Madelon

by Valentina Luellen

  Madelon's heartbeats quickened at the admiration which blazed out of his eyes. "Urraca has a rival, shafra," he murmured at great length. "You are mad," she said breathlessly. Then, as Raquel Vargas's shrill laughter reached her ears, she said, "Will your friends not be missing you?"

  Valentin laughed, understanding her at once.

  "Are you jealous of poor little Raquel?"

  "I? No, course not." Madelon was glad it was too shadowy for him to see her face or he would have seen she had lied.

  "I see. The emotion doesn't attack you as it does other women then?"

  "I have no reason to be jealous," Madelon retorted.

  "No," Valentin murmured. "Indeed you have not."

  Madelon cast a furtive look over her shoulder, terrified her brother or cousins might re-appear and misinterpret her standing with this Castilian.

  "Don't worry about Paco, he's probably out in the moonlight telling Urraca how wonderful she is," he said and the note of contempt in his voice made her wince. "Forgive me, but I did warn you how it was here and you chose not to believe me."

  "I do now - at least I think you have spoken the truth. Oh! I don't know. Urraca has been so kind and Paco loves her. He couldn't love her if she was as evil as you say."

  "He's only a man, shafra. Come, take your jewels before he comes along to find you. Will you wear them?"

  Madelon nodded and turned around for him to clasp the necklace around her throat. The light caress of his fingers against her neck made shivers of delight run up and down her spine and only with an effort did she stop her thoughts from showing in her expression.

  Almost as if he read her mind, Valentin slipped the ring onto her finger and pressed his lips to the cold stone.

  "If you accept my mother's invitation, you need fear no interruptions," he whispered and his pale eyes glittered as he felt the reaction which ran through the slender fingers he was clasping so possessively. How he longed to be alone with her, to re-awaken passion in her as he had done before, secure in the knowledge no man had touched her before him.

  "Please don't ask me again," Madelon pleaded. "When you know there can never be anything between us, why do you make things so difficult?"

  The catch in her voice told him of the conflict raging inside her. For a moment longer he held her, allowing himself a last, long look at her lovely face before he allowed her to leave him.

  "Very well, for the moment I will respect your wishes, but when the tournament is over, my patience will be at an end. So too, I hope, will your excuses."

  Madelon disengaged herself, growing pale.

  "When the tournament is over, Don Valentin, we will go our separate ways. For a while I thought something other then friendship could have happened between us, but I was being foolish and unrealistic. I can't hurt my brother - I won't. He needs me more than you realize, besides I have personal reasons for not wanting to become involved with you - or any man."

  "Do you really believe you have a choice?" Valentin demanded harshly.

  "Yes. My mind is made up. Please, let us remain friends..."

  "Friends! My God, what a child you are. I suppose this decision to remain uninvolved, as you call it, cutting yourself off from reality, is because of what your father did to you. Rebecca told me of your hatred for him, but I didn't realize it dominated you so completely." He stepped towards her, an angry light blazing out of his eyes. "I don't believe it does. At Yusuf's camp your eyes begged me to take you - to awaken in you what no man has ever achieved - as I did on the battlements, remember, shafra."

  Madelon's body tensed, resisting him as he pulled her against him, knowing if he kissed her she would weaken. He pressed her back against the wall, holding her gently, but quite firmly with the weight of his body. Cupping her face between his hands he kissed her very slowly and with great expertise, intent on drawing a response from her cold lips.

  "Take your filthy hands off my sister, Maratin," a voice thundered behind them.

  Madelon tore herself free from Valentin's embrace with a frightened cry and over his shoulder her eyes met those of her brother. He stood in the doorway leading to the street, his face slowly turning purple with rage. Urraca was beside him. "Go, please," Madelon begged her companion. If Paco had seen her struggling with Valentin he might well lose control of his temper. If he had not, and he thought she was willing, the result could easily be the same. Her fears were confirmed as Paco stepped forward and struck the Castilian in the face with such a savage blow that a trickle of blood began to flow from the corner of the other man's lips. Madelon reeled back against the wall, her eyes dilating. No, dear God, not another fight, she prayed. Now a public challenge had been issued, she could not interfere.

