“Did you hear that?” Katherina asked, then turned to the candidati. “Children! Come here, please.”
They obeyed and approached as she leaned against the altar stone.
“Hush now for a moment,” she said, then belted out several notes.
They echoed among the stones, magnifying in intensity. Pleased with the results, she improvised a hymn. The echoing stones created a natural harmony, making it sound as if two or three voices sang.
When she finished, the children clapped with glee. Chansonne’s normally impassive face regarded the princess with wide-eyed wonder.
“It’s like a cathedral,” Katherina said, “designed for singing.”
“Much truth in that, I think,” Patrick said, brushing himself off. “It’s a place of worship, a sort of church. Though I believe the echo effect was for drums, if I’m not mistaken. The magnification was to communicate better with the Otherworld.”
“I imagine even Emilie’s voice could be heard without a problem here,” Katherina suggested, eyeing the girl. “Would you care to try? I know your voice is beautiful. It just needs a little help.”
Emilie timidly came forward.
“Now, listen to me, then repeat it,” Katherina said, smiling. “Pretend you’re casting your voice out against the stones as if throwing a pebble.”
Katherina sang a note, and urged Emilie to do the same.
The round-faced girl squeaked out the note, physically projecting her body as if ejecting a pebble from her throat.
Katherina suppressed a smile. “Very good! Now, turn that pebble into a rock, then into a boulder!”
Katherina sang a series of escalating notes.
Emilie did the same, and as each note echoed louder among the stones, her eyes grew larger as did her confidence. Soon she sang the entire song Katherina had tried teaching them the day before.
“Excellent!” Katherina cried when finished.
The candidati clapped again in glee and Emilie grunted with wide-eyed joy.
“Does it work as well for music, I wonder?” Aimeé inquired at Katherina.
“I imagine so,” she replied.
Aimeé held the little cross/flute in her hand and looked at Patrick.
Patrick almost raised a hand to stop her, but nodded his consent.
Aimeé smiled and put the little instrument to her lips. A shrill sound came, forming into a stumbling melody. It did echo among the stone like the singing, but rather than magnify into a symphony, it turned into a discordant clanging of dropped metal instruments. The children put their hands to their ears, the adults grimaced, and this time Patrick did rub his temple.
“Oh, bother!” Aimeé said, lowering the flute in disappointment.
“You’re getting better,” Patrick said through a strained smile.
Aimeé scowled at him. “Perhaps I’d do better if I weren’t distracted by a pickle craving.”
“Pickles?” Geoffrey said, grimacing.
Aimeé scowled at Geoffrey and wandered away.
“She has cravings. It’s a pregnancy thing...” Patrick began to explain, but stopped and narrowed his eyes at Geoffrey. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Oh!” Aimeé exclaimed, staggering back. A hummingbird with a shiny emerald breast and sun-yellow head buzzed in her face.
Next, a storm of dragonflies, hummingbirds, and thrushes flew through the stone ring, drawing a sharp breeze across the grass. They were gone in a blink.
“What was that all about?” Katherina said, watching the flock disappear over the ravine next to the hill.
“I guess they liked Aimeé’s music.” Patrick laughed, but stopped when he noticed Aimeé’s blank stare. “Not funny?”
“It’s just...” Aimeé blinked. “I thought, for just a moment, there was a little person riding the back of the bird.”
Patrick took a turn blinking and he gazed at the little flute in her hand.
“Well, this day is full of wonders, and just getting started,” Katherina declared, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now us womenfolk will go for a swim!” She held up the mystery bundle of cloth and motioned for the women to follow her.
Emilie mumbled something in protest.
“Emilie doesn’t want to go,” Candace translated for her. “She says it is only for the pretty girls.”
“Nonsense,” Katherina insisted. “It’s for all of us girls, regardless of what we look like.”
Emilie’s face screwed up into tears.
“Oh, no, no!” Katherina said in a panic, coming forward to embrace the girl. “That is not what I meant at all!”
