Once Upon a Summer Day (50 page)

“And so, take care, beware,” said Urd, “for they will seek revenge.”

And the sound of shuttles and looms swelled, but Flic cried out, “Wait!”

Skuld and Verdandi had already vanished, but Urd yet remained, and she looked at the Sprite, an eyebrow raised.

“Begging your pardon, Lady Urd,” said Flic, “but I don’t think even for some unknown reason I would ever fall behind, and so I would appreciate it if—”

But with a cackle of glee, Urd vanished as well, as did the sound of looms.

 

The very next day, with the sun standing at the zenith—“A very auspicious time,” declared Hierophant Marceau, follower of Mithras that he was—in the flower gardens of Summerwood Manor a wedding got under way.

But for the kitchen crew, the staff of Summerwood Manor was present, for none would miss this occasion. Too, those who had accompanied Borel and Chelle from Winterwood Manor were in attendance, as well as Lord Valeray and Lady Saissa’s entourage. And the women stood on the bride’s side of the garden, and the men stood on the groom’s side.

Of Camille’s kindred none were present, for they were scattered to the four winds: Camille’s father, Henri, had run away with a circus and could not be found; her mother Aigrette was dead of avarice, for she had drowned in a so-called wishing well while trying to fetch coins; Camille’s beloved brother Giles was ruling an isle far over the sea; and of her five sisters, Colette and Felise and the twins Joie and Gai were all very afraid of Faery and hence would not come, and besides, they were occupied raising families; while Lisette—whose very rich old roué of a husband and his panting dogs had all died on the very same night of a mysterious stomach ailment, leaving behind a vast fortune—she was entirely too busy being squired about continental cities by a bevy of young and handsome and muscular men.

And though none of Camille’s kindred were there, all of Alain’s were.

As to the wedding party: at the fountain and to the left of Hierophant Marceau stood Alain, with Borel as his best man, and they were dressed in grey. Liaze and Céleste stood opposite, and they were joined by Chelle, maids of honor all and dressed in blue. And Lord Valeray and Lady Saissa were at the head of the spectators, Valeray on the groom’s side, Saissa on the bride’s.

Scruff and Buzzer sat side by side on a limb above the fountain.

Flic and Fleurette perched on flowers—white camellias—Flic near the best man, Fleurette near the bridesmaids.

And as someone played a soft flute, Lanval walked Camille down the aisle in between, for Lanval had been like a father to her.

And she was dressed in the palest of blue, nearly white, and from a tiara a gauzy veil fell. Down the aisle she seemed to float, and Alain smiled with joy, while Borel glanced across at Chelle and smiled in joy as well.

Lady Saissa began softly crying, but she stifled her sniffles and managed a smile when Camille stepped past.

At last, Lanval delivered Camille to the hierophant, and then took his place beside Lord Valeray.

And all alternately held breath and then sighed as each vow was given and each oath taken, Hierophant Marceau leading the way, and for once he looked rather priestly, in his red robes with the golden sunburst on his chest and his tall miter atop his head.

On cue, Flic delivered the ring to Borel, and Borel in turn gave it to Alain, and he in turn placed it on a small, round, golden-sunburst pillow before the hierophant.

Likewise, Fleurette gave the ring to Michelle, and she to Céleste, and she to Liaze, who gave it to Camille, and she placed it on the pillow as well.

Marceau lifted the pillow and rings up into the sunlight and called out a blessing, and then he lowered all. And the bride and groom then took up the rings and slipped them on one another’s ring finger; first Alain placed his ring on Camille’s hand, and then she on his.

And Hierophant Marceau declared them officially wed.

 

At the gala afterward, Flic was heard to say, “What did I tell you, Fleurette? Ah, these humans and their rites.”

“I thought it was rather nice,” said Fleurette, and Flic could only gape in surprise.

And as the celebration went on, there were contests of archery and quoits and croquet. There were games of blindfold tag. And many celebrants went to the hedge maze and tried to find the center. Some were lost for quite a while, and some couples came out with their clothes a bit rumpled or otherwise in disarray. And the sun slid down the sky and set, and dusk darkened the land. Lanterns were lit and placed upon tables and hung among the trees, and the gala went on. But in the twilight there came a horn cry from afar, from down the valley rather than across.

The horn rang again, and Lanval sent men running to the far gate, and shortly thereafter a rider towing two remounts came galloping up that lane and toward the manor. And he reined up among the festivities. In the light of the lanterns and the rising full moon someone cried, “ ’Tis a slight youth, and he wears a blue tabard with a silver sunburst!”

Chelle, standing upon the archery range, overheard and said to Borel, “My love, it is the sigil of my sire!” and she ran toward the now-dismounted rider.

And as she came in among the crowd ranged about the youth she overheard him saying “. . . dispatched throughout Faery looking for the Lady Michelle, the missing daughter of Duke Roulan. Has anyone here seen a beautiful maiden with golden hair and—”

The crowd laughed and parted, and Chelle stepped through.

“My lady, oh, my lady,” said the youth, dropping to one knee. “You are alive and well, and I have found you.”

“But, Phillíp, I was never lost,” said Chelle. “Yet you, how come you to be here? Last I saw, you were mucking out stables. Were you not caught in Rhensibé’s—” Suddenly, Chelle’s eyes widened in hope. “Can it be that—? Oh, Phillíp, what of my père and mère? Are they—?”

