by Unknown
“What… is that thing you are riding?” she asked, taking out a handkerchief to wipe her cheeks.
“A Breton horse and his name is Tulip!” Catherine exclaimed, sitting proudly on the beast’s broad back.
“I know it’s a horse, and I know it’s Breton, because we’re in Brittany. What I meant to ask was how did he come to be so… so… deformed, the poor creature?”
“’Tis the breed — Breton horse!” Catherine said laughing. She gave Tulip a little nudge with her heels so he would turn his flanks to be side by side with Virginie. “He’s not a mutant, nor ill. He’s just young and loves to gallop, although most of his breed is used for working the fields.”
Virginie’s eyes widened when she saw the size of the animal’s rump, which was just as big as his chest and… the rest of him. Her astonishment grew when she realized that Catherine was bareback and that her thighs were spread wide on each side of the horse’s back. Despite her unusual position, Kalaan’s cousin remained as charismatic as ever.
“Are you coming?” she asked, leaning down holding out her left hand to Virginie, who gasped and took a step back. Her? Virginie? Riding that beast? Just the type of hair brained idea Catherine would have!
“Oh… no, thank you! That is…um... I’m not wearing my riding clothes,” Virginie stammered, trying to hide her fear from Catherine who was watching her with amusement.
She couldn’t admit it to the proud lady buccaneer, but she was terrified of horses and always had been. If normal horses frightened her, then imagine the effect Tulip had on her, Tulip was anything but a normal horse!
With a little legwork from his rider, Tulip moved closer to Virginie, who, a second later found herself lifted into the air. Catherine had leaned over and grabbed her by the waist, placing the young woman, with surprising ease, in front of her on Tulip’s back.
The young marchioness let out a cry of fear and surprise at finding herself so suddenly on the horse’s back. But she soon forgot her fear as she wondered where Catherine’s strength came from. She was as strong as a man, with solid muscles, as Virginie soon discovered gripping her arms as Tulip galloped happily along the paths, his heavy caramel colored mane flying in the wind.
Much to Virginie’s surprise, despite Tulip’s size, he was as graceful and light in his movements as an Arabian and soon, her fear completely evaporated, leaving a sweet feeling of euphoria in its place.
She felt freer than she ever had before. Her hair, now undone and flowing freely down her shoulders, danced in rhythm to the horse’s gallop. Her velvet skirt, lifted by the wind, revealed her boots and white petticoats and sometimes even her legs in their silk stockings, but Virginie did not care in the least. She laughed with Catherine who had a protective arm wrapped around her waist while holding the reins in the other hand. As they rode towards the forest, the two women were one with the elements, entranced by the magnificent green landscape, untouched by the winter.
Catherine soon slowed the horse down, bringing him to a walk and he whinnied in protest.
“This is the first time I’ve been in this part of the isle!” Virginie exclaimed.
Catherine could hear the joy in her voice. They left the walled path and took a track rarely taken if they judged by all the bracken that clung to their legs.
“So, you see? It’s good that you came with me,” Catherine’s silvery voice murmured in her ear.
A shiver ran through Virginie’s body taking her breath away, and she stiffened. The bliss of the moment faded when she began fighting the emotions and contradicting feelings that were resurfacing. What she was feeling was wrong. It felt like she had a physical attraction for… Catherine.
A woman cannot love another in that way! Virginie repeated to herself. Her back stiffened and she sat up straight so as to not touch her friend anymore.
“Is something wrong?” Catherine, noticing Virginie’s change in attitude was worried.
“No, nothing!” Virginie replied, a little too quickly. “Where are we? Where are we going?”
Catherine sighed heavily, but the young marchioness made a point of not turning to look at her. She didn’t want Catherine to see her distress.
“We’ve just left the farm land, and now, at my cousin Kalaan’s request, we are going to inspect the forest. He would like to know if the woods were damaged by the storm.”
“And he sent you?” Virginie was so surprised that she turned her head and looked Catherine in the eyes.
