Colette smiled at her father, then turned again to Camille. “Is he handsome: your Prince Alain?”
“My Allard is quite handsome,” said Felise. She smiled at Colette. “Do you remember how splendid he looked at the wedding?”
Gai clapped her hands and turned to her twin. “Oh, and what a grand wedding that was.”
Joie nodded in agreement and said to Camille, “There were spring flowers and guests galore, and a heirophant came from Rulon to bless the union.”
“It was quite lovely,” admitted Lisette.
“Oh, Maman, when it is my turn, I do hope to have a wedding just as beautiful,” said Colette.
“And, for me, a groom as handsome as Allard,” added Joie.
For a moment silence fell, all but Camille remembering that day. But then Colette said, “I wish you had been here, Camille. Still, you did not answer my question: is Prince Alain handsome?”
Camille shrugged. “I don’t know. I have never seen him without a mask.”
“What?” cried several at once. “ A mask?”
Aigrette dropped her knife aclatter to the table. “You mean you have never seen his face?”
“No, Maman.”
“What prince would wear a mask? Why, he could be a robber, a thief, an outlaw, to always go masked like that.”
“No, Maman. He is no outlaw, but truly is the Prince of the Summerwood.”
Frowning, nevertheless Felise came to Camille’s defense. “Maman, mayhap he is simply disfigured-a scar, a wen, a gape, the aftermath of pox, or some such.”
“Perhaps a birthmark,” added Papa.
“ Ooo, ” said Giles, his eyes wide in speculation, and he peered ’round the table and whispered loudly, “What if there’s nothing under the mask but just a bony, skeleton skull?”
Now the twins’ eyes flew wide in alarm.
“No, Giles,” replied Camille. “Not true, for every eve I see his lips and his eyes, and although I have never seen his visage, I have felt the contours of his face, the flesh of his cheeks and jaw, brow, nose, chin, and, of course, his gentle mouth. No, Giles, there is no”-Camille grinned and raised her hands in mock fear-“ ooo, bony, skeleton skull under the mask.”
“Oh,” Giles said, his face falling in disappointment, underneath which hid a grin.
“This mask, does he never take it off?” asked Lisette.
Camille blushed. “He does not wear it in bed.”
“And still you have not seen his face?”
“The room is quite dark, Lisette.”
“How strange,” said Henri. “Still, do you love him? And more importantly, does he love you?”
“Oh, yes, Papa. We are madly in love with one another.”
Papa turned up his hands and shrugged and said, “L’amour est tout.”
“Indeed, Papa, love is all,” replied Camille.
Maman merely muttered under her breath, but what she said, none at the table did hear.
“What was your wedding like, Camille?” asked Felise, glancing at Lisette, whose eyes narrowed.
Nonplused, Camille remained silent.
“Come, come,” demanded Maman.
“We have not yet had a wedding,” Camille admitted.
Again Aigrette dropped her knife. “What? No wedding?”
“No, Maman. No wedding, though we are pledged to one another.”
Aigrette glowered at Henri. “And he has taken you to his bed, this masked prince?”
Camille nodded mutely.
Lisette smiled a wicked smile and raised her chin as if in victory.
“And no banns have been posted, no king notified, no monk, no heirophant has solemnized aught?” asked Aigrette.
“No, Maman,” Camille meekly replied.
“What would Fra Galanni say, Camille? Living as you are without proper sanction.”
“I don’t know, Maman.”
“Aigrette,” said Papa softly. “No banns were posted when you pledged to me, no messages sent, no heirophant sought, no formal wedding at all.”
“ What? ” exclaimed several daughters simultaneously, turning to Maman.
“You and Papa were never properly wedded?” said Gai.
“We are all bastards,” declared Giles, grinning.
“Be quiet, all of you,” barked Maman, glaring in outrage at Papa. “What your pere and I have or have not done is neither here nor there. It is what Camille has not done that is at the crux of the matter.”
“How so?” now challenged Camille, regaining some of her spirit. “We are pledged, and Alain himself has vowed that as soon as he resolves a vexing problem, then we will wed.”
“What is this problem?” asked Lisette, smugly grinning.
“I don’t know, Lisette. Only that it is dire.”
Lisette raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“Indeed,” replied Camille, her ire rising.
Lisette smacked a palm to the table. “Indeed, indeed. Here is a prince who wears a mask he never removes, and there has been no wedding ceremony, for what monk or heirophant would sanctify the wedding of a so-called innocent girl to a man who wears a mask? Why, it is as Maman has said: he may be a well-known pirate or thief or brigand or other kind of foul looter… after all, where does his wealth come from? Perhaps we ought to gather a warband and go after this pirate and haul him to prison.”
Both Camille and Maman gasped in alarm, and Maman said, “Oh, no, Lisette, we cannot do such a thing.”
“Why not, Maman? After all, there may be a reward on his head. Perhaps even dead or alive.”
Even as Camille’s face turned pale, Maman raised an admonishing finger. “No matter what the reward, be he a pirate or no, and no matter the source of his fortune, think on this, Lisette”-she turned to the others-“think on this, all of you: we would be much the poorer should his annual tithe of gold stop. Would you have us lose that ever-running stream of wealth?”
“Maman,” said Giles, “you think only of riches, when you should treasure Camille instead.”
Now Aigrette glowered at Giles. “But it is Camille I am thinking of, and-” Abruptly, she stopped, and a calculating look swept into her eyes. “Camille, you should remove his mask.”
Camille shook her head, remembering what Alain said when she merely ran a finger across his features. “Maman, he said he could not show me his face.”
“Ah, but did he ever say you could not see it?”
Camille cast her mind back to that very first evening in the lanternlight on the bridge:
“Lady Camille, for reasons I cannot explain, I must wear this mask, such that I can never show you my face.”
“No, Maman. Only that he could not show me his face.”
“Well,” crowed Maman, leaping up from her chair and stepping to the mantel and pulling the stub of a fat candle from its holder and picking up a small box of matches as well. “Here, Camille, take this candle with these matches, and when he’s asleep in the bed you share, you can light it and see his face. Thus he will not have revealed his visage to you, for you will have seen his face for yourself without him having had the slightest hand in it. After all, once he sees that you love him in spite of his disfigurement or scar or birthmark, or the fact that he is a notorious pirate or such, he will then discard the mask and a proper wedding can take place, thus assuring that you will inherit his wealth if he should die on you. After all, should he fall dead and you not be married, then you would be left without any claim to his riches-be it pirate gold or not-and then what would happen to us?”
Even as Camille shook her head in refusal, her sisters were stricken pale. Papa’s eyes gazed at the fine things throughout the room, and his lips drew thin. Only Giles seemed unaffected by this potential future, and he looked at Camille and shrugged, saying, “I can live in a cottage again.”
“Oh, Giles,” whispered Camille, “what of your aversion to thatch?”
