Claudia Dain (5 page)

"The black, lady?" he asked.

The black was a mare, gentle and old and perfect for hawking. She did not want the black. The black lacked speed and fire. Today, for Ulrich, she would need fire trapped in ice, a mount to thrill and dazzle: the gray.

"Nay, bring me instead the gray. I hunt far afield today. Baldric. The gray will do for me."

"Mist? He is too big for hawking, lady. Lord Philip has so declared it and would have my skin if you took him out and were thrown by him."

"The gray," Juliane said again, unmoved. "Be quick. Baldric. I have an appointment and I must not be tardy."

"Lady?"

"The gray," she said again on a grin as Morgause felt the air with her wings, seeming to taste it and devour it. A most wise and beautiful hawk was Morgause. "And have a care in bringing Mist to me. I would not alert my quarry that I am about to fly high above him. Have a care, Baldric."

"Aye, lady," he said, shaking his head with a rueful grin.

Juliane smiled at his retreating back and stroked her bird, laying firm hold on the jesses and fastening the leash. Baldric would ride with her, that she knew; he was her most able companion in these jousts of hers. He did not approve, but what man did? If a man wilted, was the frost to be blamed? Let him only hold his own heat and no frost could touch him. She had yet to meet a man who could not be bitten by her ice.

Baldric returned softly, even the metal trappings of the horses muffled.

"All awaits, lady," he said. "The field is yours."

Juliane came out of the mews, Morgause flapping her wings in eagerness and restless delight.

"You saw them?"

No need to elaborate; all knew who had just come into Stanora, as well as how welcome they would be made to feel by Stanora's lord.

"Aye, a most well-favored company this time, lady. Eager and fit."

"And confident?" she asked, handing Morgause off to him while she mounted. Mist was as restless as her bird. It promised to be a fine outing.

"Aye, as they always are when first they come upon Stanora."

"And what of Ulrich? Did you mark him? Is he all that is sung of him?"

Baldric ducked his brown head and shook it in mild disclaim. Dust came drifting down out of his hair to powder his rough boots.

"He is a man like any other, or so these eyes see him. It may be that a lady would see him with different eyes. You will judge soon enough."

"So I will," she said with a cold smile. "Then away with us. Baldric. Let this hunt begin in earnest."

They rode away from the mews at a brisk walk, staying well back from the tower where the guests of Stanora huddled beneath her stony shadow.

It was a fine beginning to the game.

Chapter 3

The sound of horses. That was first, and then the knowing, the deep knowing that she was near. Ulrich turned, as did they all, to see her, Juliane le Gel, the lady of frost who ruled all men's hearts, and lower parts, with an icy fist of cold intent.

She did not leave by the main gate but rode her gray gelding out of the small gate in the western wall. The sun, bright and blazing, lit her hair to molten gold and her skin to polished, palest amber. Her hair trailed down her back, loose and almost straight but for a whisper of curl. A merlin was upon her arm, the varvels glinting silver-white in the sunlight, the narrow jesses hanging down, twining upon Juliane's arm like an embrace.

This was the lady. There was no doubt. His heart beat the truth of that. He needed no word, no explanation, and he sought none. Nor did his companions. Ulrich forced himself to turn from her, a mighty act of will and strength which stunned him, and gazed upon his fellow knights. All were caught by the sight of her, all eyes black with instant desire, all mouths loose and panting for the touch of her, nay, even the scent. She called to them, to each of them, and they stood struck. Numb with longing. Hungry. Ready.

What, then, of the lady of frost? How that they all, if he could judge, stood ready to do her service? What of her legend?

What of her father?

Ulrich turned to look at Lord Philip and was instead snared again by the sight of Juliane riding through the narrow western gate into the fields beyond. When she was shadowed for a moment by the high stone portal, she turned, giving him hardly more than a profile. She turned and briefly looked him in the eye. A smile. And then her groom blocked all sight of her and she was gone.

It was a call, and he wanted nothing more than to answer her with all his heart and strength.

"My daughter Juliane," Lord Philip said into the silence that surrounded both her appearance and her departure.

Edward had already grasped back the reins of his horse and was half ready to remount. Roger was snapping his fingers for a groom to bring him a horse, any horse. Ulrich swallowed hard, blinking away the sight of her, and turned to face the lord of Stanora.

"She is a daughter to weary any father, my lord," Ulrich said with a strained smile. "I would have known that this is the lady I seek even if you had denied it."

Philip nodded and smiled. "Deny her I never would."

"Nay," said Edward. "No man would."

"But away with you," Philip said with a grin. "Is this game not begun? Test your skill against her, Ulrich of Caen. You have a name which must be guarded. Guard it well."

"Aye, I will," Ulrich said as he mounted, his grin a banner of delight.

"Aye, a horse," Roger cried to the air. "I will ride with you."

"You? A player in this game?" Philip asked. "Did you not decry just moments ago?"

"A misstep, my lord," Roger said.

"Aye, a misstep for us all," Edward said. "You will not run to this field alone, brother."

"Yet did you not have a message for my priest?" Philip said. "And is it not still in your saddlebags?"

Edward lowered himself slowly to the ground with a muffled groan. "Aye. 'Tis true. Do not tell the archbishop of my folly. I shall stand unmanned."

Father Matthew came forward and tucked his hands into the folds of his long sleeves. "Come and do your function, and not a word shall leave Stanora of your temporary distraction. You have my vow on that. You are not the first to fall to her face, and you shall not be condemned for it."

"My thanks, Father," Edward said.