Phillíp stood and said, “They are well. We are all well. When we awoke from the sleep, the Fairies told us that someone named Rhensibé was dead, and with her passing the spindle had stopped spinning, and the spell was broken. But we were in a dreadful desert, and thorns surrounded all. Yet the Fairies working together managed to allay the thorns and restore the vale to its proper place. But you were missing, my lady, and some thought the worst. Yet your sire sent us out to—”

Phillíp’s words were cut short as Chelle screamed in delight and grabbed him and hugged him fiercely. And then she whirled to find Borel standing at hand, and she grabbed him and hugged him fiercely as well.

“Lady Michelle,” said Phillíp, “your père and mère are terribly worried, and Lady Roulan paces the floor and weeps many nights. But now that you are found, I will ride at speed and—”

“We must go there, Borel,” said Chelle, “for I would not have my parents think I am lost or a captive or dead.”

Céleste handed Phillíp a goblet of red wine, and the youth gulped it down and said, “We did not even know that we had been in an enchanted sleep, but when the Fairies returned us to Roulan Vale, nearby steaders said—as mortals would reckon it—some twelve years had passed since we had disappeared in a great, whirling black wind.”

“We know,” said Céleste. “Oh, not that you had been restored, but rather that it had been some twelve years since the wind carried the vale away.—Here, have another glass of wine.”

“Well things are a proper mess in Riverbend,” said the youth to Céleste’s receptive ear. “People thought dead, their homes and lands occupied by others, businesses taken over, wealth given to heirs, and the like. I mean, the duke’s got a tangle to unsnarl, and a proper one at that.” Phillíp gulped down the wine.

Borel said, “Ma chérie, we will ride out and soon, for I would ask your sire for your hand, and he must needs give you away at our wedding, wherever we hold it.”

“Winterwood Manor,” said Chelle. She looked at the moon on the rise and said, “And in the light of a full moon, for it has been our touchstone.”

Chelle turned to Phillíp, “You will rest a day or two, and then, with fresh horses, I would have you ride in haste back to Roulan Vale, and tell my sire we are on the way.”

“Oui, my lady,” said Phillíp, and then he put his hand to his head. “Woo, but I am dizzy.”

“Lack of food, no doubt,” said Céleste. “Come, let us get some good beef and bread into you.”

As Céleste led Phillíp away, Chelle and Borel kissed deeply, and that night they danced in the light of the full moon for many long hours before finally going to bed.

 

Four days later, after Borel and Chelle and the full of Borel’s cavalcade made ready to ride away to Lord Roulan’s manse, with hugs and kisses they said good-bye to Alain and Camille and Liaze and Céleste. Then they stepped to Valeray and Saissa, and Borel said, “Father, Michelle and I are to be married, and I am notifying you not only as a king, but as a father as well. And we would like your blessing, and yours, too, Mother.”

“Post the banns,” said Valeray, grinning widely.

And Saissa embraced and kissed Chelle and said, “I could not ask for a better daughter. And thank you, my dear, for stringing the bow you should not have been able to string; and for drawing the arrow to the full of your pull, a pull you should not have been able to draw; and for loosing the shaft upon an unwoundable thing and wounding it severely . . . and for saving the life of my son.”

“But it was Buzzer who—”

“Pish, tush, Michelle, for had you not done those things the Démon would not have dropped its terrible black sword and would have used it to slay Borel the moment he got to his feet.” Again Saissa hugged and kissed Chelle, and then gave her over to Valeray.

And Valeray embraced her and said, “I welcome you to the family, Sleeping Beauty, you who were ensorcelled by a magic spindle and trapped within a vast tangle of thorns and awakened by a kiss from a prince. I think such a tale will become a legend someday, and I can only hope whoever tells it gets it right.”

Chelle laughed and kissed Valeray on the cheek, and then she and Borel mounted their steeds, and both slipped cocked hats on their heads; Flic and Fleurette came to land, one upon each. Buzzer flew up and ’round and took a sighting on the sun and shot off on a line. And with an entire rade following, and with a pack of Wolves ranging fore and aflank and aft, Prince Borel and Lady Michelle set out for the vale where grow pink-flowering shamrock and blushing white roses and thorn-laden blackberry vines.

A
nd thus ends this part of the tale that began but three moons and seven-and-one days past, when Prince Borel of the Winterwood fell asleep and dreamt a dream—a special dream, a shared dream—upon a summer day.

In this dream he met a beautiful demoiselle with a shadowy band across her eyes. Of course, when he finally found her, there was no spellbound darkness masking, for he was seeing her in reality and not in a dream.

Perhaps the others caught in the thrall also dreamed; they were, after all, ensnared in the very same magie. Yet if they did, it appears they did not jointly dream with anyone outside the bounds of Roulan Vale there in the Endless Sands.

Only Chelle seems to have managed that, and then only with her truelove Borel. You might find that strange, but it is the way of enchanted sleep.

I
f the original fairy tale, “Sleeping Beauty,” did not come from the French, I do hope that those folk in the country of its origin will forgive me for seasoning the story with a French flavor, for, in addition to being a magical adventure, this tale is a romance at heart, and French is to my mind perhaps the most romantic language of all.

Second, for those of you who would like to see the échecs problem wherein Prince Borel defeated the King Under the Hill when all looked lost, the following is chess Grandmaster Tal Shaked’s solution to that thorny knot: