Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in an isolated castle set far from civilization and very close to a large forest, there lived a little girl named Isabelle. Isabelle was a beautiful, precocious child and when she got older she grew up to be a very spoiled young maiden indeed.

As is nearly always the case, Isabelle didn't intentionally grow up spoiled, nor did her parents intend to spoil her rotten. Her mother, Marie, had been married at the tender age of fourteen, and died less than a year later, only a few short days after she gave birth to Isabelle, of childbed fever. But motherless Isabelle was not to be pitied, oh no. She had plenty of love lavished upon her from her father; the competent and matronly chatelaine her father hired to ease the burden of his second wife's tasks while she was pregnant with Isabelle, Julia D'Aglionby; and, when she was very young, before they went off to seek their knightly spurs and fortunes, she also had the love of her three brothers: Guillaume, Robert, and Henri.

Indeed, it was ultimately because her mother died before Isabelle could even form a memory of her that she was so indulged. Her father, le Chevalier Louis de Bayeux, felt an unreasonable amount of guilt over the fact that his baby girl would be growing up without a mother. He had resolved that his second marriage would be his last the day he took his vows.

Her father's guilt and desire to indulge and shelter his only daughter had another source of which Isabelle was ignorant. A goodly portion of his actions were a direct result of how he had lived his life prior to Isabelle's birth. He had essentially abandoned his first wife and their small sons to win glory for the Holy Church in the First Crusade. He had succeeded beyond his expectations, conducting himself admirably in battle and winning through his prowess at arms enough monies to amply supplement the dowry that his first wife, Elaine, had brought to their marriage.

However, when he finally returned home, he was a changed man (as men so often are after having been through a war). He was older, wiser, less likely to hare off seeking glory and fortune, and he was more than ready to settle down with his wife and be a good husband, father, and provider. He finally set eyes on his small castle once again in 1104, nearly four full years after the Crusade had ended. He had been gone nine years and had expected to come home to a household ecstatic at his safe return.

Alas, such a welcome was not to be, for he found his estate in shambles and his wife mortally ill of a wasting disease no physician or alchemist could cure. His wife lingered in her sickbed for nigh unto two years before finally succumbing to the disease. During that time, Louis ran himself almost into the ground as he scrambled to set his estate to rights once more while making sure that all of his sons were suitably fostered out to other households. When Elaine finally took her last breath on Earth and expired, he summoned his children home to him once more for her funeral. It was shortly after this that he married a second, and final, time to Marie de Beauchamps. His second wife's death in childbed, his desire to make up for the three childhoods of his sons that he'd missed while away on Crusade, and the fact that she was his only daughter, all combined to make him extremely indulgent with his youngest offspring and reluctant to allow her to depart from his care.

Her father's indulgence ultimately spoiled her terribly, and his desire to see her sheltered in his loving arms was what kept her unwed at the ripe age of sixteen. Oh, she was hardly beyond the pale as of yet; girls were married off as old as nineteen or twenty if there was good reason why they had not been spoken for and wed at an earlier age. Isabelle's long, blonde hair that was so pale it was nearly silver and forget-me-not blue eyes had had more than one knight beg her father for her hand and more than one minstrel's hand itch for their instrument to compose a song on her behalf. But Louis de Bayeux refused them all, unwilling to even consider his beloved daughter leaving his side. As a way for him to make up for the fact that he refused to pledge her troth to any man, he allowed Isabelle an amount of freedom that was practically unheard of in the twelfth century. For he could deny his lovely daughter almost nothing.

There was one desire which Isabelle held deep within her heart, and yet she had never even so much as mentioned it to her mostly pushover of a papa. Ever since she was a little girl, Isabelle had fervently wished to see and touch that purest creature of legend - the glorious unicorn. She had allowed herself to be unduly influenced by their prevalence in her life. They had played a large part in the tales her nursemaid had told her, seemed to be mentioned frequently in the songs the minstrels sang, and were even woven into the tapestries hung on the walls throughout the castle. Not a day went by that she did not see or hear of the magical and wondrous being that is the unicorn.

