Can you read, write, and keep track of expenses?" The question came out harsher than he intended.
The girl blushed and lowered her gaze. "Not very well, my lord."
Artaud shifted in his chair, considering the maiden standing across the high table. "Then how do you expect to supervise inventory, manage a large household, or estimate the supplies needed to feed a full garrison?"
The lass choked and turned away then hurried back to her seat. A few maidens waiting to approach him sent each other worried glances, others whispered. Most parents cast Artaud a hard stare.
He regretted giving in to his impatience. Now wasn't the time to make enemies, but to smooth the differences between religious factions. Artaud nodded, struggled to smile, and focused his attention on the long parade of insipid maidens.
The next girl, who now curtsied with a honeyed smile, had been exchanging lover's gazes with the minstrels all evening. Another yet couldn't meet his eye... too timid to give orders to servants. The next was skinny bones and hardly fit to bear children.
Forez needed not a harlot nor a blushing virgin, but a capable Chatelaine, a strong mother... someone Artaud could come to love and respect. He would make concessions to protect his people, but most of these virgins lacked even the womanly qualities that would entice a man to their bed.
His gaze strayed left, to Lady Melusine. All these supposed virgins paled against the charm, intelligence, self-assurance, and the beauty of that Radiant One. But mortals couldn't marry goddesses.
Yet, he caught himself wishing he could choose someone like her. Banish the thought! The Church would crucify him and his people for such a dalliance. Furthermore, meddling with immortals had always turned deadly for his blood relatives. That's why he was the last and only scion of his accursed Fae line.
Artaud needed a wife who would give him healthy sons, to carry his name and protect the peace between Pagans and Christians on his lands. If he died without an heir, the Church might annex and forever rule Forez, and likely run all Pagans through the sword.
Blast Archbishop Bouchard, bent on hoarding riches and gold. He used the power of his Church to eliminate personal enemies and increase his holdings. Artaud be damned if he'd let the archbishop win, even over his dead corpse.
The noble guests, at the trestle tables running down each sides of the long hall, whispered comments of their own about the potential brides. Even Ida and Guilli whispered and chuckled. Artaud glimpsed wagers changing hands among the nobles. All would lose their bets this night. He didn't fancy any of these Christian flowers.
The last would be bride turned away from the high table to take her seat at the left end of the trestle tables. Artaud allowed himself the deep sigh he'd been holding.
"So?" Commander Damas, seated on his far left, straightened to glance at him over Lady Melusine's head, and held up his gold chalice. "Who will it be?"
"Lord Artaud doesn't have to make up his mind right this night, Commander." Melusine's cool comment surprised Artaud. It took a brave soul to speak against the fearsome Damas.
"Thank you, my lady." How he appreciated Her steadfast support.
Damas pinched his lips. "It doesn't really matter which one you choose, Artaud. As long as she's Christian and bears you pups. You can bed Pagan bitches on the side to satisfy your appetites. I hear they are more willing than Christian women, and do not consider chastity a virtue."
Lady Melusine choked on her food. Artaud offered his wine cup and she took it with a nod. The lovely lady drank a sip and smiled in thanks.
She dried her lips with the hem of the white tablecloth. "Lord Damas, other attributes are more important in life. Virginity is but ephemeral. Charity, loyalty and respect, for example, are far more valuable in the long run."
Reproach colored the lady's comment. She openly disliked his favorite commander. Artaud wondered why. Could Damas be the one to watch? The one she warned him about on their first encounter? The enemy inside the walls? It seemed unlikely, as Damas was Artaud's staunchest supporter.
When a servant called for his attention, Artaud turned away from the conversation and rose.
* * *
Melusine struggled to keep her calm. She shouldn't lock horns with Damas despite her revulsion. She and this Christian pig would never see eye to eye, but Artaud held the commander in high esteem. He was a military hero to the people of Forez.
Damas's wife, somewhat in her cups, leaned over the table to glance at Melusine around her husband. "Do you know what we did to these Pagan villagers who were cheating us of our grain?"
Melusine shook her head and shuddered at the disdainful way the lady said Pagan. She turned to see Artaud's reaction, but he had left the table.
Lady Damas licked a drop of red wine on her lips and set down her husband's gold chalice. "That was quite a sight."
The commander's face turned rubicund and animated. "Indeed!"
His wife nodded, her eyes round and her smile somewhat disturbing. "I watched it all from my balcony. My husband's soldiers rounded up the women in the practice yard and ripped off their clothes, then they raped them right in front of everyone, beating them if they resisted. You should have heard their screams."
Melusine's fine meal threatened to bubble up her throat. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Soldiers could be cruel. Even Sigefroi had erred into excessive violence in a righteous rage... but he later repented and made amends.