"I am away, then," Ulrich said, "and you will follow or not at your will, Roger, but expect no mercy from me. My will is all upon the lady."

"And so she does expect," a feminine voice said from across the bailey. "Run to her, my lord. She awaits you in this game she has begun."

Ulrich turned and faced the voice, soft and light and full of play. So light and sweet that almost the barb within the words were hid. Almost. She who owned the voice was dark of hair and blue of eye, her skin pale as cream, her beauty soft and sweet and strong in the midday summer sun.

"My daughter," Philip said. "Avice is her name and betrothed to Arthur of Clairvaux," he finished, either setting Avice completely out of the game or else completely in it, depending on the man and his honor. "My sister, Maud," he said, gesturing to a comely lady of fair hair and blue eyes, a mature woman of fine features grown sharp with time and age. "And with her are Christine"—a lovely lady of brown hair and eyes and delicate, fetching features— "Marguerite"—a lady somewhat younger with black hair and eyes, skin of whitest alabaster and a mien of dignity—"and Lunete, the youngest of the ladies of Stanora. They are betrothed all," Philip finished. Lunete was perhaps just ten with soft blond hair and cautious gray eyes. A lovely quartet of ladies to orbit Juliane. Lovely, yet none could compare to the hot allure of the lady of legend, the lady of ice.

"Ladies." Ulrich bowed, as did his brother knights. Even small William, not much smaller than Lunete, made his practiced bow. Lunete looked at Ulrich's squire and smiled. William did not smile back; he stared. Lunete was petite perfection.

"Will you fly to her, my lord Ulrich?" Avice asked, holding his gaze. "She awaits just such a coming."

"Lady Avice," he said. "I fly willingly and most eagerly to any lady who awaits my coming." He smiled. "It is the very foundation of my name to be so willing. To do less would be to disappoint, and I never disappoint a lady."

"Then fly," she answered with a shallow smile. "No jesses hold you."

Lord Philip looked on and listened, his manner easy at the courtly jousting taking place within his bailey. Avice was betrothed, her future set and secured against his death; what she did with her time before she was sent to her husband was her own concern, providing only that she remain pure. Beyond the matter of her purity, let her play at love; it was an honorable pastime and much hungered after by the ladies of noble houses.

Were Ulrich and his cohort true? It remained to be seen. They would be watched most carefully until their mettle had been fired and found sound. He would not allow these ladies in his keeping to be fouled by an untoward touch or a wayward word.

"Lady," Ulrich said softly, looking down at Avice, "you hold yourself too cheap if you do not see the unseen jesses that hold me here."

Avice glowed a delicate pink, her cheeks stained by flattery and praise. A lovely girl was his Avice, Philip thought, most like her mother.

Philip sighed and buried the sound. Juliane strove to fly beyond his aid, yet perhaps Ulrich would stand against her chilly legend. A prayer or two at Vespers would not be amiss, though of this prayer God seemed hardened to deafness.

"Come," Philip said, turning his thoughts with his words; "come into my hall, any of you who are free to enter," he said, looking briefly at Ulrich. Would he be turned from the fight for Juliane so quickly? Was his fire to sputter at a wisp of wind? "You are welcome to Stanora, to the bounty of the hall. Come, those who are free of jessed entanglements."

"My lord, I enter most glad of heart," Roger said. "I would not escape this entrapment of skirts for my weight in gold."

"Nor would I," Ulrich said, bowing to Avice and then to the younger ladies. "I stay and will stand upon the counsel of Avice of Stanora, for who knows a sister better than a sister? If Avice counsels me to stand, then fly I shall not. Let Juliane find her own pleasure in the wait; this quarry shall not be flushed."

Avice cast a nervous eye upon her father, as well she should for so disrupting this most important game, and said, "Lord Ulrich, I spoke without thought. Fly to your quarry, sir, for in this game of hunts it will be Juliane who is the hunted, not Ulrich."

"You are so certain, then?" Ulrich asked as the others—the priest, his brother knights, the small ladies of Stanora under the watchful smile of Stanora's lord and the stern mien of Maud—moved into the shadow of Stanora's tower.

"Can there be any doubt?" she answered, ducking her dark head against his stare in a most beguiling maneuver of blatant femininity, sliding her gaze to where Edward stood in solemn silence.

"Lady," Ulrich said softly, "there is always doubt when the battle is between a man and a woman. It is the very meat of the game."

"Is your quarry, then, the Lady Avice?" Roger called from the bottom of the stone stair that led into the darkness of Stanora tower. "I will find my way to the Lady Juliane, brother, if you have lost your way."

"To lose one's way with this lady is simple indeed," Ulrich called back, winking at the lady, enjoying her flush at his words.

"I can see it is so," Roger said. "She is as tempting as the dark moon, while her sister is the sun. What man among the fallen does not yearn to linger in the dark?"

"I am betwixt two enchanters," Avice said, looking again at Edward, silently scolding him for his silence. Edward returned her look with a scowl. Ulrich watched and smiled. He understood this game. She bantered with Roger, but the game was all for Edward. "I stand not a chance of surviving such an onslaught of words," she said.

"Lady," Roger said, coming across the bailey to offer her his arm, "I think you stronger than any onslaught, be it words, sticks, stones, or spears."

Avice jerked on his arm and stared up into his light brown eyes while Ulrich laughed.

"Brother, you have lost her," he said with a bark of mirth. "Will you shoot spears at the lady to test her mettle? Nay, lady, have no fear. He will not harm you, unless it be by a wayward word in this joust of flattery."