my sixteenth year
the first year of Louis XI, King of France
day of Saint Michel
My lord was angry this night.
We were having a fête special for Saint Michel. I was wearing an houppelande of velvet the color of the summer sky with sleeves very close and the lining beneath and below of the furs of squirrel. I wore also a chemise of silk the color of straw, the neck being straight and low and the chemise showing itself beneath the houppelande. My ceinture was of gold and fixed to itself with a jeweled clasp. My headdress, shaped as a butterfly, was more comfortable than my henin and less tall. It is of gold and studded with pearls and beryls the color of water.
This feast day, the comte de Dol had honored us with his presence. The comte is very old. He has at least fifty years and only half of his teeth, and difficulties with hearing.
The comte bowed low to me and made homage.
I replied to him, My lord, and he raised himself And he looked at me and I did not like it.
The comte demanded of me how many years I had and I told him. Sixteen.
And he demanded of me from where I came. And I told him. The country of Touraine.
Anne and my lord came and joined us. And the comte bowed low and made homage, but I made note that he did not look at her, but kept his eyes on me.
I placed myself near to my lord, and put my hand on his arm and he covered it with his own.
The comte told Anne that her cousin is very beautiful and certain he is that she searches a husband. He told her also that she should have no problems with such a body for bearing children and so fair a face.
And I had the realization that the comte believed that I was the cousin and Anne was the wife of my lord.
And my lord apologized for the comte mistaking himself, and he made an introduction of myself his lady, and Anne, his cousin. This he had need to repeat three times before the comte was able to hear it.
And the comte turned to Anne and looked at her and then made a bow and excused himself.
She must not have pleased him, though I know not why.
I think of this and realize that this is the first time I am glad of being wed to my lord and not still a girl. I must write my father and thank him strongly for making this match. I have been saved from many worse things.
But I do not think it is that which made angry my lord.
He watched me all the long of the night.
I am ignorant of why.
Everyone else made much over Anne. She was clothed in crimson velvet and glowed like an ember. Around her neck were the pearls she had received from my lord. She was talking and laughing much with many of the men.
And then the dance.
My lord and I led the danse basse large as we must. But we have danced it as never before.
As my lord bowed to me, he lowered not his eyes. And dark as they are, they smoldered in his head, sending their heat to all they looked upon. And they looked upon my lips and my cheeks and my own eyes. Even to my shoulders and lower. And this I do not understand: it had not at all the same effect as when the comte had done the same thing.
And from this start, I could not escape those eyes.
It seemed to me that I was trapped with him in the dance. In the rhythm of sliding back and forth and raising up and coming down. If his eyes had arms they would have seized me. I am certain of it.
And after the danse basse large, the trihoris. And as we turned toward each other and then away and came close to each other and parted, it seemed to me with each step, whether in or out, he pulled me closer to him. And as my feet kept the music, my ears heard it not and I saw, still with all the people in the room, only him. As if my sight had been blocked from all but his face.
There was trouble with my breath. It would not come. And I could feel my color rise.
He did not move his hand from mine and it burned beneath my palm.
But though I wanted, I could not turn away from the dance.
After, when I took my rest, I was making conversation with Agnès and watching the musicians and jongleurs toss their toys. But my lord was brooding.
When the musicians made a pause, he got up from his chair, slapped his hand to the table, and pointed at me. “She,” he spoke in a loud voice, meaning me, “is my lady.”
All the world fell silent.
Then the men left the side of Anne and made homage to me.
When the men were done, my lord took my arm and made me leave with him. He placed me in my room and left.
Later this night, my lord came to me. Not to speak of stories, but to demand my pardon. He told me he had caused me dishonor by not honoring me among his people.
I am ignorant of what this means.
three days before Saint Dynys
My father has replied to me. There is a chevalier of the viscomte de Rideau of good reputation and newly widowed. He has thirty-five years and is possessed of property. He will do for Anne when the hour is arrived.
two days before Saint Dynys
Last night, my lord came to me.
He settled himself on the bed as he has the habit. Then he told me a new story: about two men named loen and Herik and a woman named Klaoda. Ioen is fiancéed to Klaoda and has twelve less years than she. Herik is her cousin and lover. As loen becomes older, Klaoda comes to love him. She does not know whether to send Herik away or to keep them both.
