***
"And what made you choose Gaspar Vivaldes as a prospective husband for my sister?" Paco demanded.
He was in Urraca's chamber, watching her being dressed by her maids to attend the tournament that day. They had spent the night together, but he had got drunk at supper after giving the Count of Segovia his consent to the marriage and had fallen asleep before Urraca joined him. She seemed to sense the ugly mood he was in for she had not berated him for the insult to her pride. As Paco sat on the edge of the bed watching her selecting pieces of jewellery to wear, he realized he would not have cared if she had. He refilled the empty goblet in his hand with more of the heady wine he had been consuming the previous evening, ignoring the warning look she sent his way.
Dismissing her attendants, Urraca studied herself for a long moment in a mirror, then remembering that Paco had asked her a question, she turned and looked at him.
"Why Gaspar? Why not? He has fine estates not far from your own, which will ensure Madelon is not lonely, so far from her friends. We shall be able to go and visit them. Of course Gaspar will bring her back to court eventually - when she has learned how to be a good wife."
"I won't have her used, damn you." Urraca was suddenly alarmed at the angry glint which appeared in Paco's eyes. "I admit she needs a strong hand to control her, but she needs kindness and gentleness too. If Vivaldes uses his position as her husband to turn her into a docile pawn for you, I'll kill him - and you."
"Really, Paco, what is the matter with you these days?" Urraca gave a soft laugh and sat beside him, taking the goblet out of his hand and placing it out of reach. "You've had too much of this already. I don't want you passing out on our great day. For heaven's sake, leave Madelon to Gaspar, he'll be good for her. You'll see - in a few months you won't recognize her."
Paco looked into the beautiful face hovering near his, but was no longer seized with a wild desire to kiss those full lips offering themselves, as had been the case so often since the first day he came to know her. Urraca's power over him was fading rapidly. The knowledge gave him no pleasure, only a dull ache in his heart. He would always love her in a way, even though he knew she had never loved him and had used him ruthlessly to serve her own ends, rewarding him with her favours whenever the fancy took her.
"Do you know why I agreed to this marriage?" he asked harshly.
"To stop her providing us with further embarrassing situations, I suppose," Urraca replied, "like the affair with Valentin Maratin. She saw him last night, you know - or should I say early this morning. One of my servants saw her leave her room and followed her to the stables. She remained in there until it was almost light while Maratin's squire and that Persian maid of hers kept watch outside."
Urraca expected anger, but none came. Instead Paco buried his head in his hands with a loud groan. When he looked up again his expression was utterly dejected.
"She must be married soon - before she disgraces the name of Montevides as my mother once did," he muttered fiercely.
"You haven't told me about that little family skeleton," his mistress murmured. She caressed Paco's worried face with long, slender fingers. "What burden do you carry on your shoulders, Paco? I've never seen you so utterly miserable."
Urraca's unexpected sympathy had the right effect. Paco needed a confidant. For fifteen long years he had carried the secret with him in silence, although on more than one occasion since Madelon had left the convent he had been sorely tempted to reveal everything to her.
"When I was nine years old, my grandfather - mother's father died after a long illness. Mother and I had been with him for two months. After the funeral we started out for home again, but we never reached there. We were captured by Moors and sold in a slave market in Toledo to the Sultan of..." he paused, seeing the sudden interest in Urraca's eyes. "It doesn't matter where. My mother was installed in his harem. Very soon I heard she had become his favourite. I was treated with every respect, I must admit, and given private tutors as if I was the Sultan's own son. His servants said he loved her very much and that she - she loved him. I saw very little of her until my father ransomed us and took us home. Madelon was born the following year."
"Fathered by a Moorish sultan?"
"Exactly. She thinks father hated her because she was born a girl, but of course, that isn't true. Every time he looked at her he wanted to kill her because he knew she had been born out of love - not the necessity for an heir, as I was." Paco stared into Urraca's astounded face with a bitter smile. "I once heard my mother tell father if it had not been for me she would never have asked to be freed. He never forgave her and when she died he turned all his hate and anger on to Madelon."
"You are afraid Madelon is as worthless as your mother, aren't you?" Urraca asked softly. "From the way she has acted with Maratin, I think you may be right. Paco - I've just thought - is this what caused the rift between your family and Sancho? Does he know?"
Paco nodded, his mouth tightening.
"He and my mother were very close. He was with her when she died. No one else, not even I was allowed in her room - only Sancho. God only knows what lies she told to condone her wanton behaviour and the consequent birth of a love-child, but from that day, he and I have been as strangers." In a harsh tone he added, "The sooner Madelon is married, the better. I fear Sancho will rescind the marriage order if he comes to the throne."
"Then you have nothing to worry about. Tonight you and I will be celebrating my brother's accession to the throne of Castile. Once that has happened we can deal with the Lord of the Eagles and that upstart friend of his, the Cid."
"You sound very confident," Paco said, looking at her with suspicion.
"While you were sleeping off your over-indulgence, I was busy assuring victory for us today," his mistress returned, her eyes flashing proudly. "Unfortunately I couldn't deal with one knight, a Castilian called Altamiras; he dined with Maratin and Sancho last night, but the other two were well take care of by two of the most experienced courtesans in town."
