Chapitre Six

Casque du Diable

Beatrice

What brash and reckless thing had the boys gotten themselves into now? Beatrice had heard all about the stranger who'd chased Andre home, and how Leon had stepped in as Andre's champion. She'd never say it to anyone, but frankly, she wished Andre would have been a man and stepped up to face the consequences of his own indiscretions.

But that was not the way the game was played; neither was it the compassionate answer. Beatrice couldn't help but applaud Leon's courage while stifling her desire to chastise his reckless agreement to duel.

Oh, that young man! He can be so infuriating! Since the masquerade, she'd not been able to look on him as a child anymore. Everything between them seemed different somehow. It wasn't the fact that he'd seduced a servant in Marquis Forbin's home, it was something about the way he told the story. The way his voice had dropped into that deep tone, the hint of passion in his eyes as he said it, and the fact that he was totally unabashed. All until the moment she had called him a "troublesome young man."

Replaying the moment in her head made her stomach flip, just as it had that night. Troublesome indeed. Everything about him was trouble. Her husband's son, even more handsome than his father, a terrific athlete, seemingly fearless, and not yet as cynical as masters of Le Jeu Fatal often became when they'd been playing long enough. Bright optimism and idealism were deeply misplaced, causing his mind to be logged with possibilities while gravely removed from reality.

Since the night of the ball, she'd made every effort to ensure that she and Leon always had some sort of chaperon.

Currently, it was she, Lucien, Andre, Cecile, Lucilla, and Fitzroy who gathered uneasily in the foyer. More than enough people to ensure that she'd remain on her best behavior.

"I could arrange," Fitzroy began in a far too comfortable tone, "to have Lord Bourdon thrown from his horse before he even arrives here. No one will have to know."

"No," said Leon, practicing his thrusts, parries, and feints. "I would never do something so dishonorable."

"And people would suspect," said Lucien, shaking his head. "As it is, the very fact that the duel will take place here will surely encourage rumors that we bent things in our favor somehow."

"Wonderful," said Beatrice, rolling her eyes. "Leon, are you sure you can do this?"

"You remember my friend Magnus?" Leon asked, still practicing.

"How could I forget?" asked Beatrice. "He was here earlier today."

"He's a soldier," said Leon. "Which means he fights for a living. Yet when we fence I usually beat him. I'd say I'm a master with a blade."

Beatrice groaned and shook her head.

One of the servants opened the front door and said, "Excuse me, my lords and ladies, but Lord Bourdon has returned, along with his family."

All of them filed outside to see the Bourdon family's arrival.

Count Bertrand Bourdon rode at the front, with Émile right behind him. Just behind Émile rode a pretty young lady with auburn hair, who glanced over at Andre and gave a silent, sympathetic expression. There were several others who rode behind them. Bodyguards, Beatrice assumed.

It was only as Émile approached with this entourage that Beatrice noticed Fitzroy was gone. To what shadows had the assassin slipped off this time? His absence made her far more uneasy than his presence.

"Duke Renart!" Count Bourdon called out.

"My lord," said Lucien, giving a polite bow.

"Your son has stolen my Josseline's honor," said Count Bourdon.

"My son has not stolen anything," said Lucien, folding his arms. "Your daughter invited him into her bed of her own volition."

"Lies!" Count Bourdon shouted.

Beatrice's eyes wandered over to the girl. She wore a contented smile on her face, not the traumatized, tear-stained face of a victim. So Andre had not forced himself on this girl; it was all a ruse. It made sense, really. Andre was a hedonist and full of debauchery to be sure, but he would never do something so savage as to violate some poor girl without her consent.

"I stand by my son's account," said Lucien. "Now, your son has challenged him to a duel. Has he chosen to reconsider?"

"I have not!" shouted Émile.

Count Bourdon raised his hand to silence his son. "But I believe we may come to another arrangement. There need not be bloodshed today."

"What do you propose?" asked Lucien, leaning against the doorway of his home.

"Since your son is the one who took my daughter's virginity he should be willing to take her as wife," said Count Bourdon.

"An interesting proposal," said Lucien, nodding and stroking his beard. "Give us a moment to consider it."

