Once Upon an Autumn Eve (36 page)

Luc’s eyes widened in surprise, but he said nought.

“Luc, you are Comte Luc du Château Bleu dans le Lac de la Rose et Gardien de la Clé.”

Luc choked on his sip of tea, and after he had gotten control of his breathing:
“What?”

“I said, you are Comte Luc du Château Bleu dans le Lac de la Rose et Gardien de la Clé. Léon was going to tell you just as soon as you had won your spurs,” said Liaze.

“My spurs,” said Luc. It was a statement and not a question.

“Yes, your knighthood, and I told him that you had more than won them in combat with the Trolls and Goblins in my demesne.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Your true père was Comte Amaury, and your mère is Comtesse Adèle. Your père was slain in a skirmish when you were but a newborn. A year later, your mère wedded Guillaume, a vicomte with ambitions. He also had a three-year-old son whom Guillaume wanted to be heir to the title of comte after Guillaume had obtained it for himself. Guillaume had a henchman in his retinue—one Franck—and in the night Franck stole you away and took you to the woods to slay you.”

“Oh, my,” said Twk, “what a wicked stepfather.”

Liaze nodded. “That’s exactly what I said to Léon, Twk.”

“Go on, Princess,” said Gwyd. “What happened next?”

“Fortunately, Armsmaster Léon saw Franck riding away with Luc, and he followed on the would-be assassin’s heels into the nearby forest.” Liaze turned to Luc. “Just as Franck raised his blade to kill you, Léon spitted him with a dagger, and before Franck died he told Léon of Guillaume’s guilt, and that there were more men ready to carry out Guillaume’s order to kill the rightful heir.

“Léon knew that you would never be safe with the vicomte at the Blue Château, and so he fled away with you, Luc, far away, where he took on the guise of a woodcutter.”

“What of my mère?” asked Luc.

“Léon sent word to her by a former armsmate—a trusted courier—but by that time Adèle on her own had discovered Guillaume’s perfidy, but she had no direct proof, and he had put his own men in key positions. Hence, she could do nought to bring him to justice.

“However, she is the one who—via the same trusted courier—provided the funds for your complete education. Oh, Luc, she wanted you to be raised to become a comte, and the teachers Léon hired have well seen to that.”

Luc frowned and gestured at Deadly Nightshade, and then at his arms and armor. “Is she the one who—?”

“Oui, Luc,” said Liaze. “She sent the horse and accoutrements for you on the day of your majority.”

Luc nodded and said, “And I am to become a comte.”

“You are already one,” said Liaze. “It is your birthright.”

Luc nodded and said, “Then it only remains for me to claim it.”

“Won’t that lead t’fightin?” asked Gwyd, “even t’war?”

“Not necessarily to war,” said Luc. “If Guillaume disputes me, I can challenge him to trial by combat.”

“What of his son?” asked Twk.

“Him, too,” said Luc, shrugging. Luc then turned to Liaze and asked, “Is Guillaume yet alive?”

“Oui,” she said, “or at least he was two moons ago, for he is the one who asked Iniquí to locate you.”

“Iniquí?”

“Oui. She is the witch who bore you away, and—” Of a sudden, Liaze’s eyes widened in revelation. “Oh, now I understand.”

“Understand what?” asked Gwyd.

“The meaning of Luc’s title,” said Liaze. “Luc, not only are you a comte, you are le
Gardien de la Clé
—the Keeper of the Key.”

“Key? What key?”

“You wear it about your neck, Luc. It is the key to the Castle of Shadows beyond the Black Wall of the World. That is what Iniquí was after, for with it she would set free her master Orbane.”

Gwyd sucked air in between clenched teeth, and Twk cried out in alarm. “She would loose that monster upon Faery again, lass?” asked Gwyd.

Liaze nodded. “She was one of his acolytes.”

“Dead and gone,” said Twk, glancing at Jester, the rooster scratching away at the cold soil. “Two are left.”

Luc sighed. “You need tell me the whole of this tale. But first I would ask this: where lies this blue château, this lake of the rose?”