"How well taken care of? Dead?"
"And have Sancho accuse us of murder? I am not a fool, Paco. The courtesans were well paid to wine and dine the knights and to ensure they slipped a certain drug I gave them into their drinks. Somehow I don't think the Castilians will base much heart for fighting today. The drug affects the mind. They will be like sleepwalkers."
"Sancho will suspect foul play, he is no fool either. What if he questions the women."
"He will never find them."
Paco's lips curled in disgust. That could mean they had either left town under cover of darkness, or they were dead. He gave little thought to any harm which might have befallen two women of fortune, but the drugging of the Castilians left a sickly taste in his mouth. He had lost his encounter with Valentin Maratin, but at least it had been a fair fight, which he might have won if he had not been so full of anger. Abruptly he rose to his feet.
"I am going to change and then visit Madelon. I think I will go with her today."
Urraca's expression registered displeasure. "I expect you to accompany me," she said stiffly.
"Do you begrudge me spending a few hours in the company of another woman - even my sister?"
"Last night you could not stand the sight of her."
A flicker of pain crossed Paco's face at the thought of Madelon standing before him in her sombre black dress. What a marvellously bold gesture that had been. She had the beauty of their mother and the temperament of the Moor who had fathered her. He doubted if Gaspar Vivaldes would ever tame her and he was beginning to regret the angry impulse which had made him agree to Urraca's proposals. If only there was another way, but there wasn't. If the Count of Segovia did not marry her and take her away from the court and the influence of Valentin Maratin, she would probably elope with her lover. God only knew what kind of a life she would have to endure with that man, who delighted in taking Moorish women as his mistresses and treating heathen infidels as his friends, Paco thought sourly. Proba
bly most of her time would be spent in the camp of Yusuf, in the company of the Jewish doctor, Abraham ben Canaan and in a few years, that way of life would become more natural to her than anything else; just as it had for their mother. The comparison was enough to harden Paco's heart again.
"In the short time Madelon has left to her, she will have need of me," he returned, moving towards the door. "I will join you tonight for our victory celebrations."
"I want Gaspar to escort Madelon," Urraca said, a faint hint of colour rising in her cheeks. "It's time she accepted the fact she is to be his wife and today is as good a time as any to begin. You can tell her and then come back to me."
"No." Paco's voice was quiet, but firm. "Thanks mainly to you and me, Madelon has been the subject of speculation since the first day I brought her to court. Despite her behaviour, she is still my sister and my presence with her today will put an end to the gossip tor it will show she has not only agreed to marry the Count of Segovia, but that we have been reconciled."
"You fool!" Urraca was beside herself with rage and having great difficulty in containing it. The last thing she wanted was to have Paco and his sister reunited. It could spell disaster for her plans, especially the difficult way Paco was acting of late. Crossing to his side she put her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. There was no reaction and she drew back, veiling the fear in her eyes.
"We mustn't quarrel, Paco. Not now victory is so near. If I was the jealous type I might begin to think I was losing my attraction - preferring the company of your sister to mine."
Paco reached up and drew her arms away. He was shocked at the way her kiss had affected him. It was like being touched by Death - and he felt inexplicably cold and could barely suppress a shudder. Urraca saw an unfamiliar gleam enter his eyes and the suspicion that she was fast losing her hold on him grew stronger.
"Never force the choice on me, Urraca," he said, in a low, fierce whisper.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Tomorrow, you and I will be on our way to church." Madelon remembered Valentin's confident words as she sat beside her brother watching the last combat. It proved to be more bloody than the two which had gone before and ended in victory for the Leonese knight. She sat stunned, deafened by the enthusiastic cheering going on all around her. Three wins for Alfonso's knights. It was unbelievable. Young Cristobal de Altamiras had been the only man to put up any semblance of a fight. He had been wounded while engaging his opponent with a battle-axe and carried unconscious from the field. Madelon had watched sympathetically as Teresa had run to his pavilion. Now she realized how lucky he had been. He had lost, but at least he was still alive. Both the other Castilians had been killed in ghastly spectacles that brought roars of approval from the Leonese court. So much for her dreams of a life with Valentin, Madelon thought sadly. Now Alfonso's knights were supreme champions, Sancho must concede defeat and go into voluntary exile. His favourite knights, Rodrigo and Valentin among them, would probably be sent into exile, or ... and she inwardly shuddered to think of the alternative - flung into a dungeon and forgotten.
"Are you all right?"
She found Paco's brown eyes on her and nodded weakly.
"I should be glad we have won because it means you are safe, but it was so horrible. Those poor men didn't stand a chance."
"No, they didn't, thanks to Urraca. They were drugged," Paco answered grimly.
Madelon looked at him in horror. Urraca again! Was her cousin to wreak havoc on her life forever? Her brother's expression softened slightly as he stared into her pale race.
"Would you really care if anything happened to me? After the misunderstandings we've had, I mean."
"Of course. You are my brother and I will always love you. We were dose once - it is not your fault our lives are not our own."
Paco flushed and quickly looked away.