Lucien turned to the others and motioned for them to gather close together. "What say you all?" Lucien whispered.

"Andre should take responsibility for his actions," said Leon. "Truly, I have no desire to kill Émile. I will if I must, but considering the more peaceful option, I say Andre should marry the young lady."

Andre rolled his eyes. "For someone who so hates arranged marriage you sure were quick to jump on that solution."

Leon glared at him and hissed. "You brought this on us, don't forget that. You with your philandering ways!"

"Then it's settled?" Lucien asked. "Andre will marry the girl and we go about our business?"

"No!" Andre protested.

"Oh, please!" Lucien gave him a light smack on the shoulder. "It's not as if your lifestyle is even going to change all that much. I'm sure you'll still seduce other men's wives and daughters all the time. This marriage is only to make peace with a family we have insulted."

"They've insulted us!" Andre hissed back. "You heard him, accusing me of forcing myself on his daughter. They're no friends of ours."

"He may be right," said Beatrice, raising a finger. "Think about it, how old would you say that girl is?"

"About seventeen," said Andre, "Just a little older than I."

"Exactly," said Beatrice. "Aren't most young ladies at least engaged to be married by the time they turn thirteen?"

"That's very true," said Lucien, nodding. "She's a bit old to not be married."

"Andre," said Beatrice, "Didn't you say that she wasn't a virgin when you bedded her?"

"I did."

"So, here's what I think is really going on," said Beatrice. "Josseline there has lifted her skirts for many a man; Andre is simply the first to be found out. Her father can't marry her off to anyone of any importance because she's spoiled. Then along comes a duke's son, one who's well-known for his libido, and both Count Bourdon and his daughter hatch a scheme together. Josseline seduces Andre and makes sure he gets caught.

"Émile, probably completely in the dark, finds out what's happened and seeks to kill Andre. Probably not what Count Bourdon intended, but it works into his plan nonetheless. Now he has a legal threat of violence to use as leverage to force Andre to marry Josseline. Once Josseline marries Andre, he'll receive a large dowry, and forever have a foothold in the Renart household." Andre's eyes widened at the sound of this. Beatrice nodded. "This whole matter has been a con since the beginning. A lower lord struggling to move up in the world, using his daughter's body to get ahead."

Lucien kissed Beatrice on the cheek. "Astute! Of course it's been a play the whole time! It may even be the real reason they were in the area in the first place. Andre, why were you at that merchant prince's house?"

"He supplies me with carica papaya seeds so I don't produce any bastards," said Andre. "We have a deal; he sells them to me cheap."

"Count Bourdon may have known that," said Beatrice. "So they laid a trap for Andre."

Lucien chuckled. "It's an excellent plan, if I'm being at all honest. Very well, we have our answer."

Leon groaned and rolled his eyes.

All of them turned back to face the Bourdon family. Lucien shook his head, "Count Bourdon, we refuse your offer. Instead, I would offer you a sum of 500 lirae for your trouble." Count Bourdon's eyes widened, as did Josseline's. Lucien grinned. "We're terribly sorry, and will make sure that my son is punished for what he's done."

Count Bourdon nodded. "500 lirae is a generous sum. Nothing can restore my daughter's honor, but at least I know she will not be left destitute because she was unable to find a husband."

"Surely you jest!" Émile cried out in fury. "That connard deflowered my sister! I demand justice!" The young lord dismounted from his horse and drew his sword. "A Renart will bleed for this! Be it Andre or his brother!"

Count Bourdon shouted at Émile, "Sheathe your blade! Back on your horse!"

"I will not!" Émile shouted back. "These high lords cannot treat us as whores!"

Lucien whispered to Leon, "Looks like he wants to play soldier as much as you do." Beatrice tried not to giggle at Lucien's joke.

"Put it away!" Count Bourdon repeated. "So help me, boy, I'll box your ears!"

"I'm not a child anymore, father!" Émile yelled.

"He's a man," said Leon, drawing his sword and stepping forward. "As am I. Let us settle this like men, then."

Andre ran forward and grabbed Leon's shoulder. "Wait! My dear Count Bourdon, my dear Lord Émile, I will marry Josseline! I would rather do that then let this come to bloodshed."

