On Epiphany Eve
Historical romance
They say that a man can fall in love with a face. For me, it was also the tilt of a head and the sound of a low, lilting voice that stole my heart. Through the Yuletide evergreen swathing the Great Hall, I watched folk dancing to the minstrels’ music and marvelled anew at my luck in being wed to the woman moving among them.
Even slightly hidden from view by the traditional eye masks of Epiphany Eve revels, I could feel the draw of those honey-almond eyes haloed by long dark tresses, tonight enhanced by the play of candlelight. I’d seen my share of pretty women; I’d travelled widely with my sword, and of course, all men think their mother beautiful.
But Alinor was something more. I wondered if the well-meaning advice I’d received would really help me thaw that invisible shield erected round her heart. Well, this was Epiphany Eve and my
Mark your WEDDING with a gift; mayhap that will melt her HEART
wedding night. If I had ever believed in such things as miracles, now would be the time for them to come true…
When first I arrived at the manor that was now mine, I was fighting to disguise my excitement. After all, knights of the mighty Henry FitzEmpress’s realm did not show such emotions. But it was a prosperous little place with mill, stream, meadows and a fortified hall. I could be excused my enthusiasm. Then Alinor of Emberley glided out of the tangled orchard, and all other thoughts fled.
There had been rumours of her unusual beauty. But an eager, ambitious young warrior like me had no time for such tales. So up to now, I’d given no more than a fleeting consideration to the widowed king’s ward who came with this land. My mistake.
“Well met, my lady,” I murmured, bowing low. “I am –”
“I know who you are, Robert Courtois, and why you are here. You have come to claim your prize.”
Her voice was that of a mellow harp, soft and mellifluous. Dazed, I felt as if I’d wandered into a wonderful dream with a faerie at its heart.
“The king has seen fit to honour me with his ward’s hand in marriage,” I said, quickly recovering what poise I possessed. “A prize indeed.”
“Emberley and all within its boundaries now belong to you, my lord. May it please you as much as it has contented former residents.”
I fumbled for the words that would dispel the awkwardness between us. But I was woefully inept when it came to dealing with women and against such a one as this, I had no hope.
“You have every right to resent my presence here,” I acknowledged. She bowed her head. “’Tis the spoils of war, is it not? And a woman’s lot in life.”
I could see sadness in her eyes, even after she’d lowered them. On instinct, I reached for her as she turned away.
“Lady Alinor…” I swallowed when she looked back over her shoulder. “I will not rush you,” I promised at last when I’d released myself from the spell of those eyes. “I would like us to know each other a little better before we obey the king’s decree.”
She curtsied elegantly once more, low and smooth.
“Whatever you desire, my lord.”
Over the next few days, as I and my handful of retainers settled into our new home, I attempted to get to know my intended bride. I could tell, despite her courtesies, that Alinor resented the situation in which she now found herself, perhaps even held me to blame for it.
In truth, my fiery sovereign had been in one of his lavish moods when he granted me not only this manor but also his ward, widowed in the same battle where I’d earned King Henry’s favour.
Though I could delight in Emberley, I wanted more than anything to thaw the winter’s wall surrounding Alinor, get her to really look at me rather than politely over my shoulder. Reassuring her of my good intentions failed to make a difference. So I went, as always, for advice to the man who’d been like a father to me since my squirehood. Ancel was predictably amused. “You, woo a woman, and especially one as lost in love as that lass?” Half his laugh was swallowed up in the thick, dark beard that had earned him his “bear” nickname. “Oh, Robert, lad, direct your efforts toward falling for a good serving maid. They’ll keep you much warmer at night than my lady!” I only registered one part of this. “She was in love with her husband?”
I’d heard that Benet de Bretagne was tall and tawny-haired, much like our infamous Prince Richard – surely every maiden’s dream! What chance had I?
When he saw the dismay in my face, Ancel once again burst into loud guffaws.
“Who knows? Mayhap she is just cold-hearted by nature.”
“Nay.” I shook my head, recalling Alinor’s relieved smile as she’d rescued a duckling from the edge of the well, how her eyes lit when a wandering pedlar arrived at the gates, laden with gewgaws and bright ribbons for her to exclaim over… “It is not that. I want to reach this woman, not just abide with her. Can you not help me?”
After studying me a moment, Ancel clapped me on the back with one of his meaty fists and instructed, “Court her advice, let her have some say in this home of hers. And mark your wedding with a gift. Mayhap that will melt her heart in your favour.”
“It would have to be something special,” I mused, rubbing a knuckle across my chin. “Something that would appeal to her personally, show I care.”
“Then watch and learn,” Ancel advised. “Soon or late, she’ll give you a clue.”
Idid my best to study Alinor’s behaviour without her realising, though by the odd occasion when she’d catch my eye, a funny curve to her lips, I was sure she was well aware of my spying.
