People in the Middle Ages seemed much closer to nature than we are today. Surrounded by forests, they bathed in rivers, or communal baths in castles before dining, in order to allow the guests to clean the dust of the roads and meet each other before the banquet. Did I mention that the baths were for both genders at the same time. Of course, that was in France, before the Catholic Church slammed down on public nudity... which later led to the spread of diseases.
This kind of research is fascinating. I had to visit the castles of Forez and speak with the curators of each museum to find out about all these details of early medieval life. Hope you enjoy discovering them in my latest release.
Here is an excerpt of Chatelaine of Forez, set in France in the eleventh Century, from the Curse of the Lost Isle medieval fantasy romantic series. The heroine is bathing in a sacred spring. Enjoy!
CHATELAINE
OF FOREZ:
Only $2.99 in kindle
Chapter One
March 1028 AD - Forez (now in
central France)
Melusine stopped singing and
shuddered in the cool water. Someone was coming. Fast approaching hooves
trampled the underbrush. She straightened and gripped the well worn sides of
the rectangular stone basin. Birds and insects had ceased their chirping.
Through the trees, a single horseman on a black stallion galloped up the
forested path to the sacred spring where she bathed.
How had he crossed the magic
barrier she'd erected down the hill? Could he be an immortal like her?
She glanced at her blue robes,
left in the middle of the clearing, at the foot of the tall, standing stone
hugging the statue of the Great Goddess. Too far away. No time to step out of
the catch basin and retrieve them. With a flurry of the hand, she wove a quick
invisibility spell and willed the water around her to still.
Her heart stumbled for a beat
or two. This could be the blessed day the Great Goddess had promised her. The
day she finally met her former beloved... Sigefroi. Although, in his new
incarnation, he wore another name.
The horseman emerged from the
curtain of trees, impossibly tall, dark, muscular, in black leather gear, a
crossbow across his back. A sword slapped his thigh, and a hunting knife
adorned his belt. Half a dozen bloody hares hung from the back of his saddle.
Definitely not her beloved Sigefroi. What now?
The stranger glanced at her,
raised a dark brow and nodded a salute from the saddle. A restrained smile
touched his lips. How could he possibly see her through the invisibility spell?
But he'd already crossed her privacy barrier. Fae blood definitely coursed
through his veins.
Melusine shrunk into her chilly
bath, dreading to face him naked.
It could be worse. It could be
the first Wednesday of the month, when the curse made her a serpent from the
waist down. In this increasingly Christian land, discovery in ondine form could
cost her to burn at the stake.
Since the local Christians
avoided Pagan shrines, however, the stranger must be of the old faith.
She took a deep breath and made
her voice as formidable and intimidating as she could. "Who dares violate
the sacred spring of the Great One?"
"Count Artaud of
Forez." The deep baritone rang loud and clear.
Melusine's heartbeat faltered.
Not an immortal, but worse. "Artaud of Forez?"
"I own this land, and
methinks you are the one trespassing." He dismounted with surprising
agility for his size, sliding off the saddle like an acrobat.
Melusine scrutinized the young
man. According to the Goddess, Artaud had inherited the soul of her late
Sigefroi, but how could it be, when they looked like opposites. Where Sigefroi
had been wiry and fair, with gold reddish hair and a clear gaze, Artaud had
broad shoulders, straight black hair, a hale face, and a dark, brooding gaze,
as deep as a lake on a moonless night. Both looked fearsome, but in different
ways.
Count Artaud led his prancing
stallion closer to the large rectangular basin where she bathed.
Dear
Goddess! Heat crept up Melusine's cheeks. She gathered her legs and encircled
her knees with her arms for modesty. "How dare you!"
"My horse is
thirsty." His voice held a subtle challenge.
The black stallion snorted as
its master freed him. The beast drank noisily from the far end of the long
basin.
Count Artaud cast her a
sidelong glance, his swarthy, square face unreadable. "The Great One would
want to quench an animal's thirst."
"Only a Pagan would know
the Great One respects all creatures as equal." Melusine kept her voice
even, but anger gripped her insides. How could this Artaud hold the soul of her
beloved? He was a cold, dark stranger, not her fiery knight of old.
His brow shot up. "I fear
you have me at a disadvantage, my lady. I have never seen you at court or on my
estates. Who might you be?"
Although she'd known they would
soon meet, Melusine had no ready answer. An ondine? A cursed immortal? The
woman you are destined to marry? The love of your past life? The enchantress
who might bring your doom? She couldn't find words he might accept, even less
understand. While she remembered their lifetime together, he did not.
No sympathy softened the
neutral face as his dark stare pierced her. He removed his black leather gloves
and sat on a jutting stone next to the well worn edge of the old basin.
"Devil got your tongue?"
