Enchantress Mine (60 page)

When Mairin had finished, the cleric said wisely, “Your sins are small, my lady, and you have suffered deeply. The fears you now suffer for your husband who must tomorrow defend his honor and yours are a much greater penance than I could ever impose upon you.” Putting his hand upon her bowed head, he blessed her and said, “Go in peace, my daughter.” Then he helped her to her feet, for she was so clumsy with the child.

Returning to her apartments, Mairin found that she could doze a little, but she awoke the moment Josselin moved from the bed. “Where are you going?” she asked. “It is too early for the combat.” Why did her own voice sound so strange in her own ears? she wondered.

He did not seem to notice. “I would go to lauds, and be blessed.”

“I will go with you,” she said, nervously flinging back the coverlet of the bed.

“No! I want you to stay here, Mairin. I must be alone with my thoughts this morning. I cannot worry about you now!”

He left her, but Mairin could not sleep. Arising, she dressed and went to the Great Hall to find Dagda. “He would not let me go to the Mass with him,” she fretted. “He said he needed to be alone. What is the matter with him, Dagda?”

“You should not go to the combat today, my lady,” came the blunt reply.

“He is my husband! He goes to avenge our honor! Of course I should be there!”

“No, you should not,” came the equally positive reply. “Under normal circumstances, Lord Josselin would be proud to fight this battle before you, but you are shortly to bear a child, and he fears that having never seen a combat to the death before that you may become fearful and miscarry of the child. He worries for you when he should be concentrating upon the battle to come.”

“What you are saying is that my presence could possibly be responsible for endangering my husband, and alter the outcome of this battle.” Mairin looked thoughtful.

“He will win whether you are there or not, for God is on his side, but it would be easier for him if he did not have to bear the burden of your presence.”

“What will people say if I do not go, Dagda?”

“When did you ever care for what people said, my lady Mairin? Escort him to the field of honor, publicly declare your love for him, and then depart back to the queen’s bower to await your lord’s return.”

“Why did you not tell me this before, Dagda?”

“Because you would not have listened, my child, would you? From the purple shadows beneath your eyes, I know you have spent a sleepless night. I believe you are more amenable to reason now.” The big man put his arm about her, and gave her a hug. “You are more amenable at this moment, are you not?”

“Aye,” she admitted.

“Then you will do as I suggest?”

“Aye, Dagda. I will wish my lord Godspeed, and then I will await his return away from the field of battle.”

When Josselin learned that Mairin had changed her mind, and would not stay to view the combat, his entire mood lightened, and she knew that Dagda had been right. Had the battle to come been part of a tournament, it would have begun in mid- to late afternoon. Combat as a spectacle was apt to get out of hand as the blood lust of the combatants rose, and only the darkness brought on by night could force an end to such a tournament. The combat today, however, would be between the two men only, and so it had been scheduled for two hours before the noon. Although the stands set up about the field of honor were filled, there was no gaiety involved. This was a serious matter.

Mairin had dressed carefully for the occasion in her royal-purple skirt, and a rich lavender brocade tunic top. Upon her bosom rested a beautiful gold, enamel, and pearl cross that had been given to her by the queen along with its heavy red-gold chain. Her hair was dressed simply in two thick plaits that hung down on either side of her head, and upon the top of her head was her gold veil and chaplet. She was visibly full with her child, and she carried her condition proudly as she escorted her husband before the king. There was a formality to what was about to happen, and looking at his wife, Josselin said in a loud voice:

“Lady, by your word and in your behalf do I put my life in jeopardy to do battle with Eric Longsword. Ye know the cause to be just and true.”

“My lord,” answered Mairin, “it is as I have said wherefore ye may fight surely for the cause is just and true.”

Josselin de Combourg then kissed his wife, publicly touched her protruding belly in what appeared to be a blessing, and then without another word, Mairin turned and walked proudly back toward the queen’s bower.

“Mairin Aldwinesdotter!”
Eric Longsword shouted after her. “Will you not wish me good fortune? Will you not wish the father of your child good luck?”