But she never told her father of her obsession, never so much as breathed a word about it to her nurse or the housekeeper. For the most important rule she had ever been told, over and over again for as long as she could remember, was that she was never to set foot into the forest just beyond the castle for any reason. The forest was a dangerous and mysterious place. Only large parties of men were allowed to go into it; usually to hunt boar, the white stag, and sometimes even the unicorn. Even with this policy in place, several men had been lost to the forest over the years and were never seen again after losing sight of their party - no matter how hard or how long the castle and the surrounding community searched for them.

Oh, she had defied her father in other, small ways, but never on this - the cardinal rule that was to be strictly obeyed at all times. Normally her flaunting of her father's rules had to do with things she disliked. Rather than the embroidery she was supposed to spend time on every day, she would go outside and get her hands dirty in the garden she loved. A lady wasn't supposed to go out without an escort or get dirty by stooping to the lows of manual labor of any sort, but she did both on a regular basis. When the weather was poor, she still avoided the hated embroidery in favor of working on her tapestry. Weaving was her indoor passion, just as the garden was her outdoor one. The work went slowly, as tapestry weaving always did because of its size and complexity, but the vision Isabelle had of a maiden in a forest bower meeting a unicorn was gradually taking shape.

One fine spring morning, Isabelle woke up and it was as if something had snapped within her. Today was the day. She was going to defy the only rule she'd never broken before. For today she would escape her nursemaid and everyone else to venture into the forest in search of a real unicorn. She could bear the longing no more - she must touch a live unicorn. All of the stories, songs, and pictures were no longer adequate methods to quench her desire. She would defy her beloved father's ultimate rule and go into the forest.

She glanced briefly out of the narrow window slit meant to keep besiegers from shooting arrows into the castle. The day was perfect - sunny and bright without a single cloud in the sky that would hint at rain. It was an excellent day to go for a walk in the forest. She dressed carefully for the day ahead - not wanting to alert anyone to her plans by wearing something too sensible and plain, but also not wanting to deal with a long train which would catch on things easily as she walked the forest floor in search of the culmination of all her dreams.

After a brief mental debate, she settled on an underdress of the purest white covered by a bliaut which was fashioned of fine silk in a shade of blue that exactly matched her eyes. She knew it looked good on her, but more importantly it was long enough to conceal the fact that instead of the silk slippers she usually wore, she was wearing more sturdy leather ankle boots that wouldn't fall to pieces after she'd been walking for five minutes. The dress had a very short train, which was not enough to trip her as she was walking, something that was equally important as the need to conceal her footwear. The sleeves nearly touched the floor, as was fashionable, but a few knots in them solved the problem of any potential snags. She dressed her hair simply, merely combing and then confining it into place with a silver circlet that had been a gift from her father. Finally, she picked up a girdle fashioned from bits of silver and cord and wrapped it around her waist.

Mostly sensible apparel accomplished, Isabelle made her way down the extremely narrow tower stairs, skirted her way around the edges of the Great Hall, and then went into the kitchen. She could have had her breakfast brought to her, but today she preferred a simple breakfast and a noontime meal which could be wrapped in a square of linen and carried with her. For that, she needed to coax the cook into supplying her with a healthy amount of food; as she had no intention of returning to the castle without having seen a unicorn. She didn't care how long it took her - she was going to see a unicorn and that was that.

Convincing the cook that she needed food to take with her was surprisingly easy. All of the servants were convinced that she didn't eat enough and were always pushing her subtly to eat more. Cook was happy to make up something for her to take with her; pleased that for once she would be eating well. She ate a small breakfast of bread and pottage accompanied by a small flagon of watered wine as she waited for Cook to prepare her midday repast.

After a wait where she tried not to show her impatience, Isabelle finally had the food that might have to last her a few days while she searched for the unicorn. She didn't really expect it to take all that long - unicorns were supposed to be drawn to purity, after all, and she flattered herself in thinking that she was pure in body, mind, and soul. While she was correct on the first two instances, she did not have a pure soul. A pure soul is one of the rarest things a human being can possess, and hers had been steadily spoiled over the years with all the privileges she was granted and her willful ways.

