Once upon a Spring morn

3

Awakenings

Please, Roel …I … you must not. .

. . Will he. .?

. . Gilles. .

. . My lady, he’s. . We can only. .

. . travois. . we need a. .

. . Easy. .

. . Mithras, please, I beg of you. .

. . Here. . in here. .

. . Careful, now. . more water. .

Silvery dawnlight filtered in through sheer curtains when Roel awakened, fragments of urgent conversation yet clinging to his mind. He was in a bed in a room somewhere, and someone held his left hand.

Celeste.

She sat in a chair at his side, though, leaning forward, her head and shoulders resting upon his cover, she slept, her fingers lightly touching his.

“Ah, my lovely,” whispered Roel, and he freed his hand and stroked her silky hair; then he, too, slept once more.

When next he awakened, Gilles stood beside the bed, and dusklight filled the chamber. Of Celeste there was no sign.

“Drink?” asked Gilles.

Roel nodded.

Gilles poured a half glass of water from a pitcher, and then propped Roel up and held the vessel to his lips.

“It was a close thing, Sieur Roel,” said Gilles as Roel sipped. “Twice I thought we had lost you, but twice you rallied. ’Tis good you were fit; else you would not be among the living.”

“It was such a small cut,” said Roel.

“Oui,” said Gilles, “but such a deadly poison. -More water?”

“Please.”

Gilles again half filled the glass and aided Roel to drink.

“Another?”

“Non.” Roel sighed and looked about. “The princess?”

“Ah. We finally had to drag her away,” said Gilles, setting the glass down. “She would not leave your side.”

“How long?”

Gilles eased Roel back down and frowned. “How long? How long was she at your-? No, wait. I see.

Three days. This is the third day since the skirmish.” Roel nodded and closed his eyes.

“I need to change your dressing,” said Gilles, and he drew back the covers and pulled Roel’s nightshirt up to the chevalier’s thigh, revealing the bandage above the left knee. “This might sting a bit,” said the healer.

Roel slept in spite of Gilles’ ministrations.

Stars showed through the window when next Roel opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and turned, and there was Celeste, again at his side, this time awake, her face lit by a single candle burning close by.

He smiled, and she took his hand and breathed, “Roel.”

“Princess, in nought but a nightshirt I am not fit to be presented to you,” said Roel. “Too, I need a bath and a shave, and-”

“Pishposh,” said Celeste, shaking her head. “That can come later. What you need now are food and drink.” Roel grinned. “Bread and cheese and an apple, I suppose, but, this time, perhaps wine?” Celeste laughed and released his hand and reached up beside the bed and tugged a bell cord. Then she plumped two pillows against the headboard, and Roel hitched himself to a sitting position. A moment later a servant appeared. “Broth, Gerard, and croutons. -And tea. Honey as well, to sweeten it with. And hie.” As the man rushed away, Roel said, “What, no wine, no beef, no bread, no gravy?”

“Nothing so heavy this eve, Roel,” said Celeste.

“Gilles’ orders, you see.”

“Ah, my lady, what does a healer know of such things?”

“Well,” said Celeste, “this healer saved your life.” Of a sudden, tears brimmed in Celeste’s eyes. “We thought you lost, Roel, but Gilles-” Celeste took a deep shuddering breath and let it out, and wiped away wetness from her cheeks.

“Do not weep, my lovely,” said Roel, reaching out a hand, and even as she took it, he realized he had spoken aloud. “Oh, my lady, I didn’t mean to call you my- Or, rather, I did mean it, but I–I- I mean, I-” Roel stuttered to a halt as Celeste broke into laughter.

“Ah, Roel, would you have me call you ‘my handsome’?” Roel grinned. “I shall have to think on that, Princess.”

“Well, as you are thinking, is there ought else you need besides food and drink?”

“Is there a privy at hand?”

Celeste smiled. “Oui, as well as a chamber pot under the bed.”

“I’d rather the privy.”

“I’ll show you the way,” said Celeste.

“Oh, no, Princess. Have a servant-”

“Folderol,” exclaimed Celeste, interrupting Roel’s protest. “I am perfectly capable of aiding you.”

Roel sighed and nodded and swung his feet over the side of the bed.

“Take care,” Celeste cautioned. “Gilles said for you to beware the first time standing.”

Roel took a deep breath and said, “Oh, my, but I believe Gilles was right.”

“I’ll fetch the chamber pot,” said Celeste.

“Non, Princess. I would rather not embarrass myself.” Bracing against the bed, Roel stood, swaying a bit.

Celeste took his arm.

“ ’Ware, Princess, should I topple, step back as to not be crushed.”

