Another lady, named Clothilde, grabbed her arm and all but dragged her inside. "Ain't I supposed to see the knight who fought for me?" she asked. Clothilde stopped in her tracks, and looked at her, brows raised.

"You've never seen sir Remy of Fontainevrault?"

"I've just arrived a few days ago, Lady Clothilde… I haven't seen the face of any of those knights." A large grin appeared on Clothilde's face.

"Oooh, well, you'll meet him at the banquet. They'll all be there."

The ball room where the banquet took place was full. The king and queen were nowhere to be seen, and so were the knights. Clothilde dragged her through the crowd and to the spot where the other ladies were chatting again, their squealing voices heard at the other end of the room. Suddenly a young boy appeared on a stage, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Oyez, oyez!(1) Three hurrays for our fearless knights!" The crowd erupted in hurrays as the knights entered the room, and Constance looked at them carefully. They had changed, putting away the helmet, chain mail suit and fighting tabard, changing it for a coat and brightly colored surcoat with different armouries embroided on the front and back. She cursed herself for not knowing the Fontainevrault armouries, as the knights walking in and blended with the crowd. She spotted young Robert, though, his blonde hair bright against his brown tabard. She walked to him. "Squire!" He stopped in his tracks and turned at the sound of official query. He recognized her, though, and bowed at her.

"Lady Constance?"

"Robert… where is your master, Sir Remy?" Robert looked around, searching for him. His face serious, he looked again at her, and shook his head.

"He is here, Lady Constance, but I cannot see him…" She pursed her lips and dismissed the boy, looking around. Well, if she couldn't notice the armouries of Fontainevrault, she would proceed by elimination, knowing many other armouries. The white on green dragon, this one was from Scotland… Another one had a bright blue lion embroided on black surcoat, a city in the Holy Romano-Germanic Empire, she didn't remember which one. She was searching her memory while watching a black-on-green horse when she felt a hand on her arm, and turned. Clothilde was standing in front of her, a wide grin on her white face, and next to her stood a knight in black surcoat, a red embroided dragon on the front of his surcoat. Constance's heart beat faster.

"Lady Constance Rudel of Blaye, let me have the pleasure to introduce you to Sir Remy Castilloux of Fontainevrault." Her heart stopped, and she gathered enough sense to curtsy, trying to keep her eyes to the ground. She had to look up, though, and when she did, he only smiled and bent, taking hold of her offered hand. His was warm and dry, his soft, light touch a contrast with his rough palm and fingers, callused from sword fighting and horse back riding. A hand in the small of his back, he bent down and brushed his lips on the tip of her fingers(2), his nose barely brushing her knuckles. A wave of heat washed over her and she felt her face flush as he straighten up and smiled down at her.

He was very tall, and towered a good head over her. Broad shouldered, he held imposing bearing that showed he had lived a lot. His long, dark auburn hair was tied up in his neck, and a light evening shade was covering his cheeks and chin, as they lifted in a smile. His eyes were a stunning caramel color, and the light from the torches and candles nearby lighted them like they were on fire. She shivered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Remy smiled to hide the fact that he couldn't breathe. Her forest green dress matched with her wide, dark lashed eyes, and two small curls of hair had escaped from her bun, framing her delicate oval face. The skin in her face looked soft and warm, and her nice, full lips stretched in a shaking smile when he looked up from kissing her hand. He'd resisted hard not to play his usual farce, and kiss the back of her hand. The aura emanating from her told him he didn't want to play that kind of game with her, and risk something very good. He offered her his arm to guide her to the tables. She smiled at him and, placing her hand over his, walked at his side. She also looked like she had recovered the use of her tongue.

"This was an impressive fight you put up with Sir Bernard." Remy shook his head.

