Authors: The Temptress
Your sons are cordially invited to partake in a contest for the hand of our daughter Esmeraude, held in the tradition of your own Bride Quest, launched some twenty-three years ago from Tullymullagh Castle in Ireland. Those sons of whom we speak are Bayard of Villonne, Amaury of Villonne, Connor of Tullymullagh, and Nicholas of Montvieux.
Esmeraude is twenty summers of age, innocent, and well known for her wit and beauty. In addition to the prize of the lady’s hand itself, there is a dowry to be won, including the title of Ceinn-beithe itself, now a prosperous estate in addition to being of much traditional value. Esmeraude will decree both the terms of competition and declare the winner of her heart.
We request that all men who would compete gather here at Ceinn-beithe on or before the first of May of this year, and welcome their families to enjoy our hospitality.
May this missive find you well -
Duncan MacLaren, chieftain of Clan MacQuarrie, defender of Ceinn-beithe
& Lady Eglantine, formerly of Crevy-sur-Seine and Arnelaine
Dated February 20, in the year of Our Lord 1194
Margaux leaned forward and tapped a gnarled finger upon the coverlet. “Your father declined my advice in matters of marriage and defied my will in wedding unsuitably. Whomsoever I endow with the sole prize I possess will obey my will.”
Bayard blinked, surprised despite himself by this test. “You will grant me Montvieux if I wed this maiden?”
“You must win her. ’Tis both a quest and a test.”
“But why this damsel?”
“Because you must defeat your own cousins to prove your obedience to me. Because her lineage is adequate, because she may not be readily won with so many suitors competing for her hand.”
Bayard handed back the scroll, its contents already committed to memory, then met Margaux’s gaze steadily. “You would be unwise to doubt me in this,” he counseled. “’Tis my habit to win.”
She smiled coyly, clearly believing that she had turned him to her own will. “Then you will have need of a fitting weapon for such an adventure. In the chapel of Montvieux, there is a staircase hidden beside the altar.”
“’Tis not hidden so well as that. I recall it.”
“Aye and did you ever descend it?”
“It leads to the crypt.”
Margaux leaned forward. “Seven forebears lie there in eternal slumber, most recently mine own father. Go there, to the father of his father, the third sarcophagus. ’Tis said that the son who can lift the lid of that stone coffin and who can seize the blade that defended Montvieux against the barbarians is the one destined to rule.”
“You think I cannot do this?”
“I think I should like to know.”
Bayard made to rise, but Margaux lifted a hand. “None should witness this. ’Twill prompt suspicion. Go this night, and in the morn, show me your blade at the board with the tale that ’tis one plundered from a Saracen. If ’tis truly the blade of my great-grandfather, then I shall kiss it to seal our bargain. You will depart immediately and none shall be the wiser.”
“Until I win the bride.”
Margaux smiled. The maid scurried into the chamber, two chalices and a pitcher of wine in her grip. Margaux nodded and the girl poured the red wine, her curiosity evident. “But how would a Saracen know of your plan to aid the king?” Margaux asked, as if they had been interrupted in the midst of a tale.
“Ah, there was a spy within our ranks, as you most certainly have already guessed.” Bayard lifted the chalice and saluted Margaux. “To your health,
Grandmaman
, and may you have many years yet to hear tales of chivalry and conquest.”
She cackled before she sipped. “Or at least till the end of this one.” Margaux lifted her chalice to her grandson, then drank heartily of the wine.
* * *
Ceinn-beithe, Scotland - April 1194
“I think ’tis a terrible idea,” Esmeraude complained.
The woman who had been Esmeraude’s nursemaid and later her maid grimaced, though she said naught more.
“’Tis terrible to petition for a spouse for me in this way and you know it well!” Esmeraude repeated the complaint she had made since her parents had sent their missive to France. “Why, for the love of God, should I choose a husband in such a manner?”
“Because you will adore it,” Célie said tartly.
The two were in Esmeraude’s chamber, making the bed ready for the night. “
Moi
?”
Célie laughed and shook her head with affection. “Indeed, I can scarce imagine what you would enjoy more than to have several dozen men competing for the favor of your hand.” She wagged a finger at her charge. “You shall be in your glory when your suitors arrive.”
“Men competed before and I did not enjoy it.” Esmeraude plumped a pillow, challenging the other woman to convince her otherwise.
“They brought you gifts, which you liked well enough.”
Esmeraude shrugged. “Fripperies that they would take to any woman they wooed. ’Tis my face and the promise of my womb they court, no more than that. Now they may add Ceinn-beithe itself to the prize, so ’twill only be worse.”
“Esmeraude! ’Tis vulgar to speak thus!”
“’Tis true and you know it.”
“Perhaps so. Still, you should not say as much.” The pair shared a smile of understanding, wrought of years of similar such exchanges.
“If you had wished to avoid this contest, you might have chosen Robert,” Célie said finally, though her casual mention of a suitor’s name did not fool Esmeraude. “He seems different from the others who would court you.”
“Aye, he does whatsoever I ask of him.”
Célie’s quick sidelong glance was wry. “I should think you would like that.”
“And you would be mistaken.” Esmeraude rolled her eyes. “The man has no wits of his own, Célie, and I am certain that he would pursue any folly I commanded of him. No woman should wed a man so devoid of sense!”
“What of Douglas?”
Esmeraude grimaced. “Why, he is intent upon telling me what to do and what to say at every moment, though we are barely acquainted! Why does he court me if he so disapproves? What manner of spouse would he make?”
“Not the one for you, ’tis clear, when you are so certain of your own thinking.”
Esmeraude lifted her chin, knowing full well that she was with a strong ally. “And is that so wicked?”
