Read Online Once Upon an Autumn Eve by Dennis L. McKiernan - Free Book Online
Authors: Dennis L. McKiernan
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learn to dance, else I would not have the pleasure of squiring an angel upon a ballroom floor.”
Liaze was glad that she had deliberately chosen to eat in this formal dining room, rather than the intimate one she had briefly considered, else she did not know what she might have done at that moment—something spontaneous, no doubt.
She raised her glass in return and said, “To père Léon.” They laughed together and took a sip and then once more they concentrated on eating. And just as dessert was served—a raspberry tort with cream—Zacharie stepped within the chamber and leaned down and whispered in the princess’s ear. She nodded and said, “Have them wait for Luc and me to join them. We’ll be there anon.”
“Yes, my lady,” said the steward.
As Zacharie withdrew, Liaze lay down her spoon and said, “I suddenly have no appetite.”
“My lady, are you ill?” Luc set his napkin aside and stood, wincing a bit as he did so.
“Non, Luc. Please sit and deal with the tort and cream. When you are finished, there is a place we must be.”
“Princess, what is it?” asked Luc, yet standing.
“Rémy is ready to light the pyre under the bodies of the Troll and Goblins, those from the lawn and the woods nearby. The ones deeper in—the Troll speared and Goblins you slew—we leave for the scavengers. Rémy and Zacherie would have us join the others in seeing the dead of our enemies burn.”
“The others?”
“The warband and houseguard and any of the staff who care to attend. In this grim task it will hearten them to see the chevalier who sounded the alert and roused the manor and thereby gave us time to prepare, as well as to see standing among them the princess to whom they owe fealty.”
Slowly they walked across the long lawn, Liaze now in an ermine-trimmed white cloak against the autumn chill; Luc in a blue long-coat of soft wool. Luc’s limp was becoming a bit more pronounced with the walk, for it was far to the site of the pyre.
“Oh, Luc, how thoughtless of me,” said Liaze. “I shall have a carriage come and fetch us back.”
“Non, Princess. It would not do to have the warband and houseguard see me that helpless. Fear not, I shall rally.”
Finally, they came in among the men, as well as other members of the staff, and therein Luc did not limp at all.
Before them a great pile of wood was waiting to be lit, from logs to branches to sticks to shavings. In the slanting light of the waxing half-moon and the glitter from the stars above, amid the heap of combustibles, Liaze could see corpses of Goblins here and there within, and atop lay the Troll slain by Rémy, the large crossbow bolt still piercing him through. A sheen of oil lay over all, the moonlight glimmering thereon.
Rémy handed Liaze a torch, and said, “Princess.”
“A torch for everyone!” Liaze called out.
Brands were lit and handed to all attendees, and they spread out to encircle the pyre.
Rémy walked ’round the great heap, and when he came back to Liaze he said, “Ready, Princess.”
Liaze stepped forward, her torch held high and she cried, “Thus to all our enemies!” And she thrust the burning brand within and then stepped back.
At her side, Luc did likewise, as did Rémy and the warband and Zacharie and the houseguard and the various members of the staff.
Slowly at first and then with a whoom! the massive pile caught fire, and a great plume of dark oily smoke rose into the starry night sky, moonlight and firelight illumining all, red from below, silver from above. And within the roar of the blaze they could hear a popping and sizzling.
“Quite savage,” murmured Luc to the princess.
“I know,” she whispered back, and reached out with trembling fingers and took his steady hand in hers.
9
Contemplations
T hat night, in her bed, thoughts of Luc spun all ’round Liaze: Why would anyone abandon him in the woods, and he nought but a babe? Mayhap he was stolen from someone and left in the forest to
Liaze was glad that she had deliberately chosen to eat in this formal dining room, rather than the intimate one she had briefly considered, else she did not know what she might have done at that moment—something spontaneous, no doubt.
She raised her glass in return and said, “To père Léon.” They laughed together and took a sip and then once more they concentrated on eating. And just as dessert was served—a raspberry tort with cream—Zacharie stepped within the chamber and leaned down and whispered in the princess’s ear. She nodded and said, “Have them wait for Luc and me to join them. We’ll be there anon.”
“Yes, my lady,” said the steward.
As Zacharie withdrew, Liaze lay down her spoon and said, “I suddenly have no appetite.”
“My lady, are you ill?” Luc set his napkin aside and stood, wincing a bit as he did so.
“Non, Luc. Please sit and deal with the tort and cream. When you are finished, there is a place we must be.”
“Princess, what is it?” asked Luc, yet standing.
“Rémy is ready to light the pyre under the bodies of the Troll and Goblins, those from the lawn and the woods nearby. The ones deeper in—the Troll speared and Goblins you slew—we leave for the scavengers. Rémy and Zacherie would have us join the others in seeing the dead of our enemies burn.”
“The others?”
“The warband and houseguard and any of the staff who care to attend. In this grim task it will hearten them to see the chevalier who sounded the alert and roused the manor and thereby gave us time to prepare, as well as to see standing among them the princess to whom they owe fealty.”
Slowly they walked across the long lawn, Liaze now in an ermine-trimmed white cloak against the autumn chill; Luc in a blue long-coat of soft wool. Luc’s limp was becoming a bit more pronounced with the walk, for it was far to the site of the pyre.
“Oh, Luc, how thoughtless of me,” said Liaze. “I shall have a carriage come and fetch us back.”
“Non, Princess. It would not do to have the warband and houseguard see me that helpless. Fear not, I shall rally.”
Finally, they came in among the men, as well as other members of the staff, and therein Luc did not limp at all.
Before them a great pile of wood was waiting to be lit, from logs to branches to sticks to shavings. In the slanting light of the waxing half-moon and the glitter from the stars above, amid the heap of combustibles, Liaze could see corpses of Goblins here and there within, and atop lay the Troll slain by Rémy, the large crossbow bolt still piercing him through. A sheen of oil lay over all, the moonlight glimmering thereon.
Rémy handed Liaze a torch, and said, “Princess.”
“A torch for everyone!” Liaze called out.
Brands were lit and handed to all attendees, and they spread out to encircle the pyre.
Rémy walked ’round the great heap, and when he came back to Liaze he said, “Ready, Princess.”
Liaze stepped forward, her torch held high and she cried, “Thus to all our enemies!” And she thrust the burning brand within and then stepped back.
At her side, Luc did likewise, as did Rémy and the warband and Zacharie and the houseguard and the various members of the staff.
Slowly at first and then with a whoom! the massive pile caught fire, and a great plume of dark oily smoke rose into the starry night sky, moonlight and firelight illumining all, red from below, silver from above. And within the roar of the blaze they could hear a popping and sizzling.
“Quite savage,” murmured Luc to the princess.
“I know,” she whispered back, and reached out with trembling fingers and took his steady hand in hers.
9
Contemplations
T hat night, in her bed, thoughts of Luc spun all ’round Liaze: Why would anyone abandon him in the woods, and he nought but a babe? Mayhap he was stolen from someone and left in the forest to
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