Chatelaine of Forez

by Vijaya Schartz

  Damas followed Artaud's gaze. "I don't like this knight who hides his face and his name. He is obviously very rich, but what stupid warrior offers to fight without glory or payment? He could be an enemy knight come to spy upon us."

  "Do not fret." Artaud shook his head. "An enemy would not be so familiar with the exact new colors and design or our coat of arms."

  "So why hide his face?" Damas set his plumed helmet on the stone parapet. "He requests private chambers, takes his meals alone... I don't trust him."

  Artaud shrugged. "Probably a second son, a hot head with a death wish."

  "Wearing gold mail?" The commander's piercing eyes lit up at the word. He obviously had an affinity for gold. His gaze narrowed upon Artaud. "You know who he is, do you not?"

  Artaud nodded. It was a lie. He had many questions about the mysterious knight as well, but Damas need not know that.

  A subtle glow emanated from the golden knight, and Artaud suspected magic at work. He had a good feeling about him. After all, that was the reason behind his uneasy alliance with Lady Melusine. He wanted to believe the Great One had sent him a golden knight to protect Montarcher. ‘Twas the only logical explanation.

  Still, Artaud hated mysteries and would find out who the knight was, as soon as the situation allowed it.

  * * *

  Melusine leapt off her pallet at the sound of the horn from atop the rampart. The enemy troops were moving... in the fog... before sunrise? A bold move from the archbishop. Perfect for hiding his movements.

  She plopped her full helmet on her head and hurried up the stairs of the keep in a jingling of mail, Caliburn slapping her hip with each step.

  Her identity well hidden, she emerged on the flat roof of the square tower and stood between two merlons. Extending her Fae senses, she could see the enemy moving through the surrounding fog.

  Enhancing a low-pitched voice, she shouted toward the battlements. "They're massing troops along the northern wall!"

  Other knights spread her words, calling out from the top of the walls.

  "Doesn't matter where they attack." Young Guilli, in full chain mail, shook his head. "They want to starve us or kill us, whichever comes first."

  Melusine would not let that happen. "They are gravely mistaken if they believe they can."

  "Well spoken, lord knight." The tall warrior with a feminine voice was no other than Ida, Artaud's sister. She'd bound her fiery hair and wore mail as well.

  Melusine pointed to the sword at the girl's hip. "That's a fine blade."

  Ida chortled. "Not as fine as yours."

  Guilli fiddled with his helmet. "Artaud won't let me fight like Ida."

  "Your turn will come soon enough, Guilli." Ida adjusted her battle gloves. "I have to go take my position on the wall." She saluted Melusine, then left with a determined step and joined a group of knights leaving the rooftop.

  Guilli's gaze followed her, then he heaved a heavy sigh.

  Melusine understood his frustration. She could involve the little brother in her plan. "If you want to help, I may have a task for you."

  "What is it?" Interest lit up Guilli's eyes.

  Melusine glanced around. Soldiers and knights raced to man the northern rampart. No one stood close to her and Guilli at the top of the keep. Still, she lowered her voice. "Did you notice the war engines?"

  "Of course, I did." Guilli firmed his jaw. "They are moving, too."

  "But they are lagging far behind the troops preparing to attack."

  "And?" Guilli's eyes narrowed upon Melusine.

  "They are not well guarded." She waited for him to draw his conclusions.

  Guilli frowned. "So?"

  "I plan to get behind their lines to disable them. Without their long ropes, the war machines cannot function." Melusine had done it before, long ago. "It's only a matter of getting behind enemy lines, close enough to sever the ropes."

  "You can do that?" Guilli's frown deepened. "The fog is lifting. They will see you."

  "Don't you worry about that." Melusine couldn't tell him she could become invisible at will. "I only need someone to take me outside the walls through a secret tunnel."

  Guilli's body tensed. Uncertainty clouded his gaze. Melusine wondered whether she'd made a mistake involving him. Although she had not designed this castle, she could find the escape tunnels easily enough on her own... but she wanted Guilli to feel useful.

