Lady of Luxembourg, page 4
part #4 of Curse of the Lost Isle Series
Melusine would not let custom ruin the day. “Let him be vexed. He dared attack Luxembourg and lost. I think he’ll not try that again anytime soon.”
* * *
The musicians played a light tune in the background as Melusine enjoyed the feast, seated between Sigefroi and Gunter. At fourteen, her son Henri, heir of Luxembourg, resembled his father and dined at the high table for the first time. A few of Sigefroi’s favorite knights also shared the privilege.
After fifteen years, Luxembourg had truly become home for Melusine. The castle children ran around the tables, stealing scraps from their parents’ trenchers to feed the hounds. Melusine knew most of them by name and had helped birth more than a few.
Gunter poured himself more wine. “Where are your other boys?”
“The little one is fast asleep in the women’s quarters.” Melusine allowed herself an easy smile and covered her cup with her hand to refuse a refill. “Frederick, a year younger than Henri, favors the fencing yard over the dining hall these days, and so does Thierry.”
“I heard about a scuffle.” Gunter winked and took a sip of his wine.
Melusine bit her lips. “I do not understand these boys. They have everything, yet they behave like bullies, flaunting their wealth and their education.”
“Don’t be too harsh on them.” Gunter set down his cup. “Young boys like to impose their views. It’s a sign of strong character.”
Melusine sighed, fingering her eating dagger on the white tablecloth. “I should have sent them away in fosterage, as the custom demands. In my effort to give them a loving family and a better erudition, I fear I failed as a disciplinarian.”
“What about the girls?” Gunter speared a chunk of meat with his poniard. “I wager they are as well-behaved as they are beautiful.”
“Liutgarde is still at the convent.” Melusine ached at the thought of her oldest daughter. The stubborn girl simply hated her mother.
“She should be of marrying age by now... or is she?” Gunter bit into the juicy mutton.
“Aye.” Melusine wondered whether Gunter might start to question her own youthful looks. “I’m grateful for the blessing of having all my children alive and in perfect health.”
“Indeed, ‘tis a rare thing.” Gunter chewed thoughtfully. “Who is your favorite?”
Melusine smiled. “Little Kunigonde is only five but very bright. She has the heart of an angel. I’m certain she is destined for greatness.” She stopped herself from revealing too much. A vision in the divining basin had shown Kunigonde becoming an empress... but fate could often change on a whim of the Goddess.
“I’m glad you are happy in Luxembourg, my lady.” Gunter blotted his beard with the hem of the tablecloth.
“We are truly happy.” Melusine meant it. She had given birth to beautiful children, and she ruled over a thriving domain with a promising future. Her powerful husband loved her although he knew her darkest secrets. The Goddess should be pleased.
Gunter reached behind Melusine and slapped Sigefroi’s shoulder. “It certainly keeps my old friend here young and vigorous.”
Sigefroi, who had been conversing with a knight on his other side, turned toward them and grinned. “Nothing like a good woman to keep you young, my friend.”
Melusine chuckled to cover her concern. His youth and vigor had raised a few brows lately.
Gunter guffawed. “This is so astonishing, there is a new rumor about you in noble circles.”
“What rumor?” Melusine’s guard went up. She dreaded the discovery of sorcery at work.
“Some say Sigefroi died some years ago, leaving his castle and his adolescent wife to an early bastard son bearing his name.” Gunter nodded for emphasis.
“That’s ridiculous.” Melusine’s extremities grew cold.
“Of course, I know ‘tis not true. I tell them I’ve known Sigefroi since childhood.” Gunter raised his cup. “Still, many choose to believe the tale. It makes more sense to them than the astonishing truth.”
Sigefroi slapped Gunter’s shoulder, spilling some wine on the white tablecloth. “Let them believe what they will, old friend. In the meantime, let’s enjoy this food.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Gunter drained his cup then refilled it promptly.
Melusine had a tremor of foreboding. Her youthful looks had not raised as many questions, since most girls married barely out of childhood. But soon, even her close entourage might become suspicious.
