Bile rising in his raging throat, a corner of his lip upturned in a sneer, Ugolin glowered at Bastien de Landuc. whose fierce, predatory gaze fixed upon him in return.
The voice of the official from Paris rose above the clamor of the gathered crowd.
“The Yuletide Joust begins tomorrow morning at ten o’clock with the opening ceremony,les commençailles.An afternoon of theatrical and musical performances will follow, culminating in an evening celebratory feast. The following day, on the fifteenth of December, you sixteen nobles shall compete in the official tournament, consisting of three charges per course. Eight contestants will be defeated by the end of the first round. After an intermission, the competition will resume at noon, with two more challenges and elimination of contenders, resulting in two finalists for the concluding round. After a second intermission, the championship of the Yuletide Joust shall take place at approximately two o’clock. The victor shall receive five hundred gold coins, five magnificent warhorses, and Princess Gabrielle’s hand in marriage, including her royal dowry—the Kingdom of Finistère.”
Eager nobles exchanged greedy grins with the valiant knights who would represent them in the tournament. Of the sixteen contenders, only Bastien de Landuc, Thérouac of Dinan, Bergeron of Fougères and Audric of Sauterne had not selected a champion to joust on their behalf, preferring instead to rely on their own chivalrous skills and prowess.
The shrill, strident voice of the second judge rent the raucous din. “In accordance withLe Statut des Armes,all competitors in the Yuletide Joust shall abide by the rules of chivalry.Lances will be blunted and inspected prior to each run. Points shall be awarded for shattering the weapon against an opponent’s shield or armor. Any challenger thrown from his horse will be immediately eliminated, and his rival granted the victory. Striking an opponent’s horse or deliberately inflicting a grievous wound shall result in immediate elimination from the tournament. Chivalrous conduct and adherence toLe Statut des Armeswill be strictly enforced, with violations resulting in disqualification. Good day,messieurs. Good luck to one and all.”
As the competitors departed, Ugolin spoke to Tréguier as they crossed the tournament field and returned to the cluster of tents where the banners displaying the coat of arms of Nantes whipped in the winter wind. “You and de Landuc will be in the final round. You’re by far the finest jousters in the group.” They halted at the entrance to the group of pavilions where the knights that Ugolin had brought fromla Tour de Kerlochpracticed weaponry in preparation forles commençailles.
Or an attack onle Château de Beaufort.
Ugolin grinned wickedly as he watched the exceptionally skilled knights he had personally selected for this paramount mission. They would entertain the spectators in tomorrow’s opening ceremony of the Yuletide Joust. And be prepared, if necessary, for Ugolin’s command to attack. One way or another, he would claim Gabrielle’s hand.Le Château de Beaufort.And the Kingdom of Finistère. Delicious chills rippled down his sinister spine.
A lithe female figure flew high into the air as acrobats rehearsed their performance near the long row of red silk pavilions. “Tomorrow, we observeles commençaillesand enjoy the entertainment.” Ugolin’s body stirred as his lusty gaze followed the slender figure clad in sumptuous turquoise silk.PerhapsI’ll visit her tent tonight.
His sensual reverie was brusquely interrupted by the sight of a groom leading Bastien de Landuc’s stallion back to the lodging area. With a jut of his chin, Ugolin indicated the massive black warhorse. “That’s de Landuc’s Percheron. Have your squire mix the yew needles into his feed the morning of the Yuletide Joust.” His gaze followed the stable hand as he led the horse back to the group of white tents where the heraldry ofla Cornouaille—the golden horned silver ram on the solid blue background—symbolized Bastien de Landuc’s newly appointed title of Marquis of that region of Finistère. Ugolin glanced at Tréguier, whose gaze followed the groom and the destrier. “It takes about three hours for the symptoms to occur. Perfect timing for the final round of the joust. With his horse disoriented and skittish, you’ll have no trouble unseating him.” At the clash of swords and guttural grunts coming from his knights, Ugolin remarked with a snide grin, “And if, against all odds, Bastien de Landuc should somehow prevail in the Yuletide Joust—our men will already be in position, awaiting my order to attack. With the castle surrounded, King Guillemin will have no choice but to give me his daughter. And the kingdom of Finistère.”
