A crisp, salty breeze wafted in through the narrow opening of the window where the thunderous surf crashed against the craggy cliff. Gabrielle glanced out at the turbulent ocean, the image of the hidden sea cave and secret tunnel flashing in her mind. Silently, she prayed that Bastien would safely return soon. Mustering a reassuring smile that belied her disquieted soul, she said brightly to her father, “Stay here and sip your wine. I’ll be right back.”
Clutching the goblet of herbal brew, she slipped from the royal solar with the intention of heading to the kitchen—when she spotted the healer Isnard lingering just outside the entrance door. An alarming wave of apprehension washed over her, and Gabrielle instantly decided not to leave her father unattended. Instead, she summoned the royal chamberlain, who waited patiently in the hallway. “Ezhvin, please come here. The king requests your assistance.”
The humble, fiercely loyal Ezhvin had served King Guillemin for Gabrielle’s entire life. She trusted her father’s personal valet implicitly. When he dutifully approached the king, Gabrielle said quietly, “Please bring me a stoppered vial. I wish to store the contents of this medicineso that it may be analyzed. I suspect it might contain harmful herbs.”
Ezhvin’s large brown eyes widened in shock. He cast a worried glance at the ailing monarch slumped on the informal throne, his stomach clutched in obvious agony.
Gabrielle spoke softly into the chamberlain’s ear. “Say nothing, but do not allow my father to consume any food or drink that you have not personally prepared —or supervised being prepared—from start to finish. I have no proof yet, but I suspect the healer Isnard is causing the king more harm than good.”
The dependable valet nodded fervently, his solicitous, intelligent eyes steadfastly holding her gaze. “Oui, Votre Majesté. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Ezhvin. My father and I are both extremely grateful for your impeccable, reliable service. I have the utmost confidence in your loyalty.”
“I am honored and humbled by your kind praise, Your Highness.” The royal chamberlain bowed deferentially to the king, then to Gabrielle, and departed to retrieve the stoppered vial.
Gabrielle returned to her father’s side.
He adjusted himself in the velvet tufted chair, repositioning his swollen foot as he shifted to alleviate the pain in his abdomen. In response to his questioning gaze, she smiled comfortingly and replied, “I’ve decided to stay here with you.” She kissed his cheek. “Ezhvin is fetching a vial for this elixir.” She set the goblet of medicine down upon the table and refilled her father’s wine chalice from the silver decanter, trying to dispel the anxiety which gripped her heart. Handing him the wine, she whispered fervently, “I pray that Bastien and the knights return soon.Triumphant.”
Distraught about her father’s frail health, suspicious of his nefarious healer, fearful for Bastien’s safety and the welfare of the other knights, Gabrielle’s stomach was clenched in a tight knot. She reached across the table to retrieve the suspicious herbal brew, gazing into its murky depths and waiting impatiently for Ezhvin’s return.
A few moments later, he arrived with a glass flask, which Gabrielle filled with the herbed medicinal brew. She inserted the cork stopper into the neck of the small bottle and rose to her unsteady feet. “Ezhvin, stay here with the king.” Gabrielle bent to kiss her father’s withered cheek. “I’ll be right back, Papa.”
The stoppered flask clasped tightly in her fist, Gabrielle slipped from the solar and searched the corridor. The healer Isnard was nowhere in sight, so she hurried up the stone stairs, down the empty hall, and into her royal chambers. She closed and locked the door, her limbs aquiver, all jittery and jumpy. Striding across the room, she opened the carved wooden door of her massive oak armoire and retrieved a pair of white lace gloves from the top shelf. Placing the stoppered vial inside one of the gloves, she wrapped it within a ruffled petticoat, folded it carefully, and tucked the parcel behind her other garments at the back of the top shelf, concealing it from view.
Exhaling forcefully to calm her ragged nerves, she closed and locked the double doors of her armoire with the metal key, tucking it safely into the velvet pouch strapped to her waist.
I hope Bastien’s mother and the Lady Viviane can identify the herbs in that disgusting brew. I truly believe it is toxic. But why would Isnard want to poison the king?
Gabrielle’s knees buckled as the realization hit her.
For Ugolin le Clou.
He must be paying Isnard to poison her father! Slowly at first, to cause symptoms of illness. Continuously, so it would appear that the king suffered from a long-term affliction. And, once Ugolin won her hand in the Yuletide Joust, Isnard would undoubtedly administer a fatal dose. Everyone would believe her father had finally succumbed to his debilitating disease. Ugolin would be crowned King of Finistère.
And no one would suspect him of poisoning the king.
The bloody bastard!
Gabrielle vowed to prevent that from happening. Somehow, she would find a way to stop Ugolin le Clou.
And the poisonoushealerIsnard.
By the Goddess, she hoped Bastien would return soon, reporting that the knights of Beaufort had successfully repelled the attack. She’d tell him about her suspicions. And Father would then tell him the wonderful news about the title of nobility, enabling Bastien to compete in the joust. He was an expert horseman—trained by the legendaryLancelot du Lac, the greatest jousting champion in the entire Celtic realm. Bastien simply had to win the tournament—and her hand in marriage. She couldn’t even consider any other possible outcome.
With Bastien as her husband, the threat of Ugolin le Clou would be squelched. And, with Bastien’s mother Laudine and the Lady Viviane—two exceptionally gifted healers—properly treating her ailing father, perhaps he would return to good health and live many more years.
Her heart fluttering wildly at the thought of marrying the man she loved and the chance that her father could indeed recover, Gabrielle whispered a prayer with all the yearning in her hopeful heart.
Please, dear Goddess, help me save my beloved father. And please grant my Yuletide wish. That Bastien de Landuc will win my hand in the Yuletide Joust. And I shall be a winter solstice bride, wedded to the man I love.
Still anxious, yet tentatively optimistic, Gabrielle returned to the royal solar, pleased to see her father’s color slightly improved by the wine and fresh ocean breeze.
He smiled as she kissed his crinkled, bristled cheek and sat down at his side.
Ezhvin refilled the king’s goblet and poured one for her, which she accepted gratefully, the earthy, fruity flavor as delightful on her tongue as the relaxing warmth spreading through her tense body.
A commotion arose as Bastien, his brothers Gaultier and Cardin, and several harried knights brusquely entered the quiet solar.
