Madelon

by Valentina Luellen

"Come, cousin, kiss me," she said with a soft laugh and enfolded the amazed girl in her arms. Strong perfumes invaded Madelon's nostrils as she obeyed and pecked dutifully at Urraca's cheeks. "I vow you'd do better than that with a handsome man," Urraca murmured stepping back. "We shall have to find you one and see, won't we? My poor girl, you look exhausted. Why didn't Paco take you straight to your apartments?"

  Madelon looked almost desperately at her brother.

  "I thought it best to come directly here, to present my sister to her benefactress," he said somewhat stiffly.

  "And subject her to the pathetic witticisms of my brother's courtiers? Look at her, for God's sake, she looks more like a peasant girl than a Montevides. Where are all the gowns she was to have had made?"

  "They were stolen," Madelon broke in before Paco had time to answer. "We were almost captured by Moors. My clothes were lost and my ladies-in-waiting taken prisoner and Paco was hurt..."

  Urraca's dark eyes swiftly scanned Paco's unsmiling face, silently questioning him.

  "I am quite recovered," he murmured. "It was only a scratch."

  Madelon opened her mouth to dispute the bare-faced lie, but something in his expression stopped her.

  "I want to hear this story in full," Urraca said to Madelon. "Come with me."

  Under the eyes of the astonished courtiers who fell back to allow her through, Urraca took Madelon by the hand and led her from the room. Behind them Madelon could hear Alfonso laughing, but she did not understand why.

  Diya fell into step behind her mistress as they began to ascend a long, wide staircase to the upper part of the house.

  "Who are you?" Urraca stopped and stared at the Persian girl in her dark-coloured burnous.

  "My maid, Diya, she is invaluable to me," Madelon said quickly for fear her cousin was disturbed by the sight of the Moorish girl and might decide to find her a Christian maid instead.

  "We'll see the truth of that statement when she has dressed you tonight," Urraca said, moving on.

  She led Madelon to a room overlooking the street where merchants were shouting and bartering with customers. Her lips curled in digust as she looked down at them, then turning to Madelon who stood looking rather lost in the middle of the room, she studied her intently.

  "What do you say to a bath?"

  "Yes, please," Madelon replied enthusiastically.

  "Good, I'll have one brought up for you and you can tell me all about this narrow escape you've had. I want to know everything, mark you. I have a tidy mind which doesn't like loose ends."

  "You may not like all of it," Madelon said, wondering how her cousin would react to the news that her brother's enemies had been involved.

  "Let me be the judge of that."

  Madelon began her story. Seated on the edge of the bed, Urraca listened with half-closed eyes. Not once did she interrupt, not even when Madelon mentioned Valentin or Rodrigo Diaz or the fact she had been a guest of a Moorish prince.

  A huge copper tub arrived and was filled to the brim with hot and cold water alternately, brought by a bevy of servants who moved in and out of the room so swiftly that Madelon's head began to ache from watching them. A gleam entered Urraca's eyes as Diya disrobed her mistress and helped her into the tub, but she made no comment and continued to listen intently until Madelon had finished talking.

  "So you've taken the eye of the Lord of the Eagles, have you? What do you think of him?"

  "I'm not sure," Madelon lied, with wildly beating heart. "He is a strange man. You are mistaken in thinking he found me interesting - he saved my life - but..."

  "But he didn't tumble you?" Urraca laughed. "It wasn't for lack of trying on his part. I'll warrant. Stand up - let me look at you. I want to see which of my gowns will best suit that fair colouring. Tonight you will show those twittering idiots who were stupid enough to laugh at you, that you are not only a Montevides, but the most desirable woman at court - after me, that is. Come now, don't be shy. Did you hide behind a towel when Maratin was around?"

  Blushing fiercely Madelon allowed the towel to fall away from her. Still dripping wet she stood in front of Urraca. Admiration crept into the woman's eyes as they wandered over the pure white body and the slender legs. The gently curving hips and upwards to the tiny waist and the perfectly rounded breasts.

