Claire Delacroix (12 page)

Handfast spurned, a maid yet pure,

I seek a love destined to endure.

The knights and men gathered there exchanged glances of confusion. Any sense Bayard might have felt that he grew to understand his intended was shattered by her verse.

Where had she gone?

“What river is said to spring from the realm of Faerie?” Simon asked, clearly irritated with Esmeraude’s game.

The king smiled coldly. “They all do, if one heeds local legends.”

“Are there rivers upon the isle?”

“Of course.”

“Then I shall search it from one sea to the other,” Simon declared. He granted Bayard an arch glance. “And none shall complete this feat afore me.”

But Bayard knew that the maiden had not remained upon the isle. Whatever river she meant to visit was on the mainland or she would not have seized his boat.

He would wager that she had left him to continue to that nameless locale. Perhaps she had not chosen him as victor, after all. Why, then, had she welcomed his touch? Had she not been so obviously clever, he might have assumed her mad. But his Esmeraude was not mad. Nay, there was a greater reason here, he would wager his all upon it. Instead of vexing him, her choice intrigued him.

And redoubled his resolve to win her hand.

But first Bayard would know the number and the strength of his foes. “Does a woman have a right to refuse a handfast?” he asked the king instead of answering Simon. He spared a cautious glance at the Norseman who returned his glance morosely.

“Aye, either party can abandon it.”

“And once ’tis abandoned? Can your man protest the lady’s decision?”

“Nay.” The king’s lips thinned. “He has been rejected and that is the end of the matter.”

“What manner of a vow is this?” Simon demanded.

The king straightened. “A vow that sees to the happiness of both parties and that without a tithe to Rome. ’Tis a pledge for a year and a day, a trial match as it were, before more binding pledges are made between the couple.”

“Yet you relied upon such a weak vow to secure her?” Simon asked, incredulous. The king bristled at the knight’s audacity and the two men straightened.

“’Tis not the maid he sought to secure, but her legacy,” Bayard said, seeing the truth of the matter. “A seed in her belly would have seen the matter resolved.”

Simon made to speak but hesitated, then said naught. Bayard wondered whether his desire for Esmeraude was based upon something other than the legacy of Ceinn-beithe.

The king shrugged. “Ceinn-beithe is an old holding and one precious to the folk of the west and the isles. It seemed that ’twould be simple to make it mine own.” He eyed the knights warily. “I would welcome the pledged loyalty of any who would win this prize.”

“That is a matter to pursue with whosoever claims the lady’s hand,” Simon said, his dismissal of the prospect most clear.

The king stepped forward. “This isle is my jurisdiction and no one leaves its shores without my aye or nay. Esmeraude is mine to grant until she departs from Mull and I alone shall decree when that shall be. She has rejected but one man of many in my court. She came to me, and I shall see Ceinn-beithe secured, whatever price must be paid. You shall have your challenge, both of you, for all the men of my court shall seek her as well.”

“You have no right!” Simon sputtered. “You were not invited to the Bride Quest. I traveled from afar! I have invested more, far more, than you will ever possess in this madness! You have no right to seize this opportunity from me!”

Bayard saw that Simon had pressed the local king too far, for that man straightened and his face grew ruddy. Bayard took a step back, lest he be implicated in his fellow knight’s folly.

“I have every right!” the king roared. “And when Esmeraude enters my court again, I shall see to it that she is claimed fully.” He drove his fist into his hand. “She shall be claimed before the entire company to ensure there is no doubt!”

“My estimation of the lady rises with every passing moment,” Simon said with a sneer. “She showed much good sense to flee this haven of barbarians.”

“Seize him!” the king bellowed.

With startling speed, Simon was restrained by two burly men. He struggled, to no avail. “You cannot do this. You cannot restrain me. I am a knight! I have a quest to pursue!”

“You have obeisance to grant. Perhaps in the morn, you will be more inclined to show respect to your betters.” The king’s eyes were glittering with anger and Bayard knew he had to think quickly.

The king spun to face him. “And what is your intent?”

Bayard strove to look most troubled. “I fear I shall have to ask your permission to depart the hospitality of your hall and the pleasures of your isle,” he said slowly, letting his brow furrow.

“What is this? You retreat already from the prize?” Simon struggled against his captors to ensure that he missed naught. He was unable to hide his glee at the prospect.

The king’s eyes narrowed.

Bayard shook his head and lied as well as he was able. “I fear that I must. I lost my squire upon the sea and duty demands that I return to Ceinn-beithe, so that word might be sent to the boy’s mother. Also, I grow concerned for the fate of the second squire.”

“Where is he?”

“He tends my steeds near Ceinn-beithe.” Bayard smiled ruefully for the king. “I fear that the burden of my responsibilities draws me away too soon from your glorious isle, no less the promised delights of Esmeraude.”

“I know what it is to be overburdened with duty,” the king declared, clearly pleased to have another knight withdrawing from the fray.

“You left your steed with a mere boy!” Simon echoed, incredulous. “You place your trust too easily indeed.” He smiled. “But perhaps I may amend the matter for you, Bayard. Borrow
my
ship to run your errand, collect your belongings, then return to the isle. By the time you touch this shore again, I shall no doubt have need of the ship to carry my bride homeward.”

The king fixed the other knight with a quelling stare. “You speak above your place yet again,” he said coldly, then addressed his guards. “This guest will be ours for two nights afore I so much as look upon his face again.”

Simon bellowed in frustration as he was dragged away, but ’twas all for naught. His captors were impassive and efficient.

