Children of Tierus

I

Oh, yes, she was beautiful, but there was a pallor cast about her that seemed nearly stultifying—to herself as well as others. Even so, I began my courtship of Illyria Rousse, daughter of Severin XIII, Baron Vhelmont, in the spring of the year 1658 by the reckoning of the Prophet Ionel.

I was of an age with her brother, Severin IX, and when he and I were scarce come into our first desires, we had vowed to marry into one another's families, that we might ever behold the other. Despite the fickleness of youth, how our sparkling love flickered and sprang, our oath held. He had wed my cousin, Clairssa Judh, some five years ago, and now, as we entered our thirty-second year, he offered me his much beloved sister.

'I think I could bear it,' he whispered to me one night, as we played at cards. 'I know your flavour has altered since we have ceased to be lovers, but our friendship and feeling has never changed.' I nodded. Severin and I had an understanding. Over the past twenty-odd years, we had been lovers intermittently, for a few months or years at a time. The last time we had parted, some weeks ago, he had told me of his intentions to remain faithful to his wife. I despised her.

'Then you think she would have me?' I asked him. I had never made more than a casual acquaintance with Illyria in the past, and I did not know her sentiments concerning me.

'If I ask her, she will give her will to our father. It is him you need fear, and his verdict that will judge you.'

I knew this, but felt no unrest on the Baron's count, for he knew my father, and they had been involved in many joint business ventures over the years. Despite my lack of enormous fortune, my name's age exceeded that of Rousse by some eight generations, and I was a man of impeccable reputation. I held vast estates, owed no debts, and had incurred no major political enemies in my run as a successful courtier. Furthermore, I had been the first friend of his only son and heir for over twenty years.

'Your father will have no misgivings of me.' I told Severin. And he had none. I embarked painlessly on my courtship of Illyria, at least so far as parental permission was concerned.

She was my junior by some fourteen years, in the first bloom of true beauty, a fair, statuesque girl with a magnificent profusion of golden hair, much like her brother's, and eyes of a clear and lucid grey, very unlike the strange, volatile, protean grey of Severin's eyes. She was steady, silent, and strange, where he was all a blinding flash of light and beauty, keen wit which cut more than it amused, but above all, they shared a veneer which made them seem so like every other dissolute young nobles I'd met.

Except Severin was very different, and I do not deny it to myself or anyone else that I loved him then, and love him still.

I made many grand plans for my courtship of Illyria, most of which involved grand gestures and romantic notions, such as penning sonnets, sending bouquets of exotic blossoms, and playing the violin beneath her window, but I dismissed every one as superfluous and ridiculous. Here I was, in hopeless and eternal love with her brother, and courting her simply because it was the only way I could now please him.

In the end, I simply called upon her at random one day, an innocuous afternoon, some four days after receiving her father's official blessing upon my suit. She was alone, with Severin's wife, Clairssa, who sat and embroidered daintily as Illyria confounded herself in a game of chess.

Clairssa rose at my entry. 'Cousin Euphrates!' she smiled, and extended her hands to me. I kissed them, and smiled with all the warmth in my chilled heart, greeting her as I must. 'What brings you here?'

I turned toward Severin's sister, into her lucid eyes, and said her name. 'Your father has given me leave to court you.'

Illyria nodded. 'He has told me.' her chin lifted, a little haughtily. 'And you have come to pay court this afternoon?'

I laughed, affecting gaiety, but the sound was hollow, and rang bitter in my ears. 'Truth be told, my dear, I've little idea how to court, with intent to marriage. Especially not the sister of my bosom friend.'

'We could begin by sharing wine beneath the sky.' she smiled, and nodded toward a languishing pageboy. He started, and rushed from the parlour. 'And you can tell me there, what your reasons for courting me are.'

