Once upon a Spring morn ou-2 Page 2

  Celeste untethered her grey and swung up into the saddle. She unlimbered her bow and set an arrow to string.

  Now they could hear the hammer of oncoming hooves, as of a number of riders.

  “Is your manse well fortified?” asked Roel, riding to Celeste’s side.

  “Indeed,” said Celeste.

  “Which way?” asked Roel.

  Celeste pointed. “Yon.”

  “Then we’ll have to circle ’round, for the riders are

  ’tween here and there.”

  An approaching horn cry split the air.

  “Let us away!” said Roel, but at this last clarion call Celeste laughed gaily. She put away her arrow and raised her own horn to her lips and repeated the call.

  Roel frowned. “What. .?”

  “ ’Tis my own men,” said Celeste.

  “Your own men?”

  “From the manor,” replied Celeste. “Riding to the rescue, I ween.”

  Again she sounded the horn, and it was answered, and in that moment a warband galloped into the open.

  And they swirled around the pair and came to a stop, some with swords, others with bows, and these held aim on Roel.

  “Princess,” called one of the men, “are you well?”

  “Oui, Anton,” replied Celeste, springing down from her horse. Then she called out to the men, “Put away your weapons, for all brigands are dead save two, and they have fled away.” She gestured toward the slaughter at hand and then toward Roel. “This is the knight who saved me.”

  Anton sheathed his sword and turned to the others.

  “You heard the princess.”

  As the warband followed suit, Roel, sword yet in hand, dismounted and removed his helm and faced Celeste. “You are a princess?”

  Celeste smiled. “Oui.”

  A look of wonder filled Roel’s face, and for a moment he stood stunned. But then he swept both helm and sword wide in a deep bow and said, “My lady.” Celeste smiled and canted her head in acknowledgment, but then gasped. “Oh, Roel, you are bleeding again.” She turned to one of the men. “Gilles, did you bring your bandages and herbs and simples?”

  “As always, Princess,” said Gilles, even as he dismounted. He unslung his saddlebags and stepped to Roel. “Sieur, if you will take a seat by the oak, I will tend to your wound.”

  “Gilles,” said Roel as he moved toward the tree,

  “have you a spare clean cloth?” Of a sudden Roel paled, and perspiration broke out on his forehead. His helmet slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground, but Roel didn’t seem to notice. And then he stumbled and went down on one knee, but caught himself against the trunk of the oak. Celeste gasped and rushed forward and took the sword from him and set it aside and helped him ease down. With a sigh Roel said, “I need to wipe the blood of the outlaws from Coeur d’Acier. ”

  “Coeur d’Acier?” said Gilles as he whipped open a saddlebag.

  “My sword,” said Roel, his voice weakening, sweat now running down his face.

  “Ah, oui, Sieur, a clean cloth I do have,” replied Gilles, rummaging in the bag. He murmured to Celeste,

  “Keep him talking.”

  Celeste, her heart pounding in fear for Roel, said,

  “Did I hear correctly, my knight? Your sword is named Heart of Steel?”

  “Oui,” said Roel, reaching for the silvery blade, but his hand fell lax, the effort too much.

  Tears brimmed in Celeste’s eyes, and though she felt as if she were babbling, she said, “Oh, Roel, neither iron nor steel is permitted in Faery except in special circumstance.”

  His voice still weaker, “So Geron told me,” said Roel,

  “even as he gave me Coeur d’Acier.” He closed his eyes and fell silent while Gilles pulled loose the bandage.

  As the healer began cutting away the leathers about the wound, “Roel,” said Celeste, “please don’t leave me.

  Tell me more.”

  Roel murmured, “But Geron also said this blade would not twist the aethyr-whatever that might be-

  for the steel is bound by powerful runes and flashed with silver. Hence, he said I could bear it into Faery, for it would aid me in my quest.”

  With dread clutching her very soul, Celeste could hardly get words to leave her mouth. Still she managed-“You have a quest?”

  “Oui,” Roel whispered. “My sister, Avelaine, has been taken by the Lord of the Changelings, and I would rescue her and my brothers as well.”

  “There is a story here for the telling,” said Celeste, her cheeks wet with tears. She again looked at Gilles, but with a small, cloth-tipped swab he was now fully occupied probing the wound.

  Wincing slightly, his voice faintly strengthening, Roel whispered, “And tell the tale I will.” And then his head fell forward onto his chest.

  “Oh, Roel,” cried Celeste. She turned to the healer.

  “Gilles, is he-?”

  “Not yet, my lady, but I fear for him,” said Gilles. He held up the swab; the cloth tip was covered with dark grume. “The wound itself is quite minor, you see, but a poisoned blade made the cut.”

  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 g
rinned. “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.

  4

  Quest

  For his second bowl of broth, Roel used a spoon, but he had taken only a taste or two when he frowned and set it aside.

  “What is it, my handsome?” asked Celeste, a faint smile warring with concern on her face. “Why the grim look?”

  “Oh, Princess, I just realized, the moment I am fit enough, I will have to leave you.”

  “Leave me?”

  “Oui. My quest. I must find Avelaine and Laurent and Blaise. -Rescue them, I think.”

&nb
sp; Celeste sighed, now recalling what he had said-

  When was that? Just three days past? It seems much longer. “Tell me of this mission, Roel.” Roel took a deep breath and slowly released it, and he gazed out the window as if seeking an answer somewhere in the glitter of distant stars beyond. Then he turned to Celeste and said, “I am the youngest son of Sir Emile and Lady Simone. I have two brothers and a sister. Laurent is the eldest, Blaise follows him, our sister, Avelaine, comes next in birth order, and, of course, I am last. And ever since I can remember, Avelaine and I have been as dear to one another as a brother and sister can be.”

  Roel paused, his gaze lost in memory. Finally he shrugged and said, “Regardless, nearly seven years past, Avelaine was given to long restless rides, for she was sore beset by our parents. They had arranged a marriage for her to someone she did not wish to wed, and she had wanted to flee ere that day, but she knew it was her duty to follow our parents’ pact with the parents of the groom. And so instead of running away, she rode off from the manor to escape the words of our pere and mere and to struggle with her feelings. Always I accompanied her, for I thought she might need, not only the mostly silent companionship of someone who sympathized with her, but also someone to protect her from brigands, should any be lurking about.” Roel faintly smiled. “Not that there were ever any on our estate, but you see, I was a squire at the time-no longer a boy but not yet a man-and in training to become a knight, for I would follow in the steps of Laurent and Blaise, both of whom had won their spurs apast. And so, I went along as her guardian, though I did not tell her that.

  “We rode to the outskirts of my sire’s estate, where deep in the forest there lie the ruins of an ancient temple. Perhaps once it had been mighty, but these days it is nought but a tumble of rock, a place our vassals shunned; even the woodcutters didn’t go near. Nevertheless, Avelaine and I were out there, and at that time neither of us knew just who or what might have been worshipped therein. . ”

  Roel slashed and thrust at the air with his rapier to deal with an imaginary foe. Only half-watching, Avelaine sat on a block of stone. “Oh, Roel, why did they have to choose Maslin? It’s not that he isn’t a fine fellow, but for me he has no, um, no spark.”