Visions of hellish creatures
flashed upon Melusine's mind at his mention of the devil. Christians believed
in the devil... and Christians wanted her dead.
"Melusine..." She
cleared her choking voice. "My name is Melusine."
She fancied her first name
innocuous enough. Better than Melusine the Fae, immortal, cursed by the Great
One, excommunicated First Lady of Luxembourg, the love and the bane of your
past existence.
"Lady Melusine..." He
rolled the words on his tongue. His dark, liquid eyes softened and unfocused
slightly. "An unusual name for an unusual woman."
"‘Tis an ancient name, my
lord." Tempted to prod his mind and find out what he thought of her, she
stopped herself. If he could see through her spells, and Fae blood coursed
through his veins, like Sigefroi, he would be impervious to her magic... but
not to her charms.
Changing tactic, she smiled and
relaxed against the hollowed stone basin, exposing her submersed nudity through
the clear water. "I hear you have done well, Lord Artaud. Your lands of
Lyon and Forez thrive, and your people consider you a fair and wise
ruler."
He cast her a sidelong glance,
then shifted his gaze to the statue of the Great One dominating the clearing.
The quenched black stallion walked away a few paces and grazed the luscious
grass of the hillock.
Awe widened his eyes as he
faced her again. "What else have you heard about me?"
Although Melusine had kept her
promise not to spy on Artaud, she knew a few things about him. "The river
gold makes you richer than any king. So does the trade on the pilgrimage road
to St Jacques of Compostella. Travelers speak highly of your hospitality."
Bird trills and the chirping of
insects had resumed, and the sweet scent of wild flowers filled the air with
vibrant life.
"What you hear is
true." He faced her but kept his gaze at eye level. "I'm also a Pagan
count ruling over Christian barons. That alone can get you killed these
days."
"Then
we have much in common, my lord." Melusine smiled seductively. "Only
a devout Pagan would visit the sacred spring and the shrine of the Great One.
Why else would you come here?"
He barely cracked a thin smile.
"To water my horse."
His jest bothered her. So did
his cool response to her charms. Hard as she tried, Melusine could not see in
this man any remnant of her past love.
Had she waited these few
decades for naught? Had the Great One tricked her? No. The Great One never
lied. Still, even though Melusine did not intend to share this stranger's fate,
she should warn him of the dangers threatening his rule.
She trailed her fingers on the
water surface, blurring it. "This hill is not just a sacred shrine from
time immemorial, Lord Artaud."
His dark gaze alighted upon her
with a new spark of interest. "State your meaning."
"‘Tis the site of your
future castle of Montarcher."
Suspicion narrowed his eyes.
"How do you know of my future designs?"
Melusine's heart skipped a
beat. "The Great One sees and knows all, my lord. You must build your
castle in haste to face the coming dangers."
A muscle in his square jaw
jumped. "What dangers?"
"Your enemies are
gathering." Melusine didn't know the future, only that Artaud would need
help. "Many envy your riches, my lord. Others resent your faith. But from
here, you can fend them off."
"Why here?" His tone
held curiosity.
Melusine straightened and gazed
in the distance. She was destined to protect him, but she felt naught for this
stranger. "This is a sacred site, my lord. From here, the statue of the
Great One will bless and protect all your lands."
His brow rose and his eyes
softened but still stared at her. "Truly?"
Melusine shrank under his
scrutiny, wishing she wore clothes. "Truly, my lord."
"Thank you for the
warning, my lady." He rose and whistled. His stallion trotted up to him.
In one light vault, Artaud landed in the saddle.
Melusine's heart jumped. Had
she done right, or had she spoiled everything? In any case, she must speak with
the Great One. There must be a mistake. She could never love this dark,
brooding man. He was not her long lost love.
HAPPY READING.
Vijaya Schartz
Blasters, Swords, Romance
with a Kick
This
book is set in Lusignan, the town Melusine created according to legend.
Lusignan is also the name of the family she started in Aquitaine.
Melusine is first featured in Book 2, PAGAN QUEEN, as a child. She
reappears in Book 3 SEDUCING SIGEFROI, Book 4 LADY OF LUXEMBOURG, and
Book 5 CHATELAINE OF FOREZ.
In
Lusignan, she gives birth to a powerful family. Her descendants Guy of
Lusignan and his brother became kings of Jerusalem and Cyprus during the
Crusades. Another descendant of hers is the famous and infamous Eleanor
of Aquitaine, twice queen, and mother. King Richard mentions more than
once the stain upon his family, his evil ancestress through the
centuries, the cursed one. That was Melusine.
But
beyond the myth and the legend, I wanted to find the heart of these
characters. Remembering that history is always written by the victors,
and Paganism was crushed by Christendom. So it made sense that the
Pagans of the time would be reviled and presented in a negative light,
even accused of horrible deeds.
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