Once upon a Spring morn

5

Amour

“You do? You know the way to the port city?” asked Roel.

“Oui,” said Celeste, smiling. “I can guide you there.”

“Oh, Princess, there are Changelings involved in my quest, the Lord of the Changelings, in fact, and I would not have you in jeopardy.”

“And I would not have you go alone,” said Celeste.

Before Roel could again protest, Gilles strode in.

“Ah, you are awake, Roel. You, too, Princess.” Then he smiled and glanced at Celeste and added, “Unlike Henriette at the door. Your chaperone, I gather?”

“Oui.”

A wide grin lit up Gilles’ face. “Sound asleep she is, Princess, an ideal chaperone.”

Yet caught up in her determination to guide Roel to Mizon, Celeste graced her features with only a small smile at Gilles’ bon mot.

Gilles stepped to the bedside. “And speaking of sleep, Sieur Roel, you need to be doing that right now.”

“More sleep? After three days of such?”

“Oui,” said Gilles. He held the back of his hand to Roel’s forehead a moment and then nodded in satisfaction. “I told you before, it was a very virulent poison, and I would have you rest well this night.” He glanced at Celeste. “-You, too, Princess.” He then measured the chevalier’s pulse. As he released Roel’s wrist, he eyed the bowl of broth and asked, “Have you eaten yet?”

“This is my second,” said Roel.

“Finish it now, for I have a sleep-medick to give you.” Roel looked at Celeste and shrugged, and took up the broth and drank it down.

Gilles crumbled three dried petals into Roel’s cup, and poured in fresh tea. He stirred it a moment and set it before the knight. Gilles then turned to the princess and took her cup and did the same. When he returned it to her, Gilles glanced back and forth between the two and said, “The longer it stands, the worse it tastes.” Roel sighed and raised his cup to Celeste in salute, a salute she returned, and they drank it down, each making a moue in response to the flavor. “Gilles,” said Celeste, “you could have at least sweetened it with honey.”

Gilles grinned and said, “Ah, but, my lady, where would be the pleasure in that?”

Celeste laughed, and Gilles said, “And now, Princess, our patient needs his rest, as do you. There will be goodly time on the morrow and in the days after for you two to speak of whatever you will.”

Celeste sighed and stood. “Good eve, Sieur Knight.

Rest well.”

“My lady, on the morrow, then,” replied Roel.

Celeste made her way to the door leading to her own quarters, and as she opened it she said, “Oh, Gilles.

Waken Henriette and tell her that she can now retire, for I am safe in my own bed.” Smiling, Celeste closed the door behind.

Gilles pulled the bell cord, and Gerard and two lads appeared, and they carried away the tea set and the tureen and bowls and the bed tray and utensils. Gilles took up the candle and said, “I bid you good night as well, Sieur Roel.” And so saying, he left.

Lying abed, Roel peered out the window, the glitter of stars now diminished by the light of the just-risen moon.

Celeste filled his thoughts-her beautiful face, her slender form, her gentle but determined way-and he knew it would be a while ere he would fall asleep. . and the next he knew-

— there came a knock on the door.

Roel opened his eyes to see daylight streaming in through the window. Again came the knock, and Gilles entered. “Breakfast is awaiting, Roel, and you are expected.” Roel sat up.

“How do you feel?” asked Gilles.

“Quite good, though starved, Gilles.”

“No dizziness?”

“Non, though I haven’t taken to my feet yet.”

“Then I suggest you do so and be on your way.”

“But I have no clothes, and I need a bath and a shave,” said Roel.

Gilles grinned, and he stepped to a tall chifforobe and flung it open and gestured within. On one side hung clothes, and beneath the garments sat shoes. “Seamstresses have been at work ever since I said you would live. Cobblers, too.” Gilles pulled open drawers on the other side. “Undergarments and socks and the like are in here.”

Roel eased out of bed and cautiously stood. No dizziness assaulted him. “Will they fit?” Gilles laughed. “Oh, yes. You see, they measured you two days past, while you still had not awakened. I must say, the ladies, they found you quite, um, how shall I say?

Ah, yes, utterly pleasing. Indeed, quite the man.” Redness crept into Roel’s face.

Gilles smiled and said, “Now, about that shave and a bath, as long as we keep your wound out of the water. .”

He tugged on the bell cord, and moments later Gerard and a string of lads came bustling in, steaming pails in hand.

After finishing his third helping of eggs and rashers and well-buttered toast slathered with blackberry preserves, along with slices of apple and cheese and several cups of hot tea, Roel sighed in satisfaction and leaned back in his chair.

“Ah, Roel, I love to see a man eat. In that, you are much like my brothers,” said Celeste.

“We are all pigs, eh?” said Roel, grinning.

Celeste laughed. “Non. Instead, you all have healthy appetites.”

“I was famished, Princess, three days with nought but thin broth and bread crumbs. ’Tis not the best way to a man’s heart.”

Roel was dressed in a dark grey cotton shirt, grey to match his eyes. His black breeks were cinched by a silver-buckled black belt, and he was shod in black boots. Bathed and clean-shaven, his shoulder-length raven-dark hair yet a bit damp, he cut quite a handsome figure, and Celeste often found she was staring.

As for herself, Celeste wore a long-sleeved, pale green gown, and up and across a narrow inset white bodice panel, green laces zigzagged from waist to low neckline. Striking, she was, and her face and form took Roel’s breath away, and his gaze oft met hers.

They sat across from one another at a small table in a secluded, walled garden. Crocuses bloomed among moss-covered stones through which water trickled into a clear pool. A small willow tree leaned over the mere, its dangling branches astir in the springlike zephyr that had managed to climb o’er the vine-covered wall. Somewhere nearby a finch called for a mate, and was answered by the flutter of wings. And in the pale glancing light of the midmorning sun, Roel and Celeste looked upon one another, their two hearts beating as one.

