Once Upon an Autumn Eve

9

That night, in her bed, thoughts of Luc spun all ’round Liaze: Why would anyone abandon him in the woods, and he nought but a babe? Mayhap he was stolen from someone and left in the forest to die. Mayhap his pere or mere, or whoever it might be, put him at a place where it was certain the woodcutter would find him.

And why would an armsmaster become a woodcutter? Was he simply tired of combat and took up a more peaceful occupation?

And this bookseller who never charged and perhaps couldn’t make a living in a village where few could read, what of him? Is he a fugitive in hiding?

And the teachers: were they willing to work for room and board and little else, or did the armsmaster have a stash of gold or silver or copper to pay them for Luc’s education?

And the training that Luc underwent: for what purpose? Did the armsmaster know that this babe that he had cared for would one day become a knight-errant? Perhaps that was the goal all along. Perhaps the armsmaster himself had been a chevalier, or mayhap he always wished to be one and is living out his dream through Luc.

And the horse and weapons: who and where did they come from? Remy says that the sword is of the best bronze, and Eugene tells me that the steed-Nightshade-is elegant and of great worth. He says that when he travelled in the mortal world, he saw such in Andalusia, though most were grey or white and some were bay and only a few were black, and the blacks are highly prized.

Is Luc telling the truth, or is he simply a charming rogue?

Rogue? Luc? No, I think not.

La, here I lie awake, consumed with thoughts of Luc, yet I wonder if he, too, is lying awake, mayhap thinking of me, mayhap as he first saw me.

Liaze flushed, and a surge of yearning filled her being. After a moment she rose from her bed and stepped to a basin and poured cold water from an ewer. She splashed the chill liquid on her face and neck and breasts, trying to cool down. She padded back to her bed and slid under the covers, yet she still felt the heat of a passion unquenched.

After long moments of tossing and turning, once more she rose, and this time went to the nearest window and drew wide the drapes and lowered the sash and threw open the shutters, and moonlight and air streamed in. In the brisk autumn night, she stood and looked out upon the manor grounds. Argent rays slanted across the sward below, the silver half orb low in the sky and nigh to setting. A ruddy dim light reflected against distant trees; red coals from the pyre yet lived. Below and pacing their rounds, two members of the houseguard strolled by, and Liaze drew back into the shadows, unwilling for them to see her standing nude in her window above.

Thoroughly chilled and leaving the window open, back to her bed she went, and, shivering, climbed under the covers for warmth. Yet in spite of the cold, her ardor had not diminished, and she felt the heat of it, and with thoughts of Luc-his eyes, his smile, his soft voice, his gentle and open way, and his long and lean body-it was quite a while ere she fell into a shallow and restless sleep.

“My lady, my lady, ’tis time to rise.”

The voice came from a distant place.

“My lady,” again came the call, this time seeming right at hand.

Liaze opened her eyes. Zoe stood at one of the windows, having just drawn back the remaining drapes and opened the shutters wide. Sunlight streamed in at a high angle.

Liaze yawned and stretched, Zoe suppressing a yawn in echo to Liaze.

“What mark is it, Zoe?”

“Midmorn, Princess,” said Zoe, holding out a robe. “You’ve slept quite late.”

“Oh, my,” said Liaze, scrambling from bed and slipping into the garment. “And here I thought I would never get to sleep.”

Zoe laughed and said, “Ah, visions of Luc kept you awake, eh?”

“Zoe!” exclaimed Liaze, and she headed for the bath, Zoe trailing behind and smiling unto herself, for the Princess had not denied Zoe’s claim.

“I wonder if he plays echecs? ” said Liaze as she slid into the warm water.

“Echecs?” asked Zoe.

“It is something amusing we can do and it will not tax his injuries.”

“Oh, my lady, isn’t there something else even more amusing that-”

“Zoe!” snapped Liaze, even as she reddened.

Zoe turned away from the princess, and grinning widely the handmaiden began fluffing a towel ere laying it across the fireguard.

“Why, yes, I do,” said Luc. “Pere Leon and I spent many an eve in the game.”

“My whole family plays echecs,” said Liaze. “It came to us through pere and mere. Of all of us, perhaps Borel is the best, but he met his match when Camille came into our lives.”

“Camille?”

“Alain’s new bride.”

“And Alain is your brother,” said Luc. “The one who was cursed.”

“Oui.”

Margaux came into the infirmary. “Princess, though this is but his second morn here, and though he is badly bruised, I believe Luc is fit enough to take other quarters.”

“Ah, splendid,” said Liaze. “We shall install him in the guest wing.”

“He will yet need treatment for his forehead and those awful knocks he took,” said Margaux. “Still, he can come here for the salves and the ointment and the drink.”

Luc groaned. “I will yet have to drink that evil concoction?”

“Certainement,” declared Margaux, smiling.

