Scarlet From Gold (Book 3) (24 page)

“You say Sheafield showed you this lake?  I’ll have him bring men up here to retrieve the body,” Marco answered.

They were silent as they packed up the remnants of their tragically-interrupted picnic, then climbed aboard their horses and rode back down to the castle.  Mirra went inside – accompanied by the unseen Mitment, while Marco went out to the stables with the hands who took their horses, and found Sheafield.

“My lady Mirra took me to a pretty lake up in the mountains today,” Marco told Sheafield, and explained what had happened, without mentioning Mitment.  “So please have his body retrieved and brought back to the castle,” Marco said.

He went into the castle without waiting for questions, and found Mirra up in her bedroom suite, rocking in a chair with a napping Sybele.  “I was having a wonderful afternoon with you Marco,” Mirra told him as he sat down with her.

He felt his heart swell, and he knew he didn’t want to leave the woman behind without something more to cement their relationship; impulsively, he knew he had to act to salvage an act of beauty from the afternoon that had turned ugly.  He slipped out of his chair, and knelt in front of hers, drawing an inquisitive study.  Marco’s heart was pounding wildly as he took one of her hands in his, and he saw her grow pale as she guessed what he was about to do.

“Mirra, will you marry me, tonight, right now?” he asked her.  “We can ask the chaplain to come to the manor tonight and have a ceremony for us right here.  Then you could ride with me to Barcelon tomorrow and we could announce our marriage to the court and Lady Iasco!” he spoke enthusiastically, and hopefully.

“Yes Marco,” Mirra continued to rock while holding the baby, “I will marry you today.  I will happily marry you today!” and in her smile Marco saw sincere pleasure.  He stood up, then bent and kissed her passionately, before leaving the room to set the hastily conceived plan in motion.

Within minutes he had the entire household in an uproar, as the head matron of the staff protested that she needed weeks to arrange all the decorations for the castle, but then proceeded to move with gusto to have foods quickly prepared and have traditional wedding icons displayed.

Mirra’s maid immediately agreed to serve as her first witness, but Marco was at a loss as to who he knew well enough to have them stand with him and hold the ring on his behalf.

“Mitment!” he called at last as he ran down the stairs to his workshop.  “Mitment!”

“What is it, oh frantic groom?” Mitment’s voice called from the top of the stairs, as she descended behind him.

“I want you to serve as my witness, to hold the ring for me until I give it to Mirra,” he said, as he started sorting through his alchemy supplies and miscellaneous items he had stored.   He had found a plain metal band to use as the ring, and he planned on mixing a number of ingredients together in a hastily conceived attempt to create a wedding band.  He madly mixed together two formulae, than focused all his attention on the ring, placing it on a sheet of glass, and placing the two containers of his mixtures in shallow dishes on either side of the ring.

He had a vision of something he could do to make the ring unique, hopefully attractive enough to be worthy of Mirra’s affection.  He had an idea that was based on the torq he wore; Mirra had admired the braided appearance of his wedding piece, and he wanted to create a similar look on the ring he had sitting in front of him.

“What idiocy are you talking?” Mitment asked as she came down into the workshop.

“I,” Marco paused as he closed his eyes and began to try to weave razor thin threads of the two alchemical mixtures through the air, and to apply them to the surface of the ring. “I need someone to stand up with me, and frankly, I know you better than anyone else in the castle,” he told her.

“What are you doing to that ring?” she asked, stepping in close and bending low to watch with intrigue

“I’m trying to make it special,” Marco answered as he let his mind imagine a delicate dance of the yellow and blue enamels he had created.  He let the two threads of liquid circle around the ring repeatedly, then stopped, hopeful that he had done what he intended.

He opened his eyes and looked.

“It’s very pretty,” Mitment said.  Marco looked at the spirit.  Although she definitely had the attributes of a female, the guard had never seemed feminine to Marco; hearing the word ‘pretty’ come out of her mouth was almost jarring, compared to the usual swearing he had heard her utter during their journey together.

“Wait,” he said as he stood up and went over to a cabinet.  “It’s not done yet,” he said as he pulled together another set of ingredients.