The commander's wife grinned, visibly enjoying the tale. "Then the soldiers sliced the women's breasts, and fed the chunks to the mongrels, who fought to devour them. After that, they cut off the men's hands and feet... and their naughty bits, too."
Bile soured Melusine's thro
at.
"The good looking ones, they cut off their noses and ears." The shrew emitted a shrill laugh. "My husband does not tolerate insubordination, and even less thievery."
Damas nodded on a mouthful. "You have to show a strong hand, otherwise, these villagers would eat all their crops and leave us to starve."
"I see..." Melusine's heart went out to the victims. They were Pagan, and she wondered if Damas would have done the same, had they been Christian. Did Artaud know of such abuse? Certainly, he would not approve.
She shuddered at the cruelty in the couple's faces. She would not want to find herself on the wrong side of Commander Damas of Couzan and his wife. Yet, betrothing Artaud might accomplish just that.
Artaud returned to the table and frowned as he sat. "Do I hear talks of bloody violence at my table? In front of gentlewomen?"
Damas refilled his cup and raised it. "I can't keep my wife from boasting."
Artaud cast his commander a stern stare. "Damas, watch your conversation in noble company. My hall is not your battlefield."
The inebriated wife waved aside the comment and stared at Melusine. "Maybe we should let Lady Melusine speak." The woman's smile dripped with poisoned honey. "Tell us about your family roots and titles, dear lady. After all, you are also a candidate to marry Lord Artaud. That's why you are here, is it not?"
"Me?" Although the woman told the truth, Melusine hadn't expected a close interrogation.
The woman pointed to the gold diadem holding back Melusine's long, honey hair. "It seems you come from a very rich family. Interesting motif. A winged dragon? Is it your family crest?"
Melusine's blood turned to ice. Although a king's daughter, she also came from a line of cursed immortals, infamous and banished in many parts of Europe. Her ancestry was by far the most dangerous topic of conversation, especially in a hall teeming with Christian nobles.
Artaud cleared his throat and rose from his chair. "Perhaps another time, Lady Damas. For now I need some fresh air, before they bring the next remove." He turned to Melusine and bowed. "Would you accompany me for a short walk on the ramparts, my lady?"
Glad for the rescue, Melusine nodded and took his offered hand. The warmth of Artaud's skin under her fingers brought up intimate shivers and visions of rumpled sheets. Again, the guilty tug of Sigefroi's memory intruded. She steeled her resolve. Her duty to the Great One came first.
Besides, Artaud was not as cold and indifferent as she'd first imagined... just careful and wise... but surrounded by treachery. Although Melusine could detect a traitorous mind in Damas, she couldn't tell Artaud. She would have to earn his trust before he believed such accusations against his most valuable commander.
* * *
Artaud led lady Melusine across the hall, toward the arched doorway. Night had fallen. A cool breeze blew through the open door. He saw her hesitate and shiver.
Artaud gestured to a servant to bring a mantle. "The hall is so warm with all the body heat and good cheer, we forget it's already the autumnal equinox."
He took the soft blue cape from the servant’s hands and draped it upon Melusine's shoulders. "The warm wool should protect you from the chill, my lady."
She nodded and fastened the cape at her throat. "Thank you, my lord. You are most kind." When she smiled, the torchlight of the doorway played in her long blond locks and made the golden dragon holding her hair sparkle. "And thank you for saving me from Lady Damas's inopportune questions."
"My pleasure." Artaud waved away a black mantle for himself. Then he offered Melusine his leather-clad arm.
She laid her small hand on it with grace. He couldn't believe how delicate, yet strong and precious she looked, standing next to him. From a distance, she always seemed larger than life.
They walked leisurely away from the noisy hall, crossing the courtyard toward the imposing walls of the inner bailey. The chirping of insects and the aroma of roasted meat filled the night.
Artaud considered his unique situation. "I couldn't possibly let a noble shrew challenge the Great Goddess in my very hall."
Her hand tensed on his forearm. "I need to clarify, my lord. I apologize for giving you the wrong impression. If you believe I am the Great One, you are gravely mistaken. I am only one of Her many servants."
"Truly?" Something rejoiced deep inside Artaud. Since she wasn't the Great One, then she could marry. He narrowed his eyes upon her. Could he have been so wrong? "So, what are you, my lady? You do not strike me as a simple mortal."
Melusine hesitated. "I am Fae, my lord, on my mother side. My father was a king, and mostly human."
"But you are an immortal, are you not?" How could it be otherwise? This was no ordinary woman. That afternoon, in the courtyard, she'd used magic to speak into his mind, and had shielded their conversation from the other guests.