"When you are happily married, you will forget the unpleasantries," he muttered.
"Come now, Paco, at least let us be honest with one another. I love Valentin Maratin, nothing, not even my marriage to another man will change that." Madelon said tremulously. "In your eyes I have committed a terrible sin and perhaps you may never forgive me, but I must tell you how it is between Valentin and myself. No, I will not be put off," she added quickly as Paco opened his mouth as if to silence her. "I am not his mistress despite your fears. Valentin has always acted honourably towards me and he loves me. Yes, he does, he told me so last night. I met him. It was not planned and he did not make love to me, even though I wanted him to. For the first time he told me of his love and of his wish to make me his wife. Had cousin Sancho been the victor here today I should have gone with him and been wed to him before nightfall." She shrugged her slim shoulders and a sad smile touched her lips as she gazed across to the pavilions of the Castilians and the group of people advancing towards them. "Sancho comes to concede defeat. He has my sympathy, Urraca and Alfonso will crow over this moment for years to come. I am returning to my apartments. Are you coming?"
"In a while. I suggest you spend some time in choosing a more suitable gown to wear tonight. The Count of Segovia expects you to be his supper companion," Paco said, with a warning glance. Her revelations seemed neither to have angered nor surprised him and she wondered why. In the past it had only taken the mention of Valentin's name to make him fly into a rage.
Madelon turned away without answering, but at the edge of the steps leading from the stands down to the; grass, she paused to glance back at her cousin Sancho. He stood before his enemies wearing a most contemptuous smile on his face. She had known he would not ask for mercy, he was too proud, but she was amazed at the indifference with which he accepted his defeat. Valentin and Rodrigo who stood beside him, their faces closed against the anger in their hearts, both had their hands on the hilts of their swords. Their eyes scanned the sneering expressions before them and Madelon knew they need no excuse to start the warfare all over again.
Despite a muttered protest from Rodrigo, Sancho stepped up to the dais where his brother and sister sat enjoying their moment of triumph, withdrew his sword and set it down before them.
"Victory is yours - for the moment, my brother. What are your plans for me now? A dark little dungeon somewhere, or a knife in the back from an assassin as I leave?"
"The air in the mountains of Leon is very invigorating," Urraca snapped. How she hated the srniHng, handsome man before her, so full of confidence even in defeat. Alfonso had always been weak, perhaps that was why she had taken his side so long ago when the quarrelling first began. She was strong, like Sancho, and clever too. The power Alfonso had secured today would never really be his, but hers. She could never sit on the thrones of Leon and Castile, but she would be the power behind them and in a way that would be far more satisfactory. She was amazed when the contemptuous expression on Sancho's face grew.
"Don't tell me I am to be incarcerated with young Garcia? Heaven forbid, Urraca, at least use your imagination. I'm sure you can come up with something really unpleasant if you try."
"You will be delivered into the hands of my Sergeant-at-Arms and escorted to Santa Maria de Carrion where you will be confined until I have decided what to do with you," Alfonso retorted, objecting to the way the conversation was flowing over his head. "Your retinue will disarm, only then may they accompany you. All other Castilians will encamp outside the town walls and remain there, under guard. I think it necessary to add a strong warning. Any attempt by anyone to leave the town without permission, to communicate with Castilians outside the walls, or with you will result in your immediate death."
"Do we have your word nothing will happen to our king while he is in your custody?" Rodrigo demanded in an insolent tone.
Alfonso glared at him balefully.
"My word is my bond, Rodrigo de Vivar, you will do well to remember it in the future, or you may not have one."
Rodrigo muttered an oath under his breath. Both he and Valentin stepped forward simultaneously as if it was their i
ntention to cut down the upstart king before them. One of Sancho's hands fastened on each of the arms nearest to him. He was no puny being and his grip was strong enough to halt both men in their tracks. He spoke in a quiet tone, too low to reach beyond his companions.
"Gently, my impetuous friends. Rodrigo, let go of your sword, man, I have need of you alive. And you, Valentin, do you want to be cut down before the eyes of the woman you love?"
Valentin's pale eyes held his for a moment, surprised, angry, rebellious, then slowly they singled out the slender figure standing by the steps and his fingers slid slowly away from his sword.
"They mean to kill you," he muttered.
"I know, but we are prepared for it, are we not? Use your time and your talents to find out from my little cousin, how the outcome here today came to be in favour of Alfonso,"
"She may not know. If she doesn't, she'll find out for me," Valentin promised.
***
Madelon spent some time shopping at the many stalls just inside the walls of Santa Maria de Carrion. She bought several lengths of beautiful green velvet and some yellow silk, matching the colours with dyed fur and dainty leather shoes with silver trirnmings. She did not know how long the court would remain in the town. Whether it was a day or a week, she was in desperate need of new clothes.
Many spectators were beginning to drift back from the fields of Golpejerra as she made her way towards her apartments and the streets were once more packed to capacity. Looking into the faces milling past her she realized they did not all look overjoyed by the outcome of the tournament. There would be celebrating tonight for some, but in other quarters such pleasures would have to wait until Sancho was free again.
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