“Princess, I-”

“Roel, I-”

They both spoke at once, and-

“After you-”

“After you-”

They did it again.

Roel made a motion as if buttoning his lip and pointed at Celeste, and she burst out laughing, as did he.

And finally, palm up, he gestured to her, inviting her to speak.

“I don’t know what I was going to say,” said Celeste, and again they both broke into laughter.

“Let’s go for a walk,” said Roel. “You can show me this estate of yours.”

“Oh, Roel, are you certain you can? You might reopen your wound.”

“Five stitches,” said Roel as he stood and stepped

’round the table. “That’s all it took for Gilles to sew me up, rather much like darning a sock. As I said, it was but a scratch, and surely I can take a stroll. After all, it was no short journey from my bed to this table.”

“But what of the poison?” asked Celeste, looking up at him.

“Ah, Gilles’ vile potions seem to have entirely rid me of that. Come, let us stroll awhile.” Roel stepped behind Celeste’s chair and pulled it back and handed her up. And then she was in his arms, and he leaned down and gently kissed her.

“Oh, Princess, I didn’t mean-or rather I did, but-” She kissed him again, and passion flared, and hearts hammered, and Celeste felt a glorious fire sweeping throughout her body.

Ignoring the fact that he felt himself coming erect, Roel pulled her tight against him and kissed her deeply, and he wanted nothing more than to take her then and there.

And Celeste wanted nothing more than to be taken then and there.

“Ahem,” sounded a polite cough.

They broke apart and turned to see an older man standing at hand.

“Yes, Louis?” asked Celeste, somewhat breathlessly, her heart yet racing madly.

“Shall I clear the table, madam?” asked Louis, discreetly staring off at something beyond the garden wall.

Roel only half paid attention to what Celeste was saying as she took him on a wide-ranging tour. And for her part, Celeste seemed greatly distracted as she pointed out trivialities and failed to mention key points concerning the grounds and the splendid chateau.

Celeste directed Roel’s attention to the striations in the marble floor of the grand welcoming foyer, but said nought of the great circular seal centered within the stone depicting a cherry tree in full blossom. Nor did she say ought of the skylight above, the leaded glass depicting the very same thing.

Broad staircases swept up and around each side of the hall and to the floor above, and on the third floor beyond, balconies looked down from the embracing rooms, but Celeste managed to speak of only the knurls on the balusters.

They visited an extensive library with hundreds of books and scrolls and tomes, and Celeste pointed out her favorite chair.

She took him to a game room, where portraits of her pere and mere and brothers and sister looked out from gilt frames. The room was furnished with tables and chairs, and ready for play were taroc cards and echiquiers for dames and echecs; Celeste showed Roel her favorite piece, a red hierophant with a bent miter.

In the music room laden with viols and flutes and harpsichords and drums and other such, Celeste gestured at a small violin, the one she played as a child.

Outside she walked him through the gardens, and talked of plying a trowel. She showed him the stables, and there Roel found his black placidly munching on oats. The horse seemed more interested in his next mouthful than in his knight.

They strolled past gazebos and fountains and sundials and other such objects of the manor. Although Roel now and then paid close attention, he spent most of his time admiring Celeste.

Roel was introduced to gardeners and stablemen, to servants and seamstresses, to the smith and farrier, to laundresses and hunters, to the keeper of the mews where messenger falcons were housed, and to many of the other staff of the considerable manor. But the only name that remained in his mind was Celeste, Celeste, Celeste. Try as he would to remember the names of the people he met, they went glimmering away in the sunbeams of this most glorious day.

And though Celeste knew she was babbling but could not seem to stop, and though Roel tried to attend but failed, they basked in one another’s company, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the presence of the other.

And neither could forget the burning passion of their kiss, the desire set aflame, the wanting of one another. It was as an unquenchable fire.

That evening they had dinner in an intimate chamber, one with a table just for two. What they ate, neither could say, for they were completely entranced with one another. Later, dressed against the chill of the spring night, they sat in a gazebo and watched the moon rise.

Finally, they returned to the manor, and in the hallway they espied Henriette lurking in the shadows, waiting for Celeste’s safe return. Roel escorted Celeste to her chamber door and with a rather chaste kiss he bade her good night. Roel then stepped into his own room, and reliving Celeste’s every move, every gesture, every smile, he made ready for bed. He crawled under his covers and spent a long while staring at the silver moonlit world beyond his windows.

And then the door between his chamber and Celeste’s opened, and dressed in nought but a filmy negligee, the princess came padding in, moonlight revealing, then shadows concealing, as she passed in and out of the silvery beams.

“My lady?” said Roel, starting up, but she gestured for him to remain abed.

“Sieur, I was not satisfied by that peck at my door,” said Celeste, crawling in beside him. She curled into his embrace, and he kissed her gently and then fiercely and she hungrily responded in kind. His manhood was hard and pressing against her, and she could feel the beat of his pulse. Celeste paused a moment to pull her negligee up and off and cast it to the floor. And as he doffed his nightshirt, the garment falling aside neglected, she whisked the covers away. And she lay back and looked at him now above her.

“Beloved,” he whispered, and momentarily paused, gazing into her sweet face in the diffuse radiance of moonglow. And he softly kissed her, and she him, and then he slipped inside her. She moaned in pleasure, as did he, and they slowly began making love.

Some moments later and outside the door, Henriette leaned forward in her chair and covered her ears against the sounds coming from within, and she muttered to herself over and over, “I’m not hearing this. I’m not hearing this. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. . ”