Enchantress Mine (56 page)

“Did he ravish you?” Christina’s blue eyes were wide with curiosity.

“Christina!”
Both her mother and her sister spoke simultaneously. Their tones were equally shocked.

“Nay,” said Mairin, “it is all right. That is the strangest thing of all. He did not, but he believes he did.” Mairin turned to the lady Agatha. “Lady, this is not a tale for an innocent girl.”

The queen’s mother nodded, and said to her younger daughter, “You will go to your chamber, Christina, and meditate upon the sin of excessive curiosity and a thoughtless, too-quick tongue.” Agatha’s tone was a severe one, and her demeanor was unsmiling.

“Yes mother,” said the chastened Christina, rising from her place, and then she turned to Mairin. “If I have offended you, my lady, I beg your pardon.”

“You have not offended me,” said Mairin and she smiled at Christina. The girl could not be more than a year younger than she was, but as a married woman with a child she felt so much older.

With a curtsy to her elder sister, her mother, the abbess, and Mairin, Christina left the room.

“Continue on with your tale,” said the queen. “You say that Eric Longsword did not ravish you although he believes that he has? I do not understand at all.”

“My lady queen, imagine for a moment that you are in my position. You have been stolen from your husband by a rejected suitor. That first night you are together sheltering from a blizzard in an old barn. He beats you, and you know, because he has threatened it, that he will next ravish you.”

Mairin’s three listeners shuddered openly.

“When he had finished beating me, he made me disrobe, and he threw me down upon the straw, flinging himself upon me.”

“Ohhh!” The elderly abbess’s eyes were round.

Mairin quickly explained to them how Eric had fondled and kissed her, attacking her not with his manhood, but with his fingers. “He actually seems to believe that each time he does this thing he is coupling with me. It is so strange, but you have no idea how relieved I was each time he forced me to his bed that he did not actually rape me. How could I have faced my husband under such circumstances?”

“He never really once . . .” began Agatha, and then she flushed.

“Nay, lady. Not once, though he believes he has. I would swear it on the Holy Cross!”

“Who is your patron saint?” asked the queen.

“The Blessed Mother,” said Mairin. “My name day is hers, August 15th.”

“It is obvious,” said the queen, “that our Blessed Mother was watching over you, Mairin of Aelfleah. Your escape is nothing short of a miracle. I have believed you from the first, and hearing your full tale, know for certain it is my duty to shelter you from this wicked man. I will see that my husband, the king, sends to England so that your Josselin may come for you, and you may be reunited.”

Mairin burst into tears of relief, and slipping from her chair to her knees before the queen, took Margaret’s hand and kissed it. “How can I thank you, my gracious lady?” she said.

“Stay by my side until my child has been born,” said the young queen. “Your husband will not be able to reach you until the spring, and my child is due then. The ladies of my court are good and kindly women, but they lack education and refinement. I miss these things, for I had them in Hungary, and I had them at King Edward’s court when we first came to England. You are close to me in age, you have traveled, and you are obviously educated. Do you read?”

“Yes, my lady, I do.”

The queen motioned Mairin back to her chair, and said, “Then we shall read together, and discuss what we have read. It will keep me content in these last months of my confinement.” Margaret smiled at her, and Mairin knew she was finally safe.

She was not loath to becoming a member of Malcolm Ceann Mor’s court in return for her safety. The king took an interest in everything that was of concern to the queen, and so Mairin found herself under his strong protection as well. Malcolm Ceann Mor had not survived the civil war of his childhood, his flight to England as a boy of ten, all the years in between, and finally his successful struggle to regain his rightful throne by being stupid. Recognizing in Eric Longsword a man who would not be deterred, he arranged that Mairin sleep in a small chamber within his wife’s apartments.

“Attempt to regain custody of the woman before Josselin de Combourg’s arrival, Eric Longsword, and you forfeit my friendship,” he warned. “I will hunt you down. You will have no place else to hide.”

Mairin settled into her life as the queen’s companion. She was relieved to be safe again, but she missed Aelfleah and her family, but her mother, she knew, would keep Maude safe. Her greatest concern was Josselin. It was going to be very hard for him to accept what had happened. He was such a proud man, but then their love for one another would sustain them. She knew it!

