Enchantress Mine

by Bertrice Small

  “But you are not overwhelmed?” He found that as interesting as he found her. One moment she was a giggling child, the next she spoke with wisdom beyond her years.

  “I find it exciting,” she told him. “London frightens me for it is smoky and gloomy, but Constantinople is bright and wonderful.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It is a colorful place. I was born here. I shall show you and your mother my city,” he promised. “Shall we begin tomorrow? There is much to see and it will take many months for me to complete the task. Perhaps when I am finished you will not want to return to England.”

  They had reached the Garden Palace. He quickly raised her hand to his lips, and kissing it bid her good night before disappearing swiftly back into the darkness.

  For a long moment Mairin stood in the flickering torchlight of the villa’s entry. His quick departure left her with the feeling that perhaps she had imagined the whole thing. She stared at the hand he had held so securely and kissed before leaving her. Her heart was hammering. The dancing flames of her Samhein fire had shown her the perfect and flawless features of the man. His sculptured cheekbones that had caught at the shadows, a long straight nose, and narrow lips. She had not been able to tell the color of his eyes which were spaced perfectly alongside his nose, but his fringe of beard and his curly hair were definitely dark. His voice, deep and creamy, had reached out to her and touched something deep within her soul. She had entered this world on Samhein. Was her meeting with Basil Ducas the beginning of another life of sorts? Though it was not cold, she shivered.

  Chapter 5

  True to his word the prince arrived the next day. Eada quickly realized that the attraction for Basil Ducas was Mairin, not a burning desire to show them Constantinople. He did so nonetheless with enthusiasm, and Eada’s head was quickly filled with more history than she had any wish to know.

  “He exhausts me,” she said to her husband one evening when they had been in Constantinople for over six months. “He is an enormously learned man, and Mairin enjoys his company greatly.”

  Aldwine chuckled. “One good thing has come of it for you, my love. You do not have time to miss England.”

  “That is true,” agreed his wife, “but I would wish for a week of peace from this prince and his marvelous but tiring city!”

  “You cannot allow Mairin to be unchaperoned with Basil Ducas,” her husband said.

  Eada glowered at him. “I know my duty as a mother, my lord,” she snipped. “As long as Mairin enjoys his company I shall accompany them.” She looked at Aldwine and her blue eyes twinkled. “Did you know, my lord, that Constantinople, like Rome, has fourteen districts; and because one of Rome’s districts lies across the Tiber River, one of Constantinople’s fourteen districts lies across the Golden Horn in Pera? Are you aware, my lord, that Constantinople has fifty fortified gates and thirteen miles of walls; and because of its enormous grain reserves and cisterns, can indefinitely sustain siege? Did you know, my lord, that the great chain across the Golden Horn protects Constantinople from attacks by sea?”

  He laughed, and Mairin, joining them, chimed in, “Do you know, father, that the aqueducts guarantee the populace an adequate supply of clean water at all times; and that unlike the cities in Western Europe Constantinople has underground sewers to carry off the city’s wastes? Unlike our towns in England, father, the streets are lit at night! There are free hospitals for all, father, and even women doctors! There is a city fire brigade, and almost a million people in Constantinople!”

  “All this is quite fascinating,” he agreed with them, “but I suspect that the prince is far more interested in you, my daughter, than in all the statistics and facts he has fed you in order to be with you.”

  “Father!” Mairin’s cheeks grew pink, but Eada was instantly alert.

  “What have you heard?” she asked him. “What has the prince said to you, my lord?”

  “Nothing yet, but he has asked to speak to me privately, and comes this very day to do so.” Aldwine Athelsbeorn looked at his daughter. “Well, Mairin, what say you? If he asks for you in marriage shall I give you to Prince Basil? Could you be happy here in Constantinople? Your mother and I cannot stay once our trade negotiations are agreed upon. It will take several more years to settle everything, the way these Byzantines do business. We would be here that long.”

  “Mother has taught me that a woman has but two paths in life. My choices are the church or the marriage bed,” said Mairin. “I have no calling to the church, and therefore will marry as pleases you, father.”