She is so beautiful! Virginie quickly turned back, embarrassed by her inappropriate and unwholesome observation.
“Of course! He knows he can count on me, just as well as with a man.” Catherine laughed out loud.
If only that were the case. If only you were a man, Virginie thought with a sigh. For then at least, she would understand her attraction.
As they neared the edge of the forest, something unexpected caught her eye. It was a row of six miniature sheds with flat roofs.
“Oh! I had no idea there were beehives here!” Virginie exclaimed, delighted. But behind her, she felt Catherine stiffen.
“They were put in when Maden was alive, just after he married Amélie. He loved honey, both because of his sweet tooth and for its benefits. Honey has excellent antiseptic and healing properties. And then there is the wax, which is used to make candles. Maden and Kalaan were the only ones to take care of the bees.”
“And today?”
“Jaouen, the old druid has taken over, with the assistance of villagers who are also interested in beekeeping.”
“Of course, your cousin does not have the time to take care of them anymore.”
“He has other affairs to handle!” Catherine’s retorted in a somewhat aggressive tone.
“Please forgive me. You’ve misunderstood, or perhaps I was simply clumsy,” Virginie said, a little embarrassed. “I only meant that with his business in Paris and his numerous journeys to Egypt, it must be very difficult, even impossible to care for the bees.”
Once more, Catherine sighed heavily, but this time, Virginie thought it was with weariness. She stopped Tulip a hundred feet from the hives.
“I believe Kalaan has turned his back on all this,” Catherine said, waving her hand in direction of the sheds, “Because it reminded him too much of his father. He did the same with the bees as with everyone close to him and even with all the inventions that Amélie, Isabelle, and perhaps even you, brought down from the attic. Keepsakes from happy moments can hurt as well, especially when we want to forget.”
Virginie was surprised at how well Catherine knew her cousin and at the lucidity of her words. She and Kalaan must be as close as brother and sister.
“I seem to remember that he was only fourteen when Maden died. It must have been very difficult for him,” murmured Virginie, thinking of the boy’s grief. “I can understand how he would want to protect himself.”
“Sweet, gentle Virginie,” Catherine said under her breath, shaking her head. “Yes, it’s completely understandable, especially when we know he thinks he was responsible for his father’s death.”
“What?” Virginie, shaken by what she heard, cried out and turned to her friend, startling the horse.
Catherine gracefully slid down Tulip’s side. Then, took Virginie by the waist and carefully put her on the ground. This time, still surprised by what Kalaan’s cousin told her, she didn’t give a second thought to the physical contact they’d just had, or that Catherine had lifted her without any effort, again.
“If I tell you a secret, will you keep to yourself?”
“I give you my word,” Virginie assured her. They were walking slowly, side by side. Catherine, the reins in her hand, was taking them towards a shady path that led into the forest.
Thus, for the second time in his life, Kalaan freed himself of the weight on his shoulders, and told Virginie about the bloody battle that occurred on Ar sorserez, as well as how his father died.
Virginie listened without once interrupting. In her sile
nce she was communing with him and her presence at his side had the effect of a miraculous salve. Although Kalaan felt his pain slowly diminish as he finally accepted to face the darkness of the past, when he finished his sad tale, his crystal voice broke and his eyes filled with tears, which slowly ran down his cheeks.
He jumped when Virginie took his hand in hers, and clasped it warmly. Her splendid gray-blue eyes were not full of pity as he expected; they expressed nothing but the purest tenderness. At that moment, looking into her eyes, Kalaan would have given anything to be a man, to be able to take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.
“It is good that you are so fond of Kalaan. At least he can rely on your presence when he has turned his back on everything else,” Virginie said softly. She was staring into the woods, her eyes probing the undergrowth. She had no idea of her friend’s ardent desire.
She took a small cotton and lace handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve and gave it to Kalaan, smiling, her head tilted to the side. In that position, with her long copper colored hair falling down over her shoulders, she was incredibly alluring.