Melusine nodded gravely. "You have Fae blood, too, my lord, although a smaller share. And your mortality forces your soul to migrate from incarnation to incarnation through many different lifetimes."
"What are you saying?" Artaud had heard of such things before, but never thought it applied to him. "You believe I used to be someone else?"
"I know so." Her voice broke, and her serious gaze searched his face. "You were someone very dear to me."
So, she liked him in the faraway past? Joy made his heart race, but warning bells rang into his head, stifling his enthusiasm. Complications always arose from dealing with immortals. "What is your true purpose in coming here, my lady?"
She paused and swallowed, as if what she had to say cost her greatly. "The Great One sent me here today to offer me as your future bride, my lord."
"What?" Artaud struggled to hide his excitement. He glanced around, worried some guard might hear, but he saw no one. Did Lady Melusine have the power to keep away his guards as well?
"What do you say to this offer, my lord?" Her river gray eyes shone expectantly in the silvery moonlight.
Despite his excitement, Artaud must remain objective. "The Archbishop of Lyon could excommunicate me for marrying into the old religion."
"But you are Pagan, my lord. Are you not?" Her gaze hardened upon him. "I can sense the Fae blood coursing through your veins."
"Aye." Artaud knew it only too well. "But that blood has been a curse upon my family. All died horribly. I am the last scion of my mother's Fae line... Now, I need sons to carry on my bloodline."
"Sons?" For a moment, the lady seemed at a loss. Then she stiffened and took a deep breath. "You should fight for what you know is right, my lord. The Great One will bless our union."
Artaud grunted, struggling to hide his attraction to the lady. He had learned long ago not to trust immortals. Like the bishops, they usually had their own agenda. Besides, he wanted to choose his own bride, not agree to a marriage arranged by the Goddess.
They reached the foot of the rampart, and he led her up the stone steps hugging the wall. They emerged on the battlements between two square merlons on the wall walk. He gazed upon the moonlit rolling hills. The serene river, like a silvery ribbon, wound at the bottom of the valley.
Keeping his gaze on the horizon, he softened his voice. "If you are immortal and powerful, why do you surrender to the will of the Great One?"
Lady Melusine remained silent. Hard as he tried, Artaud could not guess her thoughts.
She raised her clear gaze to his. "You see, Lord Artaud, in your previous incarnation, we were husband and wife."
Artaud scoffed. "I only have your word for it. I can honestly say that I remember no other life before this one."
"Of course not, but I do." Regret, or was it pain, shadowed her lovely gray eyes. "Perhaps the reason you did not choose a bride tonight is that you know deep down that we are destined for each other."
"Destined?" A tricky word immortals favored. As if mortals couldn't control their own fate. "I make my own destiny, my lady. I bow neither to the Church, nor to the ancient gods, although I respect and honor them."
She had a small sm
ile and chuckled. "That's what Sigefroi would have said... before he turned devout."
"Sigefroi?" Artaud recognized the famous name. The fact that the Lady said it with such loving familiarity bothered him.
"Aye." The lady smiled wistfully. "Count Sigefroi of Luxembourg."
"The great lion of Luxembourg?" Artaud whistled in awe. "His fierceness is legendary among warriors and knights."
"You were that great knight in your former life, my lord... and my beloved husband."
"Truly?" Some dark and disturbing thought stirred at the edge of Artaud's elation. What was it? Some memory about a legend, a mystery, a curse, or was it a demon? He'd have to check the records of Luxembourg when his scrolls, parchments and books arrived from Lyon.
"Are you doubting my words?" Her delicate eyebrows arched. "You should know my kind never lies."
"Oh, believe me, I know. Immortals always speak the truth... even as they hide the darkest secrets and trick mortals to do their bidding." He sighed. "But this is so sudden... I need time to think it over. Be assured I will consider your offer very carefully."
"As you should, my lord." She averted her gaze to the moonlit hills and valleys below. "Much is at stake for all of us."
"I'm familiar with the consequences of mingling with your kind." Artaud couldn't help the sarcasm in his words.
A church bell rang in the distance, calling the monks to Compline, the last prayer of the day.
Melusine turned to face him. "I noticed new churches and monasteries in Forez. Why do you allow them to build on your lands?"
The lady tended to speak her mind without reservation, but he liked that about her. "Someone inside the Church bought these parcels long ago under false pretenses, through some intermediary. Now I cannot prevent the rightful owners from building monasteries upon their property."
She cast him an accusing stare. "And why let the Church dictate who you should marry?"
He relinquished a reluctant smile. "‘Tis dangerous business to defy an archbishop. I don't want my people to suffer reprisals."
Chatelaine of Forez Page 3
