In a rustling swish of mauve silk, Béatrice departed the royal solar with her Parisian entourage, escorted by the attendants who had accompanied them fromle Palais de la Cité.
Once the vultures were gone, Gabrielle sighed in relief as she turned to bid farewell to Gaultier and Cardin, who approached with his intended bride, Charlotte.
“Tomorrow, during the opening ceremony, I’ll defend Gabrielle and Charlotte in the stands, alongside Gaultier and a dozen royal guards who will protect the king and his honored guests.” Cardin glanced at his oldest brother. “Prince Kaherdin and Princess Gargeolaine will be among the royal spectators, so we’ll have the knights of Armorique for additional defense as well.” He returned his attention to Bastien, a hearty grin stretching across his ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll all be cheering for you during the joust.” Cardin smiled gallantly at Gabrielle. “Will you be wearing your lady’s colors?”
Bastien slid his arm around Gabrielle’s waist and pulled her possessively to his side. “Indeed, I will. She’ll tie an emerald silk ribbon on my lance for good luck.” He kissed her hair, his ragged breath hot in her ear.
Gabrielle’s’ legs went weak as she swooned against him.
His deep green eyes ablaze, he lowered his face to chivalrously kiss her hand, his soft lips scalding her sensitive skin. “Granted with her favor… wearing her colors…how can I help but win my Lady’s hand?” He flashed her a dashing, dazzling grin that took her breath away.
“May the Goddess grant you victory.” Gaultier gripped Bastien’s shoulder in a wish of good luck. With an elegant bow, he kissed Gabrielle’s hand, bid them goodnight, and strode out of the solar.
Alone at last, Bastien whirled her into his arms and pulled her close, wrapping her in a snug embrace. “Mmmm,” he hummed, sliding his silky tongue along the inside of her upper lip. “You tastedivine.” Pressing his hard body firmly against her stomach, he moaned, “I long for more…”
“So do I.” Taking him by the hand, Gabrielle led him down the darkened hall where sweet smelling beeswax candles burned in sconces on the whitewashed stone walls. She opened the carved golden oak door leading into her royal chambers, and dismissed her servants with a toss of her head.
And welcomed Bastien into her rose-scented bed.
****
Ribbons of white clouds rippled in the pale December sky, the salty brine of the ocean breeze mingling with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling sausages and cinnamon pastries emanating from the red silk tents where merchants sold food for the hundreds of spectators gathering for the opening ceremony of the Yuletide Joust. Grooms led horses adorned incaparisons–elaborate cloth coverings emblazoned with the coat of arms of their riders-- lining the animals up in the lists as armored knights mounted their chargers for the preliminary round of jousting.Lively music of fiddles and flutes filled the festive air, as highest-ranking nobles flocked to theberfrois—the grandstand reserved for privileged guests to be seated near King Guillemin and Princess Gabrielle of Finistère. Swarms of jubilant, exuberant spectators lined up along one side of the tournament field, opposite the pavilions where brightly colored heraldic banners flapped in the winter wind and knights participating inles commençailles—the preliminary jousting events--awaited their turn in the lists.
In the royal grandstand—defended on each end by Gaultier, Cardin, and a dozen knights of Finistère—Gabrielle sat between her father and Béatrice, who was flanked by her three Parisian companions and Lord Onfroi,le Vicomte de Vannes. On her father’s left side, Prince Kaherdin and his wife Gargeolaine were protected by their royal guards from the neighboring kingdom of Armorique. Among the visiting nobles, Gabrielle spotted Ugolin le Clou and his father, Robert Cauchon, thankfully seated several rows to the right of Viviane, Laudine, Ghislaine, and Charlotte, who were nestled comfortably behind Gabrielle.
Ugolin’s predatory stare fixed her like paralyzed prey as he stood to address her with a gallant bow. “Good day, Princess Gabrielle. How lovely you are in deepest green. Like a priceless emerald, sparkling in the morning sun.” His upper lip curled into a greedy grin, revealing elongated, pointed yellow teeth. “I look forward to tomorrow’s Yuletide Joust with unbridled anticipation. For my champion, Sir Tréguier, shall win me your coveted hand.” His long tongue flickered across his thin, parched lips like a snake poised to strike. “I cannot wait for you to become my wedded wife.” With a lascivious grin which made the hairs on the back of her neck rise in a frisson of dread, Ugolin swept his black velvet cloak with a majestic swirl and took his seat beside his smirking, gloating father.
Her mouth suddenly dry, her stomach clenched in a tight knot, Gabrielle’s limbs shook as a violent shudder shivered up her spine.I cannot marry Ugolin le Clou. Please, dear Goddess, may Bastien win the Yuletide Joust!
A trumpet blast indicated the preliminary joust was about to begin. An expectant hush silenced the jubilant crowd who watched with bated breath as the red flag dropped, and two knights thundered down the grassy lists atop their destriers, lances aimed at each other’s plated armor. Shrieks of excitement rent the crisp, salty air as the pointed coronel head of the winner’s lance shattered against his opponents’ shield.