  “No, Mairin,” he said quietly. “I would have you marry one day, but if I could I would give you some choice in the matter. Think what it is I say to you, Mairin.”

  “Duke William will be England’s next king, and so if I return to England I must of necessity marry a Norman,” Mairin answered. “The Normans are a proud people and my dowry is not a large one. I have no lands in England. Should the prince want me for a wife it would probably be a better match than any other I receive. There is little I have to offer a well-connected Norman husband.”

  “You have your beauty, Mairin,” said Aldwine. “There are men who would seek to possess you despite your lack of fortune.”

  “I would be loved,” she said. “Is it so very much to ask, father?”

  “I cannot answer you, my daughter. I love your mother. Ciaran St. Ronan loved Maire Tir Connell, but for many, marriage is an arrangement whereby a man adds to his wealth and to his lands. Still if a man and a woman respect one another, friendship which often leads to love may grow between them.”

  “You speak like the Anglo-Saxon you are, my father,” she answered. “The Normans do not respect and appreciate their women as do the English. I may be young, but I know that women for them are objects of beauty and lust, a means by which they may get their children. You are clever, but your choice is no real choice. A nameless, faceless Norman who will marry me for my beauty while looking upon my small portion with scorn, and treat me as a possession. Or Prince Basil who is kind, and would behave toward me with honor. Of course it is the prince I would choose. Could I find a more worthy husband?”

  Eada shook her head. “You get ahead of yourselves,” she worried. “The prince has only asked to speak with you, Aldwine. No prior mention has been made of Mairin. Do not give our daughter ideas she should not have.”

  Aldwine Athelsbeorn smiled. “If the prince wished to speak to me about something else then he would have said it. He said he wished to speak to me about something of a private nature. What else could it be but Mairin?”

  “I have heard gossip,” Eada said. “Gossip about the prince, and the actor, Bellisarius.”

  “Street talk.” Aldwine dismissed his wife’s words. He knew more than she, but how could he explain it to his simple, innocent Eada?

  “The actor lives in the Boucoleon Palace as does Prince Basil,” replied Eada sharply. “The servants may gossip, but there are grains of truth in their chatter, my lord. Bellisarius’ name is mentioned often in connection with the prince.”

  “He is this empire’s greatest actor. The emperor honors him, and Basil is his friend,” said Aldwine. “Such friendships are common here. They do not prevent a man from marrying, and cleaving to his wife. Remember, Eada, that I lived here in my youth. I know. There is nothing unusual in their friendship for Constantinople.”

  “You have always behaved as if Mairin were yours alone,” said Eada with a trace of bitterness, “but I love her too! I want her happy, and such talk disturbs me, my lord!”

  “Oh, do not quarrel on my account!” begged Mairin. She put her slender arms about Eada. “Dearest mother, if the prince seeks to have me for his wife, I would be content. He is kind, thoughtful, and amusing. He would make me happy I know.”

  Eada smoothed an errant lock of her daughter’s fiery hair from her forehead. “You are so innocent of the world, my darling,” she said softly. Then putting the girl gently aside she said firmly to her husband, “Grant me
this, my lord. If the prince does indeed seek to wed with our child let them wait six months’ time. If at the end of that time they still wish to wed, so be it.”

  Aldwine thought a moment then said, “Has Mairin yet begun her woman’s flow?”

  Eada flushed. “Nay, my lord.”

  He nodded. “Then I will consider your terms. If the marriage cannot be consummated I see no need to hasten it.”

  Eada sighed with relief. Anything could happen in six months’ time. Perhaps her husband was wrong. Perhaps the prince did not seek to wed Mairin, but came on another mission.

  When Prince Basil arrived at the Garden Palace, Eada and Mairin were discreetly absent. Eada wished there were anyplace else that they might be. Together mother and daughter walked in the gardens of the Imperial Palace. They admired the flowering trees and the springtime flowers that were set amid the tiled fountains and the many fishponds. When a slave came to fetch them quickly back Eada’s heart sank. She knew it meant that the prince had asked for Mairin in marriage. Had it been otherwise they would have dallied the afternoon away until Aldwine joined them.