For a moment Mairin had stopped, frozen in horror at the sound of his voice. She had not noticed him there, though of course he must have been. Her greatest concern had been for her husband. Now for the briefest moment she debated turning and raining curses upon his blond head, but she realized, with sudden clarity, that the greatest damage she could do Eric Longsword now was not to acknowledge him at all. Lifting her head high she continued on toward the queen’s bower.

Just a few moments remained before the actual combat began. Pushing Loial aside, Dagda carefully checked over Josselin and his equipment. The knight was dressed in a full-length mail suit called a hauberk. His pointed helmet was fashioned with a nasal guard. He carried a kiteshaped shield of azure with a
bend or
dividing the halves of the shield. On the upper half of the shield was a
rose or,
for the
rose or
was a part of his father’s crest, and Raoul de Rohan had given his son permission to use it. The device upon the lower half of the shield was a
star or
he had taken in honor of Mairin, for to him, the star was representative of an enchantress. Across the
bend or
was the lettering
Honoria Supra Alis,
Honor Above All, the motto that he had taken for his own. The most important part of his equipment was a double-edged sword with its simple crossguard, and its hilt with a large counterweight. Dagda plucked a hair from his head, and ran it along the sword edge. It split immediately.

With a smile he looked up at Loial. “Very good, lad,” he approved. Then he swung his gaze to Josselin. “You are ready, my lord.”

High up in the queen’s bower, Mairin heard the shouts of encouragement from the spectators as the battle began. Instinctively she shivered, and felt the child within her womb almost leap as her heart accelerated. She could not see the field of combat from where she was, and she was all alone. Even the queen’s lowest serving wenches had gone to watch what was, to them, an exciting spectacle.

I cannot be afraid, she told herself. God is on our side in this matter. Only Eric Longsword’s death at Josselin’s hands can cleanse my honor, and wipe away the doubt of my child’s paternity. When Josselin overcomes Eric, everyone will finally know that I have not lied, for Mairin was not so stupid that she didn’t realize that many of the Scots court believed Eric Longsword’s story despite the queen’s trust and faith in her friend’s word.

Once again she wondered, as she had wondered so many times before, why Eric Longsword had not actually raped her. Why he had believed as he pushed his fingers into her resisting body that he was possessing her in a normal manner. He had always spoken to her as he committed his abuse upon her, and afterward, as if he were actually having her. Not once had his mask of self-confidence and certainty ever slipped. She had come to believe that he really did believe he was possessing her fully, completely, and in a normal manner. If that was so, then Eric Longsword was really as mad as she had so often accused him of being.

Below her and away from her line of vision, she could hear the roars of the crowd watching the battle. Dear God! Why had she agreed to cloister herself like this? She should be there in the king’s pavilion watching and encouraging her husband on to victory! Then suddenly Mairin realized that a great silence had fallen over the field of combat. She listened hard, but she could hear nothing at all but the wind which blew softly about the tower.

Mairin could feel her whole body clenching with fear. What had happened? Why had they stopped shouting? I must go to Josselin, she thought, but her legs would not function. She could not move at all for a long moment, nor could she seem to even draw a breath. If he’s dead, I want to be dead too, Mairin said within her heart. Then a mighty cheer arose from the battlefield, and in that instant, Mairin knew that her husband had been victorious.

Grasping at a high-backed chair to keep herself from falling, she sagged against it and the breath was expelled from her lungs in a single great whoosh. A small moan of relief echoed about the chamber. Her entire body relaxed with relief. She drew in several deep breaths, and felt strength pouring back into her legs. Now she could go to him and everything would be all right. She took a step forward, and to her total surprise, water gushed down her legs in a great flood. Stunned, she stopped in her tracks as the reality pierced her brain. The child was going to be born, and it was several weeks too soon. Paralyzed with new fear, she found that once again she could not move.

Margaret and her ladies rushed into the chamber to embrace her, but she waved them away. It was the queen’s mother, the lady Agatha, who realized what had transpired. Gently she put reassuring arms about Mairin, and guided her to a chair.