Celeste, from her five foot three, looked up at Roel’s slender six one. “I believe I am made of sterner matter, Sieur.”

“Ha! Though you climb trees, you appear quite fragile to me,” said Roel as Celeste led him across the room and toward a door. “-And now that I think of it, just how did you get up that tree, my lady?”

“Perhaps, given my so-called fragile state, I had the Fairies fly me up,” said Celeste as she opened the door.

In the chamber beyond was a bronze tub for bathing, a mirrored stand with a basin and a ewer, soaps, towels, cloths, and a small fireplace. Past the tub stood another door, this one leading to a chamber-pot throne.

“My lady,” said Roel, “as much as I love your company, I believe I can essay this on my own.”

“As you will, ‘my handsome,’ ” said Celeste, smiling as she withdrew, closing the doors after. Even so, she stood by in case he called for aid, for he yet seemed unsteady.

With a knock on the hall door, Gerard and two lads came bearing trays: Gerard with a tea set and a pot of honey, along with utensils and napkins; one of the lads with a tureen of beef broth with a ladle and bowl, and a second bowl filled with croutons; the other lad with a bed tray. “My lady,” said the man, after all had been placed on a sideboard, “Cook says, should you want any, she has some tasty eclairs, or honeyed biscuits for the tea, along with scones and clotted cream and some wonderful blackberry preserves.” Celeste smiled. “Oh, Gerard, tell her it sounds most tasty, but Sieur Roel needs only that which you brought.”

“What sounds most tasty?” asked Roel, emerging from the bathing chamber.

“Something perhaps you can have on the morrow,” said Celeste, “should Gilles agree.”

“A joint of beef for my famished stomach?” asked Roel, slowly making his way to the bed, his steps now steady.

Celeste laughed. “Mayhap that, too.”

“My lady, would you have me serve?” asked Gerard.

“Non, Gerard, I will do the honors.”

“That will be all, then, my lady?” he asked.

“Oui, Gerard, and thank you.”

The trio started out the door, and Gerard, last, said,

“Oh, and Mam’selle Henriette says she’ll be just outside if you need her.”

Celeste sighed and shook her head.

Roel clambered onto the bed, and as Celeste pulled up the covers and spanned the bed tray across his lap, he said, “You do not seem pleased that Mam’selle Henriette stands at the door.”

“She thinks to guard my virtue,” said Celeste.

“Ah, a chaperone?”

“Oui,” said Celeste, now ladling broth into a bowl,

“though I have not needed one for some while.” Roel raised an eyebrow at this, though the princess’s back was to him.

The bowl now filled, she sat it on his bed tray, along with the croutons and a napkin and spoon, and then stepped back to the sideboard and began pouring tea.

Roel smiled and said, “Although I am sorely wounded and abed-” Celeste glanced at him, and Roel pressed the back of his right hand to his forehead and feigned terrible weakness and emitted a prolonged sigh-

Celeste broke out in giggles and said, “You make me laugh, Roel, and I love that in a man.” Roel beamed, but continued: “-We should have one, Princess-a chaperone, I mean-for I would not sully your reputation.”

As if to herself Celeste smiled and faintly shook her head, then laughed again. “Henriette was scandalized when I had you installed in this bedchamber.” Roel looked about. “What is special about this room?”

“It adjoins mine,” said Celeste, nodding at a door on the far wall as she dropped a dollop of honey in each cup of tea and stirred, “and is meant for my husband.” Chapfallen, Roel now truly sighed and glumly said,

“Then you are married, Princess?”

“Non. I should have said it is for my husband-to-be.”

“You are engaged, then,” said Roel.

Celeste placed a cup of tea on the bed tray and then stepped to the sideboard for her own. She turned and took a slow sip, her green eyes fixed on him. She set the cup back in the saucer and said, “Non, I’m not engaged.

Nor am I currently involved.”

“Magnifique!” exclaimed Roel, a great smile lighting his face, but then he flushed. “Er, that is, not that I have, um, aspirations, oh, my, I meant. .” Roel’s words dribbled away, and he studiously peered into his broth.

Celeste’s mouth twitched in a brief grin, and then she took a deep breath and asked, “And you, Roel, have you someone waiting for you?”

Roel looked up at the princess, a tentative smile on his face. “Non.”

Celeste’s own features broke into a glorious smile.

“Bon!”

Her green eyes looked into his grey, his grey into her green, and, as if the aethyr itself tingled in anticipation, there came between them an unspoken understanding: he would woo her.

Yet grinning and ignoring the spoon, Roel took up the broth and downed it in one long gulp. He held the bowl out to Celeste and said, “More, please.” As she replenished the vessel, he popped croutons into his mouth and happily crunched away.