Emilie ran from Katherina, hid behind Candace, and could not be convinced to go swimming.
“I better stay with her,” Candace said as she held the sobbing girl. “Once she gets like this, she will cry for hours.” And under her breath, “She’s very sensitive about her appearance. Go on.”
Katherina tried to protest, but Lilliana pulled her away. “One battle at a time. Wait until the storm has passed on that one.”
Reluctantly, Katherina did as the elder woman suggested.
“You ladies sure you don’t want me to come watch over you?” Geoffrey called after them, leering.
The four pairs of glittering daggers that glared back at him suggested his services would not be needed.
“You can, however,” Patrick said, “cross the brook and guard them from the other side of the tree line. Patrol a zone.”
“My pleasure,” Geoffrey stated, and turned to leave.
“Take Candace and Emilie with you,” Patrick added, crossing his arms.
Geoffrey frowned. “Why?”
“Because we need to share the guarding duties,” Patrick explained, “and you’re not leaving me alone with all the children so you can take a nap.”
Geoffrey shrugged. “Very well. The more the merrier.”
When they reached the bottom of the hill, Geoffrey mounted his chestnut destrier. The horse had a flowing white mane that prompted many people to comment that it was “almost as pretty as Sir Geoffrey.” Patrick lifted the children onto the saddle.
“Whistle when the ladies return from their swim,” Geoffrey said. “I’ll return then.”
Patrick nodded, and waved goodbye to Candace and Emilie.
#
On the opposite side of the brook, another swath of green grass separated the wooded ravine and the harvested fields. This grass, however, had not been grazed down by sheep, and its long blades rippled in the breeze.
“This should do. Now off you go,” Geoffrey said, letting the children down.
He dismounted, removed his sword belt, and lay down in the grass, letting his horse roam freely.
“Aren’t you supposed to ‘patrol a zone’ or something?” Candace said, standing over the prone knight with a scowl.
“That is precisely what I’m doing,” Geoffrey said simply with a smile, eyes closed.
“Doesn’t look that way to me,” Candace said, sitting beside him. Emilie flopped down next to her and buried her face against Candace’s shoulder, still sobbing.
“Au contraire, ma cherie,” Geoffrey responded. “The ‘zone’ is not that large. I can see it quite well from this central position and will act accordingly if need arises.”
“But your eyes are closed. You can’t see anything,” Candace returned.
“I can hear just fine, and so can Samson there.”
“Samson?”
“My horse. He is very capable. Have you not noticed he is free to leave, yet faithfully stays near?” Geoffrey’s voice became irritated. After a moment he sat up. “I could hear much better, though, if she would stop with that damnable sobbing.”
The girl’s sobs had turned to hiccups.
“She is sensitive to what people think of her,” Candace explained.
Geoffrey scoffed. “I don’t give one fart in the wind what people think of me, nor should she.”
“That is not true,” Candace replied distantly, looking off in
to the distance as she rocked gently back and forth with Emilie. The gesture slowly soothed the girl to quietness. “You care very much what people think of you. It’s why you act so arrogant. You’re trying to make up for how you feel on the inside.”
“Pardon me?” Geoffrey said, scowling at the girl. “I am no such way. If other people confuse my confidence for arrogance, then that says more about them than about myself, I would think.”
Candace’s eyes glazed over even more as her rocking became rhythmic.
“You’re hurting inside,” she said quietly. “For a very long time now. Your father was an angry man, and your mother liked her drink too much. He used to hit her in front of you when you were little.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened.
“You were so little and helpless to do anything. Your father was a big man, a powerful man, respected by all. You wanted to be just like him, but he hurt your mom.”
“Now listen here!” Geoffrey tried to growl, but it came out more like a mewling calf. “You stop this nonsense immediately!”
Candace flinched some, but continued with her sibylline discourse.
“Your father would tell you it was necessary and she deserved it, and to make matters worse, her drinking and behavior made you think he was right.”
