Dennis McKiernan - Once Upon an Autumn Eve

Finally, Liaze stood and stepped into the corridor, where she found late-afternoon sunlight shining in through the hallway window. Oh, my, but the day has fled as I gathered wool, dreaming of what might be. But I still know little of this chevalier, this Luc. Charming, yes, and witty, and I thrill at even his glance, yet though I think not, still he could be nought but a fortune hunter after my demesne. Are you afraid, Liaze, because it happened once before with someone you briefly thought to be noble? Afraid? Nay. Cautious? Yes, for I cannot let my longing for true love blind me to what is real. Hence, I will have to genuinely come to know Luc ere I can see him for what he is: a flatterer, a cad, a rake, or someone just as he seems. Still, he called me his angel when he knew me not and was addled, and mayhap in that state he was speaking his heart, rather than trying to sway me.

Liaze suddenly realized that she had been standing before the window and seeing nought outside. Movement caught her eye, and she watched as a pony-drawn flatbed cart crossed her line of vision, a man leading the little steed. On the cart were three or four corpses of Goblins. What-? Ah, oui. Remy and the warband are preparing to burn them.

Liaze turned and walked toward the welcoming hall, and there she found her head gardener waiting on one of the marble benches along the window wall. He leapt to his feet and doffed his cap from his fair locks and bowed.

“What is it, Georges?”

“My lady, when they burn the corpses on the pyre they’ve piled up downwind, there at the edge of the woods, it will leave a great scar on the ground, and the grass and plants thereunder, having burnt down roots and all, will not come anew. What would you have me put in their place?”

“What would you suggest, Georges?”

“Armsmaster Remy thinks we should leave it barren as a warning to all who would do harm, but I says that such a thing won’t work, for how would som’n know that that’s what it means? Were it mine to decide, I think I’d plant one of the hollies in that place, say, black alder winterberry. I mean, Margaux says that we need such, for when the bark be boiled with other of her simples, a draught taken every morning is very effectual against the jaundice, dropsy, and evil dispositions of the body. Besides, those bright red berries among the glossy green leaves will look nice out there.”

“Then holly it is,” said Liaze.

Georges grinned and bowed again, then slapped his cap back on and headed for the door.

Liaze turned and went up the stairs and to her quarters and summoned Zoe.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I would have you go to Margaux and see if Sir Luc will be fit enough to dine with me this eve.”

“Oh, Princess, isn’t he just perfect? I mean for you, of course. But if you don’t want him, you can cast him my way.”

“Zoe, Zoe, run and see what Margaux has to say.”

Zoe bobbed a curtsey and then was out the door.

Now what will I wear? — Oh, speaking of wear…

Liaze stepped to one of the bell cords and tugged.

As the princess stood at the threshold of her extensive closet, peering at the manifold selection of gowns, there came a tapping on the outer door. “Entrez,” Liaze called out, and a woman, red-faced from hurrying, came into the room.

“Ah, Sabine. Good.”

“My lady,” said Sabine, curtseying. “You summoned.”

“Oui. It occurred to me that our guest, Sieur Luc, needs a wardrobe, for all he brought with him was what he could carry upon a single horse. I would have you and your seamstresses outfit him. He will need clothes to suit formal affairs, clothes for riding, clothes for work should he take that into mind, though the riding and work garb can come last, for he will not be ready for strenuous-” Liaze’s words came to a halt as the seamstress meekly held out a hand.

“What is it, Sabine?”

“Princess, Zoe already has us working on such… the cobbler, too. We took Sieur Luc’s measure this morning. And we have some formal wear for him even now.”

Liaze slowly shook her head and smiled unto herself and said, “I should have known.” She looked up at Sabine and said, “Carry on.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Sabine, curtseying, and then the seamstress withdrew.

It was only after Sabine had gone that Liaze realized her own unspoken assumption with the making of such a variety of clothes was that Luc would stay a long while.

“Have you someone back home waiting for you, Luc?”

“Leon, Princess.”

Luc sat at one end of a long black walnut table, Liaze at the other end. He was dressed in a dark blue that matched his eyes-trews and shirt, that is-though his silver-buckled belt was black as were his silver-buckled shoes.

At the other end of the table Liaze wore pale green-gown, bodice, slippers, stockings and shoes, and pettiskirts-and once again Zoe had woven ribbons through her auburn hair, the ribbons pale green as well.

“I meant anyone other than your foster pere,” said Liaze.

“Non. I have not known many other people, certainly none long enough to become fast friends.”

“No children of your age as you were growing up? Oh my, how sad.”

“We lived a league and a mile from the nearest village, and for as long as I can remember it was only when we went to sell wood did I meet any other children. Even then, I did not form any lasting friendships, for my pere and I were in town but for brief moments, long enough to off-load the wood and buy a few provisions and to borrow a book or two.”

“The village had books?”

“Oui. There was a small bookseller there. How he survived, I cannot say, for many in the town could not read. Yet he was always happy to see me, even though we only borrowed and did not buy.”

“Did not Pere Leon pay him a fee? — In wood, if nothing else.”

“Not that I ever saw,” said Luc.

“A mystery, that,” said Liaze, frowning. “A bookseller who doesn’t sell books and earns no fee for loaning them.”

“I believe that he saw how eager I was to learn,” said Luc. “Perhaps it gave him joy.”

They ate in silence for a while-medallions of veal in a white cream mushroom sauce, along with crisply sauteed green beans and squash, as well as croissants and goblets of a hearty red wine. And as they dined, Liaze watched her guest. Finally, she said, “Your foster pere must have been quite a teacher, not only in reading but also in etiquette, for your manners are impeccable.”

“Oh, Leon did not teach me to read, nor drill me in manners of etiquette. His forte was in arms and armor, and the hewing of wood. Instead a number of teachers-itinerants, all-for years came and stayed with us throughout the winters. They treated my pere with deference, and always called him Armsmaster, and often engaged him in hushed conversations.” Luc barked a laugh. “I thought they were speaking of my progress, and I was determined to not let Leon down. Regardless, they are the ones who saw to my education, teaching me the lot: from reading to writing to ciphering to courtly manners and more, much more, even though most of the time all I wanted to do was learn everything I could of arms and armor and go ahunting in the woods. Yet Leon insisted I not shirk my studies, and told me that these other things I simply must learn, for I would need them one day. And so, from late autumn to early spring, I spent much of my waking time in lessons.” Again Luc laughed. “Why, there was even a dance teacher who came, and he taught me the quadrille and the minuet and the reel and the other dances of the court, though I never got the chance to put them to use, except in practice.”

“Oh, Luc,” said Liaze, smiling broadly, “how splendid. When you are well, we shall have to put your training to use here, for I have a penchant for organizing dances.”