by Kari August
Lindsey and Mags had just finished spending a pleasurable day touring Bruges—modern Brugge—and were waiting to be served at an outdoor café. Mags was glad that at least part of the day—though a small part—she had not been thinking about Charlie. In fact, she had tried with everything she had to avoid any thought of him since their future was so dismal. Of course, it helped to gape and wonder at all the changes that had occurred in five hundred years.
Lindsey now looked around at the buildings surrounding the café. “I like your specially patterned brickwork and large windows—I’m going to see if I can do something with that in my designs.”
Mags nodded. “We were known for our architecture.”
“You mean the symmetry and Romanesque towers and vaults reminiscent of the ancient city. The guide book said that the style was mimicked a lot, including in England, and what modern people think of as Gothic has at least some basis in your buildings. So, this is where your famous wedding celebrations took place.”
Mags nodded and remembered wistfully a moment. “Oh, there was such a magnificent procession to the palace. I rode in a gilded litter with my blond locks loose beneath my crown—not usually considered proper except I was a bride. I was escorted by archers and glittering knights on jeweled horses. Nobility and all their retinue, elegantly attired, from Burgundy and England accompanied me. Then came the city magistrates soberly dressed in black, followed by the richly robed clergy, including dozens of bishops and finally came the merchant community from not only Burgundy, but also the Italian city states, Spain, and Scotland. All wanted to display their colorful and expensive fabrics and wares. There must have been at least fifteen hundred persons participating. The streets were lined with carpets—”
“Carpets?”
“Yes. And the windows were hung with banners showing the Burgundy symbol of the leopard and lily or the English lion or the York rose or garlanded with other beautiful flowers or even costly tapestries. The motto that had been given to me ‘Good to come of it’ was everywhere. As we progressed there were pageants being performed also. I remember it was pouring rain, and I guess that could have been taken as an omen for my marriage, but I was too enthralled and excited to be bothered by it. The spectators loved me for leaning over and waving, despite the weather. Once I arrived at the palace, wine freely flowed from sculptures—archers’ bows—and ippocras from a golden pelican on an artificial tree. My room was sweetly painted with marguerites on the walls and then came the luxurious banquets.”
“You people ate like swines back then.”
Mags smiled. “One feast had thirty different roasts on costly platters. But during the meal we were entertained by jesters, and more pageants and plays, and mechanical devices—including a forty-one-foot-tall tower inhabited by dancing bears, monkeys, and wolves.”
“Wow. That’s really over the top and horrible to think about for the animals. Why were there so many monkeys in the pictures we saw today?”
“Because we liked them. My stepdaughter had a menagerie of monkeys and parrots.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for the casual line of clothes. But how were you attired during these celebrations?”
“Let’s see . . . when I first came on shore in Sluis, I wore a crimson silk dress with a train edged in black—in honor of Burgundy’s colors. But for the procession in Bruges I was in a pale gown, trimmed with ermine with a crimson cloak.”
“I’m guessing the decorations were exquisite.”
“Extravagant. The banquet room itself had dozens of candelabras and mirrors, and the palace contained tapestries in at least thirty rooms—just one tapestry could cost the whole annual income of a rich noble landowner. But you realize also that at least seventy-five famous carvers and painters—including Hugo van der Goes—and sculptors from all over Burgundy helped make the adornments.”
“What about the renowned painter, Van Eyck?”
“No, he had peaked in prominence before I came into this world on the third of May1446. But it wasn’t only our artwork, the Burgundian music was famous in Europe. And we had dancing afterwards—which I also loved to do . . .” Mags reminisced a moment longer, smiling fondly.
“It sounds magical.”
“It was. And then came the nine-day tournament of the GoldenTree.”
“Was there actually a tree?”
“Yes, all the participating knights hung their coat of arms on the branches. My husband joined in the competition and at one point the fighting became so fierce that I waved my kerchief to make it stop. For a ruler, who did not have a male heir, my husband could be reckless with his life.”
“And thus, his name, Charles the Bold.”
“But it wasn’t all about men battling and jousting. The tournament was actually based on some fantasies and tableau.”
“Let me guess. There were evil dwarfs and giant ogres and fair princesses—”
“Yes! And enslaved knights who arrived in specially decorated costumes and pavilions. In fact, one knight entered chained to a castle, and we ladies were the only ones who had the key to release him.”
“Yikes.” Lindsey shook her head. “Your time certainly had a different idea about what was romantic.”
“But at night there was more dancing and feasting and even fireworks.”
“I can see why the whole event was the talk of legend. No wonder it was too costly to ever repeat again, though, I think this city does a reenactment of the occasion.”
“But, surely, not as elaborately. Anyways, I would prefer to see my tomb if we have the time. My relatives in heaven said some changes were made to it, and I would like to see what those are.”
Lindsey winced. “I think your relations were probably trying to spare you from the truth. Your tomb was actually destroyed—”
“What?”
“Apparently sometime during the Reformation when Catholic churches were being converted to the Protestant religion or possibly when rebels were fighting the Spanish.”
