Enchantress Mine (33 page)

“After two years with the monks I was told I was to be given a new task and was sent to the court of King Rory Tir Connell who ruled in the northwest of Ireland. The King’s old wife had given her husband five living sons and four daughters, all of whom were grown. She was a grandmother near fifty when she again conceived, but she died giving birth to Maire Tir Connell, your wife’s mother. She was placed in my custody to raise, for Rory Tir Connell, angered by his wife’s death, refused to even look upon the babe.”

Dagda’s eyes teared from his memories, and for a moment he was silent. Then he continued his tale. “Never in my life had anyone loved me, my lord, nor trusted me as implicitly as did my princess. The heart I had so long denied bloomed warm within my chest so I gave my life to her care. It was I who chose her wet-nurse, making certain the wench was healthy. It was I who fretted over her first steps. It was I upon whom she bestowed her first smile. My name she first spoke. I watched her grow from infant to little girl to woman. I saw the pained looks of the young men who came to court her only to be sent away. I knew before she did that she was in love with Ciaran St. Ronan and I was overjoyed the day that they wed. Never for a moment did I imagine that their love for one another would end in her death.

“When she died shortly after birthing my lady Mairin I felt as if I should have died myself. The princess, however, knew me as well as I knew her. She placed her child’s well-being and safety into my hands as the monks had once placed her life into my keeping. She knew I would not fail her, and I have not.

“When Ciaran St. Ronan died I protected my lady Mairin from that unholy bitch, her stepmother. When Aldwine Athelsbeorn took my lady into his home, and made her his daughter, I gave him my fealty. Now I offer my loyalty to you, my lord. Be warned though that should your interests ever conflict with those of my lady Mairin, I will serve her first. I felt that you should know this.”

Josselin was fascinated by this recitation, for he had wondered about Dagda’s presence in Mairin’s life. He had immediately liked the Irishman because he was obviously honorable, loyal, and one to be trusted.

“I can only hope, Dagda, that my interests and those of my wife never conflict. It is obvious that you could be a formidable opponent,” replied Josselin with a warm smile.

“I have not raised my sword to kill in many years, my lord. I went with Aldwine Athelsbeorn and his son to York, but the thegn, knowing how I felt, let me remain in the background caring for the wounded. Seeing the battle brought back many memories to me, my lord, but I felt no great longing to take up my sword and kill. The blood lust is long gone from me. I value life far too much now.”

Josselin nodded. Somehow he understood Dagda’s feelings, and he admired his fortitude. Dagda had no need to prove himself. “The king has charged me with the task of building a castle at Aelfleah,” he said. “What would you say to overseeing the workers that Master Gilleet brings us in the spring? My engineer must contend with the problems of the construction, which are great. I must have someone I can trust who can see to the workers, and you are a man who is liked and respected, at Aelfleah.”

Dagda nodded, and a smile creased his strong features. “Yes,” he said, “I should very much like to be a part of building your castle, my lord. There was a time in my life when I was a destroyer. For many years now I have been a nurturer, but never have I had a part in creating.”

“Have you no children then, Dagda?”

The Irishman chuckled, then nodded. “The care of my lady never left me time for a proper wife. There have been several women both in Ireland and at Aelfleah who have occasionally and most generously shared their beds with me. I am said to have fathered eight sons and some six daughters in my years in England. Since they have all had the disconcerting habit of looking very much like me there is simply no denying them. With your permission, my lord, I should like my eldest son, Edwin, to aid me in my task for you.”

“Choose whom you will, Dagda. I will leave such decisions with you for you know the people of Aelfleah far better than I.”

Dagda, satisfied with the arrangement, realized he was quite hungry. He had earlier gone to the neighborhood cook shop, purchasing a roasted capon, a loaf of bread, a small hard cheese, and for Mairin and her mother he had bought some apples and pears. After carving the bird, he sliced the bread and cheese, making three plates of food. Having served his new lord, he took a plate to Eada.

“The lady Mairin is already asleep,” he said with a smile as he returned to the hall.