  "You will give me satisfaction," Paco growled. Valentin did not move and the onlookers who were crowding behind Paco, from the street and the banquet hall were surprised to see a smile flit across his pale features. Those in the crowd who were his friends and knew his different moods, were well aware he was most dangerous when he did not lose his temper.

  "Do you think your luck will be any better than the last time?" he drawled contemptuously. "I wouldn't count on your sister's help to stop me again."

  "Are you refusing to fight?" Paco demanded. "Do you hear, Madelon, he's a coward as well as a lover of Moors."

  "No Castilian ever refuses to fight," an angry voice declared from the rear of the banquet hall. A sudden hush fell and people stepped back as Sancho strode through the ranks. At a single glance he took in Madelon and Valentin side by side, faced by the furious Paco. No one needed to tell him what the quarrel was about At the sight of the mark on Valentin's face, he wheeled on his Leonese cousin with an angry bellow. "If you want the blood of one of my men, Montevides, you'll have to wait until the tournament begins. Even then the only blood you'll see will be your own. The two of you will meet in the first encounter, in single combat. Agreed?"

  "I accept with the greatest of pleasure." Valentin said stonily.

  He did not look at Madelon as he spoke, not even when his words brought a dismayed cry to her lips. Paco, on the other hand, could not drag his gaze away from his sister's tortured features. She had met the Castilian again despite all his warnings and now she would see the consequences of her foolhardy action. He had to protect her against herself. Urraca had been right when she said Madelon was too lovely for her own good and needed protection. This time he would protect her. Then, he would consider Urraca's suggestion that she be found a husband.

  "Agreed," he said between set teeth. "No quarter to be asked for or given."

  Sancho threw him an amused glance. Was this challenge supposed to worry Valentin - one of his most skilful fighting men?

  "You really are determined to get yourself killed, aren't you? Very well, no quarter, as you wish. And now perhaps I can return to the food and entertainment. Valentin, join me, it's been a long time since we got drunk together." It was an order, not a request.

  Madelon's eyes filled with tears as Valentin returned to the feasting without so much as a smile for her. Proudly she began to ascend the stairs, ignoring both Paco and Urraca and the few curious spectators who still lingered. Then, halfway she stopped, looked down at her brother. He could see the tears flooding her eyes.

  "I think it is only fair you should know how I feel in this matter, Paco," she said in a calm voice. "If you go ahead with this fight to satisfy your own stupid pride, and Valentin Maratin is harmed, I swear I will never forgive you. Not because I have any feelings for him, but because you have done a terrible injustice to a man who saved not only my life, but yours too."

  She ran the rest of the way to her room and threw herself across the bed sobbing bitterly. Whatever the outcome of the combat, Paco's love for her, if any still remained, could never be the same. She had kept silent, allowing him to believe she had been a willing participant to the scene he had witnessed instead of clearing herself by telling the truth. By morning both Castilians and Leonese would know what had taken pl
ace and she would be the centre of speculation and very unpleasant gossip.

  Rolling over on to her back, she stared out tearfully at the star-laden sky just visible through the window. Was it true everyone had a special star which watched over them during their lifetime? If it was, what compelling force radiating from hers had promoted her to start so forcefully along this new path from which there was no turning back and treacherous pit-falls at every bend? Where it would lead her only providence knew. She suspected her future had already been decided by a force greater than anything on earth.

  The words Valentin had spoken to her as they parted that morning returned to bring momentary comfort.

  "Inshallah. If it is written ..."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The tiny chapel was very quiet and deserted except for the slender-figure kneeling in prayer in one of the benches in the shadows. Madelon had been there since early morning, praying fervently to the richly robed figure of the Virgin standing beside the altar with hands outstretched, waiting to receive those who came to her seeking guidance.