Alyx, for example, had been with her for fifteen years. The girl had grown from an adolescent to a mature woman and mother. She knew Melusine to be much older than she looked.
Melusine turned to Sigefroi. “Perhaps you should give Alyx and her husband, your aging captain of the guard, a small farm to retire and raise their brood.”
Sigefroi glanced at her in mild surprise, then comprehension reached his hazel gaze. He nodded. “It seems a kind and wise thing to do. I shall consider it.”
During the long meal, the knights took turns retelling the battle from different perspectives, embellishing the stories as they went. The wine flowed, eliciting bawdy limericks, followed by tragic ballads the soldiers dedicated to their fallen comrades.
The victory feast lasted well into the night.
* * *
After the festivities, in the lordly bedchamber, decorated with wall tapestries of rich blues and browns, Melusine kicked her soft leather shoes to the rushes. Then she dropped to the bed with a sigh, warm and euphoric from the wine and the food. She observed Sigefroi, sitting on the chair near the bed, as he pulled off his high leather boots.
“I feel very fortunate to have such a handsome and loving husband,” she purred.
Sigefroi smiled as he stood up and hooked his baldric and sword to the bedpost. “This was a splendid feast. I am grateful for all you do for me.”
“Thank you.” She smiled back and patted the bed next to her.
He joined her on the furs, denting the mattress. He smelled of spiced wine and berries. She could never tire of his touch, his youthful looks. Youthful. She couldn’t bear it if he suddenly aged and died.
She smoothed and kissed his brow. “Have you had your elixir tonight?”
“I did, my little hellcat.” The familiar nickname and the promise in his husky tone made her melt against him.
“Still in high spirits after the battle?” She always enjoyed their lovemaking in the wake of a great victory.
“I did not thank you properly for helping me win that battle.” He drew her into a possessive embrace.
She welcomed the warmth of his body. “You are the one the minstrels will sing about in their ballads, recounting your great deeds.”
“But I owe you most of it,” he whispered in her ear, nibbling her lobe gently.
“And what kind of currency will you pay me with, lord husband?” Her melodious words made her realize she used her voice to seduce him.
Despite his natural immunity to her Fae gifts, he braced her tighter against him. “I shall think of something only I can give you.”
His soft breath hovered close to her lips and he gazed into her very soul. Melusine tightened her grip on his muscled shoulder and brought her face to brush his, nose to nose, lips slightly parted.
She licked her lips, knowing he could not resist the temptation. He nibbled at her lower lip in small bites then claimed both with more intensity. Tightening his grip on her waist, he forced his plundering kiss into her mouth with the authority of a man used to commanding armies.
Melusine lost herself in his demanding kiss. Only Sigefroi existed and mattered at this very moment. Trapped in his arms, she reveled in his fierce embrace. Her mind whirled. She forgot who she was and where. He became her only purpose in life, the man of her destiny, by the will of the Goddess.
No mortal had ever made her want to faint from the strength of a single kiss, but Sigefroi could. His wanton desire traveled through her entire body, from her mouth to her core, with the violence of a summer storm, leaving her panting and aroused.
His strong hand climbed up under her gown, caressing her legs with unmistakable purpose. Her heart fluttered when he reached the exposed skin of her thigh. She could feel his hard swell against her thigh through his chausses, and she reeled under the powerful sway of his need. Although she could not read his mind, in moments like this she truly sensed their connection, and the strength of his burning love for her.
“I want you so much,” she rasped between broken breaths.
“I know,” he whispered, grasping her firm breast through her gown.
The sensation made her arch her back and moan with anticipation. A pool of warmth melted and gathered at her core. She couldn’t stand all the clothing between them. He rose on both knees astride her and pulled his tunic over his head, revealing the familiar scars of countless battles. Then he lifted the hem of her gown. She raised her arms, and he peeled off her gown like a sheath.
She fumbled at the strings of his chausses, the chill from the open window raising the small hair on her exposed skin. Or was it the sight of him as he pushed down his chausses? She traced the raised scars on his chest, on the muscles of his arms. Then she drew him down to her, enjoying the hard planes of his chiseled chest upon hers.
