In addition to peregrine falcons from the castle mews, Gunnar and Haldar each received a finely crafted yew bow and a quiver of arrows. “Lukaz can give you both lessons when we return to Finistère.” Bastien grinned at the young nephew he and Gabrielle had raised since birth. “He’ll soon be as fine an archer as his father, Sir Cardin de Landuc, Captain of the Royal Archers for King Guillemin of Finistère.”And now that his illustrious father has returned, no one will call him a bastard ever again.He met and held his younger brother’s proud, grateful gaze across the cheerful room.
Lukaz tore open the silver cloth in which his gift was wrapped, thrilled to find a set of chain mail armor and a surcoat bearing the heraldry of Finistère. “It matches my new shield!” he exclaimed as he hugged his father tight, referring to the gift Cardin had recently given him for his seventh birthday.
“You can practice swordsmanship with Gunnar and Haldar. Next summer, when they train with Sir Lancelot and his knights atla Joyeuse Garde,you can go with them.”And when you return, a new sister or brother will welcome you home.
Laudine loved the fur-lined cape Ulla had made for her. Ulla was immensely grateful for the assortment of essential oils and healing tinctures to add to her satchel of herbs. Cardin was majestic in his dark green woolen cloak lined with ermine, the symbol of his native Bretagne. Three-year-old Vidar adored his new wooden soldier. Gaultier appreciated the finely crafted leather sheath replacement for his sword. And Esclados admired his magnificent deerskin boots.
As Jehan appeared in the doorway to report that the Yuletide Feast was being served, King Guillemin stood and ordered the guests to wait, for he had an announcement to make.
“Before we gather in the Great Hall to celebrate this joyous occasion, I wish to present Sir Cardin de Landuc with a royal gift from King Philippe of France.” He handed Cardin a rolled parchment tied with a black satin ribbon, sealed with wax, and embossed with the royal imprint of Paris.
Cardin sat down to unwrap the document, reading it with disbelief.
“Our sovereign monarch is most grateful that you safely delivered Comte Eztebe Ibarra tola Tour Blanche. Because of your valor, the Yuletide Treaty—the Alliance with Aquitaine—was successfully signed on the fifteenth of December atle Palais Royalonl’Île de la Citéin Paris.” King Guillemin grinned heartily above his russet beard. “As a reward for your prowess, the Iron King Philippe le Bel bestows upon you the title of Vicomte de Saint-Briac, granting you one hundred hectares of land, including the peninsular oceanfront castle ofle Château Vert.He bequeaths not only the enormous demesne, but six dozen knights to defend your castle and lands, and the generous sum of twenty thousand pounds of silver. As Vicomte de Saint-Briac, you will defendla Côte d’Émeraude—the entire Emerald Coast of northeastern Brittany. A most prestigious title of nobility and a most prestigious honor.”
Cardin, stunned speechless, stared at Ulla, his mouth agape.
“Three valiant brothers defending King Philippe of France.” With a majestic swoop of his regal arm, King Guillemin encompassed Cardin, Gaultier, and Bastien. “Sir Cardin, le Vicomte de Saint-Briac,defending the Emerald Coast of Bretagne.Sir Gaultier, ofle Château de Montmarinin Biarritz, defending the French claims in Aquitaine. And Sir Bastien—my son-in-law and heir to the throne—defending the Breton kingdom of Finistère.” He grinned at the crowd of jubilant faces congratulating Cardin on his title of nobility and the magnanimous royal decree.
Esclados, beaming with paternal pride, announced heartily: “Let us celebrate this glorious Yuletide gift as we feast in the Great Hall. Come, everyone.Allons-y!”
****
On January sixth,la Fête des Rois, castle guests gathered in the chapelto witness the Twelfth Night wedding of Lady Ulla de Montreuil and Sir Cardin de Landuc, le Vicomte de Saint-Briac.