"Sir Bernard isn't the head of the royal guard for no reason, Lady Constance. He is one of the best fighters I've personally met." They arrived at the table where Constance was assigned, and he let go of her arm, reluctantly. He bowed his head at her with a smile. "I shall see you during the evening, Lady Constance."

~~~~~~~~~~

He left, and she sat down slowly on her chair, her hands suddenly shaking. The other women at the table stopped chatting and all looked at her, smiles on their faces. "I suppose you found him charming…" said one of them.

"And polite…" said another. Constance blushed, and nodded.

"He does that with everyone" said the first lady in a cold voice. Constance recognized her as Loanna of Grimwald (3), the queen's first lady, and she frowned.

"What do you mean?" The lady shook her head.

"Sir Remy never settles. He likes to court, but it never goes very far. A very frustrating man, is the knight of Fontainevrault."

"Oh" was all she found in answer. She looked down at her empty plate, feeling embarrassed. She had found him nice, gentle, and yes, very charming. He had chosen her… because she was new? Because she was a new game? A new courting challenge? She shook her head, and decided to push away the thought. She was here, might as well take advantage of it.

Later in the evening, she walked out of the bal room, unnoticed, to wander in the gardens. She was overwhelmed by the drinking and singing and dancing crowd, and felt like she couldn't breathe. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her shoes making little noise on the path between the flowers and trees. She knew the colors were beautiful by day, but by night, the flowers were closed, sleeping, and the trees gently stirred in the evening breeze. She tilted her head back and looked at the stars, shinning brightly in the sky, and once again wondered what could they be.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" She started and turned on her heels to meet whisky colored eyes. She sighed, looking angrily at him, and put a hand on her heart.

"In God's name, Sir Remy, have you the intention of making my heart stop?" He smiled and tilted his head to the side, and she blushed at her own words. "Forget what I said, Sir Remy. I am tired, and had a lot of the wine, I'm afraid." He walked to her and lifted his eyes to the sky.

"I rather know your heart is beating, Lady Constance. There is nothing more beautiful than when blood rises to your cheeks." She flushed at his words, and he smiled. "If I had a mirror, I could show you, my Lady." She hesitated between inflicting injury to him and laughing. Her civilized ways won over primitive ones, and she chuckled.

"Would you care to tell me why you are here, Sir Remy?" He presented his arm at her.

"I was wondering what such a beautiful rose was doing all alone here. And also if she would appreciate some company for a walk in the gardens." She hesitated. She had gone out to be alone, but… She smiled and took his arm, and they started walking. They stayed silent a long time, simply enjoying the sound of the crickets in the grass and the frogs in the lake nearby. She was very aware of his presence, and the heat of his arm went right through the sleeve of her dress. She liked having him at her side, and she felt safe with his tall figure walking beside her, and the sword in its sheath at his left side. She stole a sideway glance at his face. He was looking in front of him, his features serene, and the corners of his mouth curling up naturally, always on the verge of smiling. Anybody could think he was simply enjoying the walk if they didn't notice the way his eyes went from side to side, watching the bushes, and if they didn't touch his arm, slightly tensed under her fingers. Life was never safe around the castle, and she felt a wave of heat at the thought of being protected by him, if anything was to happen. She remembered what he looked like in a fight, and looked down at the path, suddenly embarrassed by the images in her head.

They arrived at a big stone fountain and Constance sighed with relief. She sat down on the bench circling the fountain and let out her breath, her feet throbbing with each heartbeat. "I'm guessing these shoes must be a living nightmare, my Lady." She turned her head. He was sitting next to her and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. She laughed.

"They are. I didn't know the gardens went that far."

"Oh, we haven't reached half of it yet, believe me."

"You know that place very well? Queen Eleanor said she knew you." His eyebrows raised as he turned his head at head.

"She did? I knew her when she was queen of France, three years ago. She is the one who made me knight. We talked a lot, but I never thought she'd remember me." Constance chuckled.

"Well, maybe you aren't the kind of knight a woman forgets easily, Sir Remy." He looked at her and made a little smile, his teeth barely showing. He was about to answer when the bushes stirred in a ruffles of leaves, and a masked man emerged from the bushes, sword in hand. Constance gasped and froze on the bench, but Remy was instantly up and his sword, unsheathed. The metal of the swords gleamed in the moonlight, and she shivered, not wanted to make a sound.

"Who are you?" The man tightened his hold on his sword and barely shook his head.

"Sir Remy… What are you doing here?" Remy narrowed his eyes, obviously trying to recognize the voice muffled by the linen mask.

"Who are you?" he repeated. "What do you want?" The man's head turned in Constance's direction, and she dug her fingers in the wooden bench, her blood turning cold in her veins.

The man charged her. He yelled and rose his sword over his head, running in her direction. She barely had the time to register the fact that he was intending on killing her when a shadow came between her and the man, crouching and raising his sword over his head to stop. Metal came against metal, and Constance closed her eyes when sparks lit from the contact.