My lord demanded of me what I would do.
I did not know what to answer. Is it right to send away someone that you have loved? Is it right to keep two lovers? I decided finally that the wife, Klaoda, has wronged the husband by taking the cousin as a lover. It is to the husband that she owes loyalty, and not to the cousin. Had the cousin been honorable, he would have refused her advances. Had she not taken a lover, she would not have a problem. That is what I told him.
He sat up then on the bed and demanded of me if it made a difference if the woman loved them both.
I demanded of him if it were even possible to love two persons at a time.
He answered yes.
Then I reminded him of duty. Duty is present in the one case and absent in the other.
He repeated that word, Duty, in a strange tone and he demanded of me then what I should think were I the husband?
I laughed and pushed him so he fell onto his back on the bed. I demanded of him if I looked like the husband.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto the bed on top of him. He assured me that I did not look like the husband.
I think I must have shivered for he demanded of me if I had cold.
I must have told him so, for he threw back the covers and set me in them and then demanded of me if he might cover himself too.
This was strange, for it is the end of October and we have an été de Saint Michel. It is much more warm than the night he came the last time. I thought perhaps he might be ill and not know it, so I told him he should do as he pleased.
He stood away from the bed then and removed his houppelande, keeping still his blouse.
I could not look too long and be immodest, but the light of the fire shone through the weave of the blouse and placed his form in silhouette. I could not keep my eyes from him. Everywhere I am soft, he is hard. Everywhere I curve, he is sharp.
It is strange that a bed which seemed to me so big just the night before could then seem so small. The smell of the linens, of lavender and sandalwood to which I have become habituated, was overtaken by his scent. I was not sure what to do or how to turn for sleep.
I decided to watch the fire for some moments and drew my feet under me. When I turned from its light, I found my lord watching my face.
I could not look elsewhere for his eyes.
They caught mine and would not let them go.
A tingling went over me from my scalp to my toes. And of a sudden, my mouth was dry. I told him that I thought I was falling ill.
He replied me that he thought he was falling in love. Then he placed his hands on my neck, drew me toward him, and kissed me.
I demanded of him to speak to me of other things.
He demanded of me how many years I have.
I told him. Sixteen. And strange it was that so many wished to know it.
He put a finger to my lips and kept me from speaking and demanded of me to call him Awen.
I replied to him of course, my lord, and then we both laughed.
He kissed me again.
And then he spoke to me. He told me that he suffers. He cannot sleep, though he tries. He cannot eat though he tries. He has melancholy and even baths and the letting of blood do not help.
I have fear for him, for as I looked, he did seem more pale, more sad, more listless.
I demanded of him if there is anything that might help.
He replied to me that being near me brings the only cure. And then he kissed me again. And he told me I might do the same, and so I tried, but I have fear I did not do it right, for he smiled. And then he laid me on the bed and brought his head near. He bid me do it again, for he told me it heals him.
And so I did, and this time, his lips moved over mine. And together they did a sort of dance. A long, slow dance, like the danse basse, with much sliding about and approaching and then pulling away. And the more it was done, the easier it became. And somehow his hands became tangled in my hair. And I realized that my hands gripped his hands.
He slept all night with his arm around me and his face to my hair.
I slept not at all.
one day before Saint Dynys
He came to me again this night. This makes only one night since he has been here last. I did not expect him for one month. He did not want to tell me a story. He wanted only to lie in bed and kiss me.
It made me want. What, I do not know.
one day after Saint Dynys
He did not come this night.
two days after Saint Dynys
He did not come this night.
three days after Saint Dynys
He did not come this night.
I am a crazed creature. I do not take food. I cannot. I have no hunger. I cannot sleep. I can think only of him. Of Awen. I have gone to the chapel and have repeated Ave Marias without cease, but my eyes remember neither altar nor candles. My ears remember no words.
I find myself at meals watching him. I am fascinated by him. By everything about him. I have not read a book since one week. I try. I read a whole page at a time, and at the end, I cannot remember what was read at the beginning.
I do not understand the ways I feel.
eight days after Saint Dynys
He came this night.
