Joust of Hearts (15 page)

Mostly in silence they began to work, only speaking when presented with trivial things, which suited Melisande just fine. They examined the pile of trimmings and remnants they’d received from the fabric shops. Helena found a strip of thinly hammered metal, a swatch of gold satin fabric, long white ostrich feathers and small white, smooth-textured stones cut into halves. She called to one of the maids passing by in the hall to fetch needle and thread for her.

In no time at all, Helena had fashioned a mask for Melisande.

“I am afraid this mask is too heavy to attach to a holder,” Melisande said as she tried to bend the rest of the metal into something that resembled a handle.

Helena looked at the mask and picked up the hat that matched the new gown. “Mayhaps we can remedy that.”

Helena attached the mask to Melisande’s headpiece, and when Melisande tried it on, Helena’s invention fit perfectly.

By that time it was the dinner hour, but they were too exhausted to dress and join the other courtiers for the midday meal. Melisande suggested a nap for the both of them until it was time to make ready for the King’s party. Helena agreed to the idea, and, after helping Melisande out of her golden gown, went to her own room.

Even though ’twas Melisande’s desire to rest, she had a difficult time actually getting to sleep. Anticipatory about Corin, she kept thinking about how attractive he was and how gentle his touch had been on her waist, his elegant manners and chivalrous ways—
What is not to trust
?

Mere moments before slumber overtook her, her thoughts strayed to Devin.

* * * *

Melisande’s hunger brought her groggily back to the living. Rising from her recumbent position, she realized she’d only had the broth earlier in the day. Curious as to where Helena was with Lord Bergavny’s costume, she donned a simple robe with much haste. Later, there would be food in abundance at the King’s table, she was certain.

Inside the Bergavnys’ chambers, Melisande found that Helena was already dressed and had fashioned her husband a similar costume to hers. She sat quietly in a chair and observed the couple.

“This wisp of a skirt you have me in is rather drafty. Is there naught else I can wear this eve?” he complained gruffly.

“Nay, dearest. This is all we have to work with, and besides, if the wild clansmen of the north can go about bare bottomed in the out of doors all their lives in naught but a short woolen shroud, then you can survive for this one night with a draft nipping at your backside. ’Tis a wonder I have any of these items at all. Melisande and I were very fortunate to have obtained them.”

Fitzherbert conceded with a chuckle. “Only for you, my love.” He lifted a corner of the soft silk of his short costume and enquired of his wife, “By the way, where did you say you acquired these remnants?”

Melisande watched as Helena searched for a way to tell him just how successful her shopping tour had been, when a soft knock sounded at the door. In lieu of an answer for her husband, Helena quickly called out, “Enter!”

It seemed that the Queen had sent Helena and Melisande one of her ladies in waiting to attend to anything they would need to have done for the masque.

“My lord, it seems we will have to address this subject another time. Melisande and I have much to attend to before the masque.” Without another word, Helena swept from the room and escorted them to Melisande’s chamber. She instructed that the maid help Melisande into her gown, and also what to do with Lady Dupree’s hair.

Helena had the Queen’s lady braid and coil Melisande’s hair so that it did not show under the short length of gold mesh attached to her headpiece. When Helena finally departed, the woman proceeded to fuss over every other detail until Melisande had a mind to run mad over the anticipation of it all.

Melisande sat impatiently at the ready. Just when she could no longer stand the wait, Lord and Lady Bergavny ventured into her room. “I understand that Helena is also responsible for your costume.”

“Indeed. She has been most kind.” Relieved at their visit, Melisande stood and turned in a circle to show off Helena’s accomplishment.

He held out his hands to Melisande and declared, “You look like divinity ensconced in gold, my dear,” he said as she placed her hands into his elderly ones.

“Gramercy, Lord Bergavny,” Melisande said as she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Let us be off. I am famished!” Helena hurried them along.