  He lifted a stubborn chin. "These tunnels are secret for a reason, lord knight."

  "Your loyalty is admirable, young man." With reluctance, Melusine infused her words with a subtle command. "But I am not the enemy. I only seek victory for your brother. By helping me, you are winning this battle for him."

  Guilli pinched his lips together but nodded nevertheless. "Of course, lord knight, I'll take you there."

  Good. No one devoid of Fae blood could resist an immortal's true command.

  * * *

  Artaud's soldiers on the northern wall pushed back the last ladder, sending the enemy tumbling down the grassy incline. Everyone on the ramparts cheered. He wiped his sweaty brow. Finally, a respite from the relentless assaults. His heart pounded and his sword arm ached. At his side, Damas and Ida caught their breath.

  "Archers!" Artaud motioned and a volley of arrows showered the retreating enemy.

  Damas lowered his sword and leaned against a merlon. "I wonder why the catapults at the bottom of the hill have not pelted the rampart, yet."

  "Me, too." Ida frowned under the helmet that hid her fiery hair. "Strange that they remained unmanned."

  Artaud suspected his secret ally's hand in this but did not comment.

  Damas sheathed his sword. "This would be a good time to launch a raid upon their left flank, while they are trying to regroup. A hundred good riders can inflict a lot of damage upon a bunch of retreating foot soldiers."

  "Shrewd and cunning as usual, Damas. You have my blessing." Artaud was glad to have his commander. "Mayhap I'll lead another raid to their right flank as well."

  "Just like the old days with your father." Damas grinned and hurried away, a jaunt in his step.

  The golden knight appeared next to Artaud and Ida, as if out of thin air. The young man was rather slight, and not as tall as he'd imagined from a distance, but one could only admire his fighting technique.

  Artaud hid his surprise at his sudden presence. "I saw you battle like a lion earlier."

  "Thank you my lord." His voice didn't sound as male as he'd imagined. He must be a very young man. "With your permission, I would like to join your sortie on the enemy's right flank."

  "Are you familiar with the double maneuver?"

  "Of course, my lord. Any knight worth his salt is."

  Artaud suddenly relished the idea of such a warrior in his party. It would greatly improve their chances of victory. "Then meet us at the stables. May the Great One protect us all."

  "She certainly will, my lord. The Great One keeps Her promises." The golden warrior bowed and walked away toward the stairs.

  "What an odd knight," Ida said, following him with her gaze.

  The knight's simple words had just confirmed his connection to the Great Goddess, and Artaud took heart. He'd made the right decision by accepting Melusine, and the protection of the golden dolphin. Despite the dangers her discovery in ondine shape could bring, the lady might prove a boon for Forez.

  * * *

  The screams of the galloping horses, the dust of the battlefield and the frenzied ardor of the Pagan knights in their party gave Melusine courage. At her side, Artaud fought like a dark demon. She kept him in her line of sight. She couldn't let anything happen to him. She couldn't bear to lose him.

  She'd fought before, but never so many fierce soldiers at one time. The stench of blood and offal, the cries of the wounded, the laments of the dying, all threatened to overwhelm her keen senses.

  Killing went against her very nature, but she had a duty to Forez, to the Goddess, to Artaud. She had sworn to protect this la
nd from the persecutions of the archbishop. Let the invader suffer for their aggression, so freedom and tolerance could reign in Forez.

  Caliburn's blade flashed with blue radiance as she stabbed and whirled with deadly precision. The magic sword strengthened her arm and sliced of its own accord, parrying, inflicting death and injury all around her.

  The knights in her party, inspired by her example, had soon slain scores of foot soldiers. Melusine sensed the presence of the portly archbishop, watching from a neighboring hill. Of course, he would never risk his neck on the battlefield.

  When the enemy cavalry charged, Melusine let the battle frenzy possess her. She did not think but fought. Remaining close to Artaud, she trusted Caliburn to keep them both alive.

  The archbishop's knights, flaunting the lion of Burgundy, yelled blood-curdling battle cries. Yet she wielded the sword effortlessly, like in a dream.

