Dennis McKiernan: Once Upon an Autumn Eve

“Did you give him a sleeping draught?” asked Zoe.

“Oh, non, ” said Margaux. “He received a rather severe blow to the head. Natural sleep should restore him, but we must make certain that he is not slipping into a dark realm beyond recovery, and so we’ll rouse him every now and again to make certain that he responds.-In fact, we were just about to do so.”

“I would question him,” said Liaze.

Margaux frowned. “Oh, my lady, I think you should wait until the morrow, for he is likely to be addled, and whatever he says, we should take it with a grain of salt.”

Liaze pursed her lips and said, “Very well. On the morrow, then.” She canted her head toward the knight and said, “Proceed.”

Margaux glanced from princess to chevalier and back and smiled and said, “Perhaps you should call to him, Princess.”

“Has he given you his name?” asked Liaze.

“Non,” said Margaux. “And he had nothing upon him to identify just who he is.”

“ ’Tis likely to be on his horse,” said Liaze. “Perhaps in the saddlebags or bedroll. Still…”

“His clothing, however,” said Josette, one of the women standing by, “is of luxurious cloth and sewn with a fine hand. I would think he comes from wealth.”

“Still, that does not identify him,” said Margaux, “and if there is nought borne upon his horse to say, I believe we’ll need him to tell us just who he is.” She stepped aside and gestured to Liaze.

The princess leaned down and softly said, “Awaken, sir knight.”

The man stirred faintly.

“Awaken, sir knight,” said Liaze again. “I would thank you for alerting my holt.” She gently touched him on the shoulder. “Awaken.”

The chevalier’s eyes opened, and they were a deep blue beyond blue. Even as a thrill flooded Liaze’s entire being, the knight’s eyes locked with hers and he said, “Mon ange. Mon bel ange.”

Liaze flushed, her heart leaping, while all ’round the women sighed and one whispered, “So handsome.” A murmur of beau and elegant came in agreement.

Zoe laughed and twirled about and clapped her hands.

Remy frowned and looked at Zacharie in puzzlement, and Zacharie merely shrugged.

With a faint smile on his lips, the chevalier closed his eyes and sank back into sleep.

Her face yet ablush, Liaze straightened and looked at the women standing nearby, yet they all had expressions of innocence upon their features. Liaze sighed in exasperation and turned to Zacharie. “Would you please see if there is ought in the knight’s saddlebags or upon the trappings of his steed to let us know just who he might be?”

As Zacharie nodded, Liaze frowned a moment and turned back to the chevalier and said, “Perhaps on the pendant there is engraved a name.”

In spite of the fact that the cloak she wore gaped open a bit, Liaze reached out toward the silver-clasped jewel, and the moment she did so the women drew a collective gasp and Margaux cried, “Oh my lady, do not touch the-”

The princess’s fingers came into contact with the “Oh!” she cried and jerked back, cupping her fingers in her other hand, her cloak gaping wide and revealing even more, and Zacharie and Remy looked away.

Amid a babble, “-amulet,” finished Margaux, too late, then added, “It stings.” She reached out to take Liaze’s hand.

“I saw a spark,” declared Zacharie, stepping forward, yet looking elsewhere but at the princess. “It leapt out from the gem.”

Remy, a dagger in hand, interposed himself between the knight and Liaze and glared down at the unconscious man.

Zoe cried out, “Oh, are you hurt, my lady? Are you hurt?” as the princess turned her back to the men.

With women babbling and Remy glowering and Zacharie now glancing back and forth between Liaze and the pendant, the princess shook her hand as if to throw off the pain and said, “I’ll be all right.”

“ ’Tis some sort of magic,” said Margaux. She gestured toward one of the women. “Aurelie discovered it, much to her dismay, even as we disrobed him.”

“For protection, I would say,” said Zacharie.

“What?” said Liaze, turning toward the gaunt steward.

“The pendant,” said Zacharie, looking away. “I believe it is some sort of protective charm.”

“It did not save him from a blow to the head,” said Liaze.

Zacharie shrugged and turned up his hands.

“Goblins, a Troll, a tall and handsome and mysterious knight,” said Zoe, “and now a magic amulet. What is it all about?”

Liaze shook her head. “We’ll just have to wait until he regains consciousness.”

“On the morrow,” said Margeaux. “I think I can safely say that by then he will be awake.”

Liaze sighed and nodded and said, “Come, Zoe, I believe I’ll have that bath after all.”

Not bothering to clutch the cloak tight, with wide strides the princess headed for her chambers, Zoe running ahead. Behind, Remy finally sheathed his dagger and then set out to canvass the various guard stations, while Zacharie went to the stables to see what the chevalier had borne upon his midnight-dark horse.

As she luxuriated in the warm water, Liaze’s thoughts kept spinning back to the knight and his dark, dark eyes of blue and his black hair and what he had said: “Mon ange. Mon bel ange.”

Why did he affect me so? It’s not as if I haven’t had liaisons with men ere now-there was Duc Laurent, and Comte Benoit, and the Baronet Yves, but he was just a fling when I discovered the comte was after Autumnwood and not my heart-yet none of them thrilled me to the core with nought but a glance as did this wounded man in the infirmary. But why? He said only five words in all: “Mon ange. Mon bel ange.”

Liaze’s heart echoed and reechoed with those five words- “Mon ange. Mon bel ange” — and whenever she closed her own amber eyes, she saw his of indigo.

Snap out of it, Liaze! He is a stranger and you know nothing of him. He could be nought but a poor hedge knight, yet would that make any difference? Josette, though, said his clothing is of luxurious cloth and sewn with a fine hand. She thinks he comes from wealth, but he could have won them in a tournament. Ah me, he could be a terrible bore, a selfish pig. A fortune hunter, as was the comte. Still, I hope not, for I would- Liaze veered away from those thoughts.

“Mon ange. Mon bel ange.”

Handsome he is and tall and slender, though but for a brief moment, I’ve only seen him lying down.-Oh, I do hope he is taller than my own height, for-Ah, Liaze, already you are spinning dreams. Still, he seemed tall when I saw him upon his steed, though he was falling off even as he came into sight. Yet he nigh filled the infirmary bed from headboard to foot. I wonder how he would look in my own bed-Now stop it, Liaze! You are giving to him in your day-dreams that which you might not in truth. After all, what do you know of him? Nothing, that’s what. Still, he must be a mighty fighter-broken sword and all. And he is sturdy, for Margaux said he had taken a terrible beating, but he managed to stay on his steed… for a while, at least. And he-Oh, I remember now. He had a silver horn on a baldric at his side. He was the one who sounded the alert. A noble deed, that… or was it a cry for aid? Ah, but “Here is your wine, my lady,” said Zoe, stepping into the bathing chamber. “Oh, my, you’ve put out the lamp and lit the scented candles. How nice.” She held out the goblet of dark red wine to Liaze.

Liaze sighed and reached up for the drink and took a sip and then set it on the edge of the bronze tub.

Zoe, humming to herself, went about fluffing towels and draped one over the fireguard to warm it for the princess. Then she whirled around and danced about and laughed. Of a sudden she sobered, and looked at the princess and said, “Did I not tell you that one day the right man would come along and-”