  In a low fierce whisper, Diya muttered something about her mistress catching cold and flung the towel around her again. Urraca hardly noticed. She had satisfied herself as to Madelon's usefulness. With or without Paco's help, she would become a talented spy, especially now that she had associations in the enemy camp. Once she had tasted the delights of love, the pleasure her body could bring a man and the satisfaction she herself would receive, she might even become Urraca's right hand. Her first lover would have to be picked with great care. She would need not only a man of experience, but one who possessed enough patience to lead her gently into the first affair and not be so overwhelmed by her beauty he would think only of his own satisfaction.

  Urraca smiled at Madelon and rose to her feet. She knew the ideal man. She might even arrange for him to marry Madelon, whose dowry she knew consisted of her mother's lands near Salamanca and a vast amount of money. With that in her hands and a husband ruthless enough to bend Madelon to his will should it become necessary, she would be well pleased.

  "I have just the right gown for you," she said. "It will be sent to you with whatever eke you require. Tomorrow we must think about what you will wear for the tournament."

  "I have a few clothes. I'm sure I will be able to find something suitable," Madelon protested.

  "Very well." Wisely Urraca did not press the younger girl. There would be time for that once she had been at court a few days. After the tournament was over and her beloved brother was king of both Leon and Castile, she would give her innocent little cousin her full attention.

  At the door she turned suddenly.

  "I want to ask a favour of you, my dear."

  "Anything." Madelon could have bitten off her tongue for answering so quickly.

  "How sweet you are. It's a very small favour really. Tonight I want you to make peace with your cousin Sancho on Paco's behalf. Your brother is far too stubborn for his own good, lately he has become even worse and he flatly refuses to make the first move."

  "And you think I should?"

  "Sancho is your cousin and he has an eye for a pretty face. One look at you and he'll forget what the quarrel was all about. Do you know, by the way?"

  Madelon shook her head. The rift had happened while she was away from home and Paco had never spoken of it.

  "Paco may not want me to interfere."

  "Think about it, my dear. Better to make peace with Sancho now - before the tournament. If his knights should win, God forbid, it will be too late. Paco holds a very special place in my heart. Do it for me, if not for him," Urraca said, bestowing on Madelon one of her most captivating smiles.

  Completely taken in Madelon nodded. When it was put to her that way, what harm was there? Later on however, when she had rested, she began to wonder if there was not an ulterior motive to Urraca's "little favour"? Had her agreement not placed her just that little bit under her cousin's thumb, exactly where Valentin had said she would be as soon as they met?

  Valentin! What would his reaction be when she presented herself before Sancho and asked for her brother to be reinstated in the king's favour? They had parted as friends; was this to part them again and evoke his old suspicions about her?

  CHAPTER TEN

  As soon as it began to get dark, the streets became filled with people. Madelon sat watching them from her window, her chin resting on her hands. On the bed behind her lay the dress Urraca had sent her to wear that evening. It was of flame-coloured silk, the bodice sewn with hundreds of tiny pearls. Madelon did not like the colour and would have preferred something softer, but she dared not offend her cousin by refusing to wear it.

  Diya too voiced her dislike of the dress as she helped her mistress in
to it.

  "It makes you look too pale," she protested, "and as for that neckline..."

  Madelon gazed down at the neckline which was cut low across her breasts, revealing more of them than she had ever allowed before.

  "It's the fashion, Diya, don't make such a fuss. Until we can go out and buy more material ourselves, this will have to do."

  She slipped her feet into the red leather shoes which had arrived with the dress, but deigned not to wear the items of jewellery Urraca had sent because she did not like the settings. How she wished she still had her ruby necklace.

  Diya pulled her hair back into a severe line from her face, covered it with a dainty coif of the same material as the dress and brushed the loose tresses down over Madelon's shoulders. The simplicity of styling enhanced Madelon's delicate bone structure and made sure all eyes would be envying the golden hair cascading from beneath the coif. Sounds of great revelry reached Madelon's ears as she descended the stairs and stood hesitating outside the hall where the feast was taking place. Through the half-open door beside which stood two stone-faced servants in richly embroidered livery, she could see most of the people inside. On the left were the King of Castile and his entourage - opposite, the King of Leon and his. Madelon saw Urraca seated on the right-hand of Alfonso, surrounded by the usual bevy of fawning courtiers. She was dressed completely in black, the severity of the colour broken only by a dazzling diamond necklace at her throat. No one else was dressed so boldly, except Madelon herself, and she began to wonder if the comparison was deliberate.

