Enchantress Mine

by Bertrice Small

  He arose from the chair opposite her, and kneeling he kissed her outstretched hand. “Mille merci, madame. I am most grateful for your aid.” Then standing he crossed the room, and departed her presence. Leaving the king’s house, he sought his horse in the courtyard and rode back across the noisy city to their little house by the orchard. A servant ran to take his mount and stable it as Josselin entered the building. He found Mairin in the back garden cutting flowering branches for the hall.

  She turned to greet him with a smile. “You have seen the queen?”

  “Yes,” he said kissing her brow, and leading her to a bench by a bed of lavender. “She has asked to meet you. We are to come later today, but first there is something I must tell you, enchantress.”

  With a teasing tone she said, “Ah, I can guess. You did not answer me fully when I asked you about the women you knew at King William’s court in Normandy. One of your old flirts is among the queen’s ladies, and now you must confess to me before the lady, jealous that you are now wed, tells me herself.” She laughed. “Is that not right, my lord?”

  “Yes, and no, enchantress. I met the lady involved at Combourg. Later I visited her brother’s home at his request and she was there also. There was never any romance between us although I will admit to our flirting with one another. My landless state, the situation of my birth, made it impossible for me to offer anything to any woman. Even had I been able to I would have offered this woman nothing. She, however, thought otherwise. She somehow learned that I had been given an estate here in England. She went to the Norman court, and when one of the queen’s ladies grew too ill to travel with her mistress to the coronation, this lady used the influence of friends to be appointed to the vacant position. She led the queen to believe that we had made informal promises to one another.”

  “She is very bold, this lady,” remarked Mairin. “You have I trust, told her that you already have a wife.”

  “I told the queen immediately in the lady’s presence.”

  “And who is this lady, Josselin? You have been very careful not to mention her name, but surely you must tell me else I be embarrassed before the queen and her women.”

  “Enchantress, you must forgive me for not having told you before, but you will understand that I did not wish to pain you. My acquaintance with this lady occurred long before I even knew of your existence. I never expected to see her again, and therefore saw no reason to distress you. The lady in question is Blanche de St. Brieuc.”

  “That bitch?” The words were hissed, but then to his surprise Mairin laughed. “By God she must be desperate to have followed you to England.” She turned, and looked at him, her violet eyes carefully searching his face. “You swear on your mother’s honor that there was really nothing between you?”

  “I swear it, Mairin! There was nothing.”

  “I believe you, Josselin, but God help you if you have lied to me. I will kill you!”

  He believed her. “I love you, enchantress,” he said simply.

  “And you love Aelfleah,” she answered him.

  “Yes, I love Aelfleah too, but I am an honorable man, Mairin. I have not lied to you ever.”

  “You split hairs with me, my lord,” she said, “but no matter. I believe you when you say you sought to protect me from painful memories. Have you told the queen my whole history?”

  “Yes, and she is furious at Blanche for her deception. She intends to send her back to Normandy, but she cannot do so until next week when others will be returning. Now, my wife, the question is, what do you intend to do?”

  Mairin laughed again, but the sound lacked true mirth. “I am seventeen now,” she said. “When I left Landerneau I was not quite six. I do not think my stepmother will recognize me despite my hair and my name. She is not that clever for all her evil. I expect she has not thought of me in years, and if she has she has thought me long dead. The only importance I ever held for her was that I stood in her daughter’s way regarding the inheritance of Landerneau. Once that was taken care of I can assure you she put me from her mind.”

  “Then you will forgive her the past, and not make yourself known to her?” he asked.

  “I did not say that, Josselin. Nay, I want my revenge on Blanche de St. Brieuc!” She caught his hand, and looking into his eyes she kissed his hand. “Grant me that, my lord, I beg you!”

  “What the lady Blanche did was wrong, Mairin, even criminal. But think, enchantress! You did not really suffer by her actions. You were far better off here in England with your foster parents than you would have been at Landerneau with Blanche de St. Brieuc, your guardian. She might have killed you!”