Geoffrey rose to his knees and shook the girl by the shoulders. Emilie got scared and let out a screaming cry.
“I said stop! Do you hear me?” he cried, tears blurring his eyes. His hand was gripped around a brooch on Candace’s cloak, and the pin sank into his palm.
“You’ve been hurting ever since,” she continued. “You hurt so much on the inside and are... conflicted. You loved your mother so much. Now, you don’t know how to act like a proper man, or how to treat women. You make up for it by acting tougher, cleverer than others.”
Geoffrey threw her down, causing her and Emilie to fall as one. Yet the revelation seemed to sap the knight of strength, and he sagged onto his knees.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” His demands turned to requests, then to pleading.
“It’s not your fault,” Candace said after a pause. Her focus started to return, and she sat up. “You were so little. There was nothing you could do.”
Geoffrey slumped to one side, his own eyes glazing over.
“It wasn’t your father’s fault, either. His father hurt him, too. He loved you very much, and so did your mother. They just had a very difficult time showing it.”
A long pause followed, filled only by a breeze whispering through the grass.
“I ran away from home. I abandoned her,” Geoffrey said quietly. “There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t regret that.” Then after a long pause, he added, “I’ve never told anyone that.” His look implored her to keep it a secret.
“It wasn’t your fault. She made her choices too,” Candace said gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Geoffrey felt something tugging at his hand and he looked down to see Emilie pulling it toward her. The brooch had left a long jagged cut on his hand and she bent forward to kiss it.
When her lips left his skin, only smooth skin remained. The wound was healed.
#
During her time on Avalon, Aimeé had never visited this swimming hole. Now that she did, she saw it was lovely; a pool with a rocky shelf, surrounded by overhanging ancient oak trees draped with bright green moss. The pool itself was roughly round, just large enough for proper swimming. A gurgling brook coming from the left fed the pool, feeding first into a mossy punch bowl before spilling into the larger body of water. A slow current rippled over a gravel bank before coalescing into a ribbon of water that wound into the forest.
“Very nice,” Katherina said, surveying the area. She dropped the bundle on the rock. “Well, let’s not waste any time shall we?” she said, kicking off her slippers.
“I haven’t done this in such a long time!” Lilliana said, laughing and kicking off her slippers.
Katherina turned her back to the older woman for help with her dress strings, and then returned the favor when her dress started to slip from her shoulders.
Aimeé bent to do likewise for Chansonne, but the little girl shook her head and moved to where the shelf met the path to play at stacking rocks.
“Well, we anticipated that,” Katherina whispered to Aimeé as she started to unlace the maidservant’s corset and dress strings. “All in good time. Come to the water with us for now.”
Once Katherina reached a point in Aimeé’s unlacing that the French girl could manage herself, she approached the water’s edge and dipped in a toe.
“It’s perfect,” she announced.
With that, she let her white gown slip from her shoulders and slid into the water.
“Oh, my eyes!” Lilliana exclaimed melodramatically next to her, shielding her eyes. “Surely sunlight never reflected so whitely off a bank of Ukranian snow!”
Katherina giggled and reached for Aimeé. “Come on then, don’t be shy.”
Even before her belly had started to show her pregnancy, Aimeé had already been conscientious of her form, especially beside Lady Katherina. Now, Aimeé’s discomfort became all the more palpable as Katherina stood before her in all her lithe, naked grace. Minstrels sang ballads about princesses like her. And Lady Lilliana, who walked like a lioness, made her feel no better. With every step toward the water, she exuded a supreme confidence in her nakedness, as if it were her natural state.
Aimeé ran her calloused hands over her belly and considered staying with Chansonne on the water’s edge, making mud pies. Katherina had other plans and called to her, reminding her she had agreed to help.
As the noblewomen jumped into the water with squeals, she let her corset and dress drop to her big ankles.
She, too, jumped in—plunging into the clear coolness before the women could resurface.
“My, what fun this is!” Katherina said loudly, coming up for air. She directed it at Chansonne, who was at play on the shore. The child did not look her way.
