With a crash, low-hanging branches buffet his face as Triomphe shoots into the forest and gallops onward along the narrow path, the thrill of the chase pulling them faster forward. The familiar path descends into a valley, as the race pulls them onward and onward, faster and faster forward. Clouds filter the moonlight as the pursuit splashes across the valley stream. Onward and onward, faster and faster forward. As the chase climbs out of the valley, Triomphe suddenly leaps onto an overgrown side path while the black rider continues up the hill and out of sight. Onward and onward. Faster and faster forward.
From a full gallop, Triomphe suddenly stops at the edge of a pond, throwing his rider into the cool water.
Pierre awoke mid-flail on his way to the floor, a sudden yell caught in his throat. He hit the floor with a dull thud and landed awkwardly. Dear God, he thought to himself as he slowly stood up, what cruel spirit is producing these dreams?
Pierre was still contemplating the dream and its significance when, after a single knock, Étienne entered the room with Pierre’s breakfast. “My lord, I’m glad to see that you’re up and about. I thought that perhaps you might just sleep the day away today. Guillaume sent word that he’s ready to spar with you as soon as you have the time.”
When Étienne turned away from the table by the window, after setting the tray on it, Pierre fixed him with a long, withering look. “Étienne, the hours I decide to sleep are no concern of yours. For the future, I suggest that you keep your mind fixed on your duties, and nothing more. Understood?”
Étienne’s eyes grew wide in shock before he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Understood, my lord. I am sorry if my words offended you; it was not my intention. I will avoid such familiarity in the future.” Chastened, Étienne paused a bit before adding, “Does my lord have any instructions for me?”
“Yes. Tell Guillaume that I shall spar with him after breakfast. Tell him also that we shall fight with bâtons and gambesons today. That is all.”
After Étienne left the room, Pierre went to the table to eat, his foul mood casting a pall over the usually relaxing meal. Looking out the window, he saw that the August sun was already approaching midday; he had indeed slept later than he should have. Immediately, he felt remorse for having snapped at Étienne. It was not Étienne’s fault that he was having these nightmares and a little familiarity between a baron and his personal servant was not a bad thing in and of itself. Overall, he thought that Étienne was a good and considerate servant. It wasn’t fair for him to be treated that way. Pierre resolved to have a talk with him later.
As he opened the door to leave his room after dressing and eating his breakfast, he spotted Danielle’s bedshift on the floor by the bed. Cursing himself, he gently picked it up and tucked it under his pillow. His morning ritual completed, Pierre left the room.
He arrived in the courtyard while Guillaume and another garrison soldier were sparring. They were both helmed and dressed in their quilted gambesons. Amid the click-clack sounds of the mock battle, Pierre could see the tactical improvements that Guillaume’s drills were instilling. That is, if this one soldier was representative of the garrison as a whole.
Seeing their liege lord approach, both combatants lowered their bâtons and removed their helmets. “My lord,” they both said in unison as they turned to face him.
“Guillaume. Marcel, is it?” Pierre asked the younger man.
“Yes, my lord. Marcel is my name.”
“Well, Marcel, from what I could see while walking over here, Guillaume is turning you into a fine soldier. Come, help me with my gambeson.”
Pierre removed his surcoat as Marcel picked up the quilted garment from the ground. While Marcel dressed Pierre in the protective padding, Pierre addressed his man-at-arms, “Guillaume, how goes the preparations? How soon can we depart once I give the word?”
“My lord, the preparations are proceeding well. All the wagon teams have been hired and they are loading the provisions today. Once you give the word, runners will be sent out and the teams will move within mere moments.”
“Excellent. And the food? Will we have enough?” And to Marcel, “Pull the laces a little tighter, if you please.”
“Yes, my lord,” Marcel answered.
“If we leave tomorrow, we should have just enough food, my lord, though bread continues to be a concern.” Guillaume reported, frowning. “Corinne at the Pain D’Or is still not meeting her obligations.”
“That’s good, Marcel. Now please hand me the hand and a half bâton.” To Guillaume, Pierre continued, “She is still having problems? Doesn’t she know that the expedition is due to leave any day now?”
“She does, my lord. I’ve impressed upon her the urgency of the matter, but she still fails to supply the numbers we need.”
As Pierre absently swung the bâton in each hand to get the feel for it, he considered the matter of Corinne. Twice, she had failed in her service to her liege lord without providing an adequate explanation. The situation demanded his direct involvement, but he was loathe to address it. Reluctantly, he said, “I’ll talk to her this evening, Guillaume. Perhaps direct measures are called for.”
