by Speer, Flora
Just before noon Michel and Guntram along with Savarec’s secretary and chaplain all stepped to the bare wooden table set at the far end of the garden. Upon the table the secretary placed the parchment copies of the marriage contract and then stood back, waiting.
Guntram, who was to act as Michel’s witness, wore his best dark green woolen tunic and had his black beard and hair newly cut. For this occasion Michel wore again the blue silk tunic that Redmond had lent to him at Duren and then insisted he keep.
There were only about twenty-five or thirty guests. The commander of Koln, his wife, and son, along with a few important officials had come across the Rhine on the ferry. Savarec’s chief officers, three or four distant cousins with their families, and Danise’s aunt on her mother’s side, made up the guest list. The subject of their concentrated interest, Michel waited in nervous expectation until the door at the far end of the garden opened to admit Sister Gertrude and Clothilde, who moved forward to take their places among the guests who stood awaiting the bride.
Savarec came into the garden through the same door, his portly figure clothed in a dark red tunic, his short green cloak thrown back to reveal the gold chain and medallion that marked his office of fort commander. Michel spared his future father-in-law only the quickest of glances, for Danise appeared and took her father’s arm and Michel could see nothing else but the woman he loved.
She wore a new gown for the occasion, made of thinly woven cream wool, decorated at neck and sleeve edges with narrow bands of embroidery in Danise’s favorite bright green. Her hair was loose, brushed until it shone, and rippled as she moved. Her jewelry was simple, just a gold bracelet on each wrist. To Michel she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She never took her eyes away from his. She came toward him on Savarec’s arm, her face glowing with happiness, her lips softly parted.
Michel would make other vows in a few minutes, spoken before the witnesses gathered in the garden and made legal by his signature on the parchment of their marriage contract, but in the instant when Danise put her hand in his and moved to stand beside him facing the priest and secretary, Michel made the sincerest vow of all, silently swearing to his Maker and to Danise that he would love her forever and protect her to the end of his life.
They looked only at each other while the contract was read. It was little different from their betrothal contract, only the clause citing their agreement to wed within one year being eliminated. When the secretary was done, Danise and Michel knelt with clasped hands to receive the chaplain’s blessing.
Michel was allowed to kiss her then, and he did so lightly and quickly, still holding her hand, just bending his face down to hers. He did not dare to embrace her. So strong was the love he felt for her, so deep his gratitude that she had consented to be his, that he knew if he put his arms around her then, he would not be able to let her go until he had embarrassed both of them as well as Savarec and all his guests with brazen evidence of the passion and tenderness he was experiencing.
For Danise, from the instant when she entered the garden Michel’s eyes were magical lodestars, drawing her to him. The touch of his hand sent a surge of heat through the veins of her arm and up to her heart. Every hope or dream she had ever cherished was centered now in Michel. She understood the chaste kiss he bestowed on her at the close of the ceremony. If he had put his arms around her at that moment she knew she could not have separated from him when the kiss was ended.
He had to release her hand so she could sign the contract, but by then it did not matter. By then they were bound together in heart and spirit and she knew they could never be parted. Later, in private, they would become one body, but Danise knew that however exquisite the delights of physical passion, the love between herself and Michel transcended the constraints of his time or her own, for had he not been sent to her so that they could love and be together?
Danise moved serenely through all the congratulations and the feast that lasted until late afternoon. When the clouds closed in again and rain threatened once more, she went with her father and Michel to the fortress gate to wave farewell to those guests who wanted to return to Koln while it was still dry. The rest of the guests remained congregated in the great hall, eating and talking. They were joined by Savarec’s men who came off duty and whom Savarec made welcome.
Eventually, Sister Gertrude and Clothilde quietly took Danise out of the hall and escorted her to the bridal chamber. Clothilde ordered a small tub of hot water prepared. The two women undressed Danise and helped her to climb into the tub, where she stood while Clothilde soaped and rinsed her. Then Sister Gertrude wrapped her in a towel.
“I will pray for your happiness,” the nun said.
“Pray for Michel’s happiness, too.” Danise suddenly felt shy in front of Sister Gertrude, so she held the damp linen towel close around her body.
“I will pray that you will not be proven mistaken in him.” Sister Gertrude pursed her lips.
“I love him with so much of my heart that I would die without him,” Danise cried, eager to make this dear friend and substitute mother understand what she was feeling.
“Then you truly need my prayers, child.”
“Ah, don’t!” Tears stood in Danise’s eyes. “I know you love me. Wish me well. Wish me happy. Be glad for me.”
“I am.” With one thin hand Sister Gertrude touched Danise’s cheek. “Because I love you, I fear for you. I do not want anything, or anyone, to hurt you. I tried to keep you safe, but you would have none of my way of safety.
Now you will have to find your own way.” Sister Gertrude headed for the chamber door. With one hand on the latch she stopped, not looking back when she spoke again. “I do wish you happy, Danise. And I wish you joy of him. ‘Tis a delight I was never fortunate enough to know.”
“Poor soul,” Clothilde whispered after her. “I do believe, for all her hard words about men, that she still grieves for the young warrior she loved so long ago, who died before Sister Gertrude could enjoy what you will know tonight. Now hurry, Danise, put on your nightrobe before Michel comes.”