"You don't have to do that," said Leon through clenched teeth, staring hard at Émile.

"I do!" said Andre. "Because... because I love her! From the moment I laid eyes on her!"

Again, Beatrice nearly burst out laughing. Andre's proclamation of love could not have been more unconvincing.

"You had your chance to do the honorable thing!" shouted Émile. "I will not be satisfied until her honor is avenged!"

"Émile!" Count Bourdon shouted. "I'm not going to tell you again, put away your blade!"

"NO!" the young lord shouted back.

"Then let's settle this," said Leon. "You've come to my home bringing insults. You defame my brother's good name by accusing him of a crime most vile. I too will not be satisfied until a Bourdon bleeds!"

"I will not allow it!" Count Bourdon said, riding between them.

"My dear count," said Lucien, raising his hands. "I feel the same as you do. I'd much rather we resolved this peacefully, but by the Empire's laws we cannot interfere with this duel. It is legal. Your son threw his glove at Andre, and my oldest son stepped in as his champion and decided the terms. There's nothing we can do, unless we wish to face her Imperial Majesty's judgment."

Count Bourdon groaned and rolled his head. "Émile, you are an idiot! Fine, then!" He bore his frustration into the horse's sides and shot out of the way, allowing Leon and Émile to face each other.

The two of them bowed to each other, as was tradition, and handed their own blades to one another. Both looked over the other's sword, inspecting it for poison, a hidden pistol, or any other dirty tricks. When both were satisfied they retrieved their épées and stepped back five paces.

Lucien tried to maintain his composure, but Beatrice could see that he was pulling hard on his beard, as if trying to tear every hair out.

She too realized that her hands were shaking. As the two duelists stared each other down it truly hit her that this might very well be the last time she saw Leon alive.

Snap!

Émile had lunged forward, only to have Leon parry.

Riposte! Leon took advantage of the successful parry and struck at his foe.

Émile stumbled back, just out of reach of Leon's weapon.

The young Lord Bourdon dug in his feet and prepared for another lunge.

Crack!

Just as Émile's sword drew close, Leon struck it hard.

Leon pushed back against Émile and struck his sword again. The impact cleared a path for Leon, and he thrust his blade at Émile's chest.

Émile flailed and tried to parry. His sword struck Leon's, but not quickly enough. Leon's blade sunk into Émile's shoulder. Émile groaned in pain.

With a shout, Émile brought his sword around at Leon's left side. The young lord moved to parry, but Émile's move was a feint. He circled around and attacked Leon's other side.

Clang!

Leon countered with a circle parry, bringing his sword around to deflect Émile's attack just before it could hit him.

Lucien bit down on the knuckle of his right index finger, nearly drawing blood.

Beatrice wrung her hands.

Andre couldn't even watch and hid his face in his palms.

Leon brought his sword down toward Émile's head. His opponent raised his own blade to parry, but Leon had counted on it. The blade bent ever so slightly and the tip cut a gash in Émile's cheek.

Crash!

Leon struck Émile's blade again, and when the hand-guards met, Leon pushed his opponent back, causing him to slide on the cobblestone walkway.

Count Bourdon watched every move with anticipation, even starting to mimic his son's movements, grunting as if he, too, were part of the duel.

Émile lunged.

Leon tried to parry but wasn't quite fast enough. Émile's blade cut Leon's thigh, just below the waist.

Leon yelped and thrust at his opponent's forearm.

The blade cut deep, and blood poured over it.

Andre had peeked through his fingers at just the wrong moment and fainted at the sight of so much blood.

The rest of the family stood transfixed, except for Cecile who tended to Andre, seemingly as a way of distracting herself from the suspense.

While Émile was resetting from the force of his own blow, Leon slipped his blade under his opponent's hand-guard and threw the sword from his grip.

Émile's sword sailed through the air and landed in the bushes nearby.

Leon raised his blade to Émile's throat.

Count Bourdon's son dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together. "Please, you are the victor here! Please spare me!"

"I thought you said you wouldn't be satisfied until a Renart bled," said Leon, his voice cold and unfeeling.