Grooms led the next duo of jousting rivals to the starting position for their arms to be inspected, and soon, the flag dropped again, and another winner triumphed before the roaring crowd. By noon, the three different competitions ofles commençailles—the joust, the sword, and the dagger—saw the top four winners in each event receive bags of gold and silver, with offers of sponsorship and patronage from high-ranking nobles for the knights who had displayed such impressive, chivalrous skills.
Musicians began playing, signifying the afternoon entertainment, as acrobats, dancers, and performers filled the castle grounds. Amidst lively melodies and squeals of delight, Gabrielle accepted the trencher of roast boar and honey, the cinnamon swirled pastry, and the goblet of fruity wine from attendants serving the royal guests in the grandstand. Savoring the delightful contrast of salty and sweet, Gabrielle deliberately avoided Ugolin’s unrelenting, watchful gaze and concentrated instead on the daring acrobatic feats, dazzling array of bright silks, and lively, invigorating music emanating from the center of the castle grounds.
When they had finished eating, Charlotte—Cardin’s betrothed—whispered in Gabrielle’s ear. “I need to visit the garderobe. Would you like to come with me?”
Gabrielle nodded and rose to her feet, handing the empty trencher and wine goblet to an awaiting attendant. “I’ll be back soon, Papa,” she said, planting a soft kiss upon his bearded cheek. “Charlotte and I want to stretch our legs a bit.” With a wave goodbye to Béatrice and the trio of healers who chatted gaily about the thrilling opening events, she and Charlotte climbed down the stairs to exit the grandstand, escorted by Cardin and six royal guards of Beaufort.
“I’ve noticed how Ugolin le Clou never takes his eyes off you. It’s upsetting and unnerving. He is positively vile!” Charlotte linked her arm through Gabrielle’s as they strode towards the designated tents. “I cannot wait for Bastien to trounce Sir Tréguier and win your hand. Then, once Cardin and I are married…” she exhaled breathlessly, flashing her grinning betrothed a dazzling smile, “…you and I will be sisters-in-law.Family.” Her blonde curls tousled by the crisp ocean breeze, her pink cheeks flushed by the cold bite of the Breton wind, Charlotte squeezed Gabrielle’s hand affectionately as they entered separate tents to use the private chamber pots.
They returned to the grandstands to watch the theatrical performances, cheering and applauding along with the appreciative audience. Soon, privileged guests and competitors in the Yuletide Joust headed toward the castle for an evening feast and continued revelry while squires, grooms, and lesser knights remained near their pavilions to guard the horses and prepare more simple fare over open campfires.
Inside the expansive Great Hall, lively music of rebecs, flutes, and fiddles floated upon the tantalizing aromas of roasted meats and savory herbs wafting through the air. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the intricately beamed wooden ceiling sparkled over dozens of linen covered tables where goblets and silverware glittered in the incandescent light. Liveried valets ushered King Guillemin, Princess Gabrielle, and visiting sovereigns to the sumptuous royal table situated upon an elevated dais overlooking the Yuletide Feast. And, perpendicular to the royal stage, dozens of knights, ladies, and noble guests chatted amicably while castle servants placed platters of stuffed pheasant, roast boar, grilled venison, and baked trout amid heaping bowls of squash, turnips, peas, carrots, cabbage, and leeks.
Among the sixteen knights competing in the Yuletide Joust who were seated at the table of honor before the royal dais, Gabrielle spotted Bastien. Like the ephemeral wings of a tiny bird, her heart fluttered wildly as his deep green gaze bore into her very soul.Please win my hand tomorrow. I cannot marry anyone but you.She inhaled deeply, willing him to read the desperate message in her pleading eyes.
His dazzling smile seared her soul.
Throughout the evening, Gabrielle watched Bastien chat with his brothers, converse with other knights, and laugh with Lancelot and his father, Sir Esclados le Ros. His confident, relaxed demeanor reassured her, bolstering her courage to face tomorrow.
Where her future would be determined by the winner of the Yuletide Joust.
As the dessert dishes were being cleared, Sir Tréguier approached the royal table and dipped into a chivalrous bow. His dark hair gleaming in the candlelight, he rose to his full, impressive height and stood proudly, his brutally handsome face searching hers as his deep, resonant voice filled the cavernous hall. “Princess Gabrielle, I am Sir Étienne de Tréguier, champion ofle Vicomte de Nantes.” He gestured gallantly across the room to the angular, ominous figure of Ugolin le Clou. “Lord Cauchon requests that you bestow your colors upon me for tomorrow’s Yuletide Joust. Granting me your royal favor. That I may win for him your coveted hand in marriage.” Sir Tréguier humbly bowed his noble head as he awaited her response.
Gabrielle darted a glance at Bastien. Jealousy flared in his feral, possessive gaze. As her eyes held his, she hoped he could read the message sent from her racing heart.Only you, Bastien. No one else will wear my colors.
Returning her attention to the dashing knight waiting patiently at her royal feet, Gabrielle replied regally, “I regret, Sir Tréguier, that I cannot bestow my favor upon you for tomorrow’s Yuletide Joust.” Her eyes locked on Bastien, whose rugged, scarred face blazed with savage longing. “For I grant my favor tole Marquis de Cornouaille.”