“The lady Eada says that my wife has no tolerance for wine,” Josselin remarked.

Dagda chuckled. “I have known few Celts,” he said, “with such little tolerance for spirits, but my lady is indeed one. Wine unless watered has always made her ill. Sometimes she vomits it away, and other times not, but the sickness is always followed by sleep. Neither of her parents was that way.”

“What were they like? Her parents?” Josselin asked.

“Her mother was beautiful,” Dagda said. “She had a voice like a lark, and she laughed easily. She was slow to anger, and usually managed to find some good in everything. I think that is why God must have taken her so young. She was surely one of his favorite children. He could obviously not bear to be parted from her.

“As for her father, he was kind and loving to my princess. He was that rare man, one with a genuinely good heart. He adored his first wife, and was devastated by her death. He would not have married again, I think, had he not felt so strongly the responsibility to sire a son. He certainly did not expect to die when he did. He was far too young.”

“How did he die, Dagda?”

“An accident. He fell from his horse into the moat, and contracted a fever and illness immediately thereafter. In a few weeks he was dead, and his lady wife had managed by trickery and fraud to expel lady Mairin from her home. She was a wicked woman, my lord, with a face like an angel but a heart as black as any daughter of the devil. Had I known what she was to put her hand to I think I might have arranged an
accident
for her. So great was her lust for the lands of Landerneau that the lady Blanche cared not what happened to an innocent child.”

“The lady Blanche?”

“Blanche de St. Brieuc—may God curse her!—my lady Mairin’s stepmother. But that is long over with, and God and his Blessed Mother protected my lady.” He took up the leg of the capon and bit into it.

Blanche de St. Brieuc!
Josselin felt the blood drain from his face. He lowered his head so that Dagda might not see it, and slowly chewed on a piece of bread and cheese. Could it be the same Blanche de St. Brieuc? It had to be! There were not two women of the same name within that family to his knowledge, and Dagda’s description certainly fit her. The woman Josselin had known indeed had the face of an angel. He found it difficult to believe that she was so wicked, but the evidence could not be denied.

His Blanche.
He choked on a piece of bread at that thought causing Dagda to pound him on his back and hand him his goblet. Josselin nodded his thanks through watery eyes. The Blanche he had known had lived in the house of her eldest brother. She was a widow with a daughter, but he had never seen the child for the girl lived with her betrothed husband’s family. Blanche had been very pleased with the match she had obtained for her offspring, for the little girl’s rich lands had netted her a husband, a younger son of the powerful Montgomerie family.

Blanche had spoken little of that first marriage, indicating delicately that she had been forced to it by her family. She had said her husband was a terrible old man, and that only his sudden death had saved her from a life of unspeakable horror. She had never mentioned her lord nor his estate by name. Josselin had thought the memories were too painful for her, but now he realized her reluctance stemmed from the fact that she did not want him discussing her with his own father, who had been her husband’s close friend.

She had blinded him with those limpid blue eyes of hers, with her soft voice and an even softer hand laid upon his arm when they had walked in her brother’s garden. She had given subtle hints of how it might be between them.

Joss had been flattered by her attention for he was naught but a landless bastard, noble though his blood might be. He had even thought that someday when he had his lands, and a place of honor in the king’s service, he might be fit to court her; to make her his wife. He did not love her, but then he had never expected to love his wife. How many men did? A man married for lands, for position, for the gold his wife could bring him. In bringing him all those things she brought them to his family also. Strong alliances made strong families.

Such had been his thoughts until the day he crossed the Aldford River at Aelfleah and saw Mairin coming from the woods surrounded by her maidens. He had loved and lusted after her on first sight. She was his beautiful and exquisite enchantress who haunted his thoughts. God had surely been looking after him when he saved Josselin from such a venal and genuinely wicked woman as Blanche de St. Brieuc by giving him Mairin of Aelfleah.

