Madrigal-Chapter 13
Disclaimer: 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 mage pulled the hood of the huntsman further down over his brow as he and Gregory shuffled through the screens passage into the Hall. Grissom remained with the cluster of villagers that moved toward the back tables while Gregory moved to the right, clinging close to the wall as he made his way, unnoticed, towards the front of the room.
The Great Hall was as crowded as he had ever seen it. Men and women were packed into the room; extra long benches and tables from other parts of the castle had been brought in. The scent of roasting meats and savory vegetables wafted through the air as the servants continued to place dish after dish in front of the merry throngs. The musicians’ lyre and flute played happy tunes that could barely be heard over the laughter and talk of those assembled around the tables. Although there was a roaring fire in the large fireplace, braziers were placed about the room for extra warmth.
The dais where the King and Queen’s chairs usually sat contained instead a table facing the room. The King and Queen sat in the center and on the King’s right, Lord Vincent and the Queen’s left, Lady Sara.
The mage did not allow himself the luxury of letting his eyes linger upon his love. Instead, he forced himself to take stock of the room. The men that wore Lord Vincent’s colors were clustered in small groups, enjoying the revelry and giving little regard to what went on around them. The King’s guard stood at their posts half looking bored, the other half wistful, as though they wished they could lay down arms and join in the frivolity.
Moving slowly up the far wall, Grissom caught Gregory’s eye and inclined his head. The assistant looked first left then right, then took a careful step toward the center of the room as the mage continued to edge forward. Grissom’s eyes swept the crowd and caught sight of Maid Judith as she scurried toward the King’s table. As his gaze touched her form, he nodded and Gregory stepped forward, sweeping the woman into his arms as he began to whirl in one of his madly capering dances. The maid squawked and the assembled company roared with laughter. Judith protested but Gregory held fast to the diminutive woman, dancing her in circles throughout the center of the room. The crowd hooted at the young man’s antics and a few of the more unruly began calling for him to steal a kiss from the hapless maid.
“A kiss?” Gregory called to the crowd as he danced her close to the royals. “A kiss?” His eyes flicked to the mage and at his master’s nod, he leaned in to the maid as if to steal a kiss. Maid Judith squealed in protest, the assembly bellowed with hilarity and the mage’s young assistant dropped something into the brazier directly in front of the King. “My friends,” he called to the crowd as he danced her away. “She will not favor me with a kiss!”
The diners watched, laughing, as he danced her towards the exit and none noticed the huntsman beginning to unfasten his bulky hood as he stepped towards the front of the room.
The explosive bang and resulting red smoke caused several screams and more than one to rise in panic even though the smoke cleared quickly to reveal the mage standing in front of the dais, resplendent in his formal cloak, grasping his staff, but bowing to his King.
For decades to come, the occupants of the Great Hall that night would tell of seeing the great mage appear out of nowhere and how the splitting of the air that allowed his presence into the room caused a sound loud as thunder and that the smell of sulfur smoke lingered for days after.
“My lord mage.” The King’s words held both anger and fear. “How have you come to be here in this way?”
“My liege, I cry your pardon.” He dipped lower into his bow. “The matter is most urgent or I would not have appeared thus.”
“Rise, m’lord mage.” The King’s voice was dry and dubious.
Grissom rose and took stock of the scene before him. The King regarded him wary anger, the Queen was wide eyed with her hand over her heart. Lord Vincent’s face was a remote mask but his eyes were sharply focused on the mage. Lady Sara sat with her eyes averted, a slight flush blossoming on her cheeks. The previously disinterested royal guards were now at full attention, watching him with wary eyes. The banquet guests had gone from high revelry to frightened quiet and all eyes were riveted to the scene unfolding at the front of the room.
“What matters have such import, Lord Grissom, that you should startle the company so?” The monarch studied his mage hoping, it seemed, for some clue to his purpose at such a display.
“Your majesty had asked for a show of signs and portents to prove a happy marriage between Lord Vincent and the Lady Sara. In trying to coax such from the ethers, I have discovered nonesuch can be found.” The mage used his staff to point to the lord at the King’s right. “It has been revealed to me that only tragedy and ill fortune will result if the marriage takes place.”
The King’s nostrils flared in anger and he growled. “My lord mage, what signs and portents could possibly tell you such when this marriage is best for our kingdom?”
“Your majesty must understand, this marriage will neither serve the kingdom nor your best interest.” Grissom spoke in heavy tones, one hand within his cloak. “The natural world cries out against it.”
There was a shriek as a snake slithered from near the mage’s feet towards the dias, pointed like an arrow towards Lord Vincent. The serpent raised its head, tasting the air with its tongue and a cry rang out. “Tis an adder!”
A collective gasp rose and all movement seemed suspended as the mage bent and grasped the snake behind the head. “The very serpents of the field are warning you against allowing this, my liege.”
Low murmurings began at the tables and many eyes turned in fear to the head table. While an adder’s bite was seldom fatal, it was painful and more than that the presence of one was seen as an ill omen. The King was well known to despise all snakes, adders in particular.
Lord Vincent stood so violently his chair tipped over with a crash. “Majesty, why do you tolerate this trickery from this charlatan?”
“Lord Vincent, the mage Grissom is not a charlatan, but has shown himself to be a wise and good servant of the crown.” The King frowned heavily. “However, m’lord, I would seek an explanation for this behavior.”
Grissom turned to the King with the snake still in his hand but monarch made an impatient gesture. “Away with that thing.”
The Master of the Hunt came forward with a muslin sack and Grissom placed the snake within its confines. He clapped a hand on the huntsman’s shoulder with a quiet, “Thank you, my friend.”
The other man nodded and took the snake away.