Chapter 15
Danise should not have been nervous, yet she was. The memory of making love with Michel on the night after he had rescued her from Autichar was still vivid in her mind. But what they did on this night, in this freshly whitewashed room, was a sacred duty. Were it left undone, theirs would not be a true marriage. She stood alone in the center of the bridal chamber, clad only in the gown made by herself and Clothilde from linen so soft and sheer that it appeared to veil each line of her body in wisps of flowing smoke. When Michel came into the room she tried to still the sudden quaking that revealed how little real courage she possessed. The effort did not help. Her breasts lifted with her sharp intake of breath, the rosy nipples straining against the soft fabric. She knew Michel saw it. He was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. He said nothing, he just turned to bolt the chamber door. Danise wet her lips and waited.
“You look like a sacrificial lamb,” he said. “You shouldn’t be afraid of me. What will happen is not unknown to you.” He smiled at her as if he, too, were remembering the charcoal makers’ cottage.
“It is -” Danise gulped, trying to control her cracking voice. “It is the occasion.”
“I know. I’ve felt it all day.” He touched her cheek, then took his hand away. “I never realized before that marriage is exactly what the Church says it is. A mystical union.”
“Yes.” She could not look anywhere but into his dazzling blue eyes.
“I am going to undress.” His hands worked at the buckle of his belt. “Don’t look away from me, Danise. You weren’t ashamed to look at me the last time. Don’t hide now. I want us to experience everything together, from this day onward.”
“Shall I help you?” She gestured as if to lift his tunic.
“Just stand there,” he said. “Just let me look at you. This night is for you, Danise. Tonight I am going to show you how much I love you.”
&n
bsp; He removed his garments without haste, laying them on the clothes chest, and then he came toward her, fine-boned, well-made, his straight black hair newly trimmed, his face clean-shaven. His remarkable eyes drew and held her. So strong was the emotion shaking her that she put up her hands, laying them on his chest to hold him off until she could absorb the reality of his naked presence.
“No one will intrude on us,” she murmured, half to herself. “What we do here is acceptable in earth and heaven.”
“Not even Sister Gertrude would dare to stop us.” His mouth lifted in a quick little smile, and then he was entirely sober once more, as solemn as Danise. He put his hands on her waist, pulling her forward. Her arms slid up around his neck.
“Michel.” His name was a breath of sound, scarcely uttered before his lips descended to hers. In this, the first kiss they exchanged since the chaste touching of lips to lips at the end of their marriage ceremony,.Danise found an end to all nervousness. Michel’s mouth and his body pressing against hers were familiar to her and beloved, yet strange, too, because they had been separated for nearly a month. His tongue gently pushed her lips apart so he could enter her mouth, and at the moment he did, she felt him harden against her.
She quickly lost herself in the warmth and growing passion of his embrace. With one arm around her waist and the other beneath her hips he raised her onto her toes, and then off her feet entirely, holding her along the length of his body from shoulder to thigh, making her drunk with kisses beyond counting, with love that soon would demand fulfillment. Danise threw back her head, arching against him so he could kiss her throat and shoulders. But almost immediately she grabbed at his hair, pulling his head up to kiss his mouth once more. She hungered for his mouth, for his lips on hers.
“Michel,” she gasped, “oh, my love, for all the time when we have been apart, I have dreamed of this night, and prayed for it to come.”
“No more than I have.” He shifted his hold on her. She was not at all surprised a moment later to find herself lying upon the lavender-scented sheets of their bed. Michel stretched out beside her.
“Did you make this?” He was tugging at the hem of her gown. “All that embroidery must have taken weeks to finish.”
“Clothilde helped me. We did it for you, to please you.”
“I will be careful not to tear it, since it was a labor of love. But then, everything that happens in this room tonight is a labor of love.” He was still trying to remove the gown. Danise wriggled a little so he could pull the delicate linen higher, until her thighs were revealed to him. She no longer felt shy when he looked at her, or when he stroked a tender hand across her soft skin.
“Sit up, Danise.” When she obeyed his whispered order, he drew the nightrobe over her head and tossed it aside. She lay back against the pillows, smiling slightly, fascinated by her own reaction to his unabashed approval of her. She knew he loved her, but she had not fully understood how much her pale beauty could excite him. Indeed, in a land where manv women were blondes. Danise had never considered herself unusual or special. Now that she was the object of Michel’s rapturous admiration, she discovered how easily her own desire could be ignited by the knowledge that he wanted her. More than that, he was eager to have her. She saw his manhood rising tall and proud and felt a surge of power and delicious anticipation at the sight.
“I cannot believe how beautiful you are.” Michel sounded almost awestruck. He continued in a low, emotional voice, “I was beginning to wonder if the last time we were together was only a figment of my imagination, but here you are, just as I remember you, and so incredibly lovely that mortal men should be forbidden to look at you, for if once a man looks, he will be fated to gaze at you until he dies from feasting on too much beauty.” As if to know her in some way other than by painful sight, he touched her face with sensitive fingertips, then moved on to caress her throat and shoulders and breasts in the same way, all the time smiling in delight at her gasped exclamations of mounting pleasure. His hands moved lower, over hip and thigh and knees, before he returned to her throat to begin the delicate motions all over again.
