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The Lady of the Mirrored Lake

La Joyeuse Garde

“Issylte, my attendants will show you to the Rose Room, where they will draw your bath and help you refresh from your journey.” Lancelot’s eyes twinkled, despite his fatigue.

“Rest for the afternoon. Tonight, we shall have a quiet supper, with just a few of my higher ranking knights joining us on the terrace near the lake. Just under your balcony.” He flashed her a heartwarming smile.

Kissing her on each cheek— la bise that reminded her of Viviane and Tatie— he murmured, “ à bient?t, ma belle ,” heading off with Tristan, whose gaze lingered on her as she followed the servants to her room.

The Rose Room was exquisite, situated in the rear corner of the second floor of the castle, with a magnificent view of the deep lake, the distant élorn river, and the thick, abundant forest to the north and west. The walls were plastered a creamy white, the polished wooden floors fragrant with pine oil, gleaming in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Issylte smiled dreamily as she entered the chambers which would be hers for the next few months.

Peaceful and serene. With a magnificent view of the forest. Verdant magic thrummed in her veins.

The enormous sunlit windows were adorned with mauve silk draperies, the same rosy color of the tufted coverlet upon the sumptuous bed.

A stone fireplace, made from the smooth gray rocks of the roaring river, graced the western wall, flanked by a large, intricately carved wooden armoire, matching table, and pair of mauve velvet chairs.

To her delight, there was a pitcher of cool water, a goblet, and an enticing platter of fresh fruit on the table.

The sweet aroma of lush, ripe melon slices and succulent strawberries made her mouth water.

She slurped a fat, juicy strawberry as she admired her beautiful new bedroom.

Two embroidered tapestries embellished the pale walls—one of a lady and unicorn; the other, a floral depiction of mauve roses in the same deep pink hue as the draperies.

The Rose Room. Perfect for églantine— the Wild Rose of the Hazelwood Forest. She smiled contentedly as she devoured the savory strawberries.

The tall, windowed doors leading out onto the balcony were opened wide, the tang of brackish spray from the river mingling with the rich pine scent of the forest as the late summer breeze perfumed her room with the fragrance of nature.

Her heart sang as she gazed at the lovely view of the dense forest, shimmering lake, and sparkling river, glistening in the late afternoon sun.

Issylte strolled out onto her balcony, which extended out over a private courtyard and terrace, enclosed by a stone wall, covered in vines of heady pink roses in full bloom.

A small waterfall cascaded from a fountain in the center of the terrace, fed by a stream which flowed from the lake behind the castle to the river in the east. Incredibly beautiful, thought Issylte , inhaling the floral fragrance of roses and the crisp saline breeze while savoring the soft kiss of the sun on her cheeks.

“Your bath is ready, my lady,” the older of two solicitous attendants announced cheerfully from the adjacent bathing area.

“There is perfumed rose soap, a clean towel, and a lovely deep green gown which we unpacked from your bags. Our chatelain said it is your preferred color.” With a pleasant smile, she asked Issylte, “Shall we assist you?”

“No, thank you. I will be fine on my own,” Issylte replied gracefully to the courteous servants.

Bowing their heads, the two women dipped into a slight curtsey. “We shall return a bit later to escort you to the terrace for supper. Enjoy the rest of the fresh fruit…and your bath, my lady.”

Issylte heard the door close softly behind them.

She finished the rest of the strawberries and melon slices, savoring the sweet juice, then drank the cool water from the pitcher before heading into the bathing room, where billowing steam luxuriated from a lovely white porcelain tub.

Sinking slowly into the warm water, Issylte hummed with pleasure as the heat soaked the strain of the voyage from her seasick weakened body.

As she washed the brine from her hair with the sweet-smelling rose soap, she remembered the mineral rich bathing pool in Avalon, when she’d first washed away the salt of the sea voyage from Ireland.

Memories flooded her. Viviane, Nyda, and Cléo.

Gwennol and the victims of the horrid Viking slave raids who had tremulously learned to love again.

Her patients. The apple blossoms and aubépines .

The Fontaine de Jouvence, the lilies on le Lac de Diane . The delicate white swans.

And most of all, Ronan. Her beautiful blond stallion and his cozy stone cottage in the woods. Maeva, Marron, and Noisette. His magnificent stallion Noz. Issylte’s heart clenched, and the tears began anew. It was a long time before she finally emerged from the bath.

****

The setting for the intimate dinner was lovely, with a table for six on the cobbled stone terrace below Issylte’s Rose Room chambers.

The small courtyard under her second story balcony was enclosed by a wall made from river stones, covered with deep green ivy replete with fragrant pink roses under the starry night sky.

Beyond the stone wall lay a grassy courtyard which led to the deep lake and thick, dense forest to the north and the shimmering waters of the swift flowing river to the east. Moonlight reflected on the rippling surfaces under the brilliant stars as Issylte followed Lancelot’s servants through the windowed doors leading from the chateau to the charming terrace where three of his most trusted knights sat waiting with Tristan and the chatelain himself.

All rose when Issylte stepped out into the fragrant night air to join them.

Judoc—the First Knight of la Joyeuse Garde and commander of Lancelot’s regiment—as well as Darius and Gael, the next two highest-ranking knights, kissed Issylte’s hand in greeting as they seated themselves under the canopy of stars.

As Lancelot’s most trusted men, the three knights had been told the truth—that Issylte was assuming the false identity of the Lady Opale, a guest from Camelot enjoying a séjour at la Joyeuse Garde.

They knew she was fleeing the wicked queen who had ordered her death, for Issylte—as the rightful heir to the Irish crown—posed the sole threat to her stepmother’s claim to the throne.

They knew Tristan well from his intensive training last summer, when Lancelot had first introduced him to the chateau as his protégé.

Issylte sat at the table, sipping the wine that Lancelot offered, smiling at his most loyal knights.

Judoc was tall and muscular, with long black hair that reached the top of his broad shoulders.

A jagged scar sliced across the left cheek of his rugged warrior’s face, his deep green eyes shining with intelligence as they met Issylte’s esteemed regard.

Darius was quite handsome, with light brown hair pulled back with a leather cord.

His chestnut brown eyes gleamed in the candlelight, friendship and trust glowing in his steadfast gaze.

Gael was the tallest of the three—though not as tall as either Tristan or Lancelot—with curly red hair, twinkling hazel eyes, and a thick, bushy red beard that hid most of the freckles dusted across his grinning face.

Ever the amiable host, Lancelot discussed the upcoming reception he had planned, the guests who would be arriving, the dancing, feasting, hunting and falconry he had planned to entertain everyone.

With Issylte, he chatted about his extensive library, which she was welcome to browse, suggesting lovely areas on his castle grounds where she might stroll, accompanied by his servants—who would be her attendants while she remained at the chateau— and always guarded by six of his trusted armored knights.

On a more somber note, Lancelot mentioned the threat of renewed Viking slave raids and his desire to increase the number of knights and weapons in la Joyeuse Garde to prepare for a possible attack.

He charged Judoc, Darius, and Gael with recruiting, training, and equipping a hundred additional knights, with orders to provide accommodations for the expanded army.

As the sumptuous dinner concluded with a marvelous cherry dessert—a delicious tarte aux cerises— Lancelot addressed Issylte.

“Tristan and a few of my knights will travel to the nearby village of Kerléroux to place the order for weapons and armor for my additional knights. They’ll be gone for a few days, returning in time for the welcoming celebration that I have planned for next weekend.

With you as the guest of honor.” He kissed her hand gallantly and flashed her his famous boyish grin.

Issylte’s cheeks flushed as she ducked her head and smiled.