  “That,” said Mairin, “was her mistake. She should have!”

  “What would you do then?” he said.

  “Do you remember when we were married,” said Mairin, “and the king asked me if I wanted Landerneau returned to me, and I said nay? Well, when I carried our child I began to think on it, Josselin. Aldford and whatever future honors you may gather in your lifetime will go to our eldest son. Our second son should have Aelfleah. Our third must have Landerneau.”

  “And what of your half-sister? You will destroy her chance for marriage if you take Landerneau. You know it is her dowry. Do you think to hurt Blanche de St. Brieuc by striking out at her child?”

  “Did you know my half-sister?” asked Mairin coolly.

  “No. I never saw the child, but I do know that Blanche was proud to have managed a match with a younger son of the Montgomerie family.”

  “The girl does not wish to be wed in the worldly sense,” said Mairin. “Of late I have seen her in my mind’s eye. I do not understand why after all these years this should be so. She was not even born when I left Landerneau, but somehow I know she has no desire to be married as we are married. My half-sister desires to be a bride of Christ, and I will gladly dower her into a good convent. This other marriage is what her mother wishes, and she is forcing her own daughter from a true vocation, in order to further her own ambitions. It is typical of the bitch, but as she did not have her way with me, neither will she have her way in this matter of her own child. My revenge on Blanche de St. Brieuc is to allow my poor half-sister her wish. Without the girl or Landerneau, what does she really have?”

  “How can you be certain what you believe is true?” he demanded of her. “Perhaps what you think you see is only what you desire, Mairin. Beware lest in your desire for revenge you harm an innocent girl.”

  “I know it is true! I do not see things that are not so! All my life I have listened to the voice within. When I act according to its advice I prosper. When I ignore the voice within I fail. It has been a long time since I received so clear a vision. The frustration of my life is that I rarely see things regarding the people close to me. If I could I would have warned my father and brother against going to fight the Norwegians! However, what I have seen regarding my half-sister is true, Josselin. Please believe me.”

  “Then you have surely found a perfect revenge against Blanche de St. Brieuc, Mairin. Because Landerneau was her daughter’s, and her family could not afford another dowry, she has never rewed. She lives as a pensioner in her eldest brother’s house, and as you might guess, does not get on with her brother or his wife. Her daughter’s marriage would have afforded her an escape. She might have gone to live with her daughter and son-in-law, perhaps even found another husband. She has not lost her prettiness, not being old yet. There is always some unimportant knight eager of allying himself to a powerful family like the Montgomeries who would have been willing to take her in marriage without a dowry. She is even young enough to still bear children. Now she will have nothing.”

  “It is not punishment enough for her cruelty to me or to my father, Josselin! On his deathbed father called out for me, and she would not let him see me. His body was not even cold on his bier when she sent me into slavery. She took not just my estates from me, she took my good name. By declaring me bastard-born she shamed my mother’s name and memory! If she
had believed she could have killed me and escaped retribution, she would have! I do not think I am overly harsh in taking everything from her and leaving her to live the remainder of her life, which I pray God be a long one, alone!”

  “For all your years in gentle England, for your marriage in civilized Byzantium, you are still a pure Celt,” he said.

  Mairin laughed, and now the sound was light and happy. “My lord, you flatter me!” she said. “I am indeed a Celt, and my anger burns long even if the flame seems not to be there.”

  “I will remember that, enchantress,” he answered her. “I think you are a dangerous woman though you seem nothing more than a great beauty. You are a complex creature. I am not certain that I should not fear you.”

  “If you are faithful to me, my lord, you need never fear me. I love you, my Josselin!”

  He took her into his arms and held her close against his heart. She was not, he knew, being overly cruel in her treatment of her half-sister and her stepmother. Landerneau was indeed hers by right and unless she reclaimed it, her name and that of her mother would never be clean from the stain that Blanche de St. Brieuc had placed upon them. It rather pleased him that she was thinking in terms of three sons. “What if we have a fourth son?” he asked her.

