Enchantress Mine (19 page)

Shifting her position so she might look up at him she smiled and said, “I so very much want to make you happy, my lord. I was thinking on it.”

A spasm crossed his face. It was so quick that she wasn’t even sure it had been there. He felt as if a powerful hand had just tightened its hold upon his heart. Dear sweet Jesus! How innocent and how very, very sweet she was! Then he realized that he did indeed love her deeply. Not simply for her great beauty, but for the pure and good heart that she seemed to possess as well. “How fortunate I am in you,” he said quietly. “You do not have to make any special attempt to please me, my perfect love. Your mere being gives me pleasure. The knowledge that tomorrow you will be my wife offers me the greatest happiness of all. Ahh, Mairin! We will have the most beautiful and perfect life together. I promise you!”

“M
other!
I am bleeding!
” Mairin looked down at the crimson stains upon her thighs. Then with dawning realization she cried out, “Mother!
I am a woman!
”

For a brief moment Eada closed her eyes in resignation. It had been bound to happen, but why, oh why, now? Why the night before Mairin’s wedding? There could be no possibility of consummating the marriage until Mairin’s first flow was over, but she had hoped her child would have a little more time. Hiding the emotions that assailed her she briskly went about the business of showing her daughter how to cope during this monthly occurrence. Eada could see she was pale, her fair skin clammy.

Mairin complained of pain in both her belly and back. Eada tucked her into a soft bed, feeding her a warm, medicated drink. Then Eada sat by Mairin’s bedside until her daughter fell into a deep sleep. Satisfied that her child was comfortable she hurried off to find the prince.

To her surprise Basil was very sympathetic. “There is no reason,” he said, “for our plans to change, my lady Eada. I know that younger women have married and borne children, but Mairin is more innocent than most. She has not the sophistication of a woman of Byzantium. There are some men to whom it would not matter, but I am not like them. I want to introduce Mairin slowly to the pleasures that can be between a man and a woman. I have no great need to immediately possess myself of her maidenhead. I want her to savor and fully enjoy her awakening before we consummate our union.”

“Can you consummate that union?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized it. Horrified, Eada clapped her hand over her mouth, her face crimsoning.

The prince laughed, amused by her regretted boldness. “Yes, I most certainly can consummate my marriage to your daughter, lady.”

“My lord, I do beg your pardon, but I have heard rumors,” Eada apologized. “I cannot help but be concerned for my child’s well-being. Eventually we will return to England, leaving Mairin in a strange land. We may never see her again. I only want her happy, my lord.”

“She will not be discontent with me, lady. I will give her all she needs to be happy,” he said quietly. “I love Mairin, and whatever you have heard about me has nothing to do with my devotion to your daughter.”

Eada knew that she must be satisfied. “My lord,” she said, “I have committed a terrible breach of good manners with you. I swear I do not seek to be an interfering mother-in-law.”

“To seek the well-being of a child is no sin, lady,” he interrupted her. Then he said reassuringly, “The words that have passed between us this afternoon are private ones. I shall not allude to this conversation again if you will not.”

“My lord is most kind,” Eada replied. She was relieved that Aldwine should not know of this incident. Curtsying to Basil she hurried from the room.

The following day dawned clear and warm. The bright sun shone down upon them from a sky of pure turquoise. Mairin followed the ancient custom and had risen early to gather flowers from the gardens before the dew was even off them. She still felt somewhat shaky, a condition brought about by her new status as a grown woman. Her wedding, however, was to be a small, quiet affair. If the bride was slightly subdued no one would gossip. Indeed she suspected her apparent modesty would be applauded.

As Basil was not an immediate member of the royal family, his marriage was not a dynastic one. His title had come to him through his mother. The wedding ceremony would take place not at the great domed basilica of Hagia Sophia, but at Hagia Eirene, a smaller church opposite it.

In early afternoon the prince and a band of musicians came to escort the bride and her parents to the church. The musicians, garbed in scarlet, gold, green, and peacock blue silks, played merrily upon pipes and drums.

With her long, thick hair unbound to show her maiden state, the bridal crown glittering upon her head, Mairin was led from the Garden Palace by her parents and Dagda. The bride was escorted to the church which lay across the Imperial Gardens. The groom and his musicians went ahead of them. Within the church a soft golden light permeated everywhere. The sunshine coming through the beautiful windows reflected off the pale yellow walls and Mairin’s beautiful white-and-gold bridal garments.

Although the church in Constantinople had separated from the church in Rome several years earlier, Mairin could see little difference between the two other than language. One church used Greek, the other Latin. As the bride and groom stood before the priest, their crowns were joined together by a slender gold ribbon signifying the bonds of matrimony that would join Mairin to Basil. Three times the priest led the bridal couple around the altar. The invited guests consisted of Aldwine, Eada, Dagda, Eada’s serving woman, Nara, Princess Ileana, the Emperor Constantine, the Empress Irene Marie, Timon Theocrates, and his wife, Eudoxia. The members of the wedding chanted joyful matrimonial hymns, and threw rice at the couple to insure the bride’s fertility. Then they slapped the prince upon the back in congratulation. When the religious ceremony was over Basil and his bride led their guests back to the Garden Palace to be served bride cakes and wine.

It had been a simple wedding, and health was drunk to the newly wedded couple. Noticing that Mairin was tired, the prince called for a litter. They were wished well and sent quietly upon their way. Dagda and Nara had already gone on ahead to the Boucoleon Palace. Eada had promised her daughter that Nara would be hers when she wed. As for Dagda, Aldwine Athelsbeorn understood that he would serve Mairin and her new husband for he was first Mairin’s loyal man.

Mairin lay back in the litter, and for a moment her eyelids drooped. Walking by her side Basil smiled. She was so very beautiful. He took her hand in his, and her eyes opened.