“Ah, that,” said Liaze. “I know the way there from here, for I rode o’er it with Lord Fear and the Wild Hunt on the way to this black mountain. I marked it well, the way between, and I will take you there. But, heed me, Luc, you are yet weakened by your ordeal, and until you are fully recovered I would not have you face the one who seeks your death.” Liaze pointed back in the direction she had ridden to get to the mountain and said, “There is a town across the border yon, and there we will stay until you once more have your strength and are ready to face this usurper.”

Luc smiled and said, “As you will, my princess. As you will.”

 

Two evenings later they rode into the town, Liaze on Pied Agile, Luc on Nightshade, and Gwyd and Twk on two of the four geldings, for they had found the one that had been lamed—now fully recovered—placidly grazing on the shores of the lake near where they had left him.

They took two rooms at Le Renard Noir—the Black Fox—the single inn in town: Gwyd and Twk and Jester in one; Liaze and Luc in the other. They took warm baths, and Luc shaved, for he now had two days’ growth of beard; while he was enspelled on the black mountain, his whiskers had grown not at all. Afterward, they ate a sumptuous meal, and Gwyd and Twk both imbibed heavily of wine—Gwyd three bottles and Twk several thimblefuls—and they had to be borne to bed.

That night as well, though Luc yet felt the ordeal of his ensorcellment, he and Liaze made sweet and gentle love. “ ’Tis a bewitchment of a different kind,” said Luc.

 

They stayed at the Black Fox for an entire fortnight, and every day Luc took to the yard behind the inn and drilled with his sword—his movements like those of a dancer, or of a feral cat, graceful and powerful, whether measured or rapid, whether slow or swift.

And many of the townsfolk came to watch, for they had never beheld a true knight ere then, and they
ooh
ed and
ahh
ed to see him at swords and long-knives.

Some tried their hand at staves and quarterstaffs with the chevalier, but always they ended up in the tavern, holding aching hands and arms, ribs and heads, and drinking to his health and his prowess.

And for the full of the fortnight, they ate well, and drank good wine, and rested and recovered, though Gwyd was more likely to need his recovering every morning after an evening of imbibing.

On these eves as well, Liaze played Gwyd’s silver harp in the common room, and she sang the songs she had sung to the specters of the men of the Wild Hunt, and townsfolk came to hear those songs as well.

Gwyd, too, played his harp, and his nimble fingers made lively songs all the livelier, and townsfolk called for more, and some even thought to pay him, but he would accept nought, for such came perilously close to an expression of thanks, and he did not wish to leave the comforts of the inn. Instead, acting upon Liaze’s advice, the citizens would buy themselves a drink, and just happen to set it near the Brownie and then promptly forget about it, and not know whose drink it was when the Brownie asked.

And every night of the full of the two weeks, Liaze slept in Luc’s arms.

But at last Luc said, “Let us be on our way to Château Blu, for I am fully recovered.”

They tried to pay their bill, but the innkeeper would take nought, saying, “The extra trade while you were here more than made up for your keep.”

And so, on the dawn two days after the full of the moon, they set out for Luc’s demesne.

 

Some twelve days after, they rode to the outskirts of the village of Fleur Rouge, there on the Lake of the Rose, and Liaze led them to the Widow Dorothée’s cottage, for Léon had told the princess where it lay. As Liaze dismounted she said, “Let us see if she will take us in until we can execute our plan.”

A woman with dark copper-blond hair answered their knock, and her eyes flew wide at the sight of them, especially of the Brownie and a Pixie riding a rooster. Once they had introduced themselves, she smiled as if she held a secret and said her own name was Dorothée, and she welcomed them in, Jester included. Even as they stepped into the front door, and the widow bustled off to make tea, they heard a back door bang shut, and a heavily bearded man strode into the parlor, a load of wood in his arms. And it clattered to the floor in his surprise, and he exclaimed, “Luc!”

It was Léon.

“Armsmaster,” cried Liaze, just as surprised as he, “what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, Princess. Waiting for you to bring Luc.”

39

T
he next morning, Liaze rode Pied Agile along the briar-covered, rose-bearing lakeshore and toward the causeway leading over the water to the Blue Château. Gwyd and Twk and Jester, all three on one of the geldings, rode at her side. Liaze had in her possession a letter of credence bearing King Valeray’s signature and seal; she had as well a letter penned by Léon and a note penned by Luc.

