Chapter 20

Twelfth Night Wedding

Cardin made a slow but steady recovery over the next few days leading up to the Yuletide festivities. His appetite increased, his color returned, and he was able to rise from the bed and walk to the alcove near the castle kitchen to share meals with his family.

With Vill on the nearby floor in front of the hearth, Ulla continued sleeping in the cot near Cardin’s bed, changing his bandages and applying healing ointments as he regained his strength. “Let’s go to your cottage,” he’d said gruffly this morning, taking her hand and placing it against his hardened length. “I’ve recovered enough…”

“Soon, my love.” She’d withdrawn her hand and kissed him softly. “Very soon.”

Love, lust, and longing had danced deliciously in his dark green eyes.

Ulla had brought Lukaz to the castle stables for his equestrian training with Lord Quentin, Grandfather Esclados, and Uncle Gaultier. Now that Bastien and his sons Gunnar and Haldar had arrived at le Chateau de Landuc , the three of them had joined the riding lessons as well. “That’s my Friesian, Kol,” Lukaz had said proudly to his cousins as the boys watched the stable hand Argant brush the colt’s shiny black coat. “He’ll be ready to ride in three years. He’ll hunt with me and my falcon Rask.” Eyes widening in surprise as a sudden thought had occurred to him, he’d looked hopefully and expectantly up at Ulla. “Maybe Lord Chauvin could give Gunnar and Haldar each a peregrine, too. We could give them Viking names, like Rask and Finn.” Nearly breathless with excitement, he’d suggested to his older cousins—who were obviously keen on Lukaz’ brilliant idea—“Then we could all hunt together with our falcons in Finistère!”

“An excellent suggestion for a Yuletide gift,” Bastien had remarked with a broad grin, resting his hand on Lukaz’ shoulder as he eyed his exuberant sons. “Let’s pay a visit to the Master of the Mews and have a look at his raptors.”

As the three boys whooped with joy and departed with a jubilant, energetic Vill, Ulla smiled gratefully and returned to Cardin inside the castle.

****

The day before Christmas, as she had promised, Ulla and Lukaz—riding with Gaultier, Bastien, and several knights of Landuc and, of course, Vill bounding alongside—led the Archdruid Odin to the majestic oak in the heart of the forest where the two of them had found the enormous clump of mistletoe while hunting in the woods. Odin and his tribe of Druids distributed a sprig of le gui— sacred plant of the Celtic people—to the castle and to every household in the surrounding village. A cluster of mistletoe with fragrant white blossoms now hung in the doorway of le Chateau de Landuc, symbolizing the protection and blessing of the Goddess Dana and the beloved Forest of Brocéliande for the upcoming new year.

On Christmas Eve, with Gaultier’s assistance, Cardin climbed the stairs with Ulla to join the entire family, King Guillemin, and Xabi in the private solar of le Chateau de Landuc for a sumptuous feast. They savored several courses, including a creamy chestnut soup, velouté de chataignes , followed by fresh oysters, lobster, baked trout, roast boar, steamed vegetables, and Lukaz’ favorite dessert—candied chestnuts called marrons glacés.

When the meal concluded, Ulla strummed her harp and sang her heart out, regaling the entire castle with a hauntingly beautiful melody, the same Celtic Yuletide Carol that had brought Cardin back from the darkness of death’s doorstep and into the light of her healing love.

Christmas morning, before they joined the family in the private solar to exchange Yuletide gifts, Ulla changed Cardin’s bandage and helped him don a clean woolen tunic. Pulse pounding in her temples, her mouth suddenly parched, she took his hand and raised it to her trembling lips. “I have a special gift for you,” she whispered, resting his hand on her lower stomach. “I carry your babe. Our child will be born in late summer.”

Panic warred with elation in his anguished eyes.

He’s terrified because Charlotte died in childbirth. I have to reassure him.

