Angel of Lusignan

By Vijaya Schartz

Young knight Raymond of Forez, blaming himself for his uncle's death in a hunting accident, falls off his horse at the very sight of the lovely Melusine. He has no knowledge of their turbulent past. Even less that she is an immortal Fae with angel blood... afflicted by a curse. He doesn’t believe in the local legends... yet how can he resist such beauty and loving wisdom?

Melusine, who waited for him in Aquitaine, is full of remembered love. But can she trust this young knight with her mission, or her deadly secrets? In this explosive religious climate, the Church is suspicious of everyone, and the slightest rumor of witchery or Pagan magic could send them both burning at the stake. Can their love overcome the curse this time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Jan 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781772994773

Vijaya Schartz

Award-winning author Vijaya Schartz never conformed to anything and could never refuse a challenge. She likes action and exotic settings, in life and on the page. She traveled the world and claims she comes from the future. Her books collected many five-star reviews and literary awards. She makes you believe you lived these extraordinary adventures among her characters. So, go ahead, dare to experience the magic, and she will keep you entranced, turning the pages until the last line. Find more about Vijaya and her books at http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Book preview

Angel of Lusignan

Curse of the Lost Isle Book 8

By Vijaya Schartz

Digital ISBN

Kindle 978-1-77299-410-0

EPUB 978-1-77299-477-3

Print ISBN 978-1-77299-411-7

Amazon Print ISBN 978-1-77299-412-4

Copyright 2017 by Vijaya Schartz

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

Dedication

To my mother, who still lives in the land of Melusine in Aquitaine, and suggested long ago that I write this story. Thank you, Mom. This series is for you

Chapter One

Aquitaine, France 1080 AD

The hounds have cornered the beast! Raymond’s heart skipped a beat. He panted from the mad ride through the forest. He could barely control his excitement at the frantic baying of the hounds.

His uncle, Duke Aimery of Aquitaine, caught up with him as they neared the fray. We lost the rest of the hunters!

Raymond halted his palfrey at the edge of the clearing.

The huge black boar, backed up against a wall of tightly grown saplings, crouched and pawed the dirt with its front hooves. The long, yellow tusks betrayed its age. The network of pink and gray scars on the black, furry hide attested to the many battles it had survived. The wild beast growled and snorted and huffed.

His uncle signed himself. God Almighty! No wonder the villagers are scared.

Raymond peered through the curtain of trees, hoping for signs of the trackers, but saw none. He reached for the horn attached to his saddle and blew it twice to call the hunters. His palfrey reared and shook its mane, dancing away from the scene.

Zephyr, you are a coward, Raymond whispered to his bay stallion, tightening his grip on the reins. Hold your ground.

His uncle stared at the scene, eyes wide with awe. That wild boar is a formidable beast. No wonder it killed so many innocent farmers and children.

Could Raymond slay it alone? He considered his uncle’s gray beard and wiry frame. He could not let him grapple with such a monster. Too dangerous to wrestle up close, uncle, and we have no crossbow.

Poppycock! Duke Aimery shook his head. The crossbow is not accurate enough. If you don’t kill the boar on the first strike, it will get into a killing frenzy... and escape. We must fell it swiftly.

Raymond understood but it seemed unlikely the old duke had the strength to fight the behemoth with him, and even less likely that he would let Raymond wrestle the boar alone. We should wait for the others. ‘Twas the way we planned the hunt.

I cannot allow this monster to escape. Aimery dismounted. The hounds won’t be able to keep it at bay long enough.

The old man started toward the fray.

Uncle, you should not! Raymond slid off the saddle and slapped his stallion’s rump. Zephyr darted through the trees then stopped at a safe distance.

May God protect us! Raymond freed the short hunting spear slung across his chest and ran to his uncle’s side, toward the rows of barking hounds forming a half circle around the cornered beast. The frenzied dogs bared their fangs, baying madly, but remained feet away from the monster. None dared advance closer. Smart dogs.

Raymond calculated his chances for a kill. I need to get close enough for a lethal stab, he shouted over the barking. ‘Twill take a lot of force to pierce that thick hide.

Fear widened Lord Aimery’s pale eyes, but determination pinched his lips. Perhaps, we can tease it from behind. His uncle pointed to the tight fence of saplings behind the boar. Make it turn around and charge us through the hedge, hoping it will get stuck in the bramble.

Cringing inside at the dangers to his uncle, Raymond considered the saplings. Such a strong beast... it may not slow it down long enough for us to kill it.

A skirmish among the hounds brought Raymond’s gaze back to the fray.

The boar rushed the baying circle and trampled a large dog, stabbing with its tusks at the soft underbelly. Blood spurted.

Holy Trinity! Raymond’s heart threatened to gallop out of his chest.