“Now that I know you a little better, I don’t think you would appreciate me wiping your cheeks. I think I will let you do it yourself, like the big rebellious girl you are.”
Kalaan laughed, then took the handkerchief and hastily dried his tears. Virginie, in a few nonchalant words, managed to bring some joy back into the present moment. She turned away from him again, but this time left her hand in his — he wouldn’t have let her take it back anyway.
Lost in her thoughts, Virginie gazed at the woods and the dead leaves covering the ground beneath the ancient trees with branches reaching for the sky. A little further along the path suddenly turned into a very long puddle of black mud. Tulip whinnied behind them, perhaps, a simple reminder that he was there; then, raising his head, he flared his enormous nostrils and breathed in the humid peaty air of the forest.
Kalaan took the reins lying on the horse’s neck where he’d left them, grabbed the mane and with impressive agility leaped onto Tulip’s back. He reached down, holding out his hand to Virginie, who graced him with a beautiful smile that went straight to his heart, making his blood pump even faster through his veins. She took his hand and he helped her mount again.
The communion between them was perfect, simple and beautiful. Kalaan savored every moment spent with Virginie. She had become as important to him as the very air he breathed and he found himself wishing it would never end.
With a squeeze of his thighs and a nudge of his heels, Kalaan ordered the horse to move forward, which he did, but a little too turbulently. Playful like an overgrown foal, the beast leaped into the air and landed all four hooves in the mud puddle, then, obviously very proud of himself; he started splashing at the mud with his right front leg.
Virginie and Kalaan both cried out in surprise but manage to hold on and stayed on Tulip’s back. They did their best to protect their faces, but it was hopeless and they were soon completely coated in the dark sticky mire. It was everywhere, in everything, on their faces, in their hair and all over their clothes. Virginie’s green velvet skirt was unrecognizable.
Kalaan wiped his eyes and roared with laughter. Virginie was a sight to behold, no longer the perfect image of angelic beauty, but instead, she looked like a mineworker just coming out of the pit. Her face was so covered in mud that all that could be seen were her gray-blue eyes and sparkling white teeth. The young woman didn’t try to hold back her laughter either. Kalaan was in no better condition than her. Thanks to a horse’s whimsy, they were both in a sorry state!
“His name should not be Tulip; Rascal is far more suited to his character!” Virginie managed to exclaim between two fits of laughter.
“We shall rechristen him Rascal, then!” Still laughing, Kalaan prodded the animal, trying to get him to move forward, out of the mud.
And so the beast continued on his way. He seemed to have made up his mind to destroy every single mud puddle in his path. At one point, he bent his legs and acted as if he wanted to roll in the mud, but Kalaan masterfully restrained him and pushed him into a gallop.
A few minutes later they arrived in an immense clearing with a lake in the middle. Virginie cried out in wonder and as soon as the horse stopped, she slid off and ran to the water’s edge.
“How can it be? A lake on an island?”
“It is Lenn Emrodenn, the Emerald Lake in Breton.” Kalaan was completely under the spell of a Virginie, sparkling with joy.
She was dancing graceful and light as a fairy on the grass, barely a yard from the bright green water – hence the name of the lake – and her enthusiasm was contagious. Kalaan wished he could act as freely and spontaneously as his friend and in fact, the thing did just that. He actually started dancing like Virginie. Ridicule be damned! He was in a woman’s body after all; he might as well enjoy it.
Tulip the rascal followed suit and whinnied – no one could say whether he was making fun of them or joining in the fun – trotted passed the two friends who were still horsing around, like children and plowed into the lake splashing them.
“Oh!” screamed Virginie, her hair dripping wet, “It is so cold!”
The young count found her reaction surprising. She wasn’t complaining about the horse, but about the temperature of the water. The woman was unbelievable!
“It’s not salty!” she exclaimed, much to Kalaan’s amusement.
The following minute she was kneeling on the side of the lake, totally ignoring her skirt drenched in the water. Virginie removed her gloves and dipped her cupped hands in the lake. She first rinsed the mud from her face and then, with some hesitation took a sip of the water. Her surprised eyes turned to look at Catherine.