“What were you saying about your wedding?” Mitment asked.

“I need someone to stand by me and hold the ring until it’s time to place it on Mirra’s finger,” Marco explained.

“I know how weddings work,” Mitment cut in.  “But you’re supposed to use a good friend, who’s a man, who people can see,” she enunciated her objections.

“Oh la,” Marco answered as he started to mix his new potion, focusing more on his plans for the ring than on Mitment’s words.  “It’s my castle and my wedding, so I can bend the rules.

“Here now, watch this,” he said as he finished making the polishing cream he wanted.  He placed the ring inside the cream, then rubbed it vigorously with a rag for a long minute.  “And since I can bend the rules, I want you to be part of this wedding.

“Now look at this,” he said, and he opened the rag wide, then held it near the lantern on the work bench.

The formerly gray iron ring gleamed as though it were polished silver, where the iron showed.  Much of the surface of the ring was a braiding of the yellow and blue enamels, that also mixed together in some places to make green threads among the others.

“I’d say you could have a future as a jeweler, if nothing else,” Mitment said.  Her insubstantial-looking fingers reached down and gently picked the ring up.

“Marco?” Mirra’s voice called down the stairs from the kitchen.  “Marco, are you down there?”

“Here I come,” Marco said.  “I’ll clean this up later,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the jars and containers and dishes scattered around the work bench.  “Bring that along,” he motioned towards the ring in Mitment’s hand.

“Everything is coming together.  We’re going to use the main hall,” Mirra told Marco.  “The chaplain is here, and the cook is getting ready,” she motioned at the numerous people who were scurrying around the kitchen engaged in activities.  “Since we’ve given her no notice for tonight, Sweetness is going to serve breakfast to everyone tomorrow morning.

“Shall we go to the hall?” she asked.

“You look lovely,” Marco told her.  She had changed into a delicate-looking gown that had the same blue, yellow, and green colors as his newly adorned ring.

“Thank you.  You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony, but since we’re doing things a little out of ordinary, I don’t suppose it matters,” Mirra answered with a shy smile.  “Now, go put on something nice and then come down to the main hall,” she said.

“Mitment, you stay with Mirra,” Marco directed.

“You don’t want me to come help you get dressed?  After the little show you and the lady put on up at the lake, you don’t have anything left to hide, you know,” Mitment said.

“Go on, run up there,” the spirit added.  “You better hurry and marry this girl while she’s foolish enough to have you.”

Marco ran to his rooms, and found a valet waiting expectantly, with a suit already selected.  Marco had spent little time around the man to know him well, but as the reality of a wedding came so close to him, Marco began to feel nervous.

“How was your wedding, Reed?” Marco asked the man as he pulled on a jacket over his shirt.  The clothes hung loosely from his gaunt frame, the result of his long travels.

“Oh sir, my wedding was twenty years ago, and held right here in the castle, thanks to the Duke back then, who used the castle as his own.  My wife’s a house keeper here, so getting married here – with the Duke’s permission – was like getting married in our own home, a little bit.”

Marco shrugged his jacket into place, as Reed the valet put the sword belt around his hips.

“You look dashing sir,” Reed told him as he stepped back to look at the ensemble.

Chapter 16 – A Wedding at Sant Jeroni

The wedding took place with beautiful simplicity.  The main hall, a grand and ornate formal space that Marco had seldom even walked through, was half full with members of the staff and a few attendees from the nearest village who had learned of and traveled to the suddenly-arranged event.

Marco entered from the left of the chaplain as Mirra entered from the right, and when they met they looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I’m glad you suggested this,” Mirra said softly, so that only Marco and the chaplain heard.

“I wish I had thought of it months ago.  I never knew it was going to be such a long wait to get here,” he answered.

Mirra’s maid stood nearby, holding Sybele in her arms, as the young toddler squirmed anxiously, wanting to use her feet to explore the new room she hadn’t visited before.

As the ceremony progressed, the priest asked if there were any tokens of attachment to be exchanged.  The chaplain and the audience murmured in wonder when the ring suddenly appeared in midair, held out to Marco by Mitment.