The well trained hounds retreated a few feet but kept the beast at bay and maintained the half circle. When the boar looked up and around with black beady eyes, its tusks glistened with crimson.

Your hounds are brave, uncle. Bold, and tenacious, too.

Aye. The old duke’s jaw clenched under the gray beard. Unfortunately, this is no deer, and I fear more will die if we do not kill that beast now.

The old man loved his dogs. Raymond nodded.

The two of them raced around the semi-circle of hounds and hid behind the curtain of tight saplings. The stench of blood sent Raymond’s heart racing. His body hummed with the determination to kill the beast, get justice for its innocent victims.

As if sensing their maneuver, the hounds barked louder and advanced as one upon the boar, side-stepping the head tosses and the tusks to force the quarry back into the wall of saplings.

Come on, face me, you nasty devil! Lord Aimery prodded the boar’s hind quarters with his short spear.

The beast squealed, bucked, then grunted louder than before.

Careful, uncle! Step aside! Raymond positioned himself slightly to one side, his uncle to the other, both poised to stab, whenever the boar chose to charge through.

The beast whirled around, snorting and pawing the ground. The dogs now nipped at its kicking hind legs.

Lord Aimery held his short spear high. Come on, black devil.

God almighty! Raymond’s heart never pounded so hard.

The overwhelming feral stench of the beast enveloped them.

The black boar charged and broke through the barrier of small trunks in a thunder of snapping branches. Lord Aimery’s short spear stabbed the furry black shoulder, not the nape. It did not stop the charging beast.

Raymond raised his spear for a stab. The boar bucked and twisted and sent the spear flying. The beast charged Aimery and the old man rolled under the enormous boar.

Raymond drew his dagger and pounced upon the boar’s back. Hanging on to the duke’s spear protruding from the shoulder, he plunged his dagger into the boar’s throat, again and again, eliciting a river of crimson blood. The beast’s kicks and jerks lessened until it finally collapsed under him.

Trembling with the intensity of the kill, Raymond shuddered at the overwhelming stink of carnage. He jumped off the dead boar then pushed and rolled the carcass aside, surprised at his own strength. Uncle! Are you whole?

The old man lying on the ground raised his head and smiled feebly. You slaughtered the monster.

Aye, with your help. God be praised. Raymond knelt by the older man. Slick blood drenched the fine tunic and chausses. Whose blood? Can you stand?

I fear not. Aimery’s smile turned sad but his eyes remained bright.

Raymond’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the pulsing red wound in his uncle’s flank, just below the leather jerkin. Blood flowed from it like a brook in the spring thaw. He pulled on his tunic sleeve, ripped it off, then balled it up to compress the wound.

Hang on, uncle. We’ll take you home. Your healer is skilled. He will take care of this, put you back together.

Nay, Raymondin. The old man smiled feebly under his brown cap. Killing such evil creatures carries a high price, but ‘tis worth it.

Raymond wanted to blow his horn to call for help, but he’d left it on his saddle. The hounds circled the dead boar, sniffing, licking the blood.

Raymond’s throat clenched. The duke had raised him like a father. Tears welled in his eyes. You cannot die, uncle. We all love you. We need you.

Others can rule the land. The old man squeezed his hand. ‘Tis not for you to decide when I die, Raymondin. I am old and I go in peace, knowing this evil beast will not kill anymore.

Raymond could not fathom the loss. Stay with me, uncle.

Too late for that, Raymondin. But do not be sad. The old man took a labored breath. I see a bright future ahead of you.

Unable to speak, Raymond shook his head. A third son, landless, with no fortune, all he could hope to accomplish in life was pledge his blade to an honorable count or duke. But his beloved uncle Aimery was bleeding his life away on the forest floor.

His uncle’s favorite greyhound came to lie beside him. The elegant dog yelped then tucked its head in the crook of the old man’s shoulder.

Lord Aimery smiled and patted the dog’s head, then turned back to Raymond. A beautiful woman you will meet, Raymondin. She shines bright as an angel. Aimery grimaced. She will bring you much more than true love. With her help, you will build great fortresses and become the most powerful lord in all of Aquitaine... more powerful than I ever was, more powerful than my son Bertrand will ever be.

Raymond held back his tears. Save your breath, uncle. You are delirious. ‘Tis the loss of blood.

Nay, Raymondin. Old Aimery took another labored breath. From where I stand, at the threshold of death, I can see your future quite clearly. Whether you believe it or not, you are destined for great things.

The hounds straightened their ears. They fretted and barked and their tails flapped as the sounds of the approaching hunting party disturbed the peace of the forest.

The nobles dismounted in haste and gathered around the dying man, looking down at Raymond with austere faces. Bertrand, Aimery’s son, took in the scene and knelt by his dying father.

Duke Aimery smiled at him. Rule wisely, my son.

