Once upon a Spring morn

7

Idyll

“You do not play echecs, my love?”

“Non, Princess. I have often thought I would find the time to learn, but I never did.”

“Then I will teach you, Roel, for it is a splendid pastime.”

“Then let us have at it, Celeste.”

They quickly finished their breakfast, and then hurried to the game room. “Choose the color of your doom, Roel,” said Celeste, gesturing at several tables, the echiquiers arrayed with men.

“Well, if it’s my doom, I suppose black is as good a color as any.”

The princess smiled. “Ah, then, let us sit here. I will play ebon, you the ivory.”

“Ah, I see, then: you are my doom, eh?”

“Ever, my love. Ever.”

After they had taken seats, Celeste said, “These are the names of the pieces: here arrayed in a row along the front are the spearmen, eight altogether; here in the back row, these two on the outside are the towers; next to those are the chevaliers, sometimes known as cavaliers; followed by the hierophants; and then the roi and reine-the king and queen-though the queen is also known as the dame. And this is the way each moves, and how they capture opposing pieces. . ”

“Argh!” exclaimed Roel, “six defeats in a row. I will never master this game.”

“Master echecs in six tries?” Celeste laughed. “I have spent many a candlemark at it, and still I am but a novice.”

Roel frowned. “But all other games I have essayed have come easily to me. This one, though, the possibilities are endless.”

“Ah, but you lasted much longer, my love,” said Celeste.

“Only because you coached me, Princess.” Celeste grinned. “As was I coached by my brother Borel. He’s much better than I.”

“That is hard to believe, Celeste,” said Roel, setting the pieces up for another game.

“Borel defeated the Fairy King at echecs,” said Celeste. “No one had ever done that before. Yet, heed, Borel is not the best of us.”

“Not the best? Then who?”

“Camille, Alain’s beloved. She defeated Borel handily.”

“Remind me to never play against her,” said Roel, grinning and moving his roi’s spearman forward two.

That evening, in the soft light of paper lanterns, they sat in the gazebo out on the front lawn, Celeste with a violin, Roel with a lute. Also under the roof were Marielle with a flute and Laurette, a fair-haired, petite demoiselle, playing a small harp. Gathered about on the lawn were members of the staff of the manor, those who were free of duty, all sitting and sipping wine at this impromptu concert. And they oft applauded over a well-executed, difficult riff, and over the sweet voice of Celeste as she sang ballades, as well as the baritone of Roel as he sang humorous ditties, mostly of knights bettered by wily maidens.

When it came Roel’s turn again to sing of knightly exploits, he set his wineglass aside and announced, “The Crafty Maid.”

Some in the audience laughed, while others looked on puzzled.

Roel struck a chord on his lute, and then began a merry tune, accompanied by Marielle and her flute, who seemed the only one other than Roel who knew the air:

Come listen awhile and I’ll sing you a song Of three merry chevaliers riding along.

They met a fair maid and one to her did say,

“I fear this cold morning will do you some wrong.”

“Oh no, kind sir,” said the maid, “you are mistaken To think this cold morn some harm will do me.

There’s one thing I crave, and it lies twixt your legs.

If you’ll just give me that, then warm I will be.”

“Since you crave it, my dear, it is yours,” said he,

“If you’ll just come with me to yonder green tree.

Then since you do crave it, my dear you shall have it.

These two chevaliers my witness will be.” The chevalier lighted beneath the green tree, And straightaway she mounted, laughing in glee.

“You knew not my meaning, you wrong understood.” And galloping away she right swiftly did flee.

“Oh. . chevaliers, stop laughing and take me up, That we might ride after her down the long lane.

If we overtake her, I’ll warrant I’ll make her Return unto me my horse back again.” But soon as this fair maiden she saw them acoming, She instantly took her dagger in hand.

Crying, “Doubt not my skill, it’s him I would kill; I’d have you fall back or he’s a dead man.”

Said one, “Oh. . why do we spend time galloping, talking?

Why do we spend time speaking in vain?

He’ll give you a silver; it’s all you deserve; And then you can give him his horse back again.”

“Oh no, kind sir, you are vastly mistaken.

If it is his loss well then, it is my gain, And you did witness that he gave it to me.” And away she went galloping over the plain.

And so my fine gentlemen be wary of maidens, For clever they are, and crafty they be.