“What kind of a bride am I to fall asleep?” she scolded herself.

“A tired one,” he laughed. “It has all been very exciting, my beauty.”

She heard his emphasis upon the word “all,” and realized that her mother must have told him that she was at last a woman grown. Mairin was relieved. She did not think she would know how to broach such a personal subject with a man even if that man was now her husband.

“Lie back, and rest,” he said gently. “We are almost home, and will speak then.”

She understood he did not wish to discuss their private life aloud before the servants. Nodding she said, “Yes, my lord.”

The Boucoleon Palace overlooked the imperial yacht basin. Its wharf was decorated with fantastic statues of lions, dragons, griffins, and other beasts both mythological and real. The palace was constructed of the finest marbles with mosaics of pure, blazing colors. It sat within a landscape of pavilions and fishponds, fountains, and gardens. Its peaceful setting was misleading for within the Boucoleon twenty thousand people lived and worked as courtiers, soldiers, priests, servants, civil servants, and entertainers. In the workshops of the Boucoleon artisans manufactured high-grade silks—a state monopoly—dyes for fabrics, and weapons of excellent quality.

It was here that Mairin would live until her own home was completed. Prince Basil’s apartments overlooked both the gardens and the sea. The little wing of the palace in which they were to live had its own private courtyard and entrance. The prince helped his bride from the litter, and carried her across the threshold of her new home. Blushing, Mairin hid her face in his shoulder. Her heart hammered with excitement and not a little fear, but to her surprise he settled her upon the bed in the bedchamber saying, “Rest now, Mairin. I will join you later for supper.” Then he was gone.

She was too tired to argue. The cramps that had earlier assaulted her belly now returned with a vengeance. She even felt queasy. “If this is being a woman,” Mairin muttered, “I think I should just as soon not be one!” She turned onto her side, but she was no more comfortable in that position than she had been upon her back. “Nara!” she called out. The serving woman appeared almost instantly.

“How may I serve you, princess?” asked Nara, very aware of her own elevation in status.

“Go to my mother. Tell her I would have some of the elixir she fed me yesterday for the pains in my belly. Tell her also I would know how it is made so I may brew it myself in the future.”

“Yes, my lady, I will go immediately, but may I suggest in the meantime that you try some of the red Cyprus wine?”

“Pour me some,” Mairin ordered. Then she asked, “Do you get pains, Nara, when your link with the moon is broken?”

The servant smiled. “I used to when I was yet a girl, but I don’t now.”

Mairin looked puzzled a moment. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Well,” said Nara with a wink, “once a girl’s had a bit of a taste it eases things up for her.”

“A taste of what?”

Nara suddenly realized that although Mairin might have been taught the basics of passion by her mother she actually knew little, and had no practical experience. That was how it should be for a proper young lady. The saucy servant, however, had backed herself into a corner. There was no help for it. She must tell the truth.

“Well, my princess, what I mean to say is that once you’re coupling regular like with your husband, the pains should go. At least they did with me.”

“But you’re not married,” replied Mairin. Then she blushed crimson as Nara’s words sank into her brain. “Ohhh!”

“I’ll go right to your mother, my princess,” said Nara quickly as she scooted through the door of the bedchamber.

Of course! Nara had a lover! How could she have been so stupid? Perhaps she should be shocked, but she wasn’t. At home in England the village boys and girls often coupled before the marriage banns were announced from the church pulpit. Although she knew that Nara’s confession wasn’t quite the same she found she was not put off by her serving woman’s admission. She wondered if her mother knew of Nara’s indiscretions, and decided Eada did not. Still, she thought, it could not hurt to have someone so obviously knowledgeable in her service. At least until the time that she herself gained such wisdom.

Then as she awaited Nara’s return she remembered that it was May 1st! She had known it this morning, but somehow with the excitement of the wedding she had forgotten. She had to light her Beltaine fire! Particularly on this the most important day of her life! It was her only real link with the parents who had given her life. How else could she share her happiness with them?

Frantically she looked about the room. Everything was totally strange. She had never been in Basil’s apartments before today. She had no idea where Nara had placed her cache of oak chips. A knock sounded upon the door, and she bid the knocker admittance.

Dagda entered bearing in his hands a shallow enameled copper dish. “I know you are tired, my lady, but I knew you would not forget Beltaine. The bedchamber terrace faces partly to the west. You may celebrate your fire in privacy there.”

He held out the bowl to her, and she set up within its flat bottom the makings of a fire in miniature. “Let us go outside,” she said smiling, and he saw the relief in her eyes. “I almost forgot, Dagda, and when I remembered I couldn’t find the oak,” she admitted.

“I have it safe,” he said.

They stood together before the little flame, once again celebrating their ancient heritage. Mairin, her soul soaring free, saw two brown eyes peering from a long, lean face, and knew with some primitive instinct that the owner of that face hated her and therefore her happiness. With a little cry of horror she returned to herself.

“What is it?” Dagda demanded, his familiar face looking anxiously into hers.

“Nothing,” she said, not wishing to share her vision with him. She was without a doubt unsettled by her first woman’s flow, and now felt foolish. “I am all right,” she told him patting his hand, and felt guilty seeing the hurt look in his eyes, for they both knew she lied.

The fire died quickly now and Dagda left her. Returning to the bedchamber she sipped the wine that Nara had poured her, and awaited the servant’s return. Nara had run the entire way. Mixing Eada’s potion with fresh wine, Mairin drank it down and quickly fell asleep. When she awoke her pain had gone. Fortunately her gown was so encrusted with jewels it had not wrinkled. Bathing her face in rosewater she appeared fresh and lovely as she joined her husband for their wedding supper.