Authors: The Temptress
He sat down immediately, though his unease was most clear. “Where is my knight?”
“Sleeping.”
The boy glanced at the two grim-faced women. “You must grant me an oar, that I might lend my aid,” he insisted. “If I am to die, I shall die fighting, as a tribute to the knight I serve.”
“There are no more oars,” Esmeraude told him, a fact he surely must already know.
He licked his lips, his gaze flicking over the dancing waves. “Then grant me yours, for I can fight the sea better than a maiden.”
Esmeraude laughed and rowed on. She had rowed with Duncan for years and had the strength and knowledge of the sea to show for it. “Is that so?”
She was right about her quest, and she would continue, regardless of Célie’s warnings. ’Twas in moments like these that she felt most alive - and least inclined to sit by a fire and embroider, dutifully awaiting the command of a spouse.
This was the adventure she craved. ’Twas true that her journey thus far had been inconvenient for her maid, but Célie always complained of such things. And the men gathered to compete for her hand expected a challenge of some kind. Indeed, this was less of an ordeal for them than warfare.
Nay, Esmeraude could not perceive that any were hurt by her choice.
She eased the boat into the current, as Duncan had taught her, working with it instead of against it. She had chosen the place where they would cross into the fastest flowing waters with care, and was relying upon the outgoing tide to deposit them more or less where they desired upon the opposing shore.
The boy yelped as the current seized the boat, for it spun like a top. The two women lifted their oars and waited. As usual, the water swept them out into the middle of the current, to its fastest course, without so much as a stroke from them.
“We shall perish at sea! We shall be swept away and never seen in Christendom again!” the boy cried, but both women ignored him.
Esmeraude watched the surface of the water carefully, sparing periodic glances to the distant shore. When she judged the moment to be right, she nodded to Célie.
The two women rowed with all their strength to be free of the current. They called encouragement to each other, as the boy watched with wide eyes, then laughed together in triumph when they slipped into the slower-moving waters along the coast. In the moment, their disagreement was forgotten. ’Twas a fair bit of work, but less than fighting the current for the entire width of the strait.
“What did you say afore we crossed the current?” Esmeraude asked the boy archly.
He inclined his head to her. “I beg pardon. ’Tis clear that a maiden can, indeed, row better than I.” He sighed. “My knight and I were flung out to sea last evening, and though we battled valiantly, I feared we would not survive. I see now that there is an art to conquering the ocean’s current.”
“Indeed, there is. You must have endeavored to sail directly across the strait.”
“Aye, we did and we struck a fair line, but at a high cost.” He dropped his voice, and shivered. “’Twas terrible. The sea seemed intent upon swallowing us whole.”
Esmeraude felt a twinge of pity for him, for it must have startled him to awaken upon the sea once more. He might well have imagined that he was caught within a nightmare. “If you crossed when the tide was fully in motion, then you are most fortunate that you were not carried beyond the isle.”
The boy smiled. “My knight is strong beyond all others. And he says oft that Dame Fortune favors him above all others. I did not believe it myself afore I rode with him, but ’tis true enough. He is fortunate beyond compare.”
Célie made a muttered comment about ungrateful maidens abandoning Fortune’s prizes, but Esmeraude pretended not to hear. Indeed, her heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of the knight.
But she was no more than a local maid as far as this boy was concerned. She had best recall her disguise and ask appropriate questions.
“If you are unfamiliar with these waters, you should have taken a local soul along as a guide,” she said, watching the shore.
The boy scoffed. “My knight has no fear for he...”
“Is fortunate beyond all,” Esmeraude continued, as she navigated their boat closer to the shore below Ceinn-beithe. “So you have said.”
“Does your fortunate master have a name?” Célie asked and Esmeraude’s heart leapt.
“Bayard is his name, and he has been on crusade with Richard, King of England, and he has battled Saracen and Corsican.”
Bayard. Esmeraude’s pulse quickened. And he had crusaded to the East! He must have lived countless tales of adventure. No doubt this Bayard rode to Mull on some mission from the king himself, some secret endeavor filled with dire peril.
But she would never see him again. Esmeraude shook her head and forced herself to think sensibly.
To ensure the success of her plan, she had to be rid of the knight’s squire. However, her own understanding of the harshness of these lands meant that she could not simply abandon him. She would not be tormented by fears for his survival.
She began to row toward the silhouette of Ceinn-beithe’s village, thinking to leave the boy there. “Have you been to Ceinn-beithe?”
“Aye, we halted there and there was much merriment.”
“Indeed?” Esmeraude asked as if she knew naught of it. A common maid would surely be anxious for gossip, would she not?
“Aye, knights were invited there to compete for a maiden’s hand, but she left a riddle and fled instead.”
“Aye? And the men all lent chase?”
“Nay!”
Esmeraude spun to face the boy at this revelation. “Were they not interested in her jest?”
“They had not the chance.” He leaned forward, his eyes shining. “There were but two boats to be had and my master bought this smaller one. There was much arguing, for the others did not wish to share the second boat, though ’twas larger, and we left while still they squabbled.”
Esmeraude’s oar stilled. There were competitors yet lingering at Ceinn-beithe! And if they wished to go to the island, no doubt they would meet her boat on arrival in hopes of claiming it from her. Her ruse would not last long before all who would recognize her there.
She let the boat drift for a moment as she thought. Célie did not look inclined to be helpful, so Esmeraude addressed the boy. “Yet your knight claimed this boat?”
“Aye, and he was not inclined to share.”
“’Tis not very charitable.”
“’Tis not a big boat,” the squire observed. “And he departed on a mission of import, not a pilgrimage.”
The women’s gazes met, though Esmeraude did not ask what business of import the knight had with the King of the Isles.