“I assure you!”
“Yes, I know,” Kalaan said laughing, “This water has nothing to do with the sea surrounding us. It comes from the artesian basin below the surface of the isle. In fact there are many wells here on Croz and it is thanks to them, and the rain that we are never short of fresh water.”
“You certainly know the place well,” Virginie said in admiration. Her smile disappeared when she saw that Catherine had a somber expression on her face.
“It is a compliment, you know,” she added in a soft voice, surprised to have brought about such a change in her friend’s mood.
Kalaan was annoyed with himself for reacting in this manner and forced himself to smile again. Yes, he as the count knew everything about the isle — from the pebbled beaches at the bottom of the cliffs to the inlet and its reefs one hundred feet below the broken circle. But the thing didn’t. If she continued to speak like she had been, it might pique Virginie’s curiosity and the marchioness was not lacking in intelligence — quite the opposite in fact.
He looked up at the sky and noticing the sun’s position, exclaimed, “Hurry, we must return to the castle! It is getting late and we will miss dinner!”
“I didn’t see the time go by!” Virginie started to panic a little as well, but she chuckled as she stood up and water poured from her skirt and onto her boots.
It wasn’t long however before she started shivering and her teeth were chattering. She turned her lovely face to look at Kalaan, and he frowned in worry.
“I’m cold…”
“Damn it all!” Kalaan swore under his breath and whistled for Tulip who obeyed, coming out of the lake.
In no time at all the three of them were galloping on the muddy forest track then as they left the woods they turned onto the walled paths where they flew at top speed in direction of the castle.
Kalaan heard Virginie’s voice, over the wind and the sound of the hooves, “Isn’t that Mr. Salam, near that stone house?”
Kalaan glanced quickly in the direction she indicated, beyond the sheep enclosure towards Jaouen’s home.
“Yes, it is!”
Two seconds later, Virginie, surprised, spoke again. “And there, that looks like Isabelle!”
Kalaan’s sister had
indeed followed Salam, but at a distance, and now she was hiding behind a broom bush trying to stay out of sight. Kalaan was fuming. What on earth could that nosy little busybody want? He was going to have a heated discussion with her this evening! But right now he had to get Virginie back to the castle as soon as possible. The poor creature, despite being nestled against him, was shivering from the cold and he didn’t want her to catch a fever.
The minute they arrived at the stables a groom rushed out to help them and take care of the horse. Kalaan immediately shrugged off his three-quarter jacket and placed it around Virginie’s shoulders.
“Your lips are blue,” he growled, pushing her towards the fortress’ entrance.
“Oh! Not again! We are not going to take leave of each other in this way!”
“I beg your pardon?” Kalaan was puzzled and had no idea what she was talking about.
“Yesterday you abandoned me here and strode off pouting. I cannot allow you to do that again! Not after the wonderful time we’ve just had. We are friends now, aren’t we?”
Kalaan smiled at the little fury and ruffled her hair. It was the only way he could touch her, as Catherine that is. If he were himself, he would pick her up in his arms, warming her with his body heat and remove all traces of her irritation with a long languid kiss.
“Virginie, I am only worried for you. You are frozen to the bone and must take a hot bath, immediately!”
“Oh… yes, well... in that case.”
“Off with you now! Unless you would like me to give you your bath?”
Virginie let out little squeak and blushed bright red. Then turning away from Catherine she ran inside and disappeared from sight.
Kalaan began to laugh, but in an instant became serious. At that moment he was Catherine, but on hearing his words Virginie reacted as if he were a man who made an indecent proposition. Why? After all, was it not customary for women to help each other when they bathed? Perhaps not so much in our day, but in the past, he was sure.
The bells of the village church began to toll and the lighthouse horn began to sound the alert too. Kalaan rushed back to his longhouse from where he had a view of the port below. All the racket announced the arrival of an unknown ship.
