“What is so joyous?” said Liaze, smiling, as she walked up from behind, Tutrice Martine at her side.
“Er, nothing, my lady,” said Remy, giving the princess a slight bow.
Martine looked through disapproving eyes at Zacharie and said, “Is this one of your vile men’s stories?”
“You could call it that,” said Zacharie.
“You don’t want to hear this, Princess,” said the matron, and she raised her hands as if to cover Liaze’s ears.
Liaze shook her head and lifted an eyebrow at her former tutrice, and Martine let her hands fall back to her sides and huffed and turned away.
They stood and watched as Luc-shirtless, his amulet swinging with his moves-demonstrated the various ways of the shield bash, as well as how the edge of the shield could become a terrible weapon true. And he showed how a small, round buckler could be thrown, to sail far and bring down a foe at range, especially one that is fleeing.
“This man of yours,” said Remy without thinking, “he’s a wonder, and that’s a fact.”
“He is at that,” said Liaze.
“Oh, my lady, forgive me,” said Remy. “It’s just… well… you know. Not that I’m saying he’s your man. Instead, what I mean-”
“I know what you mean, Armsmaster,” said Liaze, smiling, “and all of it is true. Luc’s asked me to marry him, and I will, as soon as my sire and dam come here on their annual rade, for a king must be notified, and I would rather it were him than any other. After that, the banns must be posted and a hierophant found, and then Autumnwood Manor will see a wedding.”
Martine, who had been gazing through slitted eyes at the agile chevalier, spun around to face the princess. “But he is a common knight,” objected the tutrice, “and you know nothing of him. You deserve better: a duc… or a comte, at least.”
“Martine, he is anything but common, though I do admit there is a mystery concerning his birth and parentage.”
“I say send him on his way, for he could be a bastard child,” said Martine, fairly spewing in ire.
Remy looked at Martine and said, “And he could just as well be a king.”
“Hmph!” huffed the matron, turning to Liaze. “For all we know, he could be your half brother.”
Liaze turned a cold eye toward Martine. “Are you accusing my sire, King Valeray, of infidelity? Or my mother, Queen Saissa? Take care, for their bond is strong and well known, as is the lineage of their offspring.”
Martine blenched. “No, no, Princess. I’m accusing no one of anything. It’s just that we know nought of this upstart chevalier’s parentage.”
“And I say it matters not,” said Liaze.
Unbelieving, Martine blew out air in angry puffs. “Princess, I-”
“And when might this wedding occur?” interrupted Zacharie.
Liaze glanced at the red and gold leaves gracing the nearby woods. “In autumn,” she said and laughed and then sobered. “Seriously, Zacharie, within a year. Until then he is my consort, my lover.”
“Your consort! Your lover!” cried Martine, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Princess, when you were a child I thought I taught you better, in spite of your willful ways.”
Before the Princess could respond, “Martine,” said Zacharie, “you have said quite enough.”
In that moment, with his shirt slung over a shoulder, Luc walked from the practice field toward the four, and Tutrice Martine spun on her heel and stormed away.
A slight sheen of perspiration on his face and chest and abdomen, and down the lean muscles of his arm, Luc stepped to Liaze, and she took him by his free hand and smiled up into his eyes. Then she turned and said to her steward, “Zacharie, I think it’s time we had held a dance. Refreshments as well, if you please. Invite everyone to the grand ballroom, and rotate the guards in and out. Would you arrange for such?”
A great grin split Zacharie’s features. “Gladly, my lady. ’Tis a grand party we’ll have.”
That afternoon Luc moved into the royal wing, his quarters adjoining Liaze’s rooms. And the entire staff breathed a sigh of relief, for their princess was pledged to a man they all approved of-all but Martine, that is, for she yet referred to him as a lowborn, upstart, common hedge knight.
Zacharie dispatched falcons to the siblings’ manors, bearing the news that Liaze was betrothed. Liaze sent her own falcon winging unto her sire and dam, and the message it bore told what she knew of Luc and of the woodcutter-the former armsmaster-who had taken him in, and she asked if they knew of a child abandoned in a like manner in a forest some three or four twilight borders sunwise of her own demesne.
That eve, Liaze presented Luc with a pair of silver spurs, saying, “A knight of my realm should never be without the badges of his office.”
Luc looked at her with tears in his eyes. “Ah, but pere Leon would be so proud. Thank you, my love.”
“Put them on,” urged Liaze. “I would see you in them.”
Luc kicked off his shoes and slipped into his boots, and in moments and with great exaggeration, he strutted about the chamber, spurs agleam. Liaze laughed with joy and told him just how splendid he looked. Then Luc sobered and changed back into his shoes and held out his arm. “Shall we?”
After a sumptuous dinner, Liaze led Luc toward the grand ballroom, Liaze dressed in a satin gown, somewhere in that indeterminate range between a gentle yellow and a soft green, with pettiskirts and stockings and shoes to match. This night she also wore her golden circlet, the one with the yellow diamond.
Luc, on the other hand, wore a waistcoat ’neath a doublet, and shirt with belled sleeves, and tights and long stockings and black-buckled shoes. Deep violet was the prime color of his clothes, with pipings and insets of pale blue.
As they neared the vast chamber, they could hear music and laughter and gaiety, and they entered a ballroom full of people waiting their turn to dance the minuet: the women in silks and satins, their long, flowing gowns of white, lavender, yellow, peach, of pale red and of deep jade, of umber and rust and puce, and of blue. The men were arrayed in silken tights and knee hose and buckled shoes, with doublets and waistcoats and silken shirts and ruffles galore, their colors in darker shades than those of the women, but running throughout the same range. Liaze was the only woman wearing a gown of a hue between yellow and green, and Luc the only man in violet.
A door ward thumped the floor three times with a long staff, and the music stopped and everyone turned toward the grand ballroom entrance, and a great cheer rose up, led by Zacharie: Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Amid the following applause, the musicians again began to play-harpsichord, and a bass viol and a cello, a viola and a violin, as well as a flute and a harp. And they sounded some notes of a minuet, then the music segued into an interlude and one by one the instruments fell to silence, until only the harp remained. The crowd grew quiet and looked at the princess and her consort in expectation.
“Sieur Luc,” said Liaze, “may I have this dance?”
“Indeed, my lady,” he said, and bowed and took her hand.
A great, wide circle formed, and Luc led Liaze to the center, and when they stopped and took their positions, the flute and violin, viol, cello, bass viol, and harpsichord took up the play, and slid into a minuet.
Luc bowed low, and Liaze deeply curtseyed, and then Luc held out his hand to the princess, and they moved in time to the moderate tempo, the stately court dance one of small steps and erect posture and curtseys and bows and hand holdings and pacings side by side while facing one another. And they turned and drew close and then stepped apart, and struck the requisite poses, all having an air of restrained flirtation.
“It is called the kissing dance, Luc,” said Liaze, with an impish grin.
“I know, my lady,” said Luc, smiling back. “My teachers taught me so.”
“Fear not, Sieur Luc, I will not attack you in front of these guests.”