“Very good, my lord. Shall I accompany you?”
“No,” Pierre replied after a moment’s hesitation. “I can deal with her alone.”
“Very well, my lord. And now, my lord, are you ready for a thorough beating?” Guillaume said with a beaming smile as he put his helmet on.
“Very eloquent for an insolent beggar,” replied Pierre as he did likewise. “Marcel, I want you to join in the melée. Real battles are rarely one-on-one contests. You shall fight on Guillaume’s side against me. 5 hits is considered a kill. En garde!”
Pierre leaped to the attack and surprised both Guillaume and Marcel as they hurriedly raised their shields. Smiling, Pierre could feel the excitement beginning to course through his veins as he stepped and dodged and swung his blade around for the attack. Without the encumbrance of a shield, Pierre was a step quicker than his two opponents and using a hand and a half bâton also gave him an extra reach compared to the broadsword sized bâtons they were using. Still, he was fighting two opponents and, as the battle progressed, they began to work together to overpower him. In the end though, his combat prowess enabled him to defeat Marcel and Guillaume in turn, though it was a near run thing.
“Nicely done, nicely done.” Pierre was breathing hard from the exertions. “Let’s rest for a few moments and have at it again. Given another chance, think you two can best me today?”
“Yes, my lord,” Guillaume replied, determined. “Most definitely.”
After several pitched battles and the discussions that followed, Pierre retired to the balcony for some supper and some rest. Though fatigued, he felt good. All this inactivity, waiting for the expedition to get under way, had been eating at him. Now, with today’s training, he felt that he was making progress towards fulfilling his duty. He was content, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. Pierre considered going straight to bed, however there was still one more task ahead of him.
Pierre walked to the Pain D’Or and arrived as the sun began its descent beyond the horizon. Taking a deep breath, he entered the little bakery and immediately felt the heat from the now-dormant brick ovens. Looking toward those ovens along the far wall, he saw Corinne, sweat-soaked and bent over the nearest work table, cleaning the flour dust from its surface. She looked up when the door closed and stood, casting an appraising eye to her liege lord. After a few second’s pause, she give a quick curtsy and addressed him. “My lord.”
“Corinne.” Pierre replied, nodding. “I’ve come to see how you’re progressing with your commitment to supply bread for my expedition. Guillaume tells me -”
“Guillaume is an arse!” Corinne suddenly spat out. Blushing slightly, yet staring hard into his eyes, she continued, “Guillaume thinks that he can set my quota based on the size of my ovens without considering the amount of ingredients I have on hand or whether I can acquire what I need. I am sorry for speaking out of turn, my lord, but your man-at-arms is an arse. I’m doing the best I can with the ingredients available.”
Pierre paused for a bit to weather out the verbal storm. After seeing Corinne calm herself, he said, “As true as that may be, Corinne, we need bread, the more loaves the better. I am not here to pass judgement on you. I am here merely to explain my situation and to determine the reason for the shortfall. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more?”
“Nothing more. Will you be able to honor your commitment to me?”
“Yes, my lord,” Corinne said while meeting his gaze.
“Yes? There are no more obstacles preventing you from fulfilling your service to me?”
“No, my lord.”
“Excellent, then. You have 1, maybe 2, days to make up the shortage. You will be able to do this?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. I don’t want to hear Guillaume mention your name again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Pierre stood there then, under Corinne’s steady gaze, unsure of what to say next. With the silence between them growing, Pierre opened the door and turned to leave. As he did so, Corinne uttered, “You disappoint me, my lord.”
“How so?” he replied as he eased the door shut.
“I’ve been serving you here at the Pain D’Or for three years and the only words you’ve had for me in all that time involve bread. In fact, this is the first time you’ve set foot in my bakery.”
Pierre turned back to face Corinne and saw the distant sadness he felt for her mirrored in her face. He’d wondered how long it would take for past sins to prey on his guilt. “What would you have had me say, Corinne?”
Eyeing the open windows, Corinne said, “Nothing, my lord.” After moving quickly to the windows and peering into the gathering darkness outside, she closed them and signaled him to follow her through the doorway on the far wall. Once up the winding stairs, she lit a candle and placed it atop a chest of drawers.