Chewing more slowly, he washed down his meal with the wine Dagda kept pouring. He decided that it was not necessary for Mairin to know of his brief connection with her stepmother for it was unlikely that either of them would ever again see Brittany, and Blanche would certainly not come to England. He had had a lucky escape, and there was no sense in distressing his wife unduly.

When he had finished his meal Dagda whisked the plates away and fetched two straw-filled pallets from a cupboard in the fireplace wall which he placed before the fire. The two men wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and slept undisturbed during the night. Josselin’s first hazy thoughts as he awoke to the sounds of Dagda building up the fire were to wonder where he was. He quickly remembered. Shivering from the cold December morning, he heard the bells outside ringing in Christmas Day.

“What time is it?” he mumbled from the tangle of his heavy cloak.

“Dawn, my lord. I’ve already awakened my lady and her mother.”

Josselin sat up. “How does my wife feel this morning, Dagda?”

“Weak, but her stomach has settled, she says. I’ve already taken her some bread and toasted cheese, fruit and watered wine.”

Josselin arose from his pallet. “That sounds like a good breakfast provided there is some capon left.”

Without another word Dagda placed the requested food before him, and Josselin raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you as magical as your mistress, Dagda, that you know my desires before I even voiced them?”

Dagda chuckled, a rumbly noise that had a warm sound to it. “There is no sorcery here, my lord. Our larder is scant. I merely provided you with what we had. Eat now. I must draw enough water from the well in the courtyard to heat so that my mistress may wash herself. It will first be necessary to break the ice away from the surface.”

Josselin gobbled his food hastily but he was very hungry and barely satisfied by his meal. Then he hurried up the stairs to see Mairin, passing his mother-in-law on her way down as he went. She gave him a smile and a cheerful “Good morning” which he returned. He liked Eada. She was a warm, good and sensible woman.

Mairin sat in the large bed which was hung with dusty velvet drapes of a long-faded color. It looked nonetheless like a comfortable bed, one Josselin would have enjoyed spending his wedding night in, but that would have to be delayed until they returned home to Aelfleah. He had no intention of exercising his husbandly rights along the road in some inn or in a stranger’s house. He wanted her in their own bed where he might enjoy his possession at their leisure, and not have to worry about rising early to be on their way once more. The king had always teased him about being too fastidious.

His eyes took Mairin in with a long, assessing look that brought a delicious pink hue to her cheeks. She was wearing her chemise, and he could see a pair of tempting lovely breasts through the sheer silk of the garment. “Good morning, wife,” he said as he sat down beside her on the bed. She moved to raise the coverlet up to shield herself from his gaze, but he stayed her hand with his own. “No,” he said softly. “I have been denied your company, enchantress. Do not, I beg you, deny me my right to at least look upon your beauty.” Reaching out he gently cupped one of her breasts with his other hand, rubbing the nipple provocatively with a slow, teasing motion.

Every inch of her tingled at his touch. She thought her desire must be obvious. It had been so very long since she had been touched with love. When she faced the fact that in order to keep Aelfleah she would have to wed Josselin de Combourg, she had also thought that she would hate his lovemaking. She had believed she loved Basil and she had certainly loved the desire he had raised within her. She adored his touch. She had never been afraid when he taught her the many ways two lovers could please one another without consummating their passion. When Eric Longsword had touched her she had hated it, and foolishly, she had assumed that she would hate the touch of all other men. How wonderful to find that it was not so!

She almost purred with her pleasure, and seeing the look of contentment upon her beautiful face Josselin laughed aloud. “Oh, my sweet enchantress, how you tempt me! I wish we were not expected at Westminster for the king’s coronation. I wish it were not necessary to leave as soon as possible in order to be admitted. I should like to climb into bed with you this minute, pull the curtains tight, and satisfy your charming, and obvious longings.” Reluctantly he took his hand from her breast. “God, Mairin, do not look at me that way! It makes me want to ravish you!”

“I do not mean to be so shameless,” she murmured ingenuously, “but it has been a long time since a man touched me. I did not believe I should enjoy another man’s touch after Basil’s death. Have I shocked you, my lord?”