* * * *

The great hall was alive with what seemed to Melisande over a hundred voices, each trying to speak over the music. When her eyes drank in the wondrous colors and textures of the courtiers’ costumes, the whole picture felt like a living, breathing dream. Lord and Lady Bergavny were announced at the entrance to the room, as was Lady Dupree. One of the King’s personal valets led them to the high table.

Everyone in the hall stood when King Henry, as a rather wealthy Robin Hood, and Queen Elizabeth, as a bejeweled Maid Marian, entered and took their seats. Then, without delay, steaming food was brought to the tables and course after course was put in front of the guests. Meats, from salted boar’s head to oxtail, fowl from game hens to swan, shellfish and sugared mackerel, and cheeses that Melisande had never seen before served carved into various shapes. Different kinds of bread for dipping in rich sauces, or to be used for trenchers, and the malmsey flowing generously. Melisande’s goblet was refilled many times.

She had wanted to taste everything even though the first course had been sufficient. When the desserts were presented and she had finished only half of her fruit tart with the thick honey glaze, Melisande could stand it no longer and pushed her chair away from the table. As she excused herself and began to stand, Corin was instantly at her side.

“Oh, good eventide to you, Corin.” She reached out and gratefully took his strong arm, as she felt as if she fought for balance in a small boat on a stormy day. “I was just on my way out to the gardens for some fresh air, and here you are!” she said, her words slightly slurred, as if her tongue and lips weren’t in agreeance with each other.

She smiled, thinking her belly must have been sloshing out loud with food and drink.

“May I escort you, Lady Dupree?”

“’Twould seem that we are in fact at that point already, Corin,” she said with a slight giggle, then sobered immediately. “But really, I insist you call me Melisande.”

“If you wish it,” he replied.

As he led the way toward the doors, Melisande leaned most of her weight on him, confident in the fact that he was more than able to take it. Poor Corin nearly had to steer her as they went along—she could feel his grip tighten and loosen as she wove her way across the empty path. But, somehow, it didn’t bother her in the least.

They walked into the courtyard of rosebushes, young willows and hedgerows that were themselves shaped like short-walled mazes, and stopped in front of a bench.

Corin broke the momentary silence. “Your headpiece is most fashionable for this masquerade, Melisande.”

“Oh.” She reached up. “You may have it then.” Melisande began tugging at it, trying to remove it.

“Nay, forsooth, there is no need to disassemble your lovely costume, I was but admiring the originality of the combination of the hat and mask.”

“’Twas Helena’s idea. She created the mask and attached it to the band of fur.” An unladylike hiccup escaped from Melisande. She grinned and covered her mouth briefly. “Pardon me,” she murmured daintily.

“Truly, there is naught to excuse.” Corin took her by the wrists and turned her so they were facing each other. With his voice lowered he enquired, “Tell me. Who is Helena?” His question sounded like a statement, as he flashed her one of his heavenly smiles.

Melisande, high from the effects of the rich food and wine, and his devastating looks not helping in the least, slid her hands up his chest, around his neck and pulled him down, slowly moving in for a kiss. “Why, Lady Bergavny, of course,” she said on tiptoe and against his lips.

Corin did not respond to her answer but, she noticed, he was quite pleased to oblige her action.

At once she broke away from the kiss and marveled at her surroundings. Sighing a long and audible sigh, she said, “’Tis a most beautiful spot. Gardens and courtyards of late have been magical places for me.” Melisande looked into his eyes and added, “What of your experiences, Corin?” She found her own boldness startling, but felt she had hidden this new revelation well.

“Magical. Now there is an interesting word, love. Any place you venture to can be made magical, providing there are the right circumstances,” he said matter-of-factly, in that smooth, rich voice of his, all the while lowering them to a seated position upon a bench.

“What do you mean, for example?” she asked and moved closer to him, her thigh brushing against his.

He grinned. “Well, for instance, I could take you to the wall, walk up on the battlements under a full moon, and kiss you senseless.”

Melisande sighed again and leaned her head on his thickly muscled upper arm. “Do go on.”

He regarded her for a moment then continued. “I could take you to the royal stables, and toss you around in the hay like a common servant girl.”