If one offers something too good to be true, Then surely too good to be true it does be.

Oh, surely too good to be true it. . does. . be!

With a final twang of the lute strings, Roel broke out in laughter, as did the gathering, Celeste applauding and laughing as well. Roel leaned over and whispered loud enough for her to hear, “Present company excepted.” Celeste feigned a look of innocence. “Your meaning, Sieur?”

“You, my lady, are most certainly too good to be true,” whispered Roel.

“Ah, my love,” said Celeste, “we shall see about that anon.” And then she broke out in laughter again.

For another sevenday or so, Roel and Celeste for the most part idled the time away, waiting for Gilles to remove the stitches from Roel’s wound, for then he would be fit for strenuous duty, and hence could resume his quest. However, when he set out again, Celeste and the Springwood warband would accompany him. . “But only to the port city of Mizon,” or so Roel insisted, for he would not put anyone other than himself in peril, especially not Celeste. The princess, though, had made up her mind that she would stay with him to the end, saying, “Whither thou goest, go I.” And during this time Anton and the warband made ready for the journey-selecting horses, food stock, waterskins, cooking gear, weapons, armor, and the like.

They chose the brigands’ horses as pack animals, and allocated riding horses from the Springwood stables for themselves, Roche, the hostler, aiding them in their choices.

To Celeste’s delight, in echecs Roel improved significantly. And in dames, he was the better player of the two.

And they often made love-at times gently, at other times wildly-and Henriette gave up entirely at being chaperone, stirred as she was by the sounds coming from their quarters, usually at night, though not always.

And one morning ere dawn they slipped out early to elude Anton and the warband, and the princess and her knight rode to a high, sheer-sided rock pinnacle jutting up from the forest like a great cylinder, its rugged sides looming upward in the glimmer of the oncoming dawn.

“We call this the Sentinel,” said Celeste. “From the top you can see for leagues.”

“You’ve been to the top? The sides are sheer.”

“Oui. My father taught me to climb, both with aids and without. The Sentinel I free-climb.”

“Then let us scale it and take in the view,” said Roel, dismounting.

“What of your leg, my love?”

Roel made a gesture of negation, but Celeste said, “I would not have you open the wound.”

Roel grinned and said, “Gilles stitched me tighter than a drum, ma cherie; besides, I will be careful.” Leaving their horses cropping grass below, they free-climbed the rough stone, to come to the flat top covered in mosslike phlox, with tiny white blossoms with a faint blush of pink just then opening to greet the new day.

“Sit, Princess, for I have something to ask of you.”

Celeste cocked her head and gazed at him. “Something to ask?”

“Oui,” said Roel, and he handed her down, and then he sat knee to knee before her.

He took both of her hands in his and said, “My lady, you are a princess whereas I am but a common knight.

Even so, I am deeply in love with you, and never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would feel as I do.

Celeste, I cannot imagine life without you beside me.

I know I am completely out of bounds here, but I love you, ma cherie, and I will love you forever. There will never be anyone else for me.” Roel braced himself as if for a blow. “What I ask is, will you have me for a husband?”

Celeste squeezed Roel’s hands, and through her tears of joy she replied with a simple “Oui.” A burst of air escaped Roel’s lips and he said in amazement, “You will marry me?”

“Oui, my love, oh, oui,” said Celeste, and she leaned forward even as she pulled him to her and sealed her answer with a kiss.

And there in the silver light of dawn washing across the spring morning sky, amid tiny white flowers with a faint blush of pink, Roel shouted for joy.

They announced their betrothal upon their return, and that eve a grand party was held, with a banquet and music and singing and dancing and festive toasts proffered and accepted. Never, it seemed, had the manor been so full of bliss, and that evening more than one happy couple found pleasure in one another’s arms.

On the ninth day after Roel first awakened from his bout with poison, Gilles removed the stitches from the cut. “Well, Sieur Roel, I declare you fit for questing. Yet heed, my lad, try not to get struck again by an envenomed blade.” Roel laughed and said, “I shall do my best, Gilles.”

Standing at hand, Celeste said, “On the morrow, then, Gilles?”

“Your meaning, my lady?”

“To start for Port Mizon,” said Celeste.

Gilles sighed, for he, too, did not wish to see Celeste going on a quest where Changelings were involved. But then he nodded and said, “Oui, Princess, Roel is well, and the sooner started, the sooner done.”