He wouldn't... Beatrice thought. Even with every legal right to strike down the fool, it would make the Bourdons permanent enemies. But that look on his face... It was foreign, not a look she'd seen on any other member of the Renart family. Hungry eyes flashed below a stern brow. Leon's quest for honorable combat caught up to him, demanding an answer to any question of true honor.

"I was wrong!" said Émile, tears starting to well up in his eyes as Leon lightly pressed the tip of his sword under his chin. "Please, have mercy!"

"Begging for your life?" said Leon. "Pathetic. I thought you were a man. Can you not face death with honor?"

"I can't!"

Leon nodded. "Do you swear to never bother, speak to, or harass my family again?"

"I swear!"

"Swear it by Lyr and the Hymns!" Leon shouted.

Émile cried. "I swear by Lyr and the Sacred Hymns that I will never again bother, speak to, or harass the Renart family!"

Leon sheathed his sword and slapped Émile in the face, right on the cheek he'd previously cut. "Then take your family and go."

Count Bourdon breathed a sigh of relief. Émile climbed onto the back of his horse and galloped off, trying to hide his shame-riddled face. The rest of the Bourdon family quickly followed. Josseline glanced back at Andre with a disappointed look on her face.

As Leon limped towards the house, Beatrice and Cecile both rushed to his side to help him along.

"How's your leg?" Beatrice asked. "Did he cut you deep?"

"I don't think so," said Leon, "But it certainly hurts."

Lucien lifted Andre off the ground and slung his arm over his shoulder with a groan. For a moment he grabbed his lower back and winced at the pain.

"My manly son," Lucien groaned out as he dragged Andre back into the house. "Fainting at the sight of blood."

"For a second I thought that was directed at me," said Leon with a laugh, "And I was going to say, 'I was stabbed! I deserve some credit!'"

"You did beautifully," said Lucien, letting Andre flop down on the settee. "Very brave, fighting for your brother like that."

Cecile and Beatrice helped Leon into one of the chairs in the foyer. "I'll go fetch the physician," said Cecile, already out the door.

Beatrice ruffled Leon's hair playfully, only to grip a tuft of its length and tug gently. Truly, after nearly losing him like that she wanted to hold him tightly, but she feared what feelings might arise doing so. She settled for being satisfied by this innocent-enough contact.

"Should I keep an eye on the Bourdon's?" asked Fitzroy. Beatrice jumped, her heart racing as he seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"That would be wise," said Lucien. "We don't know if they'll want revenge or if Count Bourdon will be satisfied that his son didn't die in that duel."

Beatrice said, "Considering it was his own scheming that led to that duel even taking place I'd imagine he's simply relieved." Beatrice looked to Leon's face. "I certainly wouldn't want to risk my son's life a second time trying to gain money and power like that."

"Let's hope he's as prudent as you," said Lucien. He walked over and stood between Beatrice and Leon, wrapping an arm around both of their shoulders. "I'm proud of both of you, I hope you know that. Beatrice, you figured out the game Bourdon was playing and helped us avoid it. Leon, you taught that arrogant, hot-headed young lord a lesson and saved your brother's life." Lucien kissed both of their cheeks.

"And, Fitzroy," Lucien said, turning to his spy master and chief assassin.

"Yes, your grace?" Fitzroy responded with prompt solemnity.

"If your spies do discover that Count Bourdon is still plotting against us, have them employ devil's helmet on both him and his idiot son."

"Yes, your grace," said Fitzroy. With a bow he hurried out of the room to pass along his lord's orders.

"Devil's helmet?" Beatrice asked, giving Lucien a puzzled look.

"Yes, devil's helmet," said Lucien. "You spend so much time in my gardens, looking over the beautiful flowers there, I'm surprised you didn't notice it."

"I've probably seen it," said Beatrice, "I just don't know what it is or why it should become important if the Bourdons are plotting against us."

"My dear, devil's helmet is a beautiful blue and purple flower," said Lucien, as if he were gloating over his glorious garden. "It is called by many names. Blue rocket, monk's hood, mousebane, women's bane, wolf's bane, aconite, and, most importantly, the queen of all poisons."