At the sight of him, I wept.
He sat beside me on the bed and drew me onto his lap. He pressed my head to his shoulder and then circled his arms around me. I clasped my hands around his back. He called me his little one, and demanded of me why I have sadness.
I replied to him that I have not sadness, but confusion in my head.
He kissed my head and stroked my hair and demanded of what I was confused.
I replied to him of everything. Of nothing. Of how I feel and why.
He demanded of me if he makes me unhappy.
I replied to him on the contrary. He makes me happy. More happy than I know why or how. That I have hunger not for food, but only for him. And even his presence does not satisfy me. I do not understand.
He put me away from him and says me that there are things he must explain to me. Then he bid me take off his houppelande.
This I did. I placed it on the chair in front of the fire. I prefer it of those he wears. The color is oxblood and it makes somehow glints in his eyes. It is lined with fur of ermine and made fancy with broderie of gold thread.
Then he sat down in the chair and bid me take off his shoes.
I sat beside him on the floor in front of the fire and I did it.
He took my hands in his then and he told me there is a conjugal debt in marriage.
I demanded of him then what I owe.
And then he bid me take off his blouse.
I tried, but fumbled with the button. It is a sphere and seemed too small for my fingers, and more, it slipped against the green silk. He placed his hands over mine to help me. They are large, much more large than mine, and his fingers are thick and squared where mine are long and slender. They are covered on the backs with dark hair. Mine are bare.
Even with his fingers so large, he unfastened the button. He bent his head to me so I could lift the fabric over his head.
I demanded of him again what I must owe.
And he had nothing on save a large chain of gold and his leggings of the finest silk.
As I watched he reached around his neck to take off the chain. This he placed into my hand and closed around it with his own.
He told me that the conjugal debt is a debt of flesh. That in a marriage, a husband and wife have rights to the body of the other. And that when one desires it, the other must yield.
This being said, he had me place the chain on the mantel. Then he reached for my hand and placed it on his chest saying that it belonged to me.
I watched the reflection of fire off his chest as I felt its warmth. His muscles tensed at the touch of my fingers.
I took his hand in my own and placed it on my chest saying that it belonged to him.
He took my hand from his chest and placed it on his cheek saying that it belonged to me.
I spread my fingers over that jutting plane and felt the growth of his whiskers.
I took his hand from my chest and placed it on my cheek and leaned into it, bowing my head saying that it also belonged to him. Heat burned in my cheeks as he brought his other hand to my face and cupped it between the two.
He brought himself to stand more close to me and I could look nowhere but into his eyes. And I only saw reflected in them myself and the fire. And I felt as if it was burning inside me. I would have taken off my night robe if there had been anything beneath it.
And as if he read my thoughts, he began to untie my laces. And I felt as if I could not breathe. And a feeling of birds flying from the pit of my stomach overtook me and my hands closed on his and blocked him from the laces.
He bent his head to my lips and began to kiss me. And it stole my breath so that I closed my eyes and my knees became weak.
And as if he read my thoughts still, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed. And he whispered in my ear. “We will wait little one, until you are ready, but it is only because you submit to the conjugal debt that you have hunger for my touch. And I have hunger for yours. And this is good, my Alix, because we have the right. We are wed.”
nine days after Saint Dynys
This night my lord, Awen, did not come. I was awake long after the fire had extinguished itself and the moon had passed from one window to the next. I heard a noise in the hall.
I opened the door a small little to look. It was Anne. She hit softly at the door of my lord. It opened and she disappeared inside.
I watched for a long time, at least the time of two masses, but she did not come out. As I could not sleep, I took the duvet from the bed and wrapped it around me and waited beside the door for Anne to come out.
When the sky began to lighten, she opened the door of my lord and returned to her chamber. I waited to see when my lord would appear.
It was soon after.
I opened my door full and let him see me, standing in my nightrobe, wrapped in the duvet.
He stopped in his stride and stared at me.
I cared not that he saw the tears on my cheeks.
He began to start toward my chamber, but I closed and bolted the door against him. He hit the door softly and whispered my name. I made much noise in my chamber so he knew that I did not listen.
After a time, he went away.
I demand of God why it is arrived that my husband be stolen from me when he has only just come.