  The two men sat within the courtyard garden of the small palace. Both were smiling. Zeno was pouring wine into four delicate golden goblets. Aldwine hurried them forward with a broad wave of his hand.

  “Come, my wife! Come, Mairin! I have news!” He waited until the two women had seated themselves on the cushioned stools by the two chairs in which the men sat. Then he said as if it were the greatest surprise to him, “My dear, Prince Basil has asked for Mairin to wive! Of course, I have agreed. He does us a great honor. One I would have never expected. What think you, Eada?”

  “It is indeed an honor, my lord,” said Eada slowly, “but our daughter is not yet a woman. She is too young for the marriage bed.”

  “Your husband has explained Mairin’s innocence to me,” the prince said in reassuring tones. “I have agreed that the marriage not be consummated until she is a true woman. The marriage, however, will take place on May 1st. Mairin will then come to live with me at the Boucoleon Palace.”

  Eada gave her husband an anguished glance; her soft eyes were questioning. She was too well mannered to defy Aldwine, or demand answers of him in the prince’s presence. “It will be as you and my lord agree,” she said, “but if I might be permitted to ask, why such unseemly haste? It is scarce three weeks until May 1st.”

  The prince smiled at Eada. When he did his astounding turquoise-colored eyes grew warm with emotion. “I fell in love with Mairin the first time I saw her, my lady. For six months I have been with her almost every day as we toured the city. You are a charming chaperon, but I would be alone with Mairin. Away from prying eyes.

  “How can I tell her of my love for her when a hundred ears, her mother’s being the chiefest, listen to every word that I say to her? In the last six months I have composed a hundred love songs yet not once have I had a private moment in which to sing them to her. You have only my word, lady, but ask anyone in Byzantium. You will be told that the word of Prince Basil Ducas is an honest one. I promise you I will cherish and adore Mairin. I will let no harm or hurt come to her. I will honor her all my days if you will but trust me to do so.”

  “You have defeated me, my lord,” Eada said with a sigh. “What can I possibly say in the face of such a declaration?”

  “Give us your blessing, my lady.” He smiled at her again.

  “I give it,” she said, resigned.

  Aldwine Athelsbeorn arose from his chair drawing his wife up to her feet as he did so. “Come, Eada,” he said leading her from the garden.

  Basil and Mairin were alone for the first time since Samhein when he had taken her from Dagda and returned her to the villa.

  “You say nothing, Mairin,” he noted quietly.

  “Neither you nor my mother have given me the opportunity, my lord,” she replied.

  “Are you content to be my wife?” He took her chin into his hand, tipping her face up to his.

  “I am, my lord,” she answered, “but if I were not?”

  “I should still have you,” he said quietly and she saw a hint of ruthlessness in his beautiful face.

  “I do not love you yet, my lord,” she pressed him.

  “That I will teach you, Mairin. Have you ever loved a man? Perhaps there is some unforgotten sweetheart in England you remember with fondness.”

  “There is no one, my lord, nor has there ever been. I do not know how to love a man in any sense.” He saw the truth of her words in her violet eyes.

  Then gently his hand caressed her face, enjoying the rose-petal softness of her skin, the velvety outline of her lush mouth. Mairin felt as if she had been touched by lightning. Her eyes widened slightly. A small smile touched the corners of his lips; he saw quite plainly that he was indeed the first with her, and he suppressed a shudder. She was even more perfect than he had dared to imagine. He would take her and mold her into exactly what he wanted her to be. Never had he hoped for such good fortune in a wife!

  In his apartments in the Boucoleon Palace were many rare and beautiful things for Prince Basil was a collector of beauty. He had the largest and best assemblage of ancient Grecian pottery in the known world. There was not a piece less than a thousand years old, and all of it was without blemish. The statuary he had gathered together was also ancient and free of disfigurement of any sort. He possessed a collection of loose gemstones all of which were flawless.