I blinked. She was very confident, this child of Vhelmont, for an untried young girl. I nodded my assent, and as the page returned with the wine and glasses, I offered my arm. She leant on it, and led me out to a rustic portico, over which creeping vines upon hand-thatched trellises bloomed with jasmine and fragrant ivy. If we had been nearly any other young people in the world, we would have been hard-pressed to ignore the romance of our surroundings. I poured us each a glass of wine. 'Illyria,' I began, but she held up a hand.

'Drink your wine, and hear me out.' I nodded, and obediently sipped. The vintage was rich, with a flavour of plums and cinnamon, but it was ash in my mouth. 'You court me in order, you may say, to please my brother. He may say that he encouraged you that I might be safe, and wed to a man of certain future. Anyone could see that we are a handsome match, Euphrates Mordechai d'Afhrien, but we are not suitable.'

'However do you mean?' my brow knit, and I am afraid that, for all my experience with her singular brother, I did not understand her.

'You may fear, my lord Duke,' she began, 'that I am one of those silly modern girls who propose to marry for love, having possession of their own fortunes. Put yourself easy, on that account. Neither must you err in the belief that I am a subservient daughter and sister, submitting to the will of my father and brother in regards to your suit. I will consider you on your own true merits, but, sentimentality aside, I will reject you if I perceive you are in any manner dissembling, or if we do not agree with one another. There is no need for the romantic love in a marriage, but friendship and respect is certainly paramount. What you propose,' she paused to sip her wine daintily, 'is a partnership. A very close partnership, involving both business and personal matters. I will not behave in an unseemly fashion so long as you do not make a fool of me. We will be frank with one another. These are my terms for considering your courtship, and delivering you access to my brother.' she laid her hand very gently over mine, as though to soothe the sting of her last words. 'He does love you, you know. It is only that, well...Clairssa is with child. Severin does not wish his son or daughter knowing he did not love his wife enough to forsake others, at least during gestation.'

'Is the babe Severin's?' I knew the answer already. Clairssa was a lead-brained, simple-minded provincial, who adored her husband as a god and believed in his love for her as absolute. She had never even considered his infidelity, least of all with me, and Illyria laughed at the question.

'You are a fool to think otherwise. She is your cousin, after all.'

I nodded. 'So you will consider me, then?' I searched her eyes, and she smiled.

'Yes. So long as you do not make the ridiculous overtures and promises that other suitors propose. Do not play me music, or recite poetry. Take me, instead, to the théatres and to public houses, and to your shooting galleries. Play cards with me, drink with me. Behave with me as though I were a friend you were courting, rather than a wife.'

I forced a laugh past my teeth. 'You ask a strange thing, Illyria, but I am relieved to see you are a reasonable, if singular creature. I know I can please you. I entertain friends, not fiancées.'

'Delightful. Ah, but you will be refreshing.'

I was bewildered, but oddly comforted in the knowledge that I would not need to deceive Severin's sister with promises of love and devotion, as he had given Clairssa. 'You are indeed singular, my lady.'

'So you have said, not two moments ago. But this is a singular circumstance, is it not?'

'Indeed.' she smiled, slyly and secretively, putting me in mind of a painting I had seen recently of a youth dressed as Bacchiante, the goddess of revelry. It was a smoke screen, the paradigm of feminine mystery. As her eyes met mine, I knew I should fear Illyria Rousse. If I were not careful, she could easily ensnare me, and who knew how deep a game a scarce-grown girl could play? And who knew that her decision to consider me was not simply a casual ploy to distract her brother from his nuptial resolutions with Clairssa? I knew she loved her brother with a savage possession, as little as I knew of their relationship. Their mother had died in the birthing of her, and he had become her chief caretaker. With their father involved in the affairs of state and mourning his wife, there was little to anchor her beside the steady changeover of servants, and Severin was, essentially, both her father and mother.

I recalled well the day that she had taken her first steps. I was thirteen years of age, impatient and in love, and Severin was late to our rendezvous. When finally he arrived, I'd not the heart to chide him. His eyes were alight, but shining with tears, and he told me excitedly how she had walked across a room to him, and said his name, quite clearly. I'd watched her slowly become everything to him, and though I knew I possessed his romantic love, this young sister of his was something of a threat to my time with the man I adored.

