Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [46]
The Crest of Aglaeon
My hands were surprisingly steady as I read through the basic description of the crest. Yep, a crossed sword and wilting rose behind a unicorn. That was my necklace.
The Crest of Aglaeon dates back to the 12th century—approximately 1150, and belonged to Lord Archer, Earl of Aglaeon. An update to the original family crest of two swords crossed behind a unicorn, Lord Archer him self designed the revised crest, following the murder of his wife, Lady Gloriana. The wilting rose, beautiful in its fragility, was added to honor his late wife. As Lord Archer himself wrote after her death (translated from the original Middle English):
“And whilst my beloved has left me alone
She is still as fair as the loveliest rose
Tears may fall, but they are not alone
Every rose will weep petals as she goes.”
I was moved by the unrestrained beauty of Lord Archer’s words; even flowers would cry at her loss. At least I knew what my necklace meant: it symbolized love—a true love—lost brutally.
I continued reading.
The change to the family crest was not well received—and Lord Archer’s father, Lord Alistair, the Earl of Aglaeon, refused to accept the revised crest, as Archer had married a peasant instead of proceeding with the marriage his father had arranged to secure their lands.
There was no more information on my crest in the book, so I carefully placed it back in the leather tote bag and, after a mug of fresh coffee, turned to the Hadrian’s Medieval Legends book, curious if there was anything on the sad tale of Lord Archer and Lady Gloriana.
I ran my hand over the ancient leather cover, which was peeling with age. It was still beautiful, though, with embossed scrollwork that ran along one side. The threadbare binding cracked and flaked under my fingertips, and many pages were loose or starting to slip. Lacking a table of contents, I turned the pages of the tome gingerly as the sun started to fade out side of my window. The prose was lovely—if a bit flowery at times—and I found myself getting lost in the romantic legends of dragons, demons and sorcery. Sometimes I’d get drawn into a story, only to find that the last few pages were missing, having fallen out from the fragile binding. I got quite lost in a story about witches using the blood of lovers in a sinister spell, only to find the next few pages were gone. Finally, at page 502, I saw it. I took a nervous sip of coffee and began reading.
Chapter 9
The Legend of Lord Archer, Earl of Aglaeon, and his Peasant Wife
Lord Archer of Aglaeon was envied by all. Those who didn’t covet his great wealth, craved his strength, his artistic skills with a brush or his fair face. And Archer was aware of the rampant adoration that surrounded him. Pride swelled his chest and his head. Yet it was pride that was his only flaw. A fair and just man, Archer treated the peasants who toiled on his lands with kindness and respect. He perceived them less as slaves—an attitude adopted by most lords—and more as workers in his employ.
Archer’s youth was spent in the pursuit of less-than-noble endeavors. He loved hunting with fellow lords on his seemingly endless lands, sampling wine and finely prepared meals and engaging the eager young women at court.
But as Archer grew from a rakish youth into a man, his father, Lord Alistair, was eager for his restless son to find a wife and produce an heir. Yet Archer was bored with the women at court, finding them distasteful and silly. Their conversation was studied and careful. Their greatest talents were musical—one could play the harpsichord, another could sing—yet they all seemed to possess the same level of talent, as if they cultivated just enough bait to snare a husband.
Archer’s boredom with the women at court grew to disgust, and he believed he would never find a woman who was his equal, who could engage him the way he desired. To appease his father, Archer agreed to an arranged marriage with Lady Eleanor, daughter of Lord Charles, Earl