There was so much for Mags to absorb she did not know where to start first. “So where are my remains?”
“Nobody has been able to find them.”
Mags was horrified. “Oh, Lord. But what is this about the Spanish?”
Lindsey looked skyward a moment in thought, then back at her. “Let’s see. . . . Your stepdaughter married Maximilian, the heir to the Hapsburg Empire, and they had a couple kids.”
“Yes. Margaret of Austria and Philip the Fair. The French tried to spread the rumor that Philip was not actually a male heir, so guess what I did.”
“What?”
Mags chuckled. “After his baptism, I undressed him and showed him to the public in his full glory.”
Lindsey smiled. “I like your spirit, Mags.”
“Thanks. Anyways, Philip went on to marry the daughter of the famous Spanish monarchs Isabelle and Ferdinand. I must say, though, Juana wasn’t exactly up to being the next Duchess of Burgundy.”
“I know she was called Juana the Crazy, but let’s be honest. What women would not go a little loco with her husband cheating on her, gambling and partying all the time? But, nonetheless, Juana and Philip had a son Charles who—”
“—was named in honor of my husband.”
“Yes, but because of others passing away and whatnot, he eventually became the ruler of the whole caboodle—not only the Hapsburg Empire, which included Belgium and the Netherlands, but also he was the King of Spain.”
Mags nodded. “He told me in heaven all about his success. I passed away in 1503 at age fifty-seven before this had happened, but I was at least part of his baptism ceremonies.”
“I’m guessing he probably didn’t tell you how unstable the whole situation had become.”
“No, he didn’t mention anything about that.”
“Spain was really rich with all that golden loot coming in from the New World so they dominated the Spanish Netherlands. But those rich merchants in the Low Countries did not appreciate that kind of foreign contro
l so they rebelled. All the time. That’s possibly when your remains were destroyed.”
Mags shook her head. “This is truly devastating. No wonder I have scarcely any reputation with all that going on after my time. And talking about my reputation—I forgot to tell you there is some terrible book about me titled The Conniving Duchess.”
Lindsey smiled. “Oh, I loved perusing that. It’s actually very complimentary towards you.”
“It is? So, do you think many other people are reading it?”
“I’m not sure . . . it’s a detailed history book with mainly just the facts. I kind of think it would be nice to have more of a narrative about you—like historical fiction.” Lindsey then raised her hands. “That’s it. You love books. You should write your story.”
Mags puckered her brow. “Well, I did help with the printing and translating of a book, but I have never written myself. Is it difficult to get a book printed nowadays?”
“Getting it published is not, but having it sell is. However, you have a secret weapon.”
“What?”
“Charlena. Look, I am proud of all I have accomplished with my clothing line selling on a home shopping network, but I know that I would never have gotten a start without Charlena and the influence of her billionaire father. I am sure she will help you with her connections—you know, getting an editor, a marketer, a publisher. They could undoubtedly take something raw from you and turn it into a novel.”
Mags liked the idea of taking control of her reputation. “I could tell my side of the story about that horrible Frenchman, King Louis XI, and why I supported my York nephews against Henry VII.”
“Yes, but because of the Tudor historians, your reputation in England is mainly about how you schemed against the Tudor reign—which you certainly could not have done unless Maximilian or his emperor father approved. There is so much more to your life. Tell about what it was like to have to wait seven years for your brother King Edward IV to arrange a marriage for you when everyone else was already hitched, or—”
“Or about how frustrating it was for my brother not to pay my full dowry, making my dower properties at risk when I became a widow. Especially since when he had to flee during his reign—after my brother George and cousin Warrick led a rebellion—he came to Burgundy for refuge. If not for our assistance, he might not have regained his crown a few months later.”
“Pretty ungrateful, I’d say.” Lindsey then frowned. “What did happen to your dower properties? I forgot.”
“Well, when my stepdaughter came to power, I was so beloved by her that she arranged for me to keep all my dower estates even though Eddie never made full payment. I was only thirteen years older than she, and we felt almost like sisters at times.” Mags shook her head. “But I had really worked towards a reconciliation between Eddie and George, but it all came to naught years later when Eddie had George executed for treason.”
“Such a sorrowful family history. But I got another thought you should write about. What was it really like being married to the richest tyrant in Europe? It could not have been easy. And how sad was it after you wedded, to see your mother only once more in your life, and for scarcely a few months—when you returned to England to help gain a military alliance with Burgundy?” Lindsey then smirked. “Or just talk about the vexation of being so intelligent yet having to kowtow to stupider men.”
Mags nodded. “You are so correct.”
“But you know what I would really emphasize?”
“What?”
“First off, how you helped the country of Belgium maintain its own separate identity from France.”
“Yes, when my husband passed away, France was all ready to absorb Belgium as part of their own just because they did not think a female—my stepdaughter—could rule. Only a male heir could or should, as far as they were concerned. It was a terribly dangerous situation.”
