The
Elven Chronicles
Episode
Three
The
Fugitive Bride
Chapter
1 The
Bride
Princess Honoria felt the
eyes of every man and woman in the temple focused upon
her. It should have given her
a feeling of exhilaration and joy, but instead she felt only dread and could
hardly keep from trembling. She
tried to think of something, anything but what awaited
her. Her face expressionless,
she let her gaze sweep over the magnificent of the
temple.
It was the perfect setting
for the marriage of the eldest Princess of Sallia and the Duke of
Magdoran. The massive fluted
pillars soared thirty feet toward the massive stone lintels of the ceiling
and marched in dual rows toward the front of the
temple. It was a magnificent
setting, but it might as well have been the centre of the fires of perdition
for all the joy it brought Honoria.
A disturbance at the front
of the church caught the attention of the assembled
nobility. Her father moved forward,
standing in the place of honour just before the
bride. It was his duty to bind
his daughter’s hands signifying the union of man and wife and her submission
to her husband’s will. It
would also, she thought bitterly, secure the support of the Duke’s levies
for the defence of the kingdom. And
that was what her unwilling marriage was all
about. The Duke had reputedly
killed his first two wives after securing their estates, and now it was to
be her turn to please him.
Her father turned to look
at her, but she refused to meet his eyes, instead fixing her gaze on the
entrance to the temple. She could
not bear to look upon the father who had willingly condemned her to a marriage
with a man who was renowned for his brutality even in a culture that worshipped
violence and cruelty. The time
for tears was now past. She had
shed enough for several marriages when her father had announced his intention
to marry her to the Duke for the sake of the five hundred mounted warriors
the union would bring him. Giving
away his sixteen-year-old daughter seemed a small price to pay by
comparison. However, in the political
realities of the situation no one had thought about the price Honoria would
have to pay.
Her thoughts were interrupted
by the fanfare announcing the Duke’s
arrival. The blaring sound of
trumpets echoed through the temple as Duke Indgar of Magdoran strode into
the temple. Over six feet tall,
with a trim, dark beard outlining a mouth that was more than cruel, the Duke
was an imposing, even frightening figure.
He certainly set Honoria’s heart beating, and it had nothing
to do with the thoughts of the wedding night or perhaps it did, but that
thought was tinged with fear and loathing.
The Duke marched down the
long central aisle of the temple, his spurs ringing with every step his hand
on his sword as if to emphasize his strength and prowess as a
warrior. It was this reputation
that had gained him his first marriage, the one that had given him an older
bride and control of his wife’s barony upon her sudden death in a hunting
“accident.” The
circumstances of his second marriage were similar; a marriage to a noblewoman
widowed by war who needed a strong man to lead her
army. Her death from a fall from
one of the castle’s towers a year later had been shrouded in mystery,
but none could prove her grieving husband guilty, and now it was Honoria’s
turn to grace his bed.
Honoria brought with her
as a dowry, lands that would double the Duke’s holdings, but once the
marriage was consummated all control over those lands would fall to her
husband. It was a tradition set
into human culture that had endured for
centuries. Men ruled; women served
in whatever capacity pleased their overlords and
husbands. And it served
Honoria’s father to use her as a pawn to secure the alliance of a man
who would strengthen his hold on his
kingdom. As a woman she had no
choice but to obey.
The Duke clanked forward,
every stride bringing him closer to his unwilling
bride. Did he know how much she
feared and loathed him? It was
unlikely; and it was even more unlikely that he would even
care. In his mid-forties Duke
Indgar had shown a ruthless disregard for the feelings and desires of others,
pursuing his ambitions with a bloody determination that had gained him fame
and grudging admiration from those who hated him as well as those who supported
him. But it was a reputation
soaked in blood. He had callously
butchered and enslaved all those who opposed
him.
She forced her gaze away
from the Duke as he neared her and caught the eyes of her younger sisters
standing beside the King and Queen.