Gold tunic shimmering in the candlelight, Cardin slipped the heirloom ruby on Ulla’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
The ruby pendant glittered at the base of Ulla’s throat above the gathered bodice of her red velvet wedding gown. She slipped the gold band with a trio of ermine symbols—the heraldry of his native Bretagne—on Cardin’s finger as she plighted her troth.I am eternally grateful that the Goddess restored my voice. Not only did I reach him in the darkness with my song, I can now recite my vows. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
After the ceremony, exuberant guests congratulated the newlyweds and settled into the Great Hall for a sumptuous wedding feast. Lukaz, sitting between Cardin and Ulla, swallowed a mouthful of roast pheasant, washed it down with watered ale, and glanced apprehensively at his father. Worry shone in his innocent eyes. “Vill will come live with us, won’t he?”
Cardin set down his mug of mead. “Of course he will. And so will Nåde, Rask, and Finn.” He winked at Ulla as he calmly reassured his troubled son. “One of Lord Chauvin’s apprentices, Sir Yannick, is coming with us tole Château Vert—to become our Master of Mews. He’ll take great care of our falcons. He’s even got a peregrine for me.” Bemused, Cardin met Ulla’s gaze over Lukaz’ head. “She’ll need a Viking name, like Rask and Finn. Maybe you can help me think of one.” The corner of his mouth curled up in a wolfish grin. “Lord Quentin is sending Argant to serve as our Master of Horse.” He took another swallow of mead, observing Lukaz from the corner of his twinkling eye. “After all, we’ll need him to teach you how to care for your Friesian. Because Kol is coming with us, too.”
Lukaz jumped from his seat and hugged his father, his jubilant face crumpled in joy. “Thank you so much, Papa! I’ll be able to see him every day. And bond with him. Like Lady Ulla did with Nåde.”
“That’s right,” he agreed encouragingly, as Lukaz sat back down at his side. “Le Château Vertis only a day’s ride from here. We’ll be able to come visitMamieandPapioften.” He smiled at his parents, seated at opposite heads of the festively decorated table. “And your cousins in Finistère as well.” Cardin grinned at Gunnar, Haldar, and little Vidar, seated between Bastien and Gabrielle, who cuddled the babe Ylva to her breast. “You’ll train with my royal knights from Paris, and—once I’ve fully recovered—develop your archery skills with Lady Ulla and me.” Pride and passion danced in his dark eyes as he held her gaze over Lukaz’ small head. “Who knows? You might even become Captain of the Royal Archers atle Château Vert.”
“Perhaps you can come to Aquitaine one day. To visit Xabi and me atle Château de Montmarin.” With a great gulp of mead, Gaultier washed down a hearty bite of salted boar dripping with honey. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and directed his attention to Cardin. “With the generous gift of silver from King Philippe, you can finally pay off Itzal Baroja. Give me the hundred pounds you owe him. I’ll bring it with me when we ride back to Biarritz and settle the debt for you.” He downed the contents of his goblet and grinned at Xabi, seated at his side. “I can’t wait to seela dulceDolssa. I think about her every single day.”
Xabi guffawed and slapped Gaultier on the back. “You’re as besotted with her as I am with Euri. I’m going to marry her, you know. As soon as we return to Biarritz.” He glanced at Cardin, his jovial expression becoming somber. “I wish you could be the best man at my wedding, Basati. But as the new Vicomte de Saint-Briac, you’ll have your hands full settling intole Château Vert.”He raised his goblet in tribute, prompting everyone at the table to do the same. “To Cardin and Ulla. Congratulations on your Twelfth Night wedding, your title and oceanfront castle, and your land inla Côte d’Émeraude.To a lifetime of love and happiness.”
Lukaz turned toward Ulla with large, imploring eyes. Hesitant and unsure, his voice was a timid whisper. “Now that you and Papa are married…can I call youMaman?”
She clutched Lukaz with loving maternal arms, gazing into the fierce, lupine eyes of her new husband. As a harpist began strumming the lyrical chords of the Celtic Yuletide Carol, Ulla’s spirit soared on the uplifting melody like the unfurling wings of a swan. Cradling Lukaz against the bodice of her red velvet wedding gown, she kissed the top of his dark, sweet head. “Yes, you can,mon fils. You’re my son now. And I love you with all my heart.”