“Yes, but you stood firmly with your stepdaughter and helped her arrange her marriage to Maximilian, uniting the Hapsburg Holy Roman Empire to your cause.” Lindsey chuckled. “You were considered such a driving force that that jerk of a French king did not want you to be allowed to participate in any of the later negotiations between the countries. And then when your stepdaughter passed away, you supported your stepson-in-law against those rebels who also tried to ally themselves with France.”
“I was always faithful to what I felt was in the best interests of Burgundy and my York family.”
“Yes, but that is not all. Belgium remained heavily Catholic because of you.”
“Well, that’s good to know, but I’m not sure why you say so.”
“It’s kind of complicated. But the rich burghers in the Low Countries who hated the Spanish rule associated Spain with the Catholic religion. The Netherlands converted to Protestantism as a way to rebel against the Spanish. But because of the just reforms you had pushed through in the Catholic church where you lived—like only having honorable priests getting promoted—the Catholic religion was not as despised.”
Mags stared at Lindsey a moment, thinking about everything they had just discussed. “I’m going to require a lot of time to write about all that.”
Lindsey shrugged.
“Dickie is not going to like it.”
She smirked. “Oh, hang these men who try to boss around us women all the time.”
“Lindsey!”
She chuckled. “You know what I mean. Anyways, wouldn’t you like more time to spend with Charlie?”
“Oh, yes,” she admitted honestly. “But perhaps that isn’t fair to him—I do have to end our relationship. There is no hope between us. . . .” She gazed in the distance sadly.
“Time will tell.”
“But I don’t know how I would begin to explain to Dickie my wanting to stay longer because of Charlie.”
“Then don’t. Listen. I got an idea—let’s just have you avoid Dickie a little longer. I’m going next to fetch my kids from my parents in England. Why don’t you just fly straight to Jackson and camp out at the new Wyoming property—the old owners have already moved out and we bought some of their furnishings. You could begin by arranging the fencing work that has to get done while also starting your book. I’ll call Charlena. I’m sure she will agree that you would make a good temporary manager for the property. She can arrange for your transportation from the airport to the ranch. Oh, and also get you some food sent in if you want.”
“Charlena wouldn’t mind?”
“Oh, heavens, no. That sort of thing is exactly what she likes helping with. I do adore her, you know.”
Mags smiled. “Perhaps Charlie could visit also.”
Lindsey grinned.
The first thing Mags did as soon as the driver let her off at the ranch was put away the groceries she had bought. Then she ran to the phone. She reached in her pocket for the number Charlie had said to use and took a deep breath. She was so excited to talk to him again, she was nearly beside herself.
She couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. Glorious days of chatting and laughing and making love and then . . .
She put down the phone shakily.
What was she doing? This was so unfair to Charlie and . . . wrong.
And yet . . . everything Lindsey had said had convinced her . . .
Lindsey had almost persuaded her to have some hope. That somehow—against all reasoning—they could have a future together. Being with Lindsey had . . . misled her. For a while. At least as long as the trip here. But now that she was actually going to proceed with this . . . damaging and irrational plan . . . she couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t invite Charlie to visit her. She could only say it was completely over. She couldn’t even tell him that she would see him again in heaven. . . .
She suddenly imagined the scene in the future. She would run into his arms . . . no. She would greet him and the wife he had found . . . courteously. As if Charlie and she had only had a passing acquaintance. Of no consequence at all.
She s
tared into space a moment.
She would wait to call Charlie and end it. She would give herself . . . just a few more days . . . of illusion.
Chapter Twenty-four
Dickie had had enough of the games Mags seemed to be playing, and he also suspected some sort of plot by the women to keep him away from her. Dickie had returned from Estes Park to Denver with Ned—after practicing medieval weapons with Cody—only to be informed now by Ned that yes, Mags, had returned to Denver from her trip looking for bison but had departed quickly on another jaunt.
“The suspicious part is why Lindsey did not tell you, Ned, while we were in Estes Park that she had Mags.”
Ned nodded. “I know—that’s not like her to keep something like that from me. I think Lindsey has lost her head a little concerning Mags. She only informed me she was leaving sooner to get our kids from England and wanted to get some design inspirations with a bit of travel. Well, at least she called now about Mags.”
“So, where is my sister?”
“At the Wyoming property.”
“What is she doing there?”
“Apparently, looking after the place.”
Dickie shook his head. “Oh, no. There is no reason for her to be further involved in that land holding. Let’s fetch her, Ned.”
“You mean call her?”
“And let slippery Mags get away again? No, we have to snatch her in person.”
Ned hesitated. “I guess I can take some of my work with me. But I don’t know how often there is a flight from here to there. We could be delayed some.”
“Just as long as we leave as soon as possible.”
Dickie and Ned drove up the drive to the ranch house and parked in front. Mags greeted them at the door with a wan wave as they got out of their rental car. Ned noticed she was wearing an apron.
“Lindsey warned me you were arriving.” She did not appear happy as she opened the door wider for them to enter.
Ned decided it was best to keep quiet while the siblings battled it out. He placed the keys to the car on the kitchen counter and took a seat on one of the stools surrounding the island. Dickie sat next to him as Mags went to the stove and stirred a pot.