She touched him, too, her boldness growing in response to his evident enjoyment of what she was doing. The tension building between them increased until it threatened to destroy them before they were ready for it to end. As a moist, aching heat spread throughout Danise’s body, she began to writhe under his caressing hands.
“Danise, my love.” Michel rose above her, his eyes locked on hers. Her breasts felt hot and heavy, her thighs trembled and fell apart without her willing it. Even her fingertips tingled.
“In all the world,” Michel whispered, “through all time to the very end of eternity, you are the only one I love.”
“Michel, I want – I need – oh, please!” She saw in his eyes that he understood her desperate plea, for it matched his own need. He delayed no longer, but pushed hard against her. Danise opened to him, taking him deep inside her in one sweet, moist rush.
“Danise, Danise.” Michel’s voice in her ear was harsh and strained with his effort at self-control. But why should he exert control any longer, when she could not?
“Michel, I love – love – “ She broke off, unable to speak with ecstasy overtaking her.
She knew Michel was moving hard in her, knew she moved in response to him, but there was no more thought in what she did, there was only the desire to be as close to him as she possibly could, to be one with him and never be separated again. A strangled cry tore from her throat. She heard Michel groan and sensed that he had stopped his stroking motions at the point where he was pressed so tightly into her that his presence was almost painful. Danise stopped moving, too, stopped breathing, believed her very heart had stopped beating. For a long, tense moment she and Michel clung together, straining against each other until, in a devastating burst of emotional and physical joy, Danise’s fervent wish was granted. In that instant she and Michel were made one, were bound together beyond all breaking asunder, were truly and for all eternity made one flesh, one heart – were, finally and irrevocably, married.
* * *
Long after the tremors stopped, after her sobs of release had ended, Michel held her, stroking her tangled hair and kissing her brow. At last he tilted her chin upward and she saw that he was smiling at her.
“I love you,” he said, repeating the words he had used over and over again during the past hour. “After what just happened, those words seem inadequate, but I can’t think of any others to use.”
“They are enough,” she sighed. “They are the best words to use when one has been moved beyond the most distant spheres of heaven and then returned safely to earth once more.”
Happy tears choked her. She could not speak again, she could only curl into the safety of his arms and rest her head against his shoulder while she silently thanked all the powers of heaven and earth for bringing them together.
* * *
Two days after Danise and Michel were married, Sister Gertrude departed Deutz to return to the convent at Chelles. The leave-taking was a tearful one on Danise’s part. For all her stern and difficult ways, Sister Gertrude was genuinely concerned with Danise’s welfare, and Danise knew the nun loved her. She was a bit surprised, however, to discover Clothilde weeping as Sister Gertrude made her last farewells at the ferry wharf.
“Clothilde, you are still welcome to go with me,” Sister Gertrude said, fending off an emotional embrace from the maidservant.
“I cannot.” Clothilde wiped her streaming eyes. “My place is with Danise, and you know full well I am not made for the cloister.”
“Foolish woman.” Sister Gertrude scowled at Clothilde. “Nevertheless, the doors of Chelles will always be open to you. Do not forget the place where you will be welcome. Nor you, Danise. Remember what I have said to you on the subject.”
Danise could not reply. Trying not to break down and weep aloud, she hugged Sister Gertrude.
“Enough of that,” said the nun in her sternest voice.
Turning from Danise, she spoke again. “Savarec, I thank you for the donation you are making to Chelles, and for the men-at-arms you are sending to guard it until we reach the convent.”
“They are meant to guard you, too,” Savarec said. “Your friendship is more precious than gold, your value above that of fine rubies.”
Sister Gertrude actually smiled, acknowledging Savarec’s paraphrase of a lesson from the Bible.
“I value your friendship, too,” she told him. “It’s a rare man who has no malice in him, but you are such a man. Of course, you are not always as wise as you ought to be.”
Savarec took no offense at these last words, but only smiled and clasped her hand.
“Farewell, Michel.” Sister Gertrude turned brisk. She swept past Michel to board the ferry.
“I will take good care of Danise,” he promised her. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
“If you do not, you will answer to me.” Sister Gertrude stepped onto the ferry unaided, scorning the helping hands of the men-at-arms who accompanied her. She moved at once to the far side of the ferry, and there she stood, facing the western shore, not once looking back, a tall, thin, rigidly erect figure.
“Where I come from,” Michel murmured, looking after her, “we’d call her one tough lady. And it would be a compliment.”
They all remained on the wharf, watching the ferry move slowly across the Rhine.
“I suppose you will be the next to leave me,” said Savarec to Danise. He heaved a long, dramatic sigh. “Soon, I will be all alone here.”
“We can stay for a day or two more,” Michel responded. “Well see Guntram off to his own estate tomorrow, and then the next day or the day after, Danise and I will head for Elhein.”
“And Guntram gone, too, after all these years with me. I shall truly be alone then.” Savarec looked so forlorn that Danise laughed, hoping to cheer him up.
