Madrigal-Chapter 10
I really don’t own them but I sometimes I think they own me. I’m making no money from this fic.
In honor of the lovely Jen Bachand’s Renaissance wedding.
I have a wonderful friend and beta in the amazing Kristen Elizabeth.
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The kiss changed everything and changed nothing. He had long suspected (or was it just hoped?) that she had feelings for him. He had told himself it was as only a teacher, as a scholar, misplaced affection for an older man when she had lost her father so young.
Of late, as he had felt himself feeling more and more for the young woman, he had wondered, wished, hoped that her feelings were more than he had first supposed. He felt himself wishing he did indeed have the power of magic that others mistook his vast knowledge for. Had he the power of enchantment, he would have put her under a spell, given her a love potion, used some charm to assure she felt for him as he felt for her. Instead, he felt as if he were the one bewitched, firmly under her thrall, hoping it never be broken.
But the passion and fire with which she had kissed him let him know this was no illusion, no trick; the feelings he held for her were real and ran deep and most important, were not unrequited.
The realizations exhilarated him and filled him with despair at the same time. He who had seldom known lightness in his life found himself nearly giddy at the thought that his love for the Lady Sara was true and returned.
Then thoughts of the future would interfere and he found himself in the depth of such despair as he had never known.
There was no hope. The king had decreed her marriage; to prevent it from happening would be considered treason and result in death for one or both of them. But how could he live after she was wed? How could he draw breath in this world knowing she belonged to another man? And what if Lord Vincent was as cruel as Lady Sara’s father had been? How could she live being a man’s property, subject to his every whim, constantly afraid for her safety?
The thought of someone treating her ill drove him to near madness. He briefly entertained the notion of poisoning Lord Vincent when he arrived at the castle, but his conscience would not allow the thought to do more than pass through his mind. And even if Sara’s future husband should meet with an untimely end, the king would still see her married.
Still, he had to know the manner of the man who would be marrying his love. He also knew from his last conversation with Tripton that the man would be wary of sharing any confidences. With this thought in mind, he sought out the Captain of the Guard.
“Captain James.” He found him along the guard walk at the top of the castle’s outer wall.
“Lord Gilbert.” His craggy face broke into a smile. “How may I serve you this fine day?”
“I need to beg a favor of you, Captain.” His face was somber, his tone deep and solemn.
The Captain seemed to immediately understand the serious intent from his friend. He looked around to make sure they were alone and then moved closer, lowering his voice as to not be overheard. “You have but to name it, my friend. If it is within my power, it is yours.”
Grissom’s smile was small but filled with gratitude. “Could I interest you in another cask of the draught from the North, if it had specific purpose and required you to share?”
The older man’s eyebrows rose and his brow furrowed with the motion. “That seems not a favor to you so much as it is a favor to me.”
The mage continued. “There is a man here, Tripton. He is the Lord Vincent’s advance man.”
“Aye, we have met. He is fond of the tavern, though I have yet to find myself overly fond of him.” The captain’s voice was dry.
“I understand. But the favor I ask unfortunately requires you to gain his confidence.”
The soldier chewed on the corner of his lip, considering this. “What are you attempting to discover of the man, m’lord?”
Grissom shook his head. “Not of him. Of his master. See what he might say. Is he a good man? A good master? When his wife lived, was he a good husband?” He produced a small bag of coin and pressed it into his friend’s hand. “I fear ‘twill take more than one night at the tavern to gain his trust.”
James nodded. “I understand.” His soulful eyes met the mage’s with a franker knowledge than Grissom was expecting. “I will do the best I am able.”
Grissom clasped the captain’s arm with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other. “This means more than I am able to express. If there is ever a way I am able to repay you, you have but to ask.”
A light gesture of a thick hand waved the words away. “I am happy to help you as a friend, as I know you would for me.”
The mage smiled again. “And I thank you. With a parting hand clasp, Grissom quit the guard walk and moved back towards his tower.
His only sight of the Lady Sara for several days was at night in the Great Hall where he had no opportunity to speak with her. The first evening, when he met her eyes, he saw her fingers lift and lightly touch her lips as if she were in a dream state.
Then, flushing, she seemed to wake. Her hand dropped even as she averted her gaze..
He could not help the smile that touched his face at the knowledge that their kiss had moved her as well. He held the memory of that moment close to his heart.
The castle bustled, preparing for a three day marriage celebration with a faire in the village and feasting for the court. The groom and bride would meet at the evening meal on the first day and wed the morning of the third.
Oh, would that he were a wizard. He would stop time from moving forward. He would move it back and freeze it forever under the canopy of a willow with Sara in his arms and no other thoughts in the world but the softness of her lips, the scent of her hair, the way her body felt pressed against him. He would trade all of his work, all of the knowledge he had spent his life acquiring to be able to perform that one spell. Still, he knew that an eternity in her arms would never be enough.
But time moved forward. One day, two days, three days. His world narrowed down to naught by the passage of time. He spent hours listening to the thrum and flurry of the preparations for the wedding. Alone in his rooms with nothing but his thoughts, he searched for a solution, trying to see a way through, a way out. Then there were the moments in the Great Hall, wanting her gaze to land on him, wanting to see her smile, wanting her. Moments when their eyes would meet and his eyes burned into hers and all that was unsaid danced between them.
With each passing hour, the weight of his despair grew heavier and the rest of his life stretched before him, dark and desolate. These days, these precious few days, they slipped away.
He was further injured when the King assigned him the task of riding out to Lord Vincent’s encampment with the Captain of the Guard and Tripton to greet the lord the day before the celebrations were to begin. Grissom ground his teeth, held his tongue and did as he was bid.