Then the old man exhaled his last, peaceful breath, in Raymond’s arms. Raymond closed his uncle’s eyes and released his embrace. Then he joined his hands and bowed his head. God almighty, please take this honorable soul into heaven to dwell with the angels.

His friend Francis, a blond, bearded giant, knelt beside him and lowered his blue gaze. Amen.

Lapanouze, the lanky captain of the guard, sneered at Raymond and pointed to his bloody clothes and unsheathed dagger. Did you kill your uncle while no one was watching?

I did not! Raymond’s throat clenched. How dare the self-serving opportunist accuse him of such a heinous crime? A mortal sin, punishable by death, no less. The boar charged him and I rushed to his help.

The captain spat over his shoulder as if to ward off evil. I had a vision in the woods a few moments ago that you ran him through with your dagger.

A vision? Since when did the twisted leech have visions?

Francis rose and interposed his wide shoulders and muscular frame between Lapanouze and Raymond. A ray of sun, through the high boughs, caught the large gold cross on his chest. Only a priest can interpret visions, Captain Lapanouze. They are not always what they seem.

Perhaps... but I do see things. The piercing eyes narrowed and glared at Raymond from their dark depth, over the thin hooked nose.

A hunter rose from examining the boar’s carcass and knelt by the duke’s body. He lifted the wadded sleeve to peruse the wound, then turned to Lord Bertrand, still kneeling at his father’s side. Your grace, Duke Aimery was gored by a tusk, the hunter declared for all to hear.

Raymond welcomed the comment.

The hunter then indicated the spear sticking out of the dead boar. The duke’s short spear missed the boar’s spine. Raymondin’s dagger slaughtered the beast.

Humph. Captain Lapanouze shook his head in disapproval. Shame on you, Raymondin. You cost the life of our beloved duke. You let him die while in your care. How could you let that happen?

The nobles gasped. Raymond’s throat clenched so tight he could hardly speak.

He stood up to face his accuser. How dare you?

As if enjoying the effect of his words, Captain Lapanouze declared emphatically, ‘Twas reckless to race ahead of the party. Look what you’ve done. You’ve killed the most beloved man in these lands.

A murmur welled among the nobles. All stared at Raymond with accusation and reproach in their hard gaze. Raymond’s fists clenched at his sides.

Francis touched his arm. Let it go, Raymondin.

But Raymond could not stand false accusations. He rushed toward Lapanouze and punched his lying face. Lapanouze ducked and stepped back then drew his sword in a grating of metal. Raymond did the same.

Raymond rushed Lapanouze and the clash of swords filled the clearing.

Stop this! Bertrand, son of Aimery and now Duke of Aquitaine, rose from his father’s side, his face rigid and pale.

Men rushed to separate the two combatants. Raymond struggled as Francis held his arms from behind.

Bertrand, the new duke, ground his jaw then bit his lips. I shall tolerate no such fights among my knights... and I demand respect in front of my dead father. Understood?

Lapanouze straightened and sheathed his sword with disdainful decorum, but Raymond still struggled to control the fury in his heart.

Bertrand faced the nobles. Raymondin killed the boar. My father’s death was an accident. He turned to Raymond. Leave this party presently, cousin, and do not return until you regain control of your senses.

As Raymond stopped struggling, Francis released his arms. Raymond glanced up at his new lord, a cousin he loved like an older brother. He wanted to explain, to apologize, but his throat clenched. Unable to speak, drowning in a deluge of sadness, he returned his sword to the scabbard and bowed in obedience.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he ran to Zephyr, and vaulted into the saddle.

Francis ran after him, but not fast enough to catch up with him. Raymondin!

My name is Raymond. I am not a child anymore. Raymond kicked the stallion’s flanks. I was knighted at Easter. The fine horse took off at a gallop, at breakneck speed, across the dense forest.

Not caring where he went, Raymond rode until the sky darkened. Lightning struck and thunder clapped. Sheets of angry rain drenched him, but he didn’t care. It washed out the blood, the stench of death, and drowned the torrent of tears pouring from his eyes.

‘Tis not fair! he shouted at the downpour, at God Himself. Uncle Aimery was a kind man, a good ruler.

Fond memories flooded his mind. Laughter at his uncle’s table, studying in the duke’s library with Master Arbatel, board games on long winter nights, tourneys and battles in summer. ‘Twas all over now. Without his uncle, nothing would ever be the same.

As he rode along the edge of a cliff, Raymond glanced at the rocky valley below. Some might jump to end it all, but that would be a mortal sin and would only cause more grief to his family... and damn Raymond to eternal hell. He shuddered at the very thought.

So, he pushed ahead, ignoring the cold rain, unaware, uncaring. Mayhap, the great forest that blanketed the whole of Aquitaine would heal his pain. ‘Twas said to hold ancient magic. The legends talked of Merlin and Vivian the Fae, who roamed through it long ago. But ‘twas only legends. The Fae never existed.

