Except that Simon of Navarre hadn’t seemed quite so monstrous in the midnight stillness of his tower room. He frightened her, there was no denying that, but he fascinated her as well. And if he’d sold his soul to Beelzebub in return for infernal powers, at least that lord of demons had granted him a surprising measure of physical beauty as well. Except for that poor, twisted hand that lay useless in his lap as he watched her, he was quite… bewitching.
She pulled on a fresh shift. There was still no sign of their absent serving women, and Alys had no intention of standing around in the drafty room without clothes. She was lost in thought while Claire, unused to being ignored, gradually stilled her noisy sobs to stare at her sister in growing suspicion. “You don’t actually fancy the creature, do you?” she whispered.
Alys started guiltily. “Hardly that, Claire,” she said briskly. “But neither do I find him repugnant. I’m sure we’ll manage a comfortable life…”
“A comfortable life?” Claire shrieked. “Alys, he’s a monster! He’s enchanted you, with one of his evil spells. We must get back to the convent, to see Brother Emory at once. He’ll know what to do to break the spell. Sister Agnes could prepare you a potion…”
“He hasn’t enchanted me,” Alys said calmly. Wishing she were absolutely certain of it.
“How else could you view marriage to a monster with such equanimity?”
Alys sighed. There were times when her beloved Claire’s flair for the dramatic could be extremely tiresome. “If by any chance he happened to bewitch me, then I suppose it’s just as well I’ve been blinded by magic. One of us has to marry him, and we’re fortunate that he’s chosen me and not you. If I go to my marriage bed under an enchantment then perhaps it’s God’s mercy.”
“I wouldn’t put God and that demon’s name in the same sentence,” Claire said darkly. “You’ll bed the creature?”
Alys had her back to Claire, a fortunate circumstance. There was no way she could pretend calm acceptance to that particular aspect of the marriage bargain. “That’s usually part of any marriage,” she said, keeping her face averted. “Unless my lord Grend… Simon of Navarre prefers celibacy.”
“I doubt God would be that merciful,” Claire said. “Perhaps he prefers those of his own sex. ‘Tis often said of wizards.”
Alys struggled for common sense. “Well, I suppose in truth I prefer the company of women, so there’s nothing so odd…”
“I’m not talking about preferring the company of one’s own sex, Alys. I’m talking about bedding them.”
Alys turned at that, shocked. “Wherever did you hear of such things?”
For the first time in days Claire smiled her bewitchingly naughty smile. “The nuns gossip when they think no one’s around.”
“How could men prefer to mate with their own sex? How could they… ?”
“Some women do as well. Particularly among the nuns.”
“I don’t believe you,” Alys said flatly.
“For a woman as learned as you are, I’m surprised at how innocent you can be.”
“You’ve spent too much time around the stables.”
“And you’ve spent too little,” Claire shot back. “One can learn a great deal about human nature by watching the beasts.”
“Are you going to tell me that horses mate with their own sex?”
“No, I gather that’s a human trait. And if your future husband shares it we can only be thankful. It would also explain why he preferred you to me.”
Alys could only laugh at her sister’s ingenuous statement. “Dearest, you really are captivated with yourself,” she said.
Claire’s smile was endearingly wry. “I know. It was ever one of my failings. But it’s not my particular accomplishment, to be so lovely. God simply granted it to me, and I’m not certain it was such a great gift after all. There are times when I wish I were a plain, simple woman with plain, simple wants.”
“Like me,” Alys said.
“No, not like you. You are far too clever, and a great deal more complicated than I could ever wish to be. No, when I see the peasant women, surrounded by children and a loving husband, all their lives in strict order, I wish I could change places with them.”
“I’m certain they’d gladly change places with you,” Alys said. The silvered glass that showed her reflection was wavery, which was just as well. She doubted her image would please her, particularly in the ill-fitting gray kirtle.
“And when does Grendel make his announcement’” Claire demanded, climbing out of bed and yawning extravagantly.
“I have no notion. Perhaps he’s already told our brother… Don’t call him that!” she said belatedly.
“You called him that yourself.”
“It was a slip of the tongue. He’s no monster, Claire.”
All lightness and humor vanished from Claire’s lovely face. “Are you certain, Alys?”
• “I don’t believe in monsters. They’re stories from childhood, told by the nuns to scare us into behaving. They don’t really exist.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Claire said. “I mean, are you certain you’re willing to marry him? Surely we could do something to stop it? Perhaps Lady Hedwiga would help us when she returns. If you really dreaded it I imagine it wouldn’t take much to make him change his mind again. You’ve always taken such good care of me, I would do anything you wanted. I would be willing to… sacrifice myself.”
And she meant it. Of that Alys had little doubt. Claire’s heart was good and kind and generous, beneath her youthful folly and self-absorption. She would marry the monster for her sister’s sake. She would die for her sister’s sake.
And in return, it was the least that Alys could do for her. Her future had never appeared to be particularly glorious. She was too plain, too clever, too outspoken. Lord Richard’s interference would only make things worse, not better.
In all, marriage to the magician would probably be no great disaster. If, as Claire suggested, he preferred his own sex, then that would be a relief.