“I’ve already given birth to a healthy son.” Tears flowed as fond memories of her beautiful little boy Fjall filled her heart. “I’m young, healthy, and strong.” She rose to her feet, taking his hands and running them up and down each side of her rounded bottom. “My ample hips are plenty wide enough…” she murmured, bending down to kiss him softly with a sensuous, seductive smile, “…to bear you several children.” Ulla brushed a lock of hair from his furrowed brow. “Your mother will be my midwife. You’ll see, my love. Everything will be fine.” She grasped his hands and pulled him to his feet. “Come, let’s join the others and give Lukaz his gift.”

“Wait,” Cardin said, crossing the room to retrieve a small package from a drawer in the walnut sideboard. He handed it to her with a shy smile. “I have a gift for you, too.”

She untied the red velvet ribbon, unwrapped the gold-colored cloth, and opened the small wooden box. Her breath caught in her throat.

From a delicate golden chain, a pear-shaped, faceted ruby glittered in the morning sun.

“Before Xabi arrived from Biarritz, I had the castle jeweler craft it to match your wedding ring.” He carefully lifted the necklace from the box and walked around behind Ulla. Pushing her long black curls aside to tumble over her shoulder, he fastened the pendant around her throat and kissed the nape of her neck. From a corner table, he fetched a mirror and held it up for her to see. “I thought you could wear it with your wedding gown. The ruby is red like your dress.”

The deep scarlet gem was dazzling. As it lay against her skin, Ulla admired the exquisite jewel, caressing it with reverent fingertips. “It’s perfect for my red velvet gown. I absolutely love it!” She rushed forward, threw her arms around Cardin’s neck, and showered his smiling, bristled face with fervent, grateful kisses.

His hearty chuckle evolved into a guttural moan as he devoured her lips with his own. Parting them with the tip of his tongue, he delved deep, his ravenous hunger evident in the insistent hardness pressing against her belly.

Ulla withdrew from his intoxicating embrace, stepping back to catch her breath and adjust her kirtle. She exhaled slowly to compose herself before taking hold of Cardin’s calloused hand and, with a whistle for Vill to follow, leading her betrothed out the bedroom door.

****

A blazing fire crackled in the enormous stone hearth. Through the elegant ogival windows of the eastern wall, morning sunlight filtered into the festively decorated room. Evergreen boughs entwined with holly, ivy, and berries adorned the elaborately carved wooden mantel above the enormous fireplace. The scintillating spice of cinnamon and cloves mingled with the tangy scent of citrus and the heady, earthy scent of mulled wine as Ulla, Cardin, and Vill entered the room.

She gestured for her wolf to lie by the door.

Upon an informal throne—an ornately carved gilded chair—a majestic King Guillemin, resplendent in a deep blue velvet cloak lined with ermine, sat between his royal hosts, Esclados and Laudine. Near the western wall, Gabrielle and Bastien were seated on a carved oak settee, their infant daughter Ylva in a nearby cradle, their three sons gathered on the floor. Gaultier and Xabi sat beneath the sunlit windows with a beaming Lukaz on his uncle’s left, inside the entrance door. When he spotted Cardin and Ulla enter the solar, he proudly patted the settee he’d reserved for them to sit at his side.

While Jehan served the adult guests goblets of spicy mulled wine, Ma?lys delighted the excited children with platters of sweetmeats and pastries as they impatiently waited their turn to open the Yuletide gifts.

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 at la 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 to la Tour Blanche . Because of your valor, the Yuletide Treaty—the Alliance with Aquitaine—was successfully signed on the fifteenth of December at le Palais Royal on l’?le de la Cité in 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 of le Chateau 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 defend la C?te 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, of le Chateau de Montmarin in 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 chapel to 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 N?de, 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 to le Chateau 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 N?de.”

“That’s right,” he agreed encouragingly, as Lukaz sat back down at his side. “ Le Chateau Vert is only a day’s ride from here. We’ll be able to come visit Mamie and Papi often.” 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 at le Chateau Vert.”

“Perhaps you can come to Aquitaine one day. To visit Xabi and me at le Chateau 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 see la dulce Dolssa. 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 into le Chateau 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 in la C?te 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 you Maman ?”

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.”