He draped her with his body and rolled her into the furs for warmth. “I’m all yours, my little hellcat.”
Melusine burned like an inferno. As he tasted her mouth, she savored the sweet, spicy flavor of his swollen lips. When his fingers stroked the sweet mound between her thighs, she arched with need and opened for him. His penetrating fingers enhanced her desire but did not satisfy her need. “I want you to take me... hard.”
He groaned. She grasped his buttocks and grazed his skin with her fingernails. He tensed and arched, his hard erection trapped between their bodies. Tightening her grip on his bottom, she felt him writhe against her.
“I want you now,” she moaned against his mouth.
“Woman, you drive me mad. I shall have you.” The determination in his tone increased her desire.
He pried open her thighs with both hands and plunged into her deep and hard, with the madness of battle fever. Melusine gasped and welcomed the fullness of him, riding his wild thrusts as he drove into her with the desperation of his need.
Her heightened senses flooded her entire being with overwhelming joy. Her mind reeled with each stroke and joined with his in the paroxysm of their union... as if a wave of euphoria suspended them both in space and time.
Free from the constraints of their bodies, their souls soared, and Melusine could see, in this ocean of pleasure, the two of them disembodied, floating in a loving embrace, surrounded by a chorus of angels.
Her hoarse cries filled the chamber and escaped through the window, but Melusine didn’t care. She wanted the entire fortress to know that even after all these years, Sigefroi at fifty-eight honored her body like a young buck would.
When Sigefroi’s thrusts grew irregular and tremulous, Melusine joined her soul to his, to experience with him the roaring fury of his release. What a wonderful gift!
Sigefroi shook and groaned then collapsed upon her, spent and panting.
“You do drive me mad,” he managed between ragged breaths.
Melusine smiled in a dreamy cloud of well being. “And I plan to do this to you as often as possible.”
Chapter Four
One month later, the gate horn announced a messenger. Melusine observed the exchange in the courtyard from her high window. Then Sigefroi, sweaty from the fencing yard, raced toward the keep, an open parchment in hand. She climbed down the stone stairs and met him as he crossed the main hall. He did not stop for her.
So she ran at his side across the empty hall. “Is it from Verdun? What does it say?”
Sigefroi did not slow down or even glance at her. “The pig’s family refuses to pay the ransom!”
“What?” This was unheard of. No wonder Sigefroi acted so upset. “What are we going to do?”
His somber face did not bode well for the archbishop. “Since the pig of Verdun is of no use to us anymore, I shall at least give myself some measure of satisfaction!”
Breathless, Melusine followed Sigefroi up the narrow stairs. “I guess no one likes the nasty archbishop, not even his family.”
“Then no one will care if I rid the world of him.” Sigefroi glanced back at her, his hazel eyes flashing with fury.
“Careful, my lord,” Melusine managed between ragged breaths. “The archbishop has powerful friends in the Church.”
When Sigefroi stopped suddenly on the landing, Melusine bumped into him. He motioned to the guard, who unbarred the door. The hinges squeaked as the man pulled the door open. Melusine and Sigefroi entered the small chamber, then the door closed behind them with a metallic click.
The archbishop glanced up from the heavy book on the table and stared at Sigefroi with red-rimmed bleary eyes. “What’s eating you today, dear count? Are you finally letting me go?”
Sigefroi threw the missive on the table. “Not today, Your Grace.” He paced the chamber like a caged lion, shaking his fiery mane. “It seems no one wants you back, and I feel in a mood to skin you alive.”
The archbishop paled as he read the missive. “I do not understand. ‘Tis not possible.” His trembling hands dropped the piece of parchment, which fell on the table.
Sigefroi loomed menacingly over the sitting archbishop. “Or, methinks I shall slice off your head and parade it on a pike across town.”
Melusine understood Sigefroi’s anger but bloodshed would only bring calamities upon Luxembourg. “Perhaps someone else among the archbishop’s friends would be willing to advance him the funds.”
