Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

“Argh!” exclaimed Roel, “six defeats in a row. I will never master this game.”

“Master echecs in six tries?” Celeste laughed. “I have spent many a candlemark at it, and still I am but a novice.”

Roel frowned. “But all other games I have essayed have come easily to me. This one, though, the possibilities are endless.”

“Ah, but you lasted much longer, my love,” said Celeste.

“Only because you coached me, Princess.” Celeste grinned. “As was I coached by my brother Borel. He’s much better than I.”

“That is hard to believe, Celeste,” said Roel, setting the pieces up for another game.

“Borel defeated the Fairy King at echecs,” said Celeste. “No one had ever done that before. Yet, heed, Borel is not the best of us.”

“Not the best? Then who?”

“Camille, Alain’s beloved. She defeated Borel handily.”

“Remind me to never play against her,” said Roel, grinning and moving his roi’s spearman forward two.

That evening, in the soft light of paper lanterns, they sat in the gazebo out on the front lawn, Celeste with a violin, Roel with a lute. Also under the roof were Marielle with a flute and Laurette, a fair-haired, petite demoiselle, playing a small harp. Gathered about on the lawn were members of the staff of the manor, those who were free of duty, all sitting and sipping wine at this impromptu concert. And they oft applauded over a well-executed, difficult riff, and over the sweet voice of Celeste as she sang ballades, as well as the baritone of Roel as he sang humorous ditties, mostly of knights bettered by wily maidens.

When it came Roel’s turn again to sing of knightly exploits, he set his wineglass aside and announced, “The Crafty Maid.”

Some in the audience laughed, while others looked on puzzled.

Roel struck a chord on his lute, and then began a merry tune, accompanied by Marielle and her flute, who seemed the only one other than Roel who knew the air:

Come listen awhile and I’ll sing you a song Of three merry chevaliers riding along.

They met a fair maid and one to her did say,

“I fear this cold morning will do you some wrong.”

“Oh no, kind sir,” said the maid, “you are mistaken To think this cold morn some harm will do me.

There’s one thing I crave, and it lies twixt your legs.

If you’ll just give me that, then warm I will be.”

“Since you crave it, my dear, it is yours,” said he,

“If you’ll just come with me to yonder green tree.

Then since you do crave it, my dear you shall have it.

These two chevaliers my witness will be.” The chevalier lighted beneath the green tree, And straightaway she mounted, laughing in glee.

“You knew not my meaning, you wrong understood.” And galloping away she right swiftly did flee.

“Oh. . chevaliers, stop laughing and take me up, That we might ride after her down the long lane.

If we overtake her, I’ll warrant I’ll make her Return unto me my horse back again.” But soon as this fair maiden she saw them acoming, She instantly took her dagger in hand.

Crying, “Doubt not my skill, it’s him I would kill; I’d have you fall back or he’s a dead man.”

Said one, “Oh. . why do we spend time galloping, talking?

Why do we spend time speaking in vain?

He’ll give you a silver; it’s all you deserve; And then you can give him his horse back again.”

“Oh no, kind sir, you are vastly mistaken.

If it is his loss well then, it is my gain, And you did witness that he gave it to me.” And away she went galloping over the plain.

And so my fine gentlemen be wary of maidens, For clever they are, and crafty they be.

If one offers something too good to be true, Then surely too good to be true it does be.

Oh, surely too good to be true it. . does. . be!

With a final twang of the lute strings, Roel broke out in laughter, as did the gathering, Celeste applauding and laughing as well. Roel leaned over and whispered loud enough for her to hear, “Present company excepted.” Celeste feigned a look of innocence. “Your meaning, Sieur?”

“You, my lady, are most certainly too good to be true,” whispered Roel.

“Ah, my love,” said Celeste, “we shall see about that anon.” And then she broke out in laughter again.

For another sevenday or so, Roel and Celeste for the most part idled the time away, waiting for Gilles to remove the stitches from Roel’s wound, for then he would be fit for strenuous duty, and hence could resume his quest. However, when he set out again, Celeste and the Springwood warband would accompany him. . “But only to the port city of Mizon,” or so Roel insisted, for he would not put anyone other than himself in peril, especially not Celeste. The princess, though, had made up her mind that she would stay with him to the end, saying, “Whither thou goest, go I.” And during this time Anton and the warband made ready for the journey-selecting horses, food stock, waterskins, cooking gear, weapons, armor, and the like.

They chose the brigands’ horses as pack animals, and allocated riding horses from the Springwood stables for themselves, Roche, the hostler, aiding them in their choices.

To Celeste’s delight, in echecs Roel improved significantly. And in dames, he was the better player of the two.

And they often made love-at times gently, at other times wildly-and Henriette gave up entirely at being chaperone, stirred as she was by the sounds coming from their quarters, usually at night, though not always.

And one morning ere dawn they slipped out early to elude Anton and the warband, and the princess and her knight rode to a high, sheer-sided rock pinnacle jutting up from the forest like a great cylinder, its rugged sides looming upward in the glimmer of the oncoming dawn.

“We call this the Sentinel,” said Celeste. “From the top you can see for leagues.”

“You’ve been to the top? The sides are sheer.”

“Oui. My father taught me to climb, both with aids and without. The Sentinel I free-climb.”

“Then let us scale it and take in the view,” said Roel, dismounting.

“What of your leg, my love?”

Roel made a gesture of negation, but Celeste said, “I would not have you open the wound.”

Roel grinned and said, “Gilles stitched me tighter than a drum, ma cherie; besides, I will be careful.” Leaving their horses cropping grass below, they free-climbed the rough stone, to come to the flat top covered in mosslike phlox, with tiny white blossoms with a faint blush of pink just then opening to greet the new day.

“Sit, Princess, for I have something to ask of you.”

Celeste cocked her head and gazed at him. “Something to ask?”

“Oui,” said Roel, and he handed her down, and then he sat knee to knee before her.

He took both of her hands in his and said, “My lady, you are a princess whereas I am but a common knight.

Even so, I am deeply in love with you, and never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would feel as I do.

Celeste, I cannot imagine life without you beside me.

I know I am completely out of bounds here, but I love you, ma cherie, and I will love you forever. There will never be anyone else for me.” Roel braced himself as if for a blow. “What I ask is, will you have me for a husband?”

Celeste squeezed Roel’s hands, and through her tears of joy she replied with a simple “Oui.” A burst of air escaped Roel’s lips and he said in amazement, “You will marry me?”

“Oui, my love, oh, oui,” said Celeste, and she leaned forward even as she pulled him to her and sealed her answer with a kiss.