At least they had been spared such an
ordeal. Had it not been her,
then almost certainly fourteen-year-old Valoria or twelve-year-old
She lifted her head allowing
a wisp of her carefully coifed dark hair to come
loose. At sixteen years of age,
tall, athletic, and intelligent, Honoria was all that her name
implied. She was a perfect match
for any noble lord seeking to better his social standing and strengthen his
holdings, but her adventurous nature and inquiring mind chaffed at the
limitations placed on her in this man’s
world. In that sense her forced
marriage to Duke Indgar was the worst fate that could befall any bright and
intelligent woman and she had fought bitterly against the arrangements her
parents had made for her, all to no
avail. Even her demands that
she be sent into one of the religious orders failed to sway the decision
of her father. The alliance was
necessary and the customary way of sealing such an agreement was through
marriage. As the Duke neared,
her gaze shifted back to her betrothed.
He was not
unhandsome. Although almost three
times her age, he was tall and powerfully built with none of the fat typical
of middle age, but his baleful
stare and cruel twist of his mouth revealed his true
nature. Honoria shuddered and
then he was there, bowing almost mockingly before her father and mother and
then turning to her with an arrogant
smile. “Princess,”
he said, “I have long desired to gaze upon your
beauty. Your reputation does
not do you justice. I am very
much looking forward to this evening.”
The compliment was well
appreciated by the assembled guests and members of the court, but it sent
a chill through Honoria. A hundred
beetles crawled up her spine. She
had long dreamed about what her wedding night would be like, but now that
it approached she was filed with a feeling approaching
horror.
She fought back her
revulsion. “My lord Duke,”
she replied, managing to keep the trembling out of her voice, “I am
honoured that you have seen fit to accept me as your
wife. I hope I live up to your
expectations.”
“Oh,” the Duke
replied with a slight smile.
“I am sure that you
will.” He turned to the
High Priestess of the goddess of Truth and Beauty and nodded as if giving
permission for her to begin. The
priestess allowed a slight flicker of displeasure to cross her normally composed
features and then began the marriage
ritual.
The marriage of two such
important personalities was not a simple ceremony and by the time it approached
its conclusion Honoria was sincerely grateful that she would not have to
endure it again. However, as
the ceremony neared its conclusion she felt her heart sink as she realized
that the end of her freedom was at hand.
Her father stepped forward,
the ritual bindings in his hand.
Dutifully, while Duke Indgar looked on, an expression of triumph gracing
his features, she held out her hands.
With a deft twist of his fingers the King lightly bound Honoria’s
wrists and turned to the Duke. With
these bindings I affirm the physical binding of my daughter to you, Duke
Indgar and place her under your
protection.” He stepped
back and the Queen stepped forward.
She picked up the trailing end of the silken binding and placed it
in the Duke’s hands. “I
surrender my daughter to your will.
May your union prove fruitful.”
Their duties performed,
the King and Queen returned to their seats at the edge of the
altar. Honoria was now all but
married. There remained only
the final vows. The High Priestess
turned first to the Duke.
“Duke Indgar, do you take Princess Honoria under your protection
and promise to uphold her honour as would her
father?”
“I do so promise,”
the Duke replied.
Princess Honoria do you
submit to the protection of Duke Indgar and promise to serve him in all ways
proper to a woman?”
Honoria hesitated ever so
slightly. Even in her male dominated
society there was still one thing a woman could
refuse. Without her consent there
could be no marriage. But she
knew her duty to her father and mother and to her kingdom and its
people. “I do so promise,”
she replied. Her voice caught
at the very end, but she quickly regained her composure and looked on her
almost husband without trembling.
The Duke returned her gaze,
with a hint of malice that surprised her.
Somehow she seemed have offended him, but she could not turn away;
the culmination of the ceremony approached and tradition required she and
the Duke look into one another’s eyes, no matter how uncomfortable or
disconcerting it might be.
The High Priestess raised
her arms to the ceiling. “By
Ashuralia, Goddess of Truth and Beauty, and patron of the hearth and marriage
I do pronounce you joined as husband and wife.”
The ceremony was
over. Taking the silken lead
in his hands, Duke Indgar led his wife, the Princess Honoria from the temple
to the thundering applause and shouting of the
assembly.
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