  When a strong enemy knight, bloody from many kills, launched himself upon Artaud's stallion from his blind side, Melusine charged, uncaring whether she lived or died. She forced her mount to rear and paw the air. The knight's palfrey also reared.

  Before the black knight could regain control of his mount, she thrust Caliburn under the hem of his chain mail. The sword found its mark high in the thigh and a torrent of blood sprayed from it. The enemy screamed as he fell, and Artaud turned in his saddle, hand to the helmet in a thanking salute.

  Within less than an hour, the riders of Forez had cleared the battlefield. Melusine and Artaud's riders met the raiding party of Commander Damas in the middle. The enemy lay either dead or wounded. Damas skewered a wounded enemy knight trapped under a dying horse. The few remaining foot soldiers took flight.

  "Finish off the survivors!" Damas ordered in a booming voice.

  Melusine shuddered at such ruthless tactics but refrained from protesting.

  Artaud joined her side. "Thank you for saving my life, lord knight."

  Melusine smiled at such gallantry, grateful no one could see her face. "The Great One needs you alive, Lord Artaud."

  Loud cheers rose from the ramparts. They had won the battle.

  Melusine sensed the presence of the archbishop retreating from his observation hill. Burgundy would not lend him more troops anytime soon. Yet, again, his wounded pride might push the archbishop to foolish actions. Fanatics rarely yielded to reason, and the lure of gold could corrupt even a Prince of the Church.

  Chapter Seven

  Montarcher castle - March 1029

  The library was an island of peace, compared to the rest of the castle. As Artaud stood by the open window, the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen. Down below, carts unloaded wheels of cheese and crates of vegetables for the victory feast. Servants and soldiers laughed and jested in good cheer.

  Artaud gazed down the hill, to the battlefield between the outer ramparts and the thick forest. His men dragged the corpses of enemy soldiers and gathered them into piles. Then they doused the charnels with oil, all the time fending off griffon vultures intent on a good meal.

  Scores of the large vultures, black with a white collar, covered the remains with splayed wings, tearing ferociously at the flesh with sharp beaks. Others sauntered awkwardly from one carcass to the other. Black crows circled high in the sky and screamed, calling more carrion birds to the feast.

  A torch bearer ran through the field, setting each charnel ablaze. He jabbed with the torch at a diving vulture, protecting his head with a raised shield. Thick black smoke rose in wide columns toward the blue sky. Fortunately, the afternoon breeze carried the stench away from the castle, over the dark forest beyond.

  At the rhythmic jingle of armored footsteps on the stone floor, Artaud turned back toward the inside of the library.

  "You sent for me, my lord?" The young knight in the doorway still wore his gold mail and full helmet. A light radiance enveloped him like a veil of light.

  "Close the door." After being kept in the dark for two days, Artaud wanted answers. Even a magic knight must answer to his lord.

  "Burning these Christian soldiers will certainly infuriate the archbishop." The young man sounded amused.

  "I don't give a fig about the archbishop." Artaud indicated a wooden chair facing the table. "Sit."

  The knight lowered himself into the chair as if the chain mail had no weight. His slender form seemed rather androgynous, almost feminine. "According to Christian doctrine, a body reduced to ashes cannot resurrect on judgment day... as if the body matters."

  Artaud swept to the side of the table the rolled parchments with Melusine's designs of future castles. "You believe we are reborn?"

  "I do." Framed by wall shelves holding ancient books, parchments and scrolls, the knight looked perfectly at home here.

  Artaud sat across the table and steepled his fingers. "Now that we are alone, I want to know exactly what happened today and how you made it happen."

  The knight chuckled. "Simple, my lord. We fought and we won the battle."

  Artaud didn't appreciate the brush off. He fixed his gaze on the knight. "What magic trick did you use to neutralize the catapults? And how did you manage to kill so many and remain unscathed?"

  "Magic trick?" The knight sighed and his shoulders dropped. "You believe I am not human."

