Medieval 03 - Enchanted

silenced the swine
sooner, had Blackthorne been stronger.”
    “Truth.”
    “Tell my wife that I am certain of her
fidelity to me.”
    “Truth.”
    “And finally,” Simon said softly,
“ tell my wife that I hold her in no
greater regard for being certain of her
innocence .”
    “Truth.”
    Instantly Simon released Amber.
    “I regret the pain I have caused you,
lady,” Simon said.
    “There was none.”
    “You are as kind as you are
beautiful.”
    Simon turned and looked at Ariane.
    “Nightingale,” he said softly,
“are you at peace, now?”
    Ariane couldn’t speak. Tears wrenched her
throat and spilled from her eyes, for she heard all that Simon did
not say. Her reckless determination to prove her own innocence had
caused Simon to betray the brother whom he cherished more than he
cherished anything in life.
    In defending Ariane, Simon had slain
Blackthorne’s peace as surely as he had slain Geoffrey the
Fair.
    Marie’s words about betrayal and the Holy
Land echoed in Ariane’s mind, telling her another truth that
had been learned too late: Simon is a man of
extraordinary passion. It will be many more years before he
forgets. Or forgives me .
    Ariane feared it would be the same for her.

29
    “M y lady?” asked
Blanche.
    “What is it?”
    Ariane winced at the sound of her own voice.
Geoffrey’s death today had been enough to bring strain to
anyone, but Baron Deguerre’s messenger announcing the
imminent arrival of his lord had been the final straw. Blackthorne
Keep’s nerves were strung to a high pitch as people waited to
find out precisely when the baron would arrive, and more
importantly, with how many warriors.
    “I can’t find your favorite
comb,” Blanche admitted unhappily.
    Ariane barely heard. She was certain she had heard
the sound of the sentry above the crying of the wind.
    “M’lady?”
    “’Tis under the bed in the corner near
the window,” Ariane said curtly.
    Blanche was halfway across the room to retrieve the
comb when she stopped and spun back to Ariane.
    “Your gift has come back to you!”
    The words got through Ariane’s preoccupation.
She gave Blanche an impatient look.
    “Nay,” Ariane said. “I merely saw
it there earlier.”
    “Oh.”
    Blanche went to the bed, got down on her hands and
knees, and pawed through the draperies.
    “’Tis keen eyesight you have,”
Blanche muttered. “I can barely find the cursed thing with
both hands.”
    “Did you say something?” Ariane
asked.
    “No,” Blanche muttered.
    As the handmaiden scrambled to her feet, she was
grateful that the amber witch wasn’t nearby to catch her out
in a lie.
    Ariane barely noticed Blanche as she combed and
braided and piled her mistress’s black hair high. Ariane was
thinking of the coming night, when Simon finished walking the
battlements.
    She wondered if he were as angry with her as he
once had been with Marie…or if Simon would come to his wife
in the darkness, teaching her all over again that ecstasy was
always new, always burning.
    Nightingale, are you at peace,
now ?
    Tears burned against Ariane’s eyelids.
    She was not at peace. She had risked more than she
knew when she put Geoffrey to Learned questioning, only to discover
that the answer truly meant nothing to Simon.
    But that same answer had forced him to again betray
his brother.
    Simon had not loved Ariane before.
    He would not love her now.
    “When do you think he will come?”
Blanche asked.
    “Simon?” Ariane asked huskily.
    “Nay. Your father.”
    “Soon. Very soon.”
    “Tonight?” Blanche asked, startled.

“’Tis already quite late.”
    “It would be like the baron to arrive when
everyone assumes he will wait.”
    “Oh. How many warriors will he
have?”
    “Too many.”
    A cry rang down from the icy battlements. Ariane
listened, motionless, and heard the sentry announce the coming of
Baron Deguerre through darkness and storm.
    “My Learned dress,” Ariane said.
“Quickly.”
    Blanche brought the dress and stepped back after
giving it to her lady, well pleased not to touch the fabric
anymore.
    Even as Ariane’s fingers flew over silver
laces, Dominic, Simon, Erik, and Duncan were sweeping through the
keep, calling out orders to knights.
    “A gentleman would have waited until tomorrow
to come to the keep,” Simon said under his breath,
“when most of us wouldn’t be abed.”
    “Deguerre is hoping to find our knights fully
stupid with ale, and us along with them,” Dominic said.
    “Always the