  Her eyes were drawn to the dais where Sancho of Castile sat, deep in conversation with Rodrigo, in the place of honour beside him. A little further down the table sat Valentin. But who was the lovely girl at his side, leaning close against him to whisper intimately in his ear? Madelon grew cold with the realization this was Raquel Vargas, his ward. From the way she was laughing and holding his hands, it appeared they were not as estranged as Teresa had wanted her to believe.

  Dragging her eyes away, she glanced along the faces until she recognized Teresa, looking exquisite in pink satin, seated beside Cristobal de Altamiras and she inwardly sighed at the look of adoration on the girl's face. Would she ever worship a man with such blind adoration? If there were no obstacles to overcome and she was in Valentin's arms again, would it be the same? Could he rouse her to the same heights of passion, or would she discover the thrill had gone forever? What was love? How would she know when she loved a man - if she ever did?

  A soft step on the stairs made her turn. Paco stood for a moment in silent admiration, then came forward and kissed her on both cheeks.

  "Madelon, you look lovely."

  "You don't think this dress is too bold?" she asked.

  "Not at all. You will have the eyes of every man in the room following you wherever you go. Urraca has superb taste."

  Of course, he likes it because it had been chosen by his mistress, Madelon thought and was surprised to find she was angry. Surely she couldn't be jealous of her cousin's liaison with her brother? Was this how Paco had felt when he caught her with Captain Rodriguez and Valentin? Now she could understand a little better.

  With a bright smile she laid her hand on Paco's arm.

  "Are we friends again?"

  "How can I be angry with you when you look so delightful. Alfonso was quite taken by you - and as for Urraca ..." He had spent the last few hours in the arms of his mistress, listening to her compliments on Madelon's beauty and manners and of the perfect way she had conducted herself while with their enemies. Madelon had been unable to convince him her friendship with Valentin Maratin was innocent, but Urraca had succeeded.

  "Yes, Paco, what kind of impression did I make on cousin Urraca?"

  Her brother stared at her, aware of an oddness in her tone, but she was still smiling and he dismissed it as imagination on his part.

  "Once you have had a chance to settle to court life, she's talking of making you one of her companions. It's an honour she doesn't bestow on many people. She has only two companions at the moment, both middle-aged and from very important families."

  "Does it mean I shall be staying at court with you?" Madelon stammered.

  "Yes, isn't it marvellous?"

  His sister nodded, not daring to speak. Paco's face glowed with such enthusiasm, she did not have the heart to tell him she did not want to remain.

  Unaware of the gloomy cloud he had cast over his sister's head he escorted her into the banqueting hall. Madelon was aware of the excited whispers coursing around the room as she walked and of the many eyes which fastened on her.

  Before leading her up to the dais where Alfonso and Urraca sat, Paco brought her before the long table where Sancho sat still talking with Rodrigo Diaz and bowed respectfully. Madelon made a low curtsey.

  Sancho glanced at them briefly and signalled with a wave of his hand for them to go to their places. Madelon saw the momentary scowl on his face as he recognized Paco's downbent head. Flushing at the deliberate snub, for Sancho had been receiving guests all evening with a smile and a few words of greeting, her brother straightened and joined Urraca. Not until he had seated himself did he realize his sister had remained where she was in a determined effort to force Sancho to acknowledge her.