She walked carefully through the kitchen door and out through the herb garden the kitchen used to supplement the cost of expensive spices like cinnamon, salt, and ginger. She kept her pace nonchalant as she made her way through the herb garden she wasn't allowed to help with (because if ladies insist on gardening, then they shall only be allowed more ladylike gardening tasks such as planting flowers and never anything as common as weeding an herb garden that the servants are supposed to take care of). What she really wanted to do was jump up and down and cry out with joy, but that would attract attention when she wanted to make her way out of the castle unremarked.

By walking carefully and naturally, she finally succeeded in her goal. She crossed through the inner courtyard and out through the portcullis gate with a cheerful wave to the guards on duty. She continued to stroll as if she hadn't a care in the world around the back of the castle and into the forest. She kept her stride slow and casual, in case any guards were watching, although they usually ignored that side of the castle as any human threat was liable to come from other directions.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally concealed by the edges of the forest. No one could call her back now. She was free to search for the unicorn with impunity. She immediately began to wend an erratic path through the trees - wanting to make it as difficult as possible for anyone from the castle to find her before she had accomplished her goal.

She walked carefully and alertly through the forest that day. It simply wouldn't do to go to all of this trouble to search for the unicorn; only to miss the one glimpse she might see by being inattentive. She thought about calling to the unicorn as she searched, but decided that it would be too dangerous. The noise could draw predators or men from the castle to her location just as easily as it could draw a unicorn.

So she walked in silence and marveled at the forest beauty around her. It seemed as if all of the stories told about this forest were merely tales told to prevent children from inadvertently wandering into it and getting lost. There was no danger here! No frightening beasts, no ominous noises... it wasn't even dark and impenetrable. It was just a normal forest with birds singing and the sun shining through the gaps in the forest canopy. Perfectly harmless.

She walked through the seemingly idyllic forest, swinging her cloth bundle as she went. The dress was a nuisance at times because the train was just long enough to catch on the occasional fallen branch that protruded from the carpet of leaves that was the forest floor. She had to stop a few times to free her dress when it caught on something, but considered it well worth the hassle. She never would have been able to explain what she was up to if Cook had noticed her shoes.

After hours of walking she grew weary and ill-tempered. She always thought it would be easy to find the unicorn, almost as if it would know she was looking for it and come to her - saving her the trouble of having to walk and search for it. But it was nothing like that at all, it wasn't even as big of an adventure as she'd always imagined it to be. Nothing exciting had happened - all she'd done is walk around and confuse all of her directions in the process. By now, although she didn't realize it, she couldn't have found her way out of the forest if she'd wanted to.

Around midday she began looking for a place to rest. She had been walking for far longer than she was accustomed to and wanted a place to sit down and eat a portion of her meal as she was actually hungry for once in her life. Then, she almost literally stumbled into it: the perfect resting place. It was a small clearing she hadn't expected due to the thick and close-set trees surrounding it. A trickle of water ran over the rocks, collecting into a deeper pool on the opposite edge of the glen. The sun shone brightly down on to the emerald grass, glinting merrily off of the white and yellow flowers that were scattered haphazardly throughout the meadow. There was even a small cluster of fairly large rocks beside the pool that looked like an inviting, flat place to spread out her repast. All in all, it was an ideal place to halt her journey. Surely the unicorn would find her in this magnificent place!

She went over to the natural low table the clearing offered and set her bundle down on the slightly rough surface. She looked at the stream carefully and suspiciously - searching for signs that it might be fouled. But it appeared clear and no animals were lying dead in or near the pool, so she thought it should be safe. She knelt down, cupped her hands, dipped them into the water, and drank.

The water was almost indescribable. She'd never had water like this before. So pure, so clean, so fresh that the droplets that slipped from her fingers shone like diamonds in the sun. She could drink it forever and never tire of it. After her thirst was more than quenched, she returned to the bundle of food on the rocks only because her stomach was beginning to loudly protest the length of time that had passed since she had broken her fast.