  As a Christian he could have but one wife. Mairin with her perfect beauty would be the unmatched centerpiece in all of his collections, an unrivaled ornament to be envied, coveted, and admired by all who saw her. Looking down into her lovely face he felt a shaft of desire race through him. Who knew when he would be able to have her? Anticipation only whetted his appetite for her. Raising a slender finger he touched her temptingly delicious lips. Mairin’s mouth was moist, and parted just slightly. Beneath the modesty of her high-necked tunic dress he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as he stimulated her. His wonderful turquoise eyes locked with hers. Slowly with mesmerizing motion he rubbed his finger over the tender sensitive skin of her mouth. “Has any man ever kissed you? Not your father, or brother, or a relative, but a sweetheart?” he demanded of her.

  “No,” she answered him a bit breathlessly. “I have told you, my lord, that I have had no sweetheart.” His powerful glance made breathing hard.

  “Then I shall be the only man to plunder that ripeness, Mairin. It is a very sensuous mouth you possess, my perfect little love. It tempts a man to rashness.” Leaning forward he touched her tips with his own. Innocently the sweet flesh yielded beneath his assault, and only his experience with passion prevented him from taking her then and there within the garden.

  Within Mairin something seemed to explode, sending an ooze of burning languor through her veins, causing her heart to race madly. It made her want more of the unknown passion that his eyes promised. She knew that he could see her desire, but in her innocence it never occurred to her that she should hide it.

  “I have promised your parents that I will not consummate our union until you are fully a woman, Mairin,” he said softly, “but there are other ways in which we may pleasure each other while we await your flowering. There are many things which I will teach you about giving and receiving passion. You will not be afraid of me, will you my perfect love?”

  “No, my lord.” She tried to draw a breath, but her chest felt like it was encased in bonds of iron. Her head was whirling. If the truth be known she was a little afraid of this man’s sudden and open desire for her, but it seemed wrong to her to even admit it when he was being so gentle with her.

  He saw it, and attempted to reassure her. “Desire between a man and a woman is a good and natural thing, Mairin. You are only afraid because it is new and unfamiliar to you. That is the proper emotion for a pure and innocent virgin such as yourself. I will never knowingly hurt you, Mairin. Believe me, and trust me, my perfect love.”

  She swallowed
. A blush suffused her cheeks. “I do trust you, my lord.”

  His hand cupped her chin again, and smiling at her he kissed her once more. “On the first day of May you will become my wife, my perfect princess.”

  “Beltaine,” she said. “The feast of planting, of flowering, and of planning for the harvest to come. It is the traditional day for marriage among the Celts.”

  “Then you are satisfied that we be wed that day?”

  “Yes, my lord. That in your ignorance of my people you have chosen that day is to me a portent of good fortune.”

  “You will live in the Boucoleon, Mairin. It is not, of course, my personal palace. I only have apartments there as do many others in the emperor’s family and favor. This summer I shall build for you across the Bosporus a palace set like a perfect gemstone in the green hillside above the sea. There we shall consummate our love and there our children will be born, and we will one day die after many blissful years together. Does that please you?”

  “Oh, yes, my lord,” she said, a smile lighting her features for the first time. “The Imperial Palace with all its buildings and grounds is very beautiful, but I should prefer my own home. A place where we may be private with ourselves and our family.”

  “You do not seek the glory and the intrigue of court life, Mairin?”

  “No, my lord, such things are not for me. I am happiest with my home and my family.”

  “Surely there are other things that pleasure you, Mairin. You are far too intelligent not to have other interests. I would learn all about you, and what you like.”

  “I like music, my lord, and it is said that I have a gift for healing. I know much of herbs.”

  “An inborn gift for healing is a special one,” he noted.

  “There is little else I can tell you. My life has been a simple one. England is a beautiful land, but its beauty is a natural one. It has not the magnificence of what I have seen in Byzantium. There is a great deal I can learn here! Your libraries hold the wisdom of the ancients. It will take me a lifetime to penetrate even a portion of it.”