Luc sighed and turned up a hand and, grinning, said, “If I must, I must.” He turned to Liaze. “Healer’s orders, you know.”

“Come, Luc,” said Liaze. “I shall show you to your quarters.”

Standing nearby, Zoe said, “The azure suite, my lady?”

“Oui,” said Liaze.

Zoe turned away and smiled to herself, for the azure suite was as close to the princess’s own rooms as a guest could be and not have accommodations in the royal wing itself.

That afternoon the falcons returned, winging in one by one-first from the Summerwood, then the Winterwood, and lastly the Springwood, for it lay the farthest away-and they bore messages: no Redcaps or Trolls had attacked the other manors. When that last message had come, Liaze sighed in relief, for Alain and Celeste were safe, and Borel was away, visiting Lord Roulan, Lady Michelle’s father. But Arnot, the steward of Winterwood, reported all was well therein. Only the Autumnwood had suffered an incursion; perhaps they had been after Luc, but then again it could have been a raid on Autumnwood Manor itself.

“Check.”

“Ah, Princess,” said Luc, “perhaps you have fallen for what my foster pere calls… hmm, let me term it a gambit.”

“So you say,” said Liaze.

“Oui, so I say. Chevalier to red king’s three.”

They were sitting at a small cherrywood table in a chamber in the sunset wing. Other small tables and chairs of like wood sat here and there in the room, with damier boards for playing dames, or echiquiers for echecs. The playing sets were of varying colors, and some were carved of ivory or amber, or of onyx and jade and other semiprecious stone. In one corner sat a large round table, cherrywood as well, with chairs about, a deck of taroc cards thereon. Against one wall sat a long sideboard, and as with all the furniture, it was cherrywood, too. On the opposite wall heavy brown stones embraced a large fireplace, and logs blazed within.

The floor of the chamber was of pale brown marble, and the walls of a slightly darker hue, with the ceiling white.

On the walls themselves were sconces ’round, holding lanterns alight. Portraits of Borel and Liaze and Alain and Celeste, as well as their parents-Valeray and Saissa-looked out upon the players. As if fixing them in his mind, these Luc had studied over the past three days of gaming with the princess.

“So, you move the chevalier to block me,” said Liaze. “Well then, green hierophant takes that impudent red knight. Check.-Oh my, that was a mistake.”

Luc smiled. “Tower takes hierophant. Check and mate.”

Liaze stared at the board. “I could have seen that coming, had I not been too eager to capture your chevalier.”

“You have captured more than one chevalier, my lady.”

Liaze looked up to see Luc gazing at her, and her heart leapt.

Boldly, Liaze said, “And you, Luc, captured the queen right from the start.”

Luc reached across the table and took Liaze’s left hand in his right, and she did not withdraw from him. Luc whispered, “My lady, you are so beautiful. Why hasn’t someone come and carried you away: a king, a prince, a duke, an earl?”

Liaze put her right hand on top of his, there among the captured pieces. “Why not a knight, Sieur Luc?”

Luc shook his head. “Princess, you are worthy of a true noble and not a common chevalier.”

“You are no common chevalier, Luc.”

Luc withdrew his hand and pushed both out in a gesture of denial. “Me? But I am just a poor woodcutter’s son.”

“Luc,” said Liaze, taking his left hand-his heart hand-in both of hers. “You know not whose child you are, yet this I say: in these days you have been here, I have come to realize a nobler person I have never met. You are anything but common.”

“But princesses do not companion with commoners, my lady,” said Luc.

Liaze shook her head. “Then, by that rule, Camille, a so-called commoner from the mortal world, and Prince Alain should never have wed.” At mention of Alain, Luc glanced at the portrait of the Summerwood prince. “Ah, non, Luc,” continued Liaze, “Camille is a rare and uncommon person… just as are you.”

Luc sat without speaking, and after long moments Liaze said, “Whatever happens between us, let it be.”

Luc sighed and said, “Princess, you deserve someone much better than me, and that I truly believe. Even so, it will be difficult to keep a rein on my ardor.”

Liaze’s pulse quickened, still she said, “Keep a rein?”

Luc nodded. “My lady, some believe love at first sight is but a mad fancy, yet I tell you it is not, for at the first moment I saw you, you captured my heart.”

Liaze’s soul filled with joy, and her laugh came silvery, and she said, “Luc, you had been hit in the head and had fallen off your horse when you first saw me.”

Luc laughed along with her, but he quickly sobered and said, “Nevertheless, Princess…” His words died, and his eyes filled with an unfathomable expression. And then he said, “That was the very moment, though I didn’t know whether you were real or a dream.”

“To fall in love with a dream would indeed be a mad fancy, for dreams are not real,” said Liaze. “Yet heed me, Luc, I am no dream.”

“Non, my princess, you are not, and for that I give my most fervent thanks to almighty Mithras above.”