Sigefroi glanced at Melusine, surprise on his face. Then his eyes took a dangerous glint as he faced the archbishop with a crooked smile. “Aye, what about Holy Mother Church? Do you think She would pay for your safe return?”
The archbishop didn’t seem to hear. Haggard, he stared as if through the thick wall, his mind very far from his chamber.
Melusine found the idea of involving Rome dangerous at best. “You would ransom the Church?”
“I’m thinking about it.” Sigefroi smiled devilishly. “‘Tis a delicate matter, but the Church is rich and needs its princes. It might work if we do it right.”
A disturbance in the bailey stopped their conversation. Melusine ran to the open window, followed by Sigefroi. A papal messenger in purple uniform, escorted by two guards, walked resolutely toward the keep.
Sigefroi sighed. “I think the pope heard of our dilemma. Perhaps he offers to pay for your release. Let’s go see what His Holiness suggests.”
Melusine glanced at the shocked archbishop and flinched at a sudden tightening in her gut.
“Guard!” Sigefroi called through the door.
When the door opened, he stormed out of the room. Melusine followed him, and the guard barred the door and resumed his watch.
As Melusine hurried behind Sigefroi to meet the messenger, she struggled for calm. Nothing good could ever come via a missive from Rome. Popes had been killed and replaced often over the past decades of feuds among Roman noble families. Since she had visited the holy city, two popes had died a violent death, and this one, Benedict VII, led the church like a military leader. Protected by the might of his personal armies, he feared no king or emperor.
A squire met them in the stairwell. “My lord, the messenger...”
Sigefroi nodded. “I shall meet him in the library.”
The squire bowed and scurried away.
Melusine followed Sigefroi into the room lined with books and scrolls filling the shelves. Too nervous to sit, she chose to remain standing while he took the central seat at the massive table. She gripped the high back of his chair for support, hoping the nasty feeling in her gut would lessen.
The guards brought in the messenger, who knelt before the table and handed Sigefroi the rolled parchment, from which dangled a large purple wax seal.
Sigefroi accepted the scroll, calmly broke the seal with his dagger and unrolled the parchment. Then he stared at the careful handwriting, while Melusine read silently over his shoulder.
We, Benedict VII, Bishop of Rome and ruling pope of the Holy Christian Church, order Sigefroi of Luxembourg to release without delay His Grace, Archbishop Henri of Verdun, detained against his will in the fortress of Luxembourg. Such acts of aggression against princes of the Church will not be tolerated, and the offenders, if they do not comply, will suffer excommunication or worse. Furthermore, Sigefroi of Luxembourg will pay a fine for this transgression, in gold and silver, to be delivered to the bishopric of Trier within one week. The amount of the fine is set at one hundred times the amount demanded in ransom.
Melusine saw Sigefroi’s shoulders tighten as he dropped the parchment on the table, but he remained deathly quiet.
The messenger cleared his throat, obviously unaware of the contents of the missive. “Is there a response for me to take back, my lord?”
“I will let you know.” Sigefroi motioned to the guards at the door. “Show him to the soldiers’ hall and leave us.”
Only after the heavy door closed and they were alone in the library, did Melusine dare to breathe. Her hand trembled as she let go of the back of Sigefroi’s chair. “One hundred times the ransom? That’s enough silver and gold to build a fortress.”
“By Saint Peter’s balls!” Sigefroi nailed the parchment to the table with his dagger. “I will not let Pope Benedict order me around like a whelp! I did not attack Verdun. Their archbishop set siege to my walls with an army. ‘Tis not fair!”
He rose abruptly, unsettling the high chair, then paced the length of the thick rushes covering the stone floor.
Melusine made her voice soothing. “Can’t Emperor Otto make the pope see reason?”
Sigefroi shook his head, still pacing. “There is not enough time to rally our allies, and after the fine is paid, ‘twill never be refunded.” He stopped and sighed heavily. “Besides, I believe the pope has ulterior motives. I wager he himself ordered the archbishop to attack Luxembourg. Perhaps this was his plan all along.”