“Marco, it’s extraordinary!” Mirra breathed softly, looking down at her hand as Marco gently slid the ring onto her finger.  “When did you order this?  You’ve been planning this for a long time!” she smiled at him.

“I just made it today,” he answered.  “Inspired by you.”

Mirra in turn handed Marco a polished silver cuff, an engraved, wide bracelet engraved with the crest of Sant Jeroni, that she slid onto his right arm.  “Now you’ve got both silver and gold,” she said, looking at the contrast between his silver ornament and his golden-skinned hand.

“I had this made over the winter, when we thought we would be married in the spring,” she sheepishly admitted.  “I’ve had it ready and waiting a long time; I’m glad it can finally be worn.”

“Shall we carry on with the ceremony?” the chaplain asked nervously as the couple’s conversation interrupted the wedding rites.

He resumed the reading from the scripture.  “You may now kiss the bride,” he told Marco, who snuck a nervous peek at the watching crowd first.

“Get on with it!” Mitment hissed from behind him, and Marco promptly hugged Mirra as he began a passionate kiss that elicited a few whoops from the crowd, and then a round of happy applause.

“I’d like to introduce the Marquess and Marquessa of Sant Jeroni,” the chaplain said proudly.

“Everyone is invited to join us in the courtyard for greetings, and then you may all come back tomorrow morning for breakfast,” Mirra announced to the crowd.  They immediately grew silent as soon as she started to speak, then cheered warmly when she finished.

Outside in the courtyard, the last of the red sunset light glowed overhead and reflected off the buildings, adding to the illumination that a number of lanterns and torches provided, as a long line formed to pass by Marco and Mirra.  The visitors shook hands with Marco, most with an air of shyness and uncertainty about the nobleman who so few of them knew because of his long absence from the castle.  The women all hugged Mirra warmly, for she was better known because of her habit of frequently visiting all the residents of the area.  Sybele was held next to Mirra, bright-eyed at first and excited, then drowsy later, and finally dismissed to be sent to bed at the end of the unexpectedly exciting day.

Marco and Mirra remained in their station, continuing to speak to everyone who came to visit, including many who came from the village after belatedly learning about the wedding.

As the evening passed, Mitment came to stand behind Marco, and began to speak to him.

“So, tonight is your wedding night, my lord,” she drawled the last two words.  “Do you have boundless depths of experience in how to bring pleasure to a woman?” she asked.

Marco tried to ignore her as a clan leader from the area came to offer congratulations.

“I know you saw her in her skin this afternoon while you were swimming, so you may have noticed that her body is different from yours,” Mitment said.  “Let me tell you the four most important things you must do tonight so that she will enjoy and always remember her wedding night fondly.”

Marco tried to discreetly turn his head.  “Stop it!” he murmured to the spirit that no one else could see or hear.

“Is there some problem, my lord?” the clan chief asked.

“No, none whatsoever.  It’s just an honor that you came at such a late hour,” Marco faced directly forward again.

“Let me tell you what will be most important for her to experience tonight,” Mitment said, then began to give a graphic description of Marco’s obligations to Mirra.

“Is there something wrong, my lord?” the next visitor asked, startled by the deep red blush that glowed from Marco’s cheeks.

“No, no problem,” Marco answered.  “Perhaps I’ve been on my feet too long.  Please go on.”

“I’d be happy to,” Mitment answered.  “I like this girl you’re marrying, and I want her to feel she’s getting the most possible out of this relationship.  Did you notice that birthmark on her thigh?” Mitment asked, and then began to describe another suggestion that Marco tried desperately to block from his awareness, while at the same time wondering which of Mitment’s racy suggestions were honest.

The last guest finally came past the newlyweds, and Marco and Mirra looked at one another.  Marco blushed once again, as Mitment reminded him of her first suggestion.

“Just a moment, love,” Marco said to Mirra.

“Please stop,” Marco beseeched Mitment.  “Please let me have this wedding night!”

“What?” Mirra asked.  “Oh, are you talking to the ghost?”

“Are you sure?  I don’t plan to come into the bridal chamber, so this is your last chance to rely on my sage advice,” the spirit laughed, then walked away, leaving Marco confused.