  “A family can always use a bishop,” she answered him, looking up into his face.

  Josselin laughed aloud. “And at least two more in case of illness or accident,” he said, and she nodded vigorously. “How many daughters?” he demanded.

  “Possibly four,” she said. “Three good marriage alliances, and an abbess to go with the bishop.”

  “You’re as ambitious as a reigning queen,” he chuckled, slapping his knee with his free hand.

  “Make the right alliances over the next several generations, and this family could give England a queen one day,” she replied seriously.

  “First things first, enchantress,” he answered her. “Let us go and see our queen, and you may get your first good look at your stepmother in many years. Since you so like the game of cat and mouse you will enjoy knowing she does not recognize you, although your very existence as my wife is apt to drive her to a frenzy.”

  “What shall I wear?” Mairin pondered mischievously. “Something elegant, but not too showy. No. Something that will bring out the perfect clarity of my skin, and flatter my hair. The turquoise tunic and the cloth-of-silver skirt! They should be just right.”

  God have mercy upon poor Blanche de St. Brieuc, thought Josselin to himself. She has no idea how serious an enemy she had made in Mairin all those years ago. My wife is correct when she says that Blanche is not clever. Still what she did was totally unforgivable. For a moment he imagined Mairin as a little girl barely out of babyhood, and suddenly torn from her home. Not even allowed the time to mourn the father she adored. The terrible enormity of Blanche’s crime shook him to the core. There was no doubt in his mind that without the faithful Dagda Mairin would have been lost for she had been too young to protect herself.

  Nara had come with them to London and with her help Mairin was quickly made ready. The cloth-of-silver skirt was long, and very full, its fabric falling gracefully into trailing folds. Over it was a second skirt of gossamer-sheer silk sarcenet through which the silver glowed in contrast. That was a fashion trick she had learned in Byzantium. The overskirt was the same blue-green of Mairin’s tunic, which was made of lampas, a patterned damask-like fabric. The long sleeves of the tunic widened from elbow to wrist, and the garment was girded with a belt of linked round silver disks each one of which had a moonstone in its center. Kneeling Nara slipped each of her mistress’s feet into a soft blue-green shoe that buttoned up the front with little pearls. Mairin wore her hair low on the nape of her neck in Anglo-Saxon fashion. Over it she placed a silver embroidered veil with a gold-and-pearl chaplet to hold the veil in place.

  “You will have the queen’s ladies gnashing their teeth in envy of your garments,” said Josselin, smiling. “Norman ladies think themselves vastly superior to everyone else.”

  “Wait,” Mairin said, “I have not yet chosen my jewelry.” Studying the box which Nara held open, she finally drew out pear-shaped earrings of pink crystal, and a matching necklace from which hung a beautiful Celtic cross fashioned from Irish red-gold. She also chose two rings, one a large single diamond surrounded by amethysts, and the other an enormous baroque pink pearl. “To wear additional rings would be to appear immodest,” she said wryly.

  “And how clever of you to have dressed to complement me,” he said with a small chuckle. He was wearing a vermilion-and-gold tunic with a matching vermilion mantle. It flattered his tawny dark blond hair.

  “Have we not always complemented each other from the first, my lord?” she teased him back.

  They rode together to the king’s house in Westminster, drawing looks both admiring and curious from the Londoners in the streets along their route. It was unusual to see two such attractive people upon two such magnificent horses.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked her as they made their way to the queen’s apartments.

  “A little,” she managed to admit as Biota opened the door. Mairin’s eyes quickly took in the women within the room as they entered. She immediately spotted Blanche, and though their eyes met momentarily there was no sign of recognition from the other woman. Then she saw the queen, knowing her instantly from Josselin’s careful description.

  Matilda of Normandy gave new meaning to the word “petite,” for though she stood but fifty inches high, every bit of her was in perfect proportion, and she was very pretty. Her skin was fair and she had lovely rosy cheeks. Her silver-blond hair was braided into a high coronet in an attempt to add to her stature, and her bright blue eyes were lively with interest. It was obvious that she missed little with those eyes.