“Yes, how wonderful the water is!” Lilliana added.
Still no response.
Lilliana nudged Aimeé, encouraging her.
“It is splendid,” Aimeé said, unconvincing at first, but then added with more conviction, “I’m so glad I did not miss this! It feels so good!”
Chansonne looked over with only mild curiosity, then returned to making mud pies, most of which splattered over her dress and body more than anything.
Katherina’s lips formed into a determined line. “Time to raise the stakes.”
With her feet just barely touching the bottom of the pool, she swam-hopped back to the shore and undid the bundle she had brought. She removed a white palm-sized item and rejoined the women.
Katherina rubbed the white object against Lilliana’s collarbone, creating a foamy lather. Once a sufficient amount covered the woman’s chest, she turned to Aimeé with the bar of soap and did likewise, then lathered herself up.
At the sound of coordinated shrieks of delight, Chansonne looked over to see the trio of women gleefully splashing in the water, rubbing suds on each other, and chasing chromatic bubbles in the air. The bubbles finally won her full attention.
She dropped her current batch of mud and came to the water’s edge, swiping at the colorful globes. They teased her, floating just out of reach. Though she did not form words, her excited eyes spoke volumes.
When the bubbles winked out of existence against the water’s surface, she jumped up and down in frustration.
Lilliana blew a handful of suds in the opposite direction, further out into the pool, creating more bubbles bobbing in the air.
“Come on,” Katherina urged, waving her forward. “Jump in. The water is wonderful, and we won’t let you drown. The bubbles are waiting for you.”
Chansonne paced on the shore like a caged animal. Aimeé came forward and offered her hand. The girl eyed it skeptically at first, but then took it. Aimeé guided her into the water; dress, doll, and all.
Clutching tightly to the French woman’s arm, her eyes grew wide and her grunts more frantic as the pool grew deeper toward the center. Her feet kicked out, but Aimeé cooed to her, promising safety and bubbles. By the time the trio of water nymphs encircled her, the rabbit’s heart in her chest had calmed and her attention turned to the soap.
The women took turns while one would blow bubbles, and then the other two would lather and massage the child with suds. Chansonne’s smile grew from ear to ear.
“Thank you, Sweetie,” Katherina said. “Do you mind if we do the same for your doll?”
Chansonne smiled her approval and rubbed suds on the doll, too.
Aimeé gasped as she held up a filthy strip of cloth.
“Mon dieu,” she said, eyes wide. “Her dress has just plain fallen apart.”
“I suspected it might,” Katherina said without concern. “You needn’t worry. All a part of the plan.”
Fortunately, the doll fared better and survived the cleaning.
Chansonne, now as naked as the women, didn’t seem to mind one bit. She jumped through the water, chasing bubbles and splash-fighting with a giant smile.
Next Katherina managed to wash Chansonne’s hair, revealing a head of golden silk. “What a treasure you’ve been hiding,” she breathed, tilting her head to one side as she inspected the girl’s mane.
Chansonne had a surprise of her own when she reached up and worked her hands in Aimeé’s hair. She wove the strands into a delicate, complex plait.
“Ah,” Katherina exclaimed, “she can braid, I see.”
Aimeé returned the favor and when finished, Chansonne and she could have been sisters with shoulder-length golden plaits. Aimeé stood straighter, took a step back and admired her handiwork in Chansonne’s hair.
Katherina’s eyes came to rest on Aimeé’s midriff. “Why, Aimeé!” Katherina exclaimed. “You’re showing. I hadn’t noticed. You look so beautiful!”
Aimeé’s body glistened with moisture in the sunlight. Aside from a peppering of freckles and moles, her skin glowed just as young and vibrant as any other woman present, but with honey tones.
“Pardon?” Aimeé asked, covering her belly.
“Yes, it suits you,” Katherina continued. “You are absolutely glowing.”
Ripples in the Chalice: A Tale of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 2) Page 27