I summoned my wits and drained my glass. 'May I, then, request your company on the evening of this Saturday, that is, four evenings from this?'

'And what will be the pretext you will give to our father for taking me?'

'He has given me permission to escort you without the presence of a chaperone, and trusts to Severin's discretion as to my conduct. I have given my word that I will conduct myself as befits a gentleman, and he gives me leave to take whatever measures I must to make you mine.' I caught a peculiar glint in her eye as I said these words, and paused. 'Illyria,' I deliberately gentled my voice. 'You have done me the honour of being quite frank with me, and I return the favour. Make no mistake, my dear, I love Severin, but if you are my wife, I will have you, and all the benefits of a marriage. I will have a marriage. Not simply a wedding of convenience. I have thought of the future. We will not crumble. Those are my terms, and you may consider them however you choose. They are, however, as reasonable as yours.'

She nodded solemnly. 'Do not mistake me for a coldly practical creature, Euphrates,' and her voice did take on a peculiar tone at my name. 'I have need of love. I will not be your broodmare or stock cow. If you want a wife, so be it. But do not expect me to simply bear your children and keep your house.'

'We may discuss this business at another time.' I shrugged, unwilling to hear anything concerning her emotions.

'Why not now? You have me thinking, my lord Duke. You have my ears and my mind. You wish a wife, you say. And so you must tell me what you mean by this. I have requested friendship, and you have demanded heirs. We will be, then, everything an ideal husband and wife should be, beside lovers.'

'And here I have questions.' I retorted. 'You will, no doubt, wish for a measure of freedom in this regard, and I do not say I am averse to variety, myself. But let us explore every painful angle. If you get with child from another man, I will raise him as my own, but I refuse to name an heir that is not of my blood.'

'So we will take, both of us, no lovers until I have given you this certain heir.'

'We?'

'It would not do for you to be springing up other bastards. And neither would it be quite sporting fair.' she replied coolly, without meeting my eyes. I wondered how the world had managed to accommodate such a girl, and how it would yet accommodate her as a woman.

'Very well. But this is in the future, Illyria. Let us, for the present, set an appointment. There is a play, a burlesque, and a bal masque to be held this Saturday. I will take you to them, on the condition that you dress as a nobleman, a fop, or a chevalier.'

Her eyes widened, and her lips expanded. She clapped her hands, and laughed in delight. 'I always knew there was something romantic about you, my lord Duke!' her satiristation of my title quite galled me, and it was with a little heat that I replied,

'Your costume, mamselle, would be less of a matter of adventure than a bid for practicality. There is nothing like an attempted rape to dampen the high spirits of an evening.' rather than taking the comment to heart, or cringing in fear, she giggled quite uncharacteristically.

'Oh, my! You've such a sense of sardonic humour, m'Lord!' I ground my teeth, and filled my wine dup again. 'But listen,' she added, once she had composed herself. 'You must stay on for supper. Severin will be home any time now, and it will do you well to see one another. He'll be delighted that I am considering you.'

I started at the mention of my lover. For the past month, I had not seen him, avoiding him like the plague, and, as he had not so much as sent me round his calling-card, I assumed he was either deeply involved in business or simply had no more interest in me. 'I am in no shape to see him now. My mind is not working fitly to navigate supper with him, let alone Clairssa and my lady.' I bowed to her. 'I take my leave, Illyria, and hope to see you on Saturday evening. I will send round my carriage at seven o'clock. Do not forget a mask.'

She pressed my hands, and I raised her fingers to my lips. It seemed so ridiculous, as though we were players on a stage, but the only audience we had was one another.

'Saturday, then.' she nodded, and we bid polite farewells.

As I rode him that evening, I could not still the sickness in my gut. So, Severin would be happy. We would each have our families, our sons and daughters, our heirs, our estates, but was it worth giving up one another?