Arcing about the opposite shore of the lake, rouge cliffs loomed upward a hundred feet or more, their color reflected in the lucid water. And in the middle of the lake blue stone ramparts stood in contrast, the château a walled fortress, the battlements crenellated, with towers at each corner.

“It must have been built during dire times,” said Liaze.

“What, m’lady?” asked Gwyd.

Liaze gestured at the château. “ ’Tis more of a bastion than a comte’s manor, hence it must have been erected in perilous times.”

“Or built by someone quite fearful,” said Twk.

On they fared, and they came to the causeway and turned onto it. A pair of drawbridge towers stood halfway along the raised road across the lake, the bridge itself down. Two warders, playing at cards at one of the towers, looked up as the horses came onto the stone pave. They set aside their diversion and stood as Liaze neared, and when the horses clopped across the bascule, one warder held up a hand to stop them. Liaze drew Pied Agile to a halt before them, Gwyd halting the gelding as well. The two guards looked on curiously, especially at Gwyd and Twk and Jester.

“What be your business, my lady?” asked one of the guards, presumably the senior of the two.

“I am Princess Liaze of the Autumnwood, and I have come to call upon Comtesse Adèle.”

Both warders bowed, and the junior guard asked, “My lady, is this your entire retinue?”

“Indeed it is, for I need none other than my mage to protect me.”

Somewhat apprehensively, the guards took a step backwards and glanced at Gwyd and Twk, no doubt wondering which one might be the spellcaster.

“Pass, my lady,” said the senior warder, and he and his companion stepped aside.

On beyond the two towers with their great counterweights rode the princess and her attendants: a Brownie, a Pixie, and a chicken.

They came to the main gate, where once again Liaze explained just who she was, and she and Gwyd and Twk and Jester fared into the passage under the walls and through the twisting way, machicolations overhead from which burning oil would flow down upon invaders, should they breach the outer gate.

They rode into a blue-grey flagstone courtyard, and attendants took their horses, the lads’ eyes flying wide in amaze at the sight of the Brownie and the Pixie, Twk now astride Jester.

Liaze handed her letter of credence to the majordomo, and his gaze widened to see King Valeray’s signature and seal, a signature and seal crafted that very morning by Gwyd, the letter of credence itself written by Liaze.

The steward bowed obsequiously. “Princess.”

Liaze canted her head slightly in acknowledgment, and, with a faint imperious tone in her voice, she said, “Would you convey my greetings to the comtesse, and tell her that her distant cousin has come calling.” It was not a question.

The steward’s eyes widened slightly, almost as if in furtive avarice. “Indeed, my lady,” he said, and he snapped his fingers, and a moment later an attendant appeared. The majordomo penned a note and, together with the letter of credence, he gave them to the lad and sent him running to the comtesse’s quarters.

The steward then stepped aside and made an “after you” gesture and said, “If you would, my lady, the hunt room is open.”

He led the princess and the Brownie, and the Pixie on the rooster, to a chamber off the great foyer. It was an intimate room, with dark red velvet-clad furniture set close for conversation ’round a fireplace. A wide tapestry hung along one wall, showing a running stag and hounds baying, with horses bearing men with bows and spears racing after. It reminded Liaze of the tapestry in the glamoured inn of the Wild Hunt.

The steward tugged a bell cord, and when an attendant appeared, he said, “Tea and biscuits and clotted cream for the comtesse and her guests.”

After the attendant had gone, he turned to the princess and bowed and withdrew.

A time passed, and then a lavender-gowned lady came into the chamber, followed by a maid bearing a tray with a tea set and scones and milk and honey and clotted cream thereon. Both of the women momentarily paused just inside the doorway, each startled upon seeing a Pixie riding a rooster, and a tatterdemalion Brownie. But then they came on inward.

As the maid set the service down, the lady said, “That will be all, Charlotte.”

“Yes, Comtesse.”

As the maid stepped from the room, the lady, puzzlement in her indigo gaze, turned to Liaze.

“Cousin Adèle,” said Liaze, stepping forward and embracing the comtesse and kissing her on the cheek. And then she whispered in Adèle’s ear, “You have the same eyes as Luc, and he is not far.”

Adèle drew in a sharp breath, but then she frowned and slightly shook her head and glanced toward one wall. Then she in turn whispered, “They can hear but not see.”