Grissom turned back to the dais. “If the Lord Vincent claims the Sidle lands through marriage to the Lady Sara and the lady should meet an untimely end, what guarantees the lord’s loyalty to your majesty? If a man will murder his wife, what keeps him loyal to the master that gave him his lands?”
Lord Vincent leaned over the table menacingly, resting his weight upon his fists. “You lie.”
“Do I, m’lord?” And he brought forth the blood stained dagger from within his robes.
The King looked from Lord Vincent to the mage and the dagger and then back again. “Explain yourself, mage.”
Grissom spoke to the King but never moved his eyes from the lord. “He imprisoned the Lady Deborah in her rooms then slit her throat with this knife and threw her body down the stairs.”
“You lie,” Vincent snarled again.
Coolly, the mage countered. “Do you deny this is your dagger? Is this not your family crest on this bloody knife?”
Lord Vincent looked as if he would leap o’er the table and rip the mage’s head from his body. “Aye, tis my knife. But you have no proof that I was the one to wield it, nor even that it is her blood. You dishonor me.”
Raising his eyebrows, Grissom responded. “Do I, m’lord? Did you not dishonor yourself when you murdered your young wife?”
Slamming his fist down on the table, Lord Vincent all but howled, “I demand satisfaction of you, m’lord!”
Smiling slightly, the mage inclined his head. “I will meet you on the field in the hour after dawn on the morrow.”
The other man stood tall and stiff. “What weapons?”
Grissom shrugged. “Bring what weapons you will and I will bring what weapons I will and we will meet as equals.”
Lord Vincent nodded as he stepped from the dais. He met Grissom nose to nose. “Enjoy this night, mage, for it is your last.” So saying, he nodded to his men and they trooped from the room.
The silence in the room was such that the pop and crack of wood in the fireplace could be clearly heard. As the flames split a log and the pieces fell, the King spoke with quiet force.
“My lord mage, a word.”
Grissom followed the King through to his ante chambers but not before he heard the occupants of the Great Hall burst into riotous speech.
As soon as they were in the King’s rooms the monarch turned on him with a swirl of over-tunic. “Months! Months planning this. Negotiating, diplomacy, spying. All laid to waste by your conjurer’s smoke and the show of a serpent.” He slammed his fist on the table. “What madness possesses you to force him to defend his honor against your accusations?” He drew in a great shuddering breath. “And now for honor to be satisfied, one of you will be lost.” He shook his head. “To what end, m’lord mage? To what end?”
Grissom bowed low, humbly. “I do regret, my King, that I could not forewarn you. But by the time I suspected things were afoul with Lord Vincent, your plans were already well in motion.”
The King’s shoulders slumped. “Are you sure he killed his wife?”
The mage spread his hands, “I can not be sure of anything unless I was there to see it. But there is one who witnessed it, and you yourself saw the knife, majesty.”
The King made a dismissive gesture. “Men kill their wives every day; that doesn’t make it treason. What makes you doubt his loyalty to the crown?” Wearily, he seated himself.
Pursing his lips, Grissom met the King’s gaze. “When we attended him at camp, his show of strength and riches was impressive, meant as a statement of his might. While he did not challenge your majesty’s plan, he was decisive with plans of his own. His emotions moved from pleasant to rage and back again at the turn of a feather. I do not know that he would commit treason, but I do not know that he would not.” He put his fist over his heart in a gesture of loyalty and sincerity. “I do not believe the man can be trusted.”
The King studied him intently for a moment. “It is the girl, is it not? The Lady Sara? She is why you challenged the man?”
“My liege…”
Holding up a staying hand, the King shook his head and snorted. “Are you mage or fool? Fool, methinks.” He ran a ringed hand over his face and pushed back his hair. “Even if you defeat Lord Vincent, the girl will still have to be married to protect the lands.”
Solemnly, Grissom gave a half bow. “I would offer for her hand, majesty.”
The King sighed. “You have no army to defend the border and protect the lands.”
“What if the lady were willing to give her lands back to the crown? Then your highness could decide who best to defend the lands, yourself or another lord, and not one necessarily available to wed.”
Looking much as if he had just received a shock, the King gaped at him for long moments before asking, “Will she?”
The mage gave a half smile, “I believe she will.” He inclined his head. “Additionally, if Lord Vincent is defeated, his lands revert to the crown as well, do they not?”
The King shook his head ruefully. “If you lose, you will die and the lady and the lands go to the lord. If you win, you will have to leave the castle; winning on the field will assure your life, but it will still be seen as defiance of the crown’s will. Much as it pains me, I will have to banish you.”
Grissom nodded, sagely. “I understand, majesty. And while you will be short a mage no matter which way it ends, at least if I should win, your lands will be much enriched.”
The King snorted an ironic laugh. “Then I am forced to wish you good fortune, am I not?”
“I would not force it, majesty, but I do hope it.”
Clapping him on the shoulder, the King spoke sincerely. “I do wish you luck, m’lord mage. If there is aught that can be done to help, you have but to ask.”
Touched, Grissom nodded. “I thank you, majesty; I have preparations underway.”
“Be careful Grissom. He is an accomplished soldier and if he is as unbalanced as you believe, well, he is all the more dangerous. You will need all your cunning.”
“I have it at the ready, my liege.” He smiled, albeit solemnly. “There was never a man that had better reason to fight and win than I.”
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A/N 2: I have deliberately vague about a specific time and place for this story. However, the “science” Grissom uses in this chapter and the next did come in to play at a specific time in history. The Chinese discovered gunpowder sometime in the 9th century, using it for fireworks and warfare. The first mentions of it in European history are mid 13th century. It did not come to common use for warfare until the 14th century.
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