The magnificent Crystal Castle.
“It’s spectacular!” Gabrielle cried to Bastien as they dismounted and handed their horses’ reins to awaiting grooms.
His handsome face alight with the same unbridled joy galloping in her jubilant heart, Bastien offered her a gallant elbow as he escorted his bride up the wide earthen path.
Garlands of deep green holly with bright red berries adorned the golden oak entrance door where a large evergreen wreath welcomed guests with holiday cheer. Inside the entry, a cluster of mistletoe——sacred plant to the Celtic ancestors of the Breton people—bestowed the protective blessing of the divine forest upon the Crystal Castle.
Amiable servants flocked to meet the royalcortègeas the three horse-drawn coaches arrived in front of thechâteau. Opening the carriage doors to welcome Viviane’s guests, attendants escorted King Guillemin and his entourage into the pristine castle where tantalizing aromas emanated from the vast kitchen.
“Bienvenue.Welcome to my Crystal Castle.” Brilliant color from the stained-glass transom window above the entrance door reflected off the crystal chandelier in the central foyer where Viviane greeted her guests. “My servants will carry your bags and usher you to guest rooms so that you may rest and refresh after your voyage. Please join us in an hour for the delicious meal that Sophie has prepared.À bientôt, mes amis.”
Since she and Bastien were not yet married, Gabrielle was escorted to the room she would share with her great-aunt Béatrice on the second floor of the castle. Inside the large chamber, a comfortable canopied bed was centered against the creamy plastered wall opposite a large window overlooking the forest. In the corner of the vast room, a lace covered table flanked by two mauve velvet chairs stood near a stone fireplace. Evergreen boughs and garlands of holly adorned the mantle where a welcoming fire crackled in the beautifully decorated hearth.
As attendants unpacked their bags and stored their belongings inside an elegantly carved wooden armoire, Gabrielle peeked through the mauve velvet draperies to glimpse the shimmeringLac de Dianesurrounded by dense woods.The heart of the Forest of Brocéliande. Where I—as a winter solstice bride—will marry the man I love.
A servant entered the room with a steaming pot of fragrant chamomile tea, interrupting Gabrielle’s pleasant reverie. Crossing the room to join Béatrice at the corner table, she gratefully accepted the proffered mug and sat down to enjoy thetisane.
Gabrielle gazed into the kind, crinkled eyes of her beloved aunt. “I am eternally grateful that you sent the message to my father so that Bastien could compete in the joust.” She reached across the table and squeezed Beatrice’s gnarled hand. “Thanks to you, my Yuletide wish to marry the man I love will come true.Merci du fond du coeur, Tatie.Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”
Béatrice smiled affectionately, her soft cheeks crinkling like thin parchment paper. “I know how much the two of you adore each other. I am overjoyed that you will be a winter solstice bride. And that the valiant Bastien de Landuc—whom you have loved since you were just a girl—will be your wedded husband. The future King of Finistère.” She sipped her tea pensively, then set the ceramic mug down upon the table. Rising to her feet, she strolled across the room and fetched something from her travel bag. Returning to her velvet chair, she placed a black velvet pouch on the table in front of Gabrielle. “This belonged to my sister Isabelle—your father’s mother—who died when you were but a babe. She would have wanted you to have this.” With an encouraging nod, Béatrice insisted gently, “Open it.”
From inside the velvet sack, Gabrielle withdrew a heavy silver artifact. Suspended from a loop of braided black leather cord, a semicircular shaped pendant with intricate detailing hung in the center.
“It’s a Viking symbol called alunula, which means “little moon”. It belonged to your ancestor Ylva, a Valkyrie shield maiden descended from Rollon, the first leader of Normandy. It has been passed from grandmother to granddaughter in our family since the tenth century, when the Vikings first settled in France. The leather cord has been replaced, of course, but thelunulais original.”
Gabrielle cradled the precious heirloom, her long fingers caressing the intricate details of the palm-sized silver pendant.
“It symbolizes the lunar cycle and female fertility of the Viking goddess Freya.” Béatrice smiled nostalgically as she watched Gabrielle admire the craftsmanship. “My grandmother Ursa gave it to my sister on her wedding day. And your grandmother Isabelle intended to give it to you.” Béatrice’s expressive brown eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “Since my beloved sister is not here to bestow this heirloom upon you herself, I shall take her place as a doting grandmother and pass thelunulato you on your wedding day.” With a gnarled finger, she indicated the braided loop centered at the top of the moon-shaped silver pendant. “Hang it on the wall over your bed. May thelunulaof your ancestor Ylva and your grandmother Isabelle bestow the fertility of the Viking goddess Freya and bless you with many healthy children.” Her bony knees creaked as she rose to her feet and kissed Gabrielle’s cheek. “One day, in turn, may you bestow thislunulaupon your own granddaughter in the Viking tradition of our family Valkyrie.”
