Dennis McKiernan - Once Upon an Autumn Eve

Luc smiled and said, “I would be most happy and honored to dance with you, Princess, if I can remember how they went.”

“Oh, la!” said Liaze. “It’s rather like riding a horse: once you learn, you can take it up anytime thereafter.”

“Then I shall give it my best,” said Luc.

Again silence descended upon them as they concentrated on their food. But then Luc set down his knife and looked up at Liaze and raised his goblet in salute and said, “Here’s to pere Leon, for I just realized: you are the Princess of the Autumnwood, and this is indeed a court. And so my pere was right: I did need to learn to dance, else I would not have the pleasure of squiring an angel upon a ballroom floor.”

Liaze was glad that she had deliberately chosen to eat in this formal dining room, rather than the intimate one she had briefly considered, else she did not know what she might have done at that moment-something spontaneous, no doubt.

She raised her glass in return and said, “To pere Leon.” They laughed together and took a sip and then once more they concentrated on eating. And just as dessert was served-a raspberry tort with cream-Zacharie stepped within the chamber and leaned down and whispered in the princess’s ear. She nodded and said, “Have them wait for Luc and me to join them. We’ll be there anon.”

“Yes, my lady,” said the steward.

As Zacharie withdrew, Liaze lay down her spoon and said, “I suddenly have no appetite.”

“My lady, are you ill?” Luc set his napkin aside and stood, wincing a bit as he did so.

“Non, Luc. Please sit and deal with the tort and cream. When you are finished, there is a place we must be.”

“Princess, what is it?” asked Luc, yet standing.

“Remy is ready to light the pyre under the bodies of the Troll and Goblins, those from the lawn and the woods nearby. The ones deeper in-the Troll speared and Goblins you slew-we leave for the scavengers. Remy and Zacherie would have us join the others in seeing the dead of our enemies burn.”

“The others?”

“The warband and houseguard and any of the staff who care to attend. In this grim task it will hearten them to see the chevalier who sounded the alert and roused the manor and thereby gave us time to prepare, as well as to see standing among them the princess to whom they owe fealty.”

Slowly they walked across the long lawn, Liaze now in an ermine-trimmed white cloak against the autumn chill; Luc in a blue long-coat of soft wool. Luc’s limp was becoming a bit more pronounced with the walk, for it was far to the site of the pyre.

“Oh, Luc, how thoughtless of me,” said Liaze. “I shall have a carriage come and fetch us back.”

“Non, Princess. It would not do to have the warband and houseguard see me that helpless. Fear not, I shall rally.”

Finally, they came in among the men, as well as other members of the staff, and therein Luc did not limp at all.

Before them a great pile of wood was waiting to be lit, from logs to branches to sticks to shavings. In the slanting light of the waxing half-moon and the glitter from the stars above, amid the heap of combustibles, Liaze could see corpses of Goblins here and there within, and atop lay the Troll slain by Remy, the large crossbow bolt still piercing him through. A sheen of oil lay over all, the moonlight glimmering thereon.

Remy handed Liaze a torch, and said, “Princess.”

“A torch for everyone!” Liaze called out.

Brands were lit and handed to all attendees, and they spread out to encircle the pyre.

Remy walked ’round the great heap, and when he came back to Liaze he said, “Ready, Princess.”

Liaze stepped forward, her torch held high and she cried, “Thus to all our enemies!” And she thrust the burning brand within and then stepped back.

At her side, Luc did likewise, as did Remy and the warband and Zacharie and the houseguard and the various members of the staff.

Slowly at first and then with a whoom! the massive pile caught fire, and a great plume of dark oily smoke rose into the starry night sky, moonlight and firelight illumining all, red from below, silver from above. And within the roar of the blaze they could hear a popping and sizzling.

“Quite savage,” murmured Luc to the princess.

“I know,” she whispered back, and reached out with trembling fingers and took his steady hand in hers.

v

That night, in her bed, thoughts of Luc spun all ’round Liaze: Why would anyone abandon him in the woods, and he nought but a babe? Mayhap he was stolen from someone and left in the forest to die. Mayhap his pere or mere, or whoever it might be, put him at a place where it was certain the woodcutter would find him.

And why would an armsmaster become a woodcutter? Was he simply tired of combat and took up a more peaceful occupation?

And this bookseller who never charged and perhaps couldn’t make a living in a village where few could read, what of him? Is he a fugitive in hiding?

And the teachers: were they willing to work for room and board and little else, or did the armsmaster have a stash of gold or silver or copper to pay them for Luc’s education?

And the training that Luc underwent: for what purpose? Did the armsmaster know that this babe that he had cared for would one day become a knight-errant? Perhaps that was the goal all along. Perhaps the armsmaster himself had been a chevalier, or mayhap he always wished to be one and is living out his dream through Luc.

And the horse and weapons: who and where did they come from? Remy says that the sword is of the best bronze, and Eugene tells me that the steed-Nightshade-is elegant and of great worth. He says that when he travelled in the mortal world, he saw such in Andalusia, though most were grey or white and some were bay and only a few were black, and the blacks are highly prized.

Is Luc telling the truth, or is he simply a charming rogue?

Rogue? Luc? No, I think not.

La, here I lie awake, consumed with thoughts of Luc, yet I wonder if he, too, is lying awake, mayhap thinking of me, mayhap as he first saw me.

Liaze flushed, and a surge of yearning filled her being. After a moment she rose from her bed and stepped to a basin and poured cold water from an ewer. She splashed the chill liquid on her face and neck and breasts, trying to cool down. She padded back to her bed and slid under the covers, yet she still felt the heat of a passion unquenched.

After long moments of tossing and turning, once more she rose, and this time went to the nearest window and drew wide the drapes and lowered the sash and threw open the shutters, and moonlight and air streamed in. In the brisk autumn night, she stood and looked out upon the manor grounds. Argent rays slanted across the sward below, the silver half orb low in the sky and nigh to setting. A ruddy dim light reflected against distant trees; red coals from the pyre yet lived. Below and pacing their rounds, two members of the houseguard strolled by, and Liaze drew back into the shadows, unwilling for them to see her standing nude in her window above.

Thoroughly chilled and leaving the window open, back to her bed she went, and, shivering, climbed under the covers for warmth. Yet in spite of the cold, her ardor had not diminished, and she felt the heat of it, and with thoughts of Luc-his eyes, his smile, his soft voice, his gentle and open way, and his long and lean body-it was quite a while ere she fell into a shallow and restless sleep.

“My lady, my lady, ’tis time to rise.”

The voice came from a distant place.

“My lady,” again came the call, this time seeming right at hand.

Liaze opened her eyes. Zoe stood at one of the windows, having just drawn back the remaining drapes and opened the shutters wide. Sunlight streamed in at a high angle.