The two men began fighting, and Constance had the weird impression that the other man didn't really want to fight. He just dodged Remy's aims at him and rose his sword to block the deadly cut of the blade, though Remy managed to cut him on the shoulder. But Remy was tired from the tournament, and he swayed on his feet a few times. The other man noticed, and took profit from one of those moments to bring the hold of his sword against Remy's temple. Remy stumbled away from the blow, almost knocked down, and the man took a last look at her before running away through the bushes again in a ruffle of leaves. Remy was on his knees, panting, and slowly got up, his sword hanging down from one of his hands while the other one was at his temple, clutching his banged head. He pulled his hand away from his head and dubiously looked at it. Seeing nothing that seemed to worry him, he sighed and let his hand drop, and sheathed his sword. He looked at her. "Are you alright, Constance?" There was a lot of concern in his voice, and she barely noticed the lack of 'lady' before her name. She liked the personal side of it. The only other person she knew who called her without the usual 'lady' before her name was her father. She nodded.

Her arms hurt, and she looked down to see her knuckles were white with effort as she still dug her nails in the wood. She let go, and saw Remy walking to the bench, and sitting on it, a deep frown on his face. "Who was that man?" she asked, her voice shaking. Remy blinked a few times, looking at his hands. He leaned down and let his elbows rest on his knees. Shaking his head, he looked up at her.

"I don't know. Do you have any enemies you know about, Lady Constance?" She twitched at the sound of her name, and must have looked dumbfounded, for her raised a hand and wave it in dismissal. "Of course not. The only enemy a lady can have is another lady." She looked down at her shaking hands, and started when she felt his touch on her arm, light as a feather. She looked up at him.

He was looking at her with a worried look on his face. His honey colored eyes were on her, his powerful yet reassuring gaze intent on her reactions. His mouth was relaxed, the corners of his thin lips lightly turned up, on the verge of smiling. She froze. So did he, and his hand stayed on her arm.

"Never in my life" he whispered, "never, in all the places I've been, in all the people I've met, have I seen anything half as beautiful as you." She opened her mouth and repressed a gasp, surprised. She was used to courteous love, but the way Remy was looking at her made her heart flutter, and her hands grew cold as waves of heat washed over her insides. "Lady Constance…" he started. She reached out a hand, her fingers barely brushing his lips.

"Constance." He frowned.

"What?"

"Only Constance, please." He looked at her a long time, and she swallowed. Her hand was still near his lips and, smiling, he kissed her fingers, softly, as a deep shivered went through her spine. He reached up, his hand brushing her cheek, putting a lock away. She closed her eyes as he leaned down, his lips gently settling on hers. It was soft and warm, and it was what she wanted. Her hands reached up to settle on his chest, but her took her wrists and broke the kiss, his eyes looking deep into hers.

"We shouldn't stay here. That man could come back." She nodded shakily, and he rose to his feet and took her hand, helping her getting up. She held her arm and, uncomfortable, cleared her throat.

"Hum… Sir Remy…" He looked down at her, a surprised look on his face.

"Remy."

"What?" He chuckled.

"Only Remy, Constance. Please." He brushed an auburn lock away from her face again, and she tilted her head so her cheek would brush the skin of his hand. He left it there and she looked up, yearning for another kiss. His other hand went to the other side of her face, and he gently cupped it, tilting her head so she would look up, into his eyes. "Soon", he said, and bent down to kiss her another time, a light brushing of her lips that left her wanting more. She felt something soft against her hands, and looked down to see her handkerchief in his hands. "I forgot to give it back to you." She smiled.

"Keep it."

1. Oyez is a verb, and a French archaism, so it isn't used anymore. It comes from the name ouïe, which means 'hearing'. In other words, it meant "Hear, hear!"

2. Hand kissing was an art in Middle Ages, and a dangerous one. The place where the man placed his lips depended on the relationship he had with the lady he saluted. If you were meeting a lady for the first time, you kissed the tip of her fingers, near the fingernails. The more you knew the lady, the more you kissed higher on the hand. If you were kissing at the right place or not was judged by the lady herself, and men never knew how they would react (there wasn't only the danger of kissing too far… there was also the danger of not kissing far enough for your mistress' taste…) Fingers, knuckles… The back of the hand, as we see in the movies, was reserved to saluting your own wife (or mistress, mind you), or for men who didn't know the laws of gentry, and wanted a hard slap in their face. In some places, hand kissing wasn't even done with the mouth if you didn't know the lady: men touched the tip of the lady's fingers with their chin.

3. Loanna of Grimwald isn't a real character. I didn't create her, though, she's a character from the book "Le lit d'Aliénor" from Marielle Calmel (that's in French, sorry, I don't know if there's an English translation), where Loanna is Eleanor's best friend, and first lady.

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Sorry, my mailbox screwed up, and I can't get to my reviews… The problem should be solved in the next 24 hours, they say, so I'll comment the reviews in the next chapter. Hopefully. If they didn't erase everything in my mailbox… Yay for yahoo! *rolls her eyes*