“Corin! You would not do such a thing!” she scolded with a smile, which she knew completely negated her reprimand.

“Mayhaps if you gave me the chance,” he replied in a hushed voice, his grin blossoming to a full smile.

“For shame!” She slapped him playfully on the chest. Corin caught her hand and kissed each finger.

“Now tell me, what would you
really
do?” she purred.

He gazed out into the night sky. “After you have your bath, I will brush out your hair in front of the hearth until it is dry. Then I will carry you—”

Melisande pulled her hand from his grip, placing her finger over his lips. “Shhh… Listen, Corin. The rounds have begun.”

“That is neither here nor there. Come now, let me—”

“Oh, but it is. I promised you the first dance!”

“’Tis unnecessary to—”

“Nay, I must keep my word. My honor is at stake.” She nodded once to show her sincerity. “You understand, do you not?” She was unwilling to give him the opportunity to reply. Instead, she jumped up and pulled him off the bench and toward the sound of the music.

He mumbled to himself, something about two flagons of wine, but she dismissed it.

Now in the light of the torches and candles about the room, Melisande had a chance to really see Corin’s costume for the first time. He wore bright blue from his pointed shoes to the feather in his cap. On all of his fingers he had rings of gold with sapphire stones of different shapes and sizes.
No outfit he could come up with could take away from his handsome features,
Melisande thought dreamily.

There were more attendants dancing than had been at supper. The costumes that the guests wore were rich in color as well as cost. Mock kings and queens, jesters, beasts, bandits and more were on the dance floor.

Melisande let the music take her away, body and soul. The turning and swirling currents of air felt cool against her skin. One dancing partner after another she teased and flirted with. She could not understand why she felt so deliciously free this eve, but it was so lovely to be so, she didn’t care. Nor did it bother her that, for whatever reason, her steps felt less graceful than usual.

One of the costumed men she danced with, a Norseman of old, addressed her just above a whisper as they danced. “Be careful, little star, or you shall outshine the Queen herself.” And he stepped away, leaving her with the next partner and her jaw hanging open in bewilderment.

It took a moment for his words to seep into Melisande’s mind, and she blinked a few times at the tingling sensation he had caused. Melisande missed a few steps as a result of the expanding distance between them, and the mock king she was now dancing with asked if she needed assistance.

“Nay, all is well, sire,” Melisande said to the man and smiled sweetly from under her mask.

Thinking that the song was more than half over, Melisande fretted over the fact that she and the Norseman might not cross again within the dance, for he was most intriguing. She searched for him across the crowded room and found him gazing in her direction, or so it seemed—his face was mostly concealed by the mask of cloth he wore, which protruded from beneath his hammered metal helmet.

Her fears were confirmed as the circular was at an end, and Melisande was ever so curious as to who this Norseman was. She started toward him, but of a sudden, the floor slanted, more so than it had been. It reeled and spun her off balance. Melisande reached for a bench by the door to the courtyard and held fast, but, alas, the entire room began to tilt wildly. She was instantly swept up by two strong arms and, just as her vision faded to black, she saw her Norseman hovering over her.

Chapter Fourteen

Melisande awoke and found herself in a dark corner of a hallway adjacent to the courtyard, still in the arms of the Norseman. She started to speak. “How long have I been—?”

“Not long, little star. You know, one must be careful with the King’s wine, for this will be the result when one overindulges.”

She protested. “I did not overindulge—” Melisande had to hold her hand to her forehead as her own words assaulted her frail condition.

“Had you more than two tankards full?” he asked, rather amused, as if already knowing the answer.

“For your own knowledge I had…” She paused trying to recall. “Ohhhhhh…” she groaned. “I remember not.”

“Therein lies your answer.” he replied insolently, as if she were a child.

This must look to him as if I am the town drunkard.
Impatient to change the subject of her irresponsibility, her mind rushed to find a topic. “Why do you call me ‘little star’?”

“Because you remind me of a star that has fallen from the night sky.”

Melisande felt the heat in her cheeks and was thankful for her mask.