Célie chuckled. “Nay, child, not so wicked as that. Indeed, it makes sense to consider this matter of marriage carefully. You show your usual good sense, even if ’tis wrapped in your need to have the eyes of all upon you.” Célie stroked the linens smooth. “What of Seamus?”
“Too tall. I should never be able to kiss him, if I desired to.”
“Ah, but you must favor Alasdair.”
“He is too short.”
“But you always laugh so in his company.”
“Because he is amusing.” Esmeraude propped a hand upon her hip. “But truly, Célie, the man considers all of life to be a merry jest. He is serious about naught and ’twould undoubtedly become a tedious trait all too soon.”
“Lars?”
“Too dour! That man has no ability to smile at all.”
“Calum? Now, there is a handsome man, neither too tall nor too short, too amused or too somber.”
“He has no holding to his name.” Esmeraude thumped a pillow. She had an alternative scheme and simply had to find a way to best present it to her maid. “I have no fancy to starve and one cannot live upon the sight of a handsome man’s visage.”
“What of Ceinn-beithe? The legacy would come to Calum’s name upon your nuptials, for Duncan has decreed as much.”
“Aye, and what experience has Calum of ensuring it prospered? He has never administered an estate and indeed I believe his every thought is bent upon the pursuit of pleasure alone. Nay, I owe better to those so used to Duncan’s steady hand.”
Célie smiled with approval of this concern for responsibilities. “Then you can have no quibble with Hamish. He has more wealth than any man I have ever met and is responsible beyond all else.”
“And is concerned with the maintenance of that wealth to the exclusion of all else!” Esmeraude jumped onto the bed, ruining the perfect arrangement of the linens, and appealed to her exasperated maid. “Do you not see, Célie? If I am to wed a man, I wish to love him with all my heart.”
“’Tis what your parents desire for you. ’Tis why they summon these men, to win your heart.”
“Aye, but I fear that men embarking upon such a quest are men concerned with material reward alone. The men who have come thus far have but one trait in common, Célie - they show no passion.”
“Passion?”
“Aye!” Esmeraude closed her eyes and leaned back. “I would have a man with a heart, a man who feels great ardor for his beliefs yet will listen to other views. I would wed a man keen of wit but trusting of heart, neither too tall nor too short, neither too rich nor too poor, neither too amusing nor too dour.” She smiled confidently. “A man exactly perfect for me.”
Célie shook her head and began to chuckle. In a trio of heartbeats, she was laughing right from her toes and had to brace one hand against the bed to steady herself.
Esmeraude did not share her amusement. “And what makes you laugh at that?”
“I suppose your man must be handsome, and well wrought too.”
“Of course!”
“And where would you find this man? You and all the other demoiselles who seek a perfect spouse?”
Esmeraude smiled. “I intend to seek him out.”
“What madness is this?”
Esmeraude’s smile broadened even as her maid’s disappeared. “I shall find the man I wed. ’Twould be only fitting, particularly as you suggest my expectations are too high.”
The maid propped her hands on her hips, her amusement gone. “Fitting in whose terms? ’Tis
fitting
for a man to seek a bride, as the men summoned by your parents will seek you out, not back ways round! No bride seeks her spouse and no man of honor finds such boldness fitting at all.”
Esmeraude wrinkled her nose. “And most, if not all, of the men who compete will prove to be exactly like the ones who already come to Ceinn-beithe to win me. Nay, Célie, I am convinced that the man I desire does not even know he needs a bride, much less that he has need of
me
.”
“Then how will you know he is the man for you?”
“I will know him.” Esmeraude leaned back and closed her eyes. “My heart will tell me the truth of it.” She peeked through her lashes and found the maid looking skeptical.
“And where do you intend to seek him out, if this man is disinclined to find a bride or even dubious that he has need of one?”
Esmeraude grinned. “But that is the exciting part, Célie! I must embark upon a quest to find the man who will hold my heart captive. There is naught else for it.”
Célie responded with perfectly predictable outrage. “You will do no such thing! I forbid it!”
“I will do exactly thus!” Esmeraude knew that her determination was apparent for her maid regarded her warily. “I will leave this very night, and be gone before any are the wiser.”
“I shall barricade the door!” Célie thundered. “Why, I shall go to your mother this very moment and tell her of your scheme.”
Esmeraude immediately grasped the maid’s hands in her own and begged. “Célie, you would not, you
could
not! I thought we were friends.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Even if we were friends,” she said carefully, “friends do not let each other commit such folly as this.”
“But Célie, this is my future and my life, my
dream
. Surely you would not condemn me to a loveless match?”
Célie pulled her hands from Esmeraude’s grip and shook a finger at her charge. “Do you realize what might happen to you, if you left unprotected? There are wolves beyond these walls and unscrupulous men and countless dangers...”
“And adventure!” Esmeraude flung out her hands and rolled to her back. “Imagine, Célie, all the marvelous places I might see! Oh, ’twould be worth any risk to live unfettered, even if ’twas not destined to last.”
“Where would your fetters be, lass? You are fortunate in your life, make no mistake.”
“But why must I wed a dull man and move from this household to his household, only to bear sons and manage accounts and see to it that his mother is happy? ’Tis too dreadful a fate to be embraced willingly.”
The maid sat on the edge of the mattress and patted Esmeraude’s hand. “And what makes you imagine that a man of passion will not have such expectations of his wife?” she asked gently.
“’Twill be easier to fulfill them with a heart filled with love.” Esmeraude ignored the way her maid snorted at that. “And even if I am doomed to such a fate, why can I not have but one small adventure first?”
“Because you are the daughter of a respectable house.”
Esmeraude closed her eyes and smiled, her hands clasped in her lap. “Would it not make a fine tale? How Esmeraude of Ceinn-beithe ventured boldly into the world to seek her one true love?”