Gabrielle rose and wrapped her arms around her great-aunt’s frail shoulders, fervently kissing her crinkled cheek. “Thank you,Tatie.From the bottom of my heart.” She hugged thelunulato her chest, rocking it like the babes she hoped she would bear Bastien. “I will treasure it always.”
Her heart overflowing with joy, Gabrielle tucked thelunulaback into the protective pouch.Tomorrow night, I’ll hang this over our bed and share the Viking tradition with Bastien.As she imagined the wedding night to come, warmth and wetness throbbed between her legs, a hollow ache in her lower abdomen. Her legs shaking with desire, Gabrielle lowered herself carefully to the tufted velvet chair and sat down with Béatrice to finish thetisane.Her fingers caressed the heirloom, symbol of her grandmother’s love and Valkyrie heritage.I hope that one day, I will have a granddaughter of my own to carry on our Viking legacy.
Dinner that evening was a deliciouspotageof vegetable and venison stew, baked pike and trout fromle Lac de Diane, and Sophie’s scrumptious quince and honey pie. Later, in the adjacent ballroom where evergreen boughs and garlands of holly and ivy decorated the whitewashed walls, Viviane’s guests danced to the lively holiday music of fiddles and flutes while moonlight shimmered on the rippled surface of the glistening lake.
The next day, Lancelot arrived with the three jubilant boys, eager to share stories of swift stallions and chivalrous knights. At the jolly dinner table, over Sophie’s marvelous wild plumtarte aux mirabelles,Gaston exclaimed, his blue eyes bright with wondrous delight, “Sir Lancelot promised that one day, I’ll have a Percheron stallion of my own—just like Gosse and Drach!” Amidst much laughter and love, Viviane danced with King Guillemin while Bastien swirled Gabrielle, Cardin twirled his betrothed Charlotte, and Prince Kaherdin whirled his wife Gargeolaine in the festive, gaily decorated Yuletide ballroom.
The winter solstice dawned crisp, clear, and cold. Clean evergreen notes of pine entwined with the holiday scents of citrus, cinnamon, and cloves as Gabrielle sat at Viviane’s vanity table, watching her wedding preparations through the reflections of the mirror.
Laudine—who would soon become her mother-in-law—tucked fragrant white hellebore blossoms into the green garland headpiece of holly and ivy woven into Gabrielle’s long, thick tresses. “Hellebore is called the Christmas Rose, for it blooms in the winter. Perfect for a winter solstice bride.” Laudine’s amber eyes glowed golden in the gilded morning light. “The white flowers look beautiful in contrast with your glorious red hair.” She kissed Gabrielle’s cheek and squeezed her shoulders affectionately.
Gabrielle smiled warmly at Laudine, her happy heart aglow.I’ve never known a mother’s love. But now I shall.Reaching up to her shoulder, she rested her hand gently upon Laudine’s.
“And the dark green holly complements your emerald velvet wedding gown.” Ghislaine lovingly arranged the verdant lace along the curved neckline of Gabrielle’s gathered bridal bodice.
“And your mother’s emerald ring. You, my dear princess, are a breathtakingly beautiful winter solstice bride.” In the mirror, Gabrielle glimpsed joyful tears in her great-aunt’s glistening eyes as Béatrice lovingly kissed Gabrielle’s smiling cheek.
“They’re ready for us in the castle chapel.” The long sleeves of her gown draped like the elegant wings of a white swan, her black hair streaked with shimmers of silver, Viviane hovered in the doorway, the trio of moonstone gems in her necklace sparkling in the morning sun.
She looks like a Christmas angel,Gabrielle mused, as the melodies of flutes, harps, and viols floated into the festive room.
Her heart aflutter like the wings of a white dove, Gabrielle rose from the vanity stool and—escorted by liveried valets—followed Laudine, Ghislaine, Béatrice and Viviane down the hall to the elaborately decorated doorway where her father waited at the entrance to the castle chapel.
Resplendent in a red velvet robe trimmed in white ermine fur, a golden crown adorned with gemstones atop his regal head, King Guillemin’s hazel eyes shone with paternal pride and love as Gabrielle linked her arm through his elbow and entered the music-filled chapel where she would become Bastien’s bride.
Sunlight streamed through the ogival stained glass windows, casting rays of brilliant color like a divine blessing as flautists and harpists played along one side of the semicircular apse. Bouquets of sweet-smelling hellebore blossoms mingled with the pine scent of evergreen garlands draped upon the wooden walls of the dais whereFrère Laurent—a monk from the nearby monastery ofle Mont-Saint-Michelwho had come to perform the ceremony—stood behind a table topped with white linen and softly glowing beeswax candles. Along each side of the center aisle, elegantly attired guests stood in the wooden pews as Gabrielle walked down the aisle with her father to join a majestic Bastien.
An ermine fur trimmed black velvet cloak draped his broad shoulders. Over black velvet breeches and black deerskin boots topped with matching ermine fur, he wore a deep burgundy tunic belted and edged in gold. As they reached the wooden dais, her father placed Gabrielle’s hand in Bastien’s, then took his reserved seat among the royal guests in the first pew.