  "To say the least. Who, or what are you?" Artaud squinted in an effort to see the eyes hidden in the shadows of the helmet slits. "Do you even have a face, or a body under all that gold?"

  "The Great One bestows Her favors in mysterious ways, my lord. Sometimes, ‘tis better not to know."

  Artaud would not let the young man manipulate him so easily. "I've been very patient, lord knight. I allowed your anonymity, and my subjects trust you because they believe I know who you are... but I do not... and I should."

  "Is it not enough that I saved your life today?" The intonation sounded almost familiar.

  "I am grateful for that, but as ruler of this land, I demand to know what I invited into my castle, and what the consequences might be for my people." Artaud's trust in the deities only went so far. "Divine protection always comes at a price. What is yours?"

  A soft chortle shook the golden helmet. "Are you sure you want to know, my lord? You may not like what you learn."

  "Whether I like it or not is irrelevant." Artaud strongly believed truth and knowledge bestowed power.

  "Very well, then. Since you seem determined..." The young knight rose and slowly lifted the full helmet from his head. Long blond hair cascaded over the white surcoat, as golden as the metal links.

  A woman?

  "It's just me." Her chin went up and a mischievous glint touched her limpid river gaze.

  Artaud's heart stopped, then stumbled for a few beats. "Melusine?"

  "Who else, my lord?" She smiled like an angel straight out of a golden book's illuminated page.

  She was so beautiful. By the gods, she could have been killed. The very thought stabbed him like a red hot blade. "Why risk your life? Why the anonymity?"

  She met his stare with calm countenance. "Because, my lord, had I requested to fight, you would have confined me to the keep, like Guilli."

  Artaud bit his lips, recognizing her logic. "I certainly would have. And for good reason."

  She sighed. "You are not my keeper, my lord. If anything, I feel responsible for your safety."

  Did she really care about him that much? Was that why she'd risked her life to save his? He knew she had other motives as well, but seeing her now, as the warrior who fought at his side... did it really matter that she wasn't quite human?

  He yearned to know more about her. "Where did you learn to fight like a demented knight?"

  "I learned many things in my long existence." How the chain mail seemed to flow around her slender frame as she walked. "But I also carry a very special blade."

  Artaud's gaze alighted on the weapon at her hip as she stood by the table. He remembered the legend of Sigefroi of Luxembourg. He, too, carried a special blade, and his
men believed the sword made him invincible. Only when his blade was stolen did he lose a battle.

  Artaud walked around the table toward her, drawn toward the sword. "Is this the legendary Caliburn?"

  "Aye, my lord." Lady Melusine unsheathed the blade and held it up to the light on the flat of both palms. It radiated a faint blue glow. "And if, or when we get wed, Caliburn will become yours, for the rest of our life together."

  "Mine?" The magic blade, like the woman, called to Artaud. Did his soul remember it from a previous life? He caressed the smooth, shiny steel. It exuded gentle heat, like the lady's satiny skin as he imagined it. "So I will be invincible, and you won't have to fight my battles."

  "Aye." Her breath brushed his face. Her mouth did not completely close.

  He didn't want her to fight anymore. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her. What did it matter that she became half fish one day each month? As long as no one ever found out. "Then, perhaps, ‘tis time for me to accept my destiny."

  "It is time, my lord." Her limpid gray eyes beckoned.

  Each word drew him closer. His heart beat like a battle drum. The sword between them barred his advance.

  "Lady Melusine," he whispered between ragged breaths, "May we celebrate our betrothal at the victory feast tonight?"

  "Aye, my lord." She lowered the sword and sheathed it slowly, deliberately. "Tonight's victory feast is the perfect occasion for such an announcement."

  Artaud stepped into her space and braced both hands on the edge of the table, pinning her against it, preventing her escape. Melusine's wide eyes stared up at his face then focused on his lips.

  He encircled her waist and brought her against him, relishing the contact even through her chain mail. He stroked her silky hair. "Are you thinking the same thing I do, my lady?"

  "That we are truly made for each other in every way?" Her arms looped around his neck and her lips curled up at the corners, so close. "I have known it for a while now."