The day was beautiful. The grass was a vibrant green and the scent of apples and hay carried on the wind, the last of summer. The sky was blue and the mage’s heart was black. Tripton and James conversed of drink and warfare. Grissom rode a few feet ahead and spoke naught.
Lord Vincent had arrived the day before and set up camp less than a league from the keep. There were over a dozen tents and at least thrice that many soldiers. Grissom was unsure if it was a show of force or wealth, but it did convey power as was undoubtedly the lord’s intent.
They were stopped by sentries before entering the camp and Lord Vincent was fetched by the guard. The mage, the captain and the lord’s man waited on their horses, their silence only disturbed by the ring of the horses’ bridles and the shift of the saddles.
Eventually, a tall man with dark hair strode forward from the center of the camp; Grissom judged the man to be roughly his own age. “Hail, gentlemen! Captain.” He nodded to the older man, then turned to the mage. “My lord Grissom, you are known well far and wide. I am humbly glad to know you.” While the man sounded genial enough, he did not sound at all humble.
“Lord Vincent. His majesty, the King, bids you welcome.” Grissom knew despite his words of welcome his voice sounded cold. The most he hoped for in that moment was to not sound openly hostile.
Vincent made a wide gesture. “Gentlemen. Please. Quit your horses and allow me to offer you food and drink. My camp is not much, but you are welcome here.”
Grudgingly, Grissom dismounted along with James and Tripton.
The lord turned to one of the guards. “See their horses watered and secured.” At the guard’s nod
They were led to a large tent bearing the flag of the lord, where they were seated at a table and served wine, bread and cheese.
“Now, m’lord.” Vincent smiled, but it seemed only a movement of his lips; there was no light in his eyes, nor more warmth than one would find in a painting of fire. “Tell me of his majesty’s plan for my wedding celebration.”
Grissom’s back remained stiff but his voice betrayed no emotion. “The King hunts on the morrow. The forest road is on the other side of the village; the hunt begins at dawn, he bids you there that you may enjoy the sport together.”
“And my bride? Will she join us for the hunt, as well?” Though his voice was genial, Vincent’s eyes were sharp.
The mage shook his head. “Nay. You will meet at the even meal in the Great Hall. There is a village faire all of the next day.”
The lord’s eyebrows rose into his forehead. “And the wedding?”
Grissom ground his teeth against the bile and anger that rose at the thought. “The following morn after a wedding breakfast.”
“Well and good.” He clapped his hands together. “We will ride after the wedding.”
“M’lord?”
“We will start for home directly after the wedding.” He sipped from his goblet.
Grissom felt his loss looming over him like the shadow of death. “But my lord…”
Vincent waved. “I have no desire to spend more time away from my lands than necessary. Once we are wed, the Sidle lands will need to be inspected and my men will need to take over for the King’s men.”
“My lord.” The mage leaned forward earnestly. “The lady is still grieving her brother. Surely you would not rip her away from her home with so little pity.”
“The lady will have a new home when we wed.” His nostrils flared. “Where I go, so must she follow. Her only concerns will be running my household and giving me sons; she will not have room in her heart for grief.”
Grissom sat back and blinked at the lord who, in turn, studied him.
“Tell me of her, m’lord mage.” He spoke softly, but his eyes bore into Grissom, seeming to read his very soul. “Is she a beautiful maid? Is she soft spoken and modest? Will she be an obedient and faithful wife?”
Tripton, into his third goblet of wine, spoke frankly, seemingly unaware of the undercurrent of tension between the two men. “She is a comely wench; one you will be most glad to have warming your bed, m’lord.”
There was a crack from a sudden backhand from Lord Vincent against his face that sent Tripton’s head snapping back and blood from his nose mingling with his wine.
Grissom started and the captain was on his feet, hand already on his sword, prepared should things suddenly go awry.
Lord Vincent stood, looming over the bleeding man. “She is to be my wife and as such, your mistress, you filthy cur. Speak of her again in any but the highest, purest regard and I will cut your tongue out and feed it to the village pigs.”
Tripton held his hand to his nose, suddenly very sober, his voice muffled and nasal. “Aye, m’lord.”
Lord Vincent sighed and handed Tripton a cloth. “Go. Wash.”
Holding the cloth to his face, Tripton stumbled from the tent.
The lord turned to the remaining two men. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen.” He shook his head. “Tripton is a loyal man, but sometimes lets the drink get the better of him.” His eyes fell on Grissom. “I will have your horses brought forward. You may tell the King I will see him at dawn for the hunt.” Giving a perfunctory bow, Lord Vincent indicated they should precede him from the tent.
At the outskirts of the camp, awaiting the horses and Tripton’s return, the Captain leaned in towards Grissom. “Methinks if ever the man were to tell a tale his master did not want to be told, tonight would be the night. I will collect the cask from you when we return.”
Grissom nodded dumbly. He had not thought his heart could get any heavier. He felt everything that Sara had feared of her marriage was doomed to be her reality. He had had no idea that pain of the heart could literally hurt the body until now. But he felt the sickness in his stomach and ache within his chest and knew there was no remedy in the world for such disease.
The horses were returned to them in short order. Tripton, sullen and still slightly bloody, joined them shortly after. Lord Vincent did not appear again and the sentries appeared to watch them with extra vigilance, causing the Captain of the Guard to frown fiercely and not move his hand from the hilt of his sword until they were well on their way.
The ride back to the keep was made in leaden silence.
Madrigal-Chapter 1
Madrigal-Chapter 2
Madrigal-Chapter 3
Madrigal-Chapter 4
Madrigal-Chapter 5
Madrigal-Chapter 6
Madrigal-Chapter 7
Madrigal-Chapter 8
Madrigal-Chapter 9
Madrigal-Chapter 10
Madrigal-Chapter 11
Madrigal-Chapter 12
Madrigal-Chapter 13
Madrigal-Chapter 14