  Mairin walked directly to the queen, and knelt gracefully, her beautiful head bowed in submission.

  Matilda nodded with approval at Josselin, and then said in a musical voice, “You may rise, Mairin of Aelfleah.”

  Mairin stood. “Welcome to England, my lady queen,” she said to the seated Matilda.

  “Thank you, my child,” the queen replied, and then she said to Josselin, “I understand what you meant when you said that my lord William did you a great service, Josselin. Your wife is lovely, and her manners are flawless.” She turned her attention back to Mairin. “I understand, my dear, that your first husband was Prince Basil of Byzantium.”

  The queen’s ladies looked interested now. This was obviously someone more than just a simple little Saxon wench. They were quite curious particularly given the drama involving Blanche de St. Brieuc.

  “Yes, my lady queen. Prince Basil was my husband until his untimely death. We were wed when my father, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, may God assoil his good soul, was King Edward’s trade emissary to Constantinople. Then when King William came to England he saw that I was matched with my beloved lord and husband, Josselin de Combourg.”

  “It is good to be loved,” said the queen, and Mairin realized the truth in Matilda’s simple words.

  “Oh, yes, madame!” she agreed, and Matilda smiled warmly.

  They spoke for several more minutes on unimportant things, and the queen said, “You will both stay and take the evening meal with us.” Although worded as an invitation, it was truly a royal command. “Now, Josselin, my friend, go and pay your respects to my lord William. Your sweet wife will remain here with me until it is time to eat.”

  Mairin felt her heart quicken. She had not thought to be left alone with the queen and her ladies, but Josselin, bending to kiss her upon the cheek, whispered, “Courage, enchantress!” and then he was gone. For the next hour Mairin sat upon a stool by the queen’s side, and conversed with Matilda and her ladies. Her flawless, accentless French made her seem very much like them. All the while she could see Blanche de St. Brieuc edging closer to her until finally the two women were right next to each other.

  Finding an opening Blanche said, “I kn
ew your husband, Josselin, in Brittany, for we are both Breton-born. We were very close.”

  “You knew each other as children then?” answered Mairin innocently. “Are you also a highborn bastard, lady?”

  Blanche’s fair white skin grew mottled with color, and her pale blue eyes filled with angry outrage. “I?” she gasped. “Bastard-born?”

  The queen’s other women who did not like this substitute lady giggled behind their hands. Mairin’s violet eyes grew wide and questioning. Matilda hid a small smile. Knowing the truth, she knew that Mairin was toying with her enemy.

  “Madame! What on earth would make you think I was not trueborn?” Blanche’s voice was now squeaky and high-pitched with her indignation.

  “Surely no respectable lord would allow his daughter to play with a bastard-child,” replied Mairin sweetly. “Since you knew my husband as a child I assumed you must be as he. Gracious, have I made a mistake?”

  “You most certainly have, lady! I am Blanche de St. Brieuc. My family is one of the oldest and most respected names in Brittany. My late husband was Ciaran St. Ronan, but as his name was not as good as mine, I took back my family’s name when I was widowed. I did not say I knew your husband when I was a child! You misunderstood! I knew Josselin several years ago.”

  “How nice,” said Mairin, pretending that she did not understand the innuendo.

  Blanche gritted her teeth. Did not this idiot Saxon girl comprehend what she was trying to tell her? “Your husband and I were very close,” she repeated, and then added, “We were intimate friends.”

  The queen’s ladies were goggle-eyed for Blanche de St. Brieuc had practically admitted to Josselin de Combourg’s beautiful young wife that they had been lovers. Surely she understood that. They looked to Mairin to see what her next move would be.

  “Ohhh,” said Mairin, not disappointing them. “You mean that you were one of my husband’s whores?” Then looking about at the very shocked Norman ladies with their open mouths she continued, “Have I said the wrong thing, my lady Matilda? We Saxon women are taught to be outspoken. I hope I have not offended you.”