I also consulted her on the running of Emberley, which seemed to please her, and we fell into the habit of walking round the manor walls each evening around twilight, sometimes going as far as the mill on the horizon as we discussed estate matters. It became my favourite time of day.
One evening close to Christmas, we were walking the ramparts. Alinor had been outlining preparations for the forthcoming celebrations, though she’d mentioned naught of our nuptials planned for Epiphany’s Eve.
“What is it?” Something in my expression made her enquire of me.
“I was wondering how things might have been if we’d met in different circumstances,” I sighed. “I cannot regret my good fortune in being granted you as wife, Alinor, but I do wish I could ease your heartache. Then mayhap one day, you might find a place within it for me.”
Gliding to a halt, she laid her
long fingers along the crenelated stone and gripped tight.
“Whatever you may have heard, sir, I do not pine for my husband. Benet de Bretagne was as spineless as he was fair, and a bully, like most weak characters. But he was rich and of noble blood, so my mother bade me wed him.”
“Your mother?” I repeated, surprised. “The match was not of your sire’s making?”
“Nay,” she murmured. “My father adored me, as I did him, and he would have had me marry for love, allowed me the choice for my future. But he was lost to us by then and Mother did what she thought best.”
A smile touched her lips, so sweet I longed to taste it. “’Tis he who is to blame for my dreams. His had a troubadour’s heart; he taught me about love, and inspired me to believe that with the right soul beside me, I could touch the stars.”
I followed her eyes toward the sky stretched above us, where the first flashes of heavenly light had begun to wink in the darkening blanket of night.
“’Tis tradition to make marriage vows before the priest, but I promise you here and now, lady, I will do all I can to make you happy. You may not love me, but I hope you can at least accept my protection and respect.”
“Chivalric words, indeed, my lord,” she reflected. “Did you learn them from your father?”
“Nay, from Ancel. My sire taught me only one thing.” “Which was?” My smile was wry as I replied, “Defend what is yours – at all costs.”
Ah, Alinor! I watched her now as she threaded through the merry manor residents, softly radiant in a richly embroidered gown, chestnut hair held back with golden ribbon. Then I saw her again as she had looked earlier, standing beside me as we spoke our wedding vows, and my heart ached.
Tonight, she would be mine completely, if only I could reach that intriguing mind.
“Now, there’s a lovely bride,” Ancel remarked as he reached across me for the wine flagon to refill his cup. “You are right to feel such pride in her. But what are you doing sitting here with me? Go, dance with her, lad!”
I was dismayed at the feelings assailing me as I went to claim my bride. A knight who’d seen off countless rebels at the Battle of Fornham shouldn’t suffer such nerves! But I was heartened to see the shy welcome in Alinor’s eyes when standing before her, I bowed and extended my hand. “My lady, may I have this dance?” She stepped into my arms and right on cue, the minstrel slowed his musical beat to a more intimate sway. As we whirled around the hall among the other revellers, I could have sworn that she had mellowed a little toward me. But that was no doubt merely wishful thinking on my part.
I led her back to the dais and the lord’s table, where we removed our masks to watch the village mummers perform their version of the Three Kings play, an Epiphany tradition. Their bringing of gifts to the Messiah reminded me of my own mission. So after another round of cake and frothy Lamb’s Wool cider, I invited Alinor to join me outside.
She followed, silent but willing, to the orchard, keeping her hand loosely in mine. I drew in a long breath when we reached a particular tree, its sprawling boughs almost perfect for the gift I’d decided on for Alinor.
She blinked at the carefully constructed swing and then at me as I said softly, “’Tis my wedding gift to you, lady. A way for you to try and touch the stars.”
Her gasp of surprise and delight was all I could have wished for, as was the way she eagerly slid onto the seat. How beautiful she looked by starlight; how I longed to bruise those lovely lips with mine own.
I did the next best thing, pressing a kiss to her fingers as I knelt before her.
“I meant what I said before,” I murmured. “I want to make you happy, Alinor. I want us to make a good team.”
I almost stumbled when she took my face in her hands and looking at me, really looking at me at last, she gave me a slow smile.
“You are a good man, Robert,” she whispered. “I have studied you, as you have me, and what I’ve seen has made me determined to thank the King for bringing us together. I love your wedding gift – it is perfect. And here is mine to you; I hope it is all you desired.”
As she kissed me – warmly, deeply – I could feel my heart soar as high as the stars she adored.
Ancel, that grizzly old warrior, had steered me right, I mused when she drew back and I could think clearly again. I must remember to thank him!
But that, like the Three Kings’ Star candle ceremony and our wedding procession to end this night, was all for later. For now, it was just Alinor and me in a moonlit orchard, trying to touch the stars…
‘Tis my GIFT to you, my lady – a way for you to TOUCH the STARS