’Twas better if she knew less of him. “Did your knight make provision as to where you might meet if you were separated?”
“Nay.” The squire frowned, then brightened. “But he will have to return to Michael, for Michael is hidden with our steeds.”
“Aye? Where would I find Michael?”
“I said he is
hidden
.” The boy rolled his eyes that even a peasant maid could be so slow of wit. “I cannot guide you there!”
“Yet I would not abandon you to starve on these wild shores.”
“You could take me to Ceinn-beithe.”
“And have my boat seized by men anxious to chase a demoiselle?” Esmeraude chose to ignore the fact that ’twas not truly her boat. “I should think not!” She slowed the boat with her oar as the boy eyed her stubbornly. “’Tis not so far to shore from here. Leap over the side and swim.”
“I cannot swim!”
“Yet I will not take you further.” Indeed, she dared not do so. The sun was already rising high and Esmeraude knew she must hasten. The possibility of suitors yet at Ceinn-beithe meant that ’twas dangerous to linger so close. “Tell me where to find Michael or you shall be left to swim.”
“You would not do it,” the boy said, challenge bright in his eye.
But Esmeraude was not one to cede to such a challenge. She moved quickly and seized him, holding him over the surface of the water. He kicked and fought but she held fast, even as the boat rocked.
Célie hung on to the sides and looked most grim. “Aye, drown a knight’s squire,” she muttered. “That will see all come aright in the end.”
“Tell me,” Esmeraude insisted, looking the boy dead in the eye. She had no intention of dropping him, but he did not need to know as much.
“You are not a common peasant maid!” he charged.
Esmeraude did not answer that. “’Tis a harsh land we occupy and one that demands difficult choices of those who would survive here.” She let her smile broaden. “Like the one before you in this moment. Do you think the water will be cold?”
He glared at her. “I gave my pledge to my knight to keep the secret. No maiden will compel me to break my word.”
“Ah, well.” Esmeraude sighed and let him drop a little closer to the surface. He squirmed and his eyes widened in fear. “How curious that men and boys are prepared to die for their pledges.”
He spared a glance to the water and swallowed visibly. Esmeraude knew his resolve wavered.
“What you must do, if you cannot swim,” she suggested amiably, “is float.”
“I cannot float, either,” he snapped.
“Aye, you can, if you do not fight the water. The current should carry you, oh, not more than a dozen miles past Ceinn-beithe afore casting you ashore.” She shrugged. “Or you might be carried out to sea and lost forever. ’Tis difficult to be certain.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “’Tis over there,” he said through gritted teeth, his words nigh inaudible. When she set him back into the boat, his gaze was so clouded with disappointment that Esmeraude felt churlish for compelling him to confide in her.
But not for long.
It seemed that the boy, whose name proved to be Andrew, could not precisely recall the locale of the other boy. At first, Esmeraude believed this to be true, for she knew that even the most familiar land could look so different from the ocean as to be unrecognizable. And evidently the second boy was hidden so that no others could happen upon him or steal the steeds. She had heard tales of the fortunes invested in a fine destrier or warhorse and could not blame the knight for protecting their worth.
But as the sun crested its zenith and still they rowed back and forth, Esmeraude suspected a trick.
“There is another boat crossing from the isle,” Célie noted.
“’Tis probably a fishing boat,” Esmeraude muttered, then shook a finger at Andrew. “You have not broken your word at all,” she said. “You have lied and deceived me.” Célie harrumphed but Esmeraude ignored her. “Indeed, I shall cast you over the side of the boat here and now...”
“Why, there he is!” Andrew cried and pointed to the shore. “I remember that tree.”
Having heard all the morn long that he remembered this tree or that stone, Esmeraude was disinclined to believe. But she followed his gesture and looked, startled to find another taller boy standing upon the shore. He waved and shouted a greeting and Andrew shouted back.
Finally! She rowed to the shore, determined to be on her way to Airdfinnan with all haste. Her arms were aching from this morning’s labor.
She would sail down the coast again and abandon the boat near Ceinn-beithe. She would tell Andrew this so that Bayard could retrieve his investment. From there, she could borrow a horse and be gone again without anyone knowing she had been home. The horses were grazed in the afternoon and the ostler’s boy who so oft accompanied them was inclined to lie in the grass and sleep. Though it often vexed Duncan, that habit would suit her well on this day.
Célie, if she was disinclined to continue on the adventure, could return to Ceinn-beithe, there to sit by the fire and complain. Aye, Esmeraude thought that a most fitting solution to the maid’s dissatisfaction.
She was not so immune to the concerns of others as that!
“There!” Esmeraude said, when the boat was close to the shore. “I shall keep the craft here while you jump.”
“Oh, I could not jump over the water,” Andrew insisted, backing up toward Célie.
“Of course you can jump.” Esmeraude’s growing impatience showed in her tone. “’Tis not far.”
“’Tis too far for me.” Andrew turned sad eyes upon her. “Unless you would carry me.”
“You are too old to be carried like a babe,” Esmeraude insisted. “And indeed, I jumped farther than this when I was half your age. Are you no more brave than a small girl?”
“Andrew is afraid, Andrew is afraid,” the other boy taunted.
“I am not afraid!” the boy cried, though still he would not leave the boat.
Esmeraude swore and scooped him up into her arms, determined to see the matter resolved quickly. She leapt to the shore and put him down on his feet none too gently. She would have turned back to the boat, happily leaving him there, but he seized her sleeve.
“Oh, I thank you,” he said fervently.
Esmeraude tried to shake off his grip. “’Twas of no consequence. Now, let me be.”
“Nay, nay, there is a bond betwixt us now that you have saved my life.”
“I did not!”