  Madelon was clothed from head to toe in jade green velvet. The brilliant colour not only enhanced her fair colouring, but successfully distracted attention from the dark shadows beneath the blue eyes which lacked their usual lustre. Around her throat was fastened the ruby necklace Yusuf had given her. She wore the pearl ring too, as if in defiance of anything her brother or anyone else would be thinking when she took her place in the spectator's stand for the beginning of the tournament that morning. She had not slept since Paco had savagely struck Valentin Maratin across the face in front of a large audience, and demanded satisfaction. Was he fighting to defend the honour of his name, Madelon wondered, or because of the anger he felt towards his own sister, believing she had deliberately sought the company of the enemy Castilian.

  Madelon had not seen her brother since the incident, except for a brief glimpse of him from the window of her room where she had remained for two long, miserable days, dreading the encounter she would be forced to watch. At first she had thought of pretending to be ill, but the excuse would be such an obvious lie and an added insult to her brother's pride, that she put the thought aside and decided instead to follow her cousin Urraca's example - Boldness - that was what was needed. Boldness in appearance and manner and contempt for the people who thought they were going to look down their noses at her.

  She had prayed for some miracle to happen which would avert the combat between Paco and the man who had saved her life, but none had been forthcoming and she had been forced to accept the fact that the duel would take place and she must watch it

  Accompanied by Diya, who had been a wonderful companion during the two frustrating days, Madelon went out into the streets of Santa Maria de Carrion to visit some of the stalls she had seen on her entry into town. Recognition by Leonese and Castilians alike was unavoidable and after the first moments of embarrassment, caused by their bold stares and whispered comments, had passed, she returned their curious looks with a haughty gaze that made many turn away.

  She took great care to avoid bumping into Rodrigo Diaz or Valentin, both of whom she saw on several occasions. She saw Urraca too, escorted by the usual crowd of courtiers, riding out of the West gate and quickly hurried down a side street to avoid being seen.

  Madelon slowly lifted her head and stared into the serene face of the Virgin, her lips moving in a final, silent prayer. Then she left the chapel and joined Diya who was waiting in the street outside.

  The little Persian girl was no longer dressed in her flimsy clothes with the usual abundance of coins. She had taken a fancy to a bright blue satin robe among her mistress's wardrobe and had been trying it on when Madelon had come in unexpectedly. Far from being annoyed, she had been amazed at the transformation which presented to her, not a sultry slave girl, but a dusky-skinned beauty of surprising elegance, and Diya had been delighted to be told she could keep the dress and purchase more materials if she wished to have other dresses made. She wore her hair in a thick plait secured on the top of her head, but had found the addition of a headdress far too cumbersome and instead, her headpiece if it could be called that, was a gold coin secured by a fine gold chain worn in the midst of her forehead.

  Both Leonese and Castilian courtiers had been preparing to leave for the meadows of Golpejerra when Madelon left for the chapel. She was relieved to find most of them had gone during her absence. Horses were saddled and waiting for them. The stable-lad looking after them helped Madelon to mount and then did the same for Diva, looking at her with more than just a casual interest on his face. She would have to watch her maid, Madelon decided. There was a new appeal about her that would attract men like flies and with her Eastern upbringing, she might not be too hasty in repulsing their advances.

  "Come, Diya," Madelon said firmly and turned her horse about, only to pull it up short as a voice called out:

  "Wait, Madelon, I will ride with you."

  Urraca appeared in the courtyard and immediately the groom brought out a chestnut mare which had been saddled and waiting inside the stables. Mounted, Urraca rode across to join her cousin.

  "Where have you been, I've been looking everywhere for you?"

  "I - I went for a walk."

  "Paco was sure you were hiding somewhere afraid to show your face." Urraca's face broke into an amused smile as she contemplated the calm, superbly dressed girl by her side. "He's a fool, doesn't he know his own sister?"

  "He hasn't had much of a chance, has he?" Madelon said, somehow forcing a smile to her stiff lips. Whatever happened she was determined to not give way to tears or temper.