****
Gabrielle locked eyes with Bastien across the dinner table where he sat with his two brothers Gaultier and Cardin as servants cleared away the dessert plates and refilled goblets of wine. Desire danced in the emerald eyes which sent scorching flames to every part of her quivering body. She longed to be alone with him but knew he would soon return to the tents and rejoin the knights preparing for the opening ceremony of the Yuletide Joust in the morning. The message was clear in his smoldering eyes. He longed for her, too.
Silver goblets sparkled in the candlelight from the crystal chandelier overhead as Gabrielle glanced around the rectangular table where her father sat across from her at the opposite end. To his left, her great aunt Béatrice and the three traveling companions from Paris-—Agnès, Clothilde, and Françoise, whom her father had felt obligated to invite to dinner—sat withClothilde’s husband Onfroi.
Le Vicomte de Vannes.Powerful ally of Ugolin le Clou. Whose men had ambushed and killed the royal messenger that her father had sent to Paris with Bastien’s decree of nobility.
An ominous shiver rippled up Gabrielle’s spine as Onfroi’s sinister gaze fixed her with the stark stare of a predator.
“Dinner was delicious, Your Majesty. Thank you very much for your gracious hospitality. We shall retire now, to allow you sufficient rest.” Viviane, seated beside her son Lancelot, smiled warmly at King Guillemin.
“You must remember to drink the ginger and tart cherry tonic for your gout, Papa.” Gabrielle met her father’s bemused gaze, remarking how much the color had improved in his gaunt, pale complexion. “I prepared it earlier, for Ezhvin to serve in your private chambers.”
“I am certain he would not allow me to forget.” The king chuckled as he glanced at the royal chamberlain waiting patiently with the other servants along the wall near the carved walnut sideboard. Directing his attention to Viviane, he added enthusiastically, “The treatments have helped tremendously. I am most grateful for your extensive knowledge and impressive skills.”
The Lady of the Lake smiled discreetly, as did her son Lancelot, whose grin lit up his handsome face.
“You do have the rosy glow of health, Guillemin. I, too, am most grateful for your skilled healers and their diligent care.” Béatrice bowed her silver-haired head in a nod of acknowledgement to the three priestesses sitting across the table from her.
King Guillemin’s hazel eyes twinkled in the candlelight as he beheld Ghislaine, sitting alongside her husband Gaspard on Gabrielle’s right. “The essential oils and foot massage have been simply divine. The inflammation and swelling have diminished considerably, and my appetite has returned.” The king chuckled, gesturing to the crumbs of pastry remaining on the empty dessert plate as a servant whisked it away with a humble bow. “I look forward to a good night’s sleep, free from pain. The first in a very long time.”
“Since the royal physician Isnard began treating you, Papa.” Gabrielle smiled gratefully at the three priestesses who had diagnosed her father’s symptoms of nightshade poisoning. “Thank the Goddess, he is no longer here. And these gifted healers have restored your good health.”
“Indeed. I feel like a new man.” King Guillemin rose majestically to his feet, prompting Ezhvin and two valets to rush forward, eager to escort their royal sovereign to his private chambers.
The remainder of the guests rose to bow collectively before the retiring monarch.
“I bid you all a pleasant evening,” the king said affably as he kissed Gabrielle and Béatrice goodnight, accepting Ezhvin’s offer of a supportive elbow. “We’ll see each other again tomorrow morning for the opening ceremony ofles commençailles.Until then—bonne nuit. Goodnight, everyone.”
Amid handshakes, hugs,and kissesof farewell, the king departed, and attendants arrived to usher his royal guests from the private solar.
Laudine and Ghislaine kissed their husbands, and Viviane said goodnight to Lancelot, for the men were returning to the tents on the tournament field where trusted knights stood guard over the horses and the exuberant boys Gaston, Quentin, and Max.
Bastien, Gaultier, and Cardin kissed their mother Laudine goodnight as the three priestesses exited the solar with attendants to escort them back to their guest rooms in the castle.
Gabrielle kissed Béatrice’s cheeks inla biseof farewell as her great-aunt hugged her affectionately and whispered, “Goodnight,chérie.”A sweet smile crinkled her soft cheeks as Bastien gallantly kissed her hand. “Good luck, Sir Bastien de Landuc. My Yuletide wish is for you to win Gabrielle’s hand. May the Goddess grant you victory,Monsieur le Marquis de Cornouaille.”
With a polite “Bonne nuit,” Gabrielle bid goodnight to her great-aunt’s female traveling companions. And to Lord Onfroi,le Vicomte de Vannes,whose bleak stare and cold hands sent shivers of dread up her quivering arms.