“Perhaps then he will learn some proper conduct,” the king muttered. He then turned a smile upon Bayard, his gaze dwelling on the knight’s blades. “How unfortunate that you cannot tarry upon our isle. I shall provide you with an escort to the ship and I would be more than delighted to lend you assistance for your crossing.”

“I thank you, sir.” Bayard accepted and bowed low, knowing that the escort had naught to do with his comfort. Nay, they would witness his departure to the mainland, and undoubtedly they would come back to the king with Simon’s craft.

When he saw the boat, a large, finely crafted vessel, he knew immediately that he had been right.

Indeed, he felt a passing sympathy for Simon as they eased out onto the sparkling water. ’Twas a curious inclination, and truly there had never been a man less deserving of his compassion. He had not seen the last of Simon on this quest, that much was certain.

Indeed, he must use these two days to advantage and secure his intended’s hand within his own while Simon was otherwise engaged.

Though first he had to find her. Bayard eyed the length of the convoluted shoreline and felt a rare sense of being overwhelmed. She could have disappeared entirely, she could have been swept away by the tides and lost forever.

And his quest would be lost, through no fault of his own.

But he would not step aside while his goal was snatched from his grasp. Bayard seized his oars and lent his efforts to those of the men of the King of the Isles’ court.

When they drew nearer the mainland’s shore, he caught a glimpse of a distant shadow upon the sparkling waves. He looked again, then smiled to himself.

Dame Fortune, ’twas clear, had yet to desert his cause.

* * *

Célie did not abandon her theme readily, which meant that Esmeraude argued with her as they rowed. The older woman was slow in aiding her, clearly emphasizing her desire to return to the knight by doing little to put him behind them.

The boy slept through their argument, though Esmeraude could not imagine how. His hair was the brightest hue of red that she had ever seen and a thousand freckles were cast across his nose.

“No man will have you,” Célie muttered. “Save the one you leave behind.”

“There is no proof of what I have done.”

“Ho! There is me and I assure you that I shall tell any man who so much as looks at you what a wanton you have proven yourself to be!”

Esmeraude looked away, well pleased that Célie unwittingly agreed to provide the proof she otherwise lacked.

“And you are mad to go to Airdfinnan,” the maid continued.

“Then why do you come with me?”

“Someone has to see to your welfare if you will not have a care for it! You are more like your father than I might have imagined,” the maid huffed.

“My father was wondrous,” Esmeraude retorted, her loyalty to that man unshaken, although Theobald had died when she was less than two summers of age. Duncan had become her step-father shortly after that, but Esmeraude knew by her tone that Célie did not refer to Duncan. Indeed, she thought the world of Duncan, and though Célie could never be coaxed to speak directly of Theobald, her disapproval of that man had always been evident.

“There was a ruffian,” she said sourly now, “bent on doing whatsoever he would with nary a care for the consequences.”

“Theobald?”

“Who else?”

Esmeraude halted in surprise, for Célie had never spoken of Theobald despite her charge’s many pleas that she do so and now she seemed inclined to do so. Esmeraude knew little of the man who had sired her - save that he had died when she was two and that she had adored him while he lived.

And that her mother refused to so much as utter his name. She had always wondered which was the real Theobald, the man of her memories or the man who had spawned her mother’s bitterness, though none would speak to her of it.

Until now.

“My father loved me more than any I have ever known,” she said carefully.

“Aye, he loved you true enough, for you were of his seed and young enough that he believed you were just like him,” Célie shook her head. “I always thought that he was wrong in this, that you shared only his merry manner.”

“But?” Esmeraude prompted.

“I long believed that Theobald would have been disappointed if he had lived to see you grow,” Célie continued. “For I thought that you did not share his selfish nature. But, of late, you have shown yourself as much a selfish fool as he.”

“’Tis not my wish to injure any other!”

“Nor was it Theobald’s.” Célie shook a finger at her charge. “But he did so nonetheless. Do you think your mother yearned to leave all she knew and nigh every soul she loved to come to this place and begin anew? Nay! Do you think she yearned to carry her daughters away from her homeland? Nay again! But she had no choice, thanks to Theobald.” The maid snorted. “’Twas his deeds that shamed her before her family and left her without a
denier
to call her own. Your mother sacrificed much so that she did not have to sell her daughters into marriage, for she wished you all to be wed for love. You mock her good intentions in this game.”

“You were amenable before...”

“Aye, before you sacrificed your maidenhead for whimsy and a night of pleasure. You have wasted an opportunity to find a spouse to love, spurned a chance that any other maid would welcome. And for what? Adventure. Pshaw!” The maid’s manner was stern. “I am sorely disappointed in you, Esmeraude, make no mistake, for you have shown your mettle and ’tis of less worth than I had hoped. You shall be fortunate, indeed, if no evil comes of this foolery.”

“I do not care if I wed a poor man. I shall wed for love.”

“Aye, if you have the choice,” the maid said sourly. “I shall be surprised if you do, and yet more surprised if no others pay some price for your folly.”

“What would you have me do then?”

“Turn this craft about and wed that knight.”

“He thinks me but a peasant maid! You yourself said that he would not wed me.”

Célie rolled her eyes. “What other choice have you? You have made a tangle, Esmeraude, and only you can unravel the knot of your deeds.”

Esmeraude was chastened, though she still thought her choice made sense. Célie always saw the shadow and not the light, but Esmeraude was convinced that she would find the love of which she dreamed.

Before she could defend herself further, the boy awakened abruptly.

“Ye gods!” he bellowed, leaping to his feet with such haste that the boat rocked dangerously. “We shall all perish!”

“Be still,” Esmeraude bade him crossly, having had more than enough of dire warnings this morn.

“Aye, we shall only perish if you capsize our craft,” Célie added sternly.