“Have you any pains?” she questioned Mairin.

Mairin shook her head.

“You must not be frightened, my dear,” said the lady Agatha. “This is your second child, is it not?”

“It is too soon,” came the reply.

“How soon?” came the reply.

“Three weeks, perhaps four,” Mairin gasped.

“It will be all right,” soothed the queen’s mother. “Many a child has been born a few weeks early and survived to be an old man.”

“I want my husband. I want Josselin!”

“I will send one of the girls for him immediately,” said the lady Agatha, “but we must get you to a comfortable place, my dear, and out of these wet garments.”

“My lady Margaret! He is all right? He was the victor?”

“Aye, Mairin, your lord husband is fine, and Eric Longsword is dead. He will never trouble you again, my dearest friend.”

“Thank God!” said Mairin, and then she fainted, slowly sliding from the chair onto the floor.

She awoke to find herself back in her own bedchamber. Her garments had been removed. There was a soft woolen shawl about her shoulders, but other than that, she was nude. She lay upon her bed. The lady Agatha was poking busily at the fire in the corner fireplace, and one of the two shutters was drawn upon the single window.

The older woman straightened up, and seeing Mairin conscious once more, said, “Will you let me stay with you, my dear? I know that you must miss your own mother at a time like this.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Mairin replied, striving to remember her manners even in this situation. “Where is my husband? Can I see Josselin?”

“Of course,” replied the queen’s mother. “He and that white-haired giant of yours are fretting in the antechamber. Let us cover you with the coverlet, and then I shall bring them both to you, for your giant will not rest until he sees for himself that you are all right. Who is he?”

“He raised my mother and me,” said Mairin. “It is a long story, lady.”

“You will tell me afterward.” The lady Agatha smiled and then she went to fetch Josselin and Dagda.

“You are injured!” Mairin cried as her husband entered the tiny room and approached the bed. He was naked from the waist up, and there was a fresh bandage about his shoulder that was already seeping blood.

“ ’Tis nothing serious,” Josselin reassured her. “How do you feel?”

“My waters broke, which means the child will come early, but I have no pains yet. Come closer, my lord, and let me see your wound.”

He sat down upon the edge of the bed, and Mairin, sitting up, undid the badly wrapped bandage. “I am all right,” he protested.

“You will not be if that wound is not properly dressed,” she fretted.

“He wouldn’t let me do it,” said Dagda, coming in behind his lord. “Nothing would do but that he rush to find you and tell you that he was all right.”

“
He
is dead,” said Josselin. “He will never again hurt you, or terrorize you, enchantress.”

She nodded, and then said, “I must dress your wound, my lord. My lady Agatha, would you hand me a camise? Dagda, I will need moss to pack the wound. You know the land. Can you find it nearby?”

“I gathered some earlier in anticipation, my lady Mairin. I will fetch it.”

The queen’s mother did not argue with the younger woman. She found Mairin’s behavior quite commendable. She was not yet in labor, and her husband needed her attention. She handed Mairin the requested garment, asking as she did so, “Will you need hot water, my dear?”

“Yes, my lady, and clean cloths for bandaging, and wine to clean the wound.” Mairin struggled into her camise, and then rose gingerly from her bed. Her belly was quiet as if the child was resting in preparation for its labors to come.

Josselin put his arms about her for a long minute, and they stood together in sweet embrace. Gently he nuzzled her hair, and she gave a little murmur of happiness. “I was so afraid,” she told him. “I could not see the field of battle from the queen’s bower, but I could hear the shouts of the crowd. Then when it grew so still . . .”

“I had driven Eric Longsword to his knees, and it was then that I killed him,” Josselin said quietly.

“But he wounded you.”

“A lucky blow,” Josselin said with a careless smile.

She stood back from him, and looked closely at the deep gash that was now crusted over with dried blood. “If he had been any luckier, you could have lost the use of that arm. There is a muscle there that, had Eric severed it, would have left you with a withered arm. Oh, Holy Mother! Look at those bruises!” Her hands ran anxiously over his torso, his other shoulder and arm.