“Bon!” she said.

That night, Celeste and Roel made tender love, the princess saying, “We will be on the trail, my darling, with no privacy. There are few towns between here and the border, and few between there and Mizon. It would not be fair for us to make love while the men of the warband leave their own wives and lovers behind.”

“Oui, I understand, ma cherie. But if we stop at an inn, where privacy is once again ours to have, then be certain I shall ravish you.”

Celeste laughed and said, “I question as to who will be the ravisher and who the ravishee.” The next morning, just after dawn, the warband saddled horses and laded pack animals and donned armor and arms, all readying for the trek ahead.

Many in the band were excited, for not oft did a venture come their way, while the veterans of skirmishes and other such went grimly about their tasks.

Roel, too, slipped into his brass-plated leather jacket and strapped on his long-knife and buckled on Coeur d’Acier. He checked his crossbow and bolts, making certain the newly oiled mechanism was fit and the quarrels well sharp. Gerard hovered nearby, tears brimming, for he was not a member of the warband, nor had he any training with weapons, yet he swore to Roel that a valet de chambre would be needed on the quest. Nevertheless, Roel denied him permission to come along.

Henriette stood sniveling, not only because Celeste was leaving, but also because Marlon would be riding away. Marlon was a young man of the warband, whom Henriette had within the week taken as a lover- spurred on, as she was, by the heat of listening to the sounds coming from Celeste’s and Roel’s quarters.

Vidal was at hand, along with Amelie. Theon and the houseguard were there as well. Marielle, Theon’s wife, comforted sobbing Darci, for her husband, Captain Anton, was leaving. So, too, were others weeping, wives and lovers and loyal staff.

Altogether some two candlemarks passed before all was ready-horses and men and supplies and gear-

and Celeste gave the signal to mount. Now the weeping intensified, and Henriette swooned, caught by Roche, who happened to be at her side.

And even as Celeste raised a hand to start the trek,

“My lady,” cried Leroux, the hawk master, “a falcon comes winging.” Celeste commanded the warband to stand by, and Leroux ran for the mews.

Down spiraled the falcon, descending toward the cote, finally to land on the platform and stalk inside. Moments later, Leroux came running, the falcon now hooded.

“ ’Tis a bird from the Autumnwood,” he said, and he handed the small message canister up to his mistress.

Celeste opened the tube and fetched out the tissue within. She unrolled it and read the words thereon. A smile broke across her face and she announced, “It is from Steward Zacharie of Autumnwood Manor. Sprites have come flying bearing the news that Princess Liaze and her betrothed, Luc, along with an armed escort, have entered the Autumnwood. She is safe and should be home in a threeday.”

A cheer rose up from the Springwood Manor staff.

Celeste read on, a frown on her features. Then she said, “Zacharie also reports that the witch Iniqui has been slain by Liaze, and warns us to be wary, for two of Orbane’s unholy acolytes yet remain-Hradian and Nefasi.”

A hushed murmur rippled through the gathering, but Celeste smiled and said, “Iniqui has joined her sister Rhensibe in death, and Liaze and Luc are safe; I think that calls for a celebration. Vidal, hold a feast this eve, for though we will be gone, this news deserves a fete.”

“As you wish, my lady,” said the steward.

Another cheer rose up from the staff.

Celeste called Theon to her, and leaned down and said in a low voice, “Keep the houseguard alert, Captain, for the remaining two witches, living foe that they are, might choose to attack Springwood Manor.”

“Fear not, my lady, for we will keep the mansion secure.”

Celeste motioned Vidal to her and said, “Four days from now, when Liaze is safely home, send falcons to my siblings and my parents with word as to what has happened here and the quest we now follow. Tell them of my betrothal, and say that when this quest is done, we will notify a king-my sire-and post the banns and plan the wedding. Give each of them my love as well.”

“As you will, my lady,” said the steward.

Theon and Vidal stepped back, and Celeste straightened in the saddle and gave the order to ride. New sobs erupted as forward the cavalcade moved; once again Henriette swooned, once again caught by Roche. Theon and the houseguard managed a respectable, thrice-shouted Hip-hip-hooray!

And with Celeste and Roel in the lead, warband and packhorses trailing, across the lawn they fared and into the forest beyond.