January passed, and on the eve of Imbolc she was amazed to find that the Celtic fires were lit all over Scotland. Indeed, the court made quite a festival of the occasion although the queen did not approve.

“It is not Christian,” she said.

“There is no harm in it,” said Mairin softly. “It is an old folk custom, and we do it at Aelfleah. Over the hills of Wales the Cymri dot the entire countryside with their fires. It is part of our heritage. ’Tis but an excuse to ease the long dull days and nights of winter. Do not forget, my lady queen, that the penitential season of Lent will soon be upon us.”

Halfway through February, Mairin found herself growing ill in the morning, and beef, her favorite meat, became repugnant to her. Having faced such a condition twice before, she realized that she was once more with child. A child conceived during that passion-filled night in York with Josselin.
Their son!
This was their son! She just knew it! Protectively she placed her hands over her flat belly.

“I am with child,” she told Margaret. They had become friends now, even sharing secrets about their husbands.

The queen was delighted. “How fortunate you are that you did not miscarry of him while you were in that awful man’s clutches.” The queen did not even consider the possibility that Mairin might have lied to her about Eric Longsword, and that the child was his.

Mairin nodded. “He was so newly conceived too,” she said. “Aye, my lady, I am lucky, but if you believe the Blessed Mother protected me from Eric Longsword, then she also protected my son. I know it is a son! William de Combourg. That is what we plan on naming him. Before Maude was born we decided that a son would be William, a daughter Maude. What will you call your son?”

“Edward,” said Margaret, “after King Edward who was so kind to us when we were children at his court.”

Mairin made no attempt to conceal her condition. Indeed, she was proud to be once more with child, for she and Josselin desired a large family. The hardest thing was not being able to tell him, and not being able to share her news with Eada. She said a silent prayer of thanks for her mother. Because of Eada she knew that her daughter would be well taken care of and safe.

The laird of Glenkirk had taken it upon himself to squire her about. His name was Angus Leslie, and she was very grateful for his company within the Great Hall of the king’s house, for Eric Longsword had not been forbidden the court. A day did not pass that she did not see him glowering at her from someplace within the hall. Until Josselin came and proved her truthful, she was forced to bear his presence.

Angus Leslie did not like Eric. “The man has the look of a coward to me,” he said to Mairin one afternoon as they strolled out-of-doors in Margaret’s little garden. There was still snow upon the ground, and the skies were threatening more before the day was out.

“He is a coward,” said Mairin. “He told me that he struck my father from behind because he knew he could not hope to defeat such a skilled warrior as Aldwine Athelsbeorn. I believe Eric Longsword to be mad, Angus. Perhaps that is why he frightens me so.”

“I’ll give the man one thing,” said the laird.

“What?” she asked him.

“He’s got good judgment when it comes to women,” he told her with a shy grin.

Mairin’s violet eyes twinkled with delight. The laird of Glenkirk wasn’t a handsome man. He was very tall and lanky, and his nose was just a trifle too big for his face, although it was certainly in correct proportion with his wide mouth. His hair was the russet brown of an oak leaf, and his deep blue eyes were warm. “Why, Angus,” she teased him, “are you complimenting me?”

The laird came as close to blushing as a grown man could, and he said, “Damn, my lady Mairin, dinna be like the little flirts that people this court. Ye know yer a beautiful woman, and I am a blunt man. The truth of the matter is that I envy yer husband. I’ve nae had time for a wife, though my relatives tell me ’tis my duty to wed. I frankly admit I wouldna mind if ye were my lass, and the bairn in yer belly were my son. So until yer husband comes to claim ye, I’ll look after ye as if ye were mine, and not another’s.”

She put her hand upon his sleeve, and Angus Leslie looked down on her from his great height. “Angus Leslie, ’tis the nicest thing anyone has said to me in months. I’m proud you are my friend. Now I shall tell you a secret. There is a young lady of this court who would give her life for just a kind word from you. Are you interested in knowing who she is?”