Her room was simple, furnished with a single bed, the chest, a side table and a stool. Three closed windows allowed the fading twilight into the room, two facing the street, one on the wall above her bed. The wall away from the street was brick-faced, the chimneys for the ovens below. The heat was stifling in the cramped room.
Corinne lit a second candle and placed it on the side table. Motioning to the stool, she sat on the edge of her bed across from him. Pierre had barely settled his weight on it when Corinne broke the silence. “Why did you send me away?”
“What?” Her question was entirely unexpected.
“Why did you send me away all those years ago?”
“Corinne, I don’t understand. I never -”
“Yes, you did. It was right after we -”
“Corinne! I didn’t send you away!”
“My lord,” Corinne explained patiently, “according to my parents, you paid them a large sum of money to leave Neufchâteau and never return.”
“Corinne, I did no such thing! As far as I knew, you and your family left to tend to a dying aunt. When you returned three years ago, I had heard that your aunt had died and that your family had decided to stay behind in her home. Once settled, you started the Pain D’Or under Danielle’s tutelage. Is this not true?”
“Not all of it, my lord. My parents were given money to move away and told to do so at once. We packed during the night and left the following morning. I eventually returned because I was not happy there. Neufchâteau is my home and always will be. Even so, if that is what you believed, then why didn’t you ever try to speak to me?”
“Again, what would you have me say, Corinne? I’m a married… I was a married man. Seeking you out and speaking to you for no good reason would have hardly been seemly, never mind the fact that Danielle was in constant contact with you regarding supplying the castle with breads and other pastries. Besides, there was nothing to say. What happened in the pond all those years ago should not have happened. I already feel enough guilt about it. Even more, now with Danielle’s passing.”
“Guilt? Is that all you feel? For your wife? After what we shared, you feel nothing for me? I know that I’m a mere peasant –”
“No, Corinne, not at all,” Pierre interrupted. “I feel guilt for you as well.”
Corinne paused and stared at him. “You feel guilty for me.” Her words were more a challenge than a question.
“Yes, I feel guilty. For ruining you for other men.”
Corinne abruptly barked out a laugh. “Oh, my lord. You think quite highly of yourself.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Pierre scolded as he felt himself flush. “I meant that I ruined you for marriage.”
Corinne then met his eyes, a small smile on her face. “Oh Pierre, I am hardly ruined. It may seem surprising, but not all men are so concerned with finding soiled linens on the bed after their wedding night.”
Pierre felt his face grow hot, unused as he was to this kind of speech. “Even so, Corinne. I was a married man, sworn to lifelong, holy vows. And you, a maiden, so young and beautiful, with a full life ahead of you. You could have made a perfect wife for someone, perhaps even married into nobility. Instead, I took what was not mine to take. I ruined your chances for happiness.”
“Oh Pierre,” Corinne gently chided him, “you only took what was offered. Even as my liege lord, you never had the power to simply take my maidenhead. I knew full well how you liked to ride up to Wedding Hill in the mornings and I also knew about the view into the pond from the top of the hill. My love, you did not catch an innocent maiden bathing in the wild. You saw what you were meant to see and acted the way any other man would.”
Pierre was stunned, a sensation that wholly replaced the guilt he had been feeling. “Corinne, how could you? Why would you do such a thing?”
Corinne hesitated and lowered her head. “Ever since that day you rode into Neufchâteau to establish your barony, I’ve been in love with you.” Corinne raised her head and looked in to Pierre’s eyes as she confessed, “I know I was only a young girl when I first saw you, but you looked so handsome and regal… you stole my heart. As time went on and you showed that you were a fair and kind-hearted man, I knew that my heart would have no other owner, even after you and the Lady Danielle were wed.
When you were called to war that first time six years ago, I feared that I would never see you again. I felt that my heart would surely shatter if you had died without ever knowing how I felt about you. I knew that there was no way that I could approach you and tell you directly, so I put myself in a situation where you would notice me. For three mornings, I hid in the brush alongside the hill path and waited for you to ride by. When I saw you pass by on that third morning, I quickly walked to the pond, disrobed and bathed in full view of the hilltop, hoping that you would see me and, for a short while at least, love me as much as I loved you.”