  "I wasn't sure about you until this moment," Urraca said. "It was foolish of me to think you couldn't take care of yourself. I congratulate you Madelon, you and I think alike. When in doubt, don't hesitate - attack. By the way, Sancho was asking for you. You've made quite a hit with my dear brother and, Valentin Maratin. One moment you pretend to me there is nothing between you and then you are caught in his arms. Poor Madelon, I do understand how difficult it was to resist his charms. I've heard he is a very experienced lover and you are so young. Paco had no choice but to challenge him and it's no more than the wretch deserves. No doubt he took advantage of the gratitude you naturally felt because he saved your life..."

  Madelon, whose cheeks were burning fiercely with embarrassment could stand it no longer and burst out,"He did no such thing. I have no idea what Paco had told you, cousin Urraca, but Don Valentin has not seduced me -or even attempted to do so. I find your suspicions sordid and unfair."

  She had used those same words to Valentin when he had remarked on the affair between Paco and her cousin, she remembered.

  Urraca's eyes gleamed with triumph. How easy it was to trick the little fool into telling her everything she wanted to know. So despite Paco's fears to the contrary, she was still a virgin. Urraca intended to take great pains to ensure she remained that way until she put her own plans into action.

  It seemed as if everyone was turning out to attend the tournament. The streets were filled with people, all heading in the same direction and it was extremely difficult for a rider to break through the heavy throng. Urraca urged her horse on regardless of the people milling around her. Her obvious contempt for the unfortunates who had to leap for their lives to avoid being trampled made Madelon flush with shame and she was glad when they had passed through the outer gate and could make more speed. Ahead of them lay the fields of Golpejerra. Madelon could see the flags fluttering in the breeze and was unable to drag her eyes away. She grew paler as they approached their destination and sat tensely in the saddle. Urraca threw her a searching look and then said in a fierce whisper:

  "You lied to me. You are in love with the Lord of the Eagles. Look at you - near to throwing a faint at the thought of him getting hurt."

  Madelon bit back a sharp retort and lowered her eyes before Urraca's probing gaze.

  "My concern is for Paco, no one else."

  "Nonsense
. The way you sprang to Maratin's defence the other night was quite delightful, my dear, but it gave you away completely," Urraca argued. What a stroke of luck this could turn out to be. Madelon was not only still a virgin, which would be a tempting bait for Gaspar Vivaldes, the man Urraca had chosen as a suitable husband, but the little fool had fallen in love with the Lord of the Eagles. The prospects from such a liaison, suitably nurtured by Urraca herself, were endless. She veiled the delight in her eyes and forced her tone to be reprimanding as she said, "You have brought all this unpleasantness upon yourself, you know. If Paco is hurt you will only have yourself to blame - and I will never forgive you. Personally I hope he kills Maratin, the man annoys me. Whatever the outcome of the combat, I hope you know where your duty lies."

  Madelon dragged her eyes away from the hundreds of flags and pennants and looked at her cousin.

  "Yes, you have made things quite clear to me. Thank you."

  Urraca spurred her horse forward towards the crowd of richly dressed young men who had ridden out to act as her escort. Madelon allowed her horse to fall in behind the laughing, chattering cavalcade which surrounded her cousin the rest of the way to the stands. She was forgotten - and glad of it. Urraca had brought the issue out into the open and unwittingly had forced Madelon to accept the truth at last. Paco was her brother and she loved him, but she loved Valentin Maratin too. Was this strange ache in her heart really love? This longing to run to Valentin and confess what she had been too afraid, too ashamed to say before - to feel his arms crushing her against his chest, and his lips claiming hers, awakening her to all the untold delights her heart and body had never known before.

  The long length of ground where the contestants were to engage each other was flanked at each end by the pavilions of the knights. Suits of armour were being busily polished by squires, horses groomed and practice bouts were in progress between friends. On each side of the lists were the spectators' stands, large enough to seat five deep. The centre seats were covered in velvet cloth and cloth of gold and a canopy over each bore the arms of Sancho, King of Castile and his brother Alfonso, King of Leon.