She undid the knot in the cloth and spread out her meal. It was a simple repast - meant to be filling, yet easy to carry and consume. It consisted mainly of bread and a hunk of cheese, with a few of the fruits that ripened in late Spring. She eagerly consumed all of the fruit and ate sparingly and slowly of the bread and cheese. She knew she needed to save some of the food for later, in case she still had hours, or even days, of searching ahead of her.

She tarried by the stream for a long time, lingering over her meal, enjoying the beauty and peace of the glade. It was so nice here, she thought idly as she reclined contentedly after she ate. So peaceful, so pretty, so warm, so... Her thoughts slipped away, just as consciousness slipped from her grasp and then she was contentedly slumbering in the afternoon sun; unicorns prancing agilely through her dreams.

She awoke with a start several hours later, unable to believe that she had fallen asleep while on what could very well be the most important task she'd ever undertaken in her entire life. She was thoroughly dismayed and disappointed with herself. She looked up at the sun to see how much time had passed since she finished her repast. It was now late afternoon and she had lost several prime hours of daylight when she could have been looking for the unicorn. She hurriedly tied the remains of her meal back up into the linen cloth and then bent down to drink once more of the refreshingly cold water before continuing on her journey. She had no idea when she would next have water available to her and wanted to drink enough to ensure that she could search for the unicorn during the remaining hours of daylight.

When she rose from the stream and looked around to determine which direction she should try next, she found that she needed to search no more. For there, on the very edge of the clearing, stood the very unicorn she had been searching for! Isabelle gasped and her hand rose to her heart as she stared at the culmination of all her dreams and desires. There was a unicorn! And he was just out of her reach. Which left her with a new problem: how could she get close enough to touch the unicorn without scaring him away?

To her considerable surprise, the unicorn showed no timidness at all in her presence. He came within feet of her, stopped, and bent his neck gracefully to drink of the pure spring water. She studied him in awe and utter silence as he drank. He was magnificent. His coat was a dappled, opalescent color that was closer to mother-of-pearl than true white. His mane was every shade of white imaginable: from nearly grey to purest white to almost yellow. His hooves and horn shined golden, caressed by the sunlight so they seemed even more lovely. He was more lovely than any picture she'd ever seen, any image she'd ever imagined in her wildest daydreams. And he was close enough to touch!

Her hand shaking slightly, she ever-so-slowly moved her hand away from where it rested against her heart and stretched it out to the unicorn's back. After what seemed like an eternity of moving her hand a fraction of an inch at a time, Isabelle was finally touching the unicorn. Her breath caught. It was an amazing experience. It felt akin to touching a horse, except the unicorn's coat was much silkier than she was accustomed to. Also, the unicorn felt almost hot to her, as if there was a fire within she didn't understand.

At her butterfly-light touch, the unicorn started and lifted its head. It looked at her appraisingly and then moved closer to her, butting his head against her shoulder in a silent, but very physical, demand for attention. Isabelle laughed delightedly, amazed that this mythical creature not only allowed her to touch him, but demanded that she caress him more. She obliged him by reaching her other hand up to scratch his jawline and rub his nose.

She began by rubbing low on his nose, near the nostrils. Then slowly, almost irresistibly, her hand moved up towards the horn that she couldn't take her eyes off of. It was just so beautiful, she had to touch it. She slowly trailed her hand up the rough, whorled surface, fascinated by the shape and texture of the golden horn. She had thought it would be completely smooth, but it wasn't, and she actually liked it better the way it actually was rather than the way she had imagined it to be.

Her hand rose higher and higher up the protuberance until finally it reached the tip. She pressed her finger down lightly on it to test for sharpness and let out a cry of surprise! The horn was wickedly sharp, and even the slight pressure she'd exerted had resulted in blood welling instantly from her finger and a single red droplet fell on the horn before she snatched her hand away to examine the damage. She instinctively stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on the wound to stem whatever blood flow there might be.