Corinne pulled her gaze from Pierre’s eyes and looked at the floor as she went on, “I knew it was a grave sin that I was committing for us both, however I could not still the stirrings within my heart. In the days before I brought my plan to fruition, I tried in vain to dissuade myself or to seek solace in prayer. Even in the short moments after I saw you pass, I knelt among the flora and quickly prayed to Almighty God for the strength to betray my heart and for a merciful release from its desires. But my heart would not be moved from its course. With each step I took along the path, I felt my heart’s burden lift as my purpose freed it from the chains that bound it so. And then, standing naked in the chill waters with my back to the hill, hoping and feeling your eyes upon me, my heart pumped a river of fire through my veins and warmed me as I waited for your arrival on the shore. And then, seeing you there watching me, with a lover’s look in your eyes, my heart thrilled at its good fortune. And then…” Corinne paused, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, “and then you sent me away in the dark of night, paid off like a common whore.”
“Oh Corinne, I never sent you away. You must believe me. If I had known what had truly happened, I would have sought you out and told you the truth upon your return. While I did consider your departure to be a blessing of sorts, it was a blessing based on relief, relief from a constant reminder of my guilt and relief from a constant reminder that, while I may dress in the finery of noble life, I am as common as dirt. The true noble would have turned away from the beautiful and lustful temptation set before him and I failed, miserably. You are no whore. You acted out of love and impetuous youth. I, on the other hand, only saw a beautiful, young woman, offering herself to her liege lord, a forbidden fruit ripe for the picking. You are indeed correct; I did what any other man would do, and I debased myself because of it. When I stripped myself at the pond’s shore and joined with you at the water’s edge, I became as common as the dirt under my back, while you, acting out of unrequited love, became elevated, perhaps ennobled.”
“Oh my lord!” Corinne gasped. “Elevated, surely, but ennobled? You cannot be serious.”
“Yes, I’m serious. Why not? I am proof that nobility does not need to be inherited by birth. It is possible to be ennobled by our actions, whether noticed by our betters or not. I have a title; it is true. Yet, by giving into wanton desires, I proved myself unworthy of it. You, by acting out of love, are more worthy of it than I am. You did not initiate our coupling. You sought my attention and received it. It is I who determined its outcome, not you, and, by doing so, transferred my nobility to you. You are no whore. You are a lady.”
“A lady! Perish the thought!” Corinne paused, then said with a gleam in her eye, “If I am indeed a lady, what title would I have?”
Pierre thought on this a moment. “Why not ‘The Lady of the Lake’?” he said, chuckling.
“The Lady of the Lake?” Corinne said as she laughed. “I suppose that was Excalibur I was wielding in the pond’s waters? I think you have that backwards, my love. It was not the Lady who was ennobled by Arthur’s sword, but vice versa.”
As their laughter faded and Pierre returned Corinne’s gaze, they both felt the mood shift, the memories of their water-borne tryst flooding the space between them. His view drifted from her eyes, along her neck to the full curves hinted at by her sweat-soaked working clothes. As his heart’s pace quickened, Corinne noticed his drifting eyes and said, “Perhaps my lord was right when he said that I was ruined…”
Slowly, languorously, she left her seat on the bed and crossed the small room towards him, revealing, within himself, the real reason he had avoided her over the recent years. It was not just the simple relief from adulterous guilt. It was fear.
“for I have held Excalibur, a sword which ennobles all who wield it.”
There had been no mistaking the love which he had felt for Danielle. It had been a courtly, romantic love born of friendship, respect and station. It had also been a fruitful love, with three children bearing testament to the peace and tranquility of their marriage. In the pond, however, Corinne had tapped into something deeper, something wilder, something fearsome.
As Corinne straddled herself across Pierre’s lap, the stool underneath gave a reluctant groan. Pressing close to him, in a low, husky voice, she murmured into his ear, “Once more, Excalibur must be drawn forth from the stone, my love. Will the Lady of the Lake ever wield its like again?”
Upon feeling her weight and hearing her words, Pierre withdrew into himself, powerless to fend her off, yet unwilling to relive his past iniquity. Having betrayed Danielle in life, he was reluctant to betray her in death, her burial mere days ago. Corinne would have none of that, however. She coaxed herself into the solid stone of his awareness with kisses and gyrations, both gentle and insistent. With her full breasts and sweat-musky scent filling his senses, Pierre soon crumbled under the tender assault. As he forcefully wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the nape of her neck, kissing her with an insatiate hunger, he silently prayed: Oh God, for these sins which I freely commit, will I burn in hell for all eternity?
“Oh yes,” she purred as, with Excalibur’s rising, a new well was tapped into his heart.