He wondered whether the heroes of old were all burning in Satan’s hell, or did God have a special place in heaven for the good souls of the past who never knew His word? It seemed it would be such a waste of worthy souls if He did not.

When the palfrey refused to go any farther, the rain had stopped, and the twilight indicated it would soon be dark. Where was he? Raymond should return home, but in which direction?

He patted Zephyr’s neck. Can you find your way home, boy?

The stallion nodded and whinnied at the mention of home.

Raymond gave the horse his neck and the stallion climbed down the slope, to a river. Which river? So many ran through the forest.

Raymond chuckled and patted Zephyr’s mane. Is this the way home? Or are you just thirsty?

As they neared the shallows a heap on the opposite bank caught his eye. Something, or someone? As he peered through the twilight, he realized ‘twas a woman. She was naked!

Holy Trinity! He prompted Zephyr across the river, braving the current. Soon the water deepened and the stallion swam across. Already drenched from the rain, Raymond didn’t care.

Soon the land rose under the horse’s hooves on the other side. Raymond emerged on the beach and rode on dry land toward the naked apparition. He could not see her face, but he knew she must be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, like an angel fallen from heaven, with long blond hair, wet and plastered to her perfect body and perfect skin. Was she asleep? Hurt? Had she drowned?

Something pulled him to her, as if he knew her. Who was she? He must know. He prompted Zephyr closer.

The woman sat up suddenly and stared up at him, face frozen, eyes wide and clear as a swift mountain stream on a sunny day.

The palfrey reared, whinnying, pawing the air. His eyes rolled. Accustomed to Zephyr’s high-strung temper, Raymond remained tight in the saddle. Then the stallion bucked so violently, Raymond lost his grip on the pommel and the reins. Ejected from the saddle, he flew through the air in a wide arc, like a boulder from a catapult.

As he landed on his back, his head hit a smooth river stone, then all around him dissolved in a sea of black and quiet.

Chapter Two

Melusine rose, unsteady on her newly reshaped human legs. Her calves cramped and she stumbled over numb feet. Despite the centuries of practice, her Saturday night transformations from water creature to an earthly woman remained miserable at best.

She sent the stallion a calming thought and wobbled toward the magnificent, prancing bay. You are safe, Zephyr. You have naught to fear from me, nor from any other Fae in these woods.

The horse calmed instantly, neighed and shook its dark mane, then sniffed her offered hand.

She materialized a carrot in her hand, and the palfrey happily accepted the crunchy treat.

She scratched then kissed the stallion’s nuzzle. You are a handsome boy, Zephyr.

Then Melusine hurried her clumsy steps toward the young man sprawled at the water’s edge. Who was he? What had he seen? She wondered whether or not he’d spied her ondine tail. And if he had, would he denounce her to the bishop as a water demon, an evil mermaid? She would hate to leave these enchanted woods to escape persecutions... again.

She knelt at his side. Even in the vanishing twilight she could see his smooth, beardless face. So handsome, and young. A missing sleeve revealed a man’s strong muscles. She shivered as something she’d believed dead for decades stirred inside her. She could sense his life force beating to the pace of her own heart.

Intrigued, she focused on his condition.

No blood. He breathed peacefully, eyes closed, as if asleep. She surveyed his body with her healing sight. Through the leather jerkin and woolen chausses, she perceived healthy bones under the flesh. None broken. He might awaken to a pounding headache, but he would be hale.

She raised her gaze toward the water. Thank you, Great Goddess, for sparing this gorgeous young man.

The last swath of twilight darkened in the western sky, and night enveloped Melusine. A cold draft made her shiver. A whisper rode on the chilly breeze. Melusine’s heart quickened as she recognized the signs.

She bowed her head. I am honored by your presence, O Great One!

A cold light whirled above the waters. In a flapping of large black wings, a beautiful woman in black robes materialized. She hovered above the water surface. A luminous aura surrounded Her. Fear not, Melusine. He only saw the woman, not the ondine of legends.

‘Tis fortunate. Melusine breathed easier. Who is he?

"Curious, are we?" The Goddess smiled. You of all people should recognize him.

Melusine held her breath. Whatever do you mean?

"Look at him closely, child." Guile made the Great Angel’s words sing.

Melusine stared at the young man lying by her knees. He seems familiar, somehow. I can feel an affinity to him.

"Ah, so you do recognize him." The Great One smiled. He is your ancient lover in a new body.

Melusine could not believe the time had finally come. A bubbling of joy effervesced inside her chest. She glanced at the inert man in front of her. Her heart went out to him. He had such a kind, handsome face. His sword and exquisite leather jerkin and boots, although drenched, marked him as a high noble. So did his fine stallion. But... he is so young.

"His soul is that