  Rodrigo touched the arm of his king and whispered to him. The King of Castile turned and looked down at the woman in red who had ignored his dismissal. He was a broad-shouldered man who wore his royal ermine trimmed robes with an air of great authority. His hair and eyes were as black as his sister's and his handsome face as dark as any Moor. Only the faint shadow of grey at his temples betrayed he was older than his youthful countenance implied. "By Santiago, what have we here?" he demanded. Deliberately he allowed his bold gaze to linger on the exposed part of Madelon's breasts until the colour surged into her cheeks and then he lifted his eyes to her face with a satisfied smile. That would teach the impudent minx a lesson. She looked too much like her mother for him not to have recognized her, but Paco's presence had made him refuse her his recognition. Her stubbornness both surprised and pleased him. So, despite the whipping she had endured and the years of convent life, she still had a will of her own. Valentin had only briefly mentioned her. It had been Rodrigo who filled in the details and Sancho had been annoyed that one of his best knights had fallen into the trap of a woman's smile - and a smile from a Montevides at that!

  But now he had had seen her, he forgave the Lord of the Eagles. Valentin was taken aback when Sancho looked down the length of the table at him, his face wreathed in smiles.

  Was this a sign of approval, he wondered, or was the crafty fox already weighing up the advantages of having an ally in the enemy camp?

  Drawing herself upright, Madelon stared challengingly into her cousin's dark eyes. The light from the wall torches caught the brilliant colour of her gown and to the silent onlookers she looked like a golden angel surrounded by fire.

  "Have I altered so drastically that my gracious lord does not recognize his cousin?" she asked sweetly.

  Sancho's mouth quirked sardonically.

  "You are the image of your mother in looks, but I'll wager you didn't inherit the sting to your tongue from one so sweet and gentle as she was. You have been too long with pious old women. Come, cousin, sit beside me," he motioned to the empty chair on his left. "Perhaps I can find atopic of conversation to make you feel more friendly towards me. If I cannot, I know of someone who can."

  It was a royal command and Madelon dared not disobey. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the look of astonishment on Paco's face. Urraca, who had not taken her eyes off the figure in red since she entered the room, was smiling and Madelon realized she was thinking this had all been deliberate to get a chance to talk to Sancho. As if in a dream she mounted the dais and seated herself beside her cousin. She was the chief topic of conversation for the remainder of the evening. The atmosphere, although outwardly cordial, gave Madelon the impression it was false, and she was relieved when Alfonso deci
ded to leave the banquet early for that meant she would be able to leave too. Sancho had talked to her often, but she noticed how trivial his chatter was, as if he did not want to be drawn into any lengthy conversations. It was a sign that she wis not wholly in favour yet despite her sitting beside him and she wisely did not press her brother's case. Further down the table Valentin and his ward had been enjoying themselves with great gusto. The girl's high-pitched laugh often reached Madelon's ears and had successfully ruined her appetite.

  "Will you not remain with us a while longer, cousin?"

  Sancho asked when Madelon asked to be excused. "No? A pity, run along then, your watch-dog is waiting."

  Madelon thought he was referring to her brother, but as she reached the door of the banqueting room, Urraca was beside her.

  "Congratulations, my dear, you have Sancho in the palm of your hand."

  "I wouldn't exactly say that," Madelon protested.

  "Did you speak to him, about Paco, I mean?"

  "No, I didn't think the time was right. If he is as courteous to me tomorrow, I will try then."

  "How wise I was to leave the matter in your hands. Come and see me tomorrow. I have something I want to discuss with you."

  Urraca was gone before Madelon could reply. She stood alone in the doorway feeling as if she had been used to take part in a cheap facade. Life at court was so different to what it had been three years ago, or had she merely been seeing everything through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old girl - a starry-eyed girl at that? Tomorrow she would definitely speak to Sancho, she decided. If Paco was returned to favour, he might be grateful enough to allow her to go home. The desolate castle near Salamanca had suddenly become very inviting.

  "Are you waiting for anyone in particular?" Valentin's drawling voice caused her to start violently. He emerged from the shadows beside her and in his outstretched hands she saw the ruby necklace and pearl ring Yusuf had given her. He had been carrying them with him all evening, waiting and hoping she would make an early appearance which would enable him to return them before too many curious eyes were around. "I come bearing gifts as a peace offering for ignoring you all evening. It would not have been wise to have acknowledged you," he added.