“Aye,” he said slowly, looking both curious and puzzled at the same time. Together they reentered the warm Great Hall.

“ ’Tis the lady Christina who admires you.”

“The queen’s sister?” He had lowered his voice. “Surely yer mistaken. I could not aspire to the queen’s sister.”

“She will hear no talk of marriage for her, although I will wager if the right man were mentioned, she would change her tune. The queen would have her wed happily.”

The laird of Glenkirk looked thoughtful, and he glanced across the room to where the flaxen-haired Christina sat demurely sewing by her sister’s side. “She’s a bonnie lass,” he noted almost to himself, and Mairin smiled.

“Go and speak to her,” she encouraged him.

“What would I say?” He looked so panic-stricken that Mairin almost laughed aloud.

“Go and tell her that I would like her to join us in a goblet of mulled cider, Angus. Then escort her across the room to me.”

“I couldna do it! She would think me bold,” he protested.

“A woman occasionally likes her man to be bold, Angus,” she told him. It was time this big Highland chief did some serious courting, and not of other men’s wives, Mairin thought. He was ripe for plucking, and she knew for a fact that young Christina was quite taken with Angus Leslie. “Go on!” she encouraged him with a little push. “You would rush into a battle quick enough, Angus Leslie. Well, think of courting as a battle. You want to win the battle, do you not? Leslie men are surely not faint of heart.”

Squaring his shoulders the laird walked across the room without so much as a backward glance. Mairin smiled, watching him bow and greet the queen and her sister. She was quite enjoying playing matchmaker. Then a voice hissed meanly in her ear.

“What will Josselin de Combourg think when he comes to find ye with my babe in your belly?” Eric Longsword was by her side smiling nastily.

She looked scathingly at him. “The child I carry is my husband’s, conceived just before Christmas. The child could not possibly be yours, and you know it.”

“I fucked you enough,” he snarled.

“Not with anything that could produce life,” she snapped back at him, “and you know it!”

“Bitch! The child is mine, and I shall swear it to your husband.”

“If you do then you will be lying, Eric Longsword, and God will strike you down for the lie. The child is Josselin de Combourg’s, and no amount of wishing upon your part will make it otherwise. You know it to be so.” Then Mairin turned from him and walked across the hall to join the queen. Angus Leslie had already forgotten about her, and was talking quietly to Christina, whose face was animated and whose cheeks were a pretty shade of pink.

“What did
that
man want with you?” the queen asked. She always referred to Eric as
that
man now.

“He says my child is his, and that he will tell Josselin so,” replied Mairin. “It is not so, my lady Margaret! I have not lied. There is no way in which Eric Longsword could have possibly conceived that child on me. It will be hard enough for Josselin to accept the fact that I was in that madman’s company for several weeks, but if Eric raises doubts in my husband’s mind about our child, what will I do?”

“Our Blessed Mother has protected you so far, Mairin. She will continue to do so,” said the queen, “and I will pray for you that all goes well.” She looked to her sister, and then back at Mairin. “Have you been match-making?”

“Have you not seen how your sister’s eyes follow the laird whenever he is about?” Mairin answered. “I have come to know Angus well since my arrival here in Edinburgh. I believe him to be a good man, my lady.”

“She could have a great lord,” said Margaret thoughtfully.

“She does not seem to want one,” replied Mairin.

“I want her to be happy,” said the queen. “She does not remember Hungary as I do, and as you can see, she has our father’s Anglo-Saxon coloring and look. Had I not wed with my lord, the king, I doubt there would be any chance of marriage for her.”

“Angus Leslie would take her to wive in naught but her shift,” said Mairin. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he is a man about to fall in love.”

Margaret smiled at her friend. “You like him!”

“Aye, I do. Christina has been in love with him for some time now, my lady. Look at them together. They look right, and from the dazed look upon Angus’ face, I believe he has already succumbed to your sister’s charms. He is practically in love, and he is ready to take a wife. Christina would be happy with him.”

“We will see,” said the queen with another smile. “Let us see how their courting goes, and then I will speak to my lord, the king.”