Authors: Alice Borchardt
Hugo and Gundabald sat together at the table, feasting.
The wolf’s nose wandered among perfumes, saffron, cinnamon, cloves, and pepper—spices that didn’t find their way into the food ordinary people ate.
Gundabald was disjointing a capon stuffed with a forcemeat of preserved figs, seasoned with butter, cinnamon, and the excruciatingly expensive pepper. His cheeks gleamed with grease. He popped some of the moist, delicious meat into his mouth, then glared angrily at Regeane. “Where the hell have you been?”
She realized his anger concealed some anxiety. Since he had never before shown any concern for her welfare, she couldn’t help but believe his worry must be rooted in some change in her status.
“You’ve found a match for me, and it’s a wealthy one,” she said.
“Clever girl! Now, where the hell have you been?” He was rising from the table.
The wolf warned her. She didn’t listen or react quickly enough, but she was on her feet when he reached her. He backhanded her across the face as hard as he could. Her head flipped loose on her neck like a broken doll’s. She lost consciousness for a second. Her ankle caught on one leg of the chair. She fell, striking her head hard against the floor. This was the first time
she felt the full power of a man’s fist directed at her. The sheer force and destructive ability was shocking.
She sat up, then. Using the arm of the chair, she pulled herself to a standing position. Blood was streaming from her nose and trickling from one corner of her mouth.
Gundabald stood in front of the fire, warming himself at the flames.
She reached for a napkin, one of the ones on the table.
“Damn! Don’t stain the linen,” Gundabald said.
Regeane used her mantle to wipe off the blood on her face.
“Now, where have you been?”
“Hugo deserted us,” she said.
Hugo—his mouth full—made a gabbling noise.
“Shut up!” Gundabald said, then clouted him hard on the side of the head.
Hugo strangled, and began coughing on what he was trying to swallow.
“I’m surrounded by fools!” Gundabald mused. “Don’t you ever dare leave your cousin alone in the streets again! Hear me!” he roared. “Or that’s only a taste of what you’ll get.”
“God! God! God! Yes,” Hugo moaned. “Christ Jesus Savior, what’s gotten into you! First, you try to spoil what little looks she has … then you’re … clubbing at me … what …”
“Shut up!” Gundabald roared.
Hugo shut up.
“You,” Gundabald said, “are a fool who never can see beyond the end of your nose. And she,” he pointed at Regeane, “is a hateful little snob who no doubt wishes both you and I are in hell! But she is now very valuable property! She is sold! And a damned generous price I got for her in the bargain. No! It’s not a great match. That’s not to be expected. She’s too damned poor, but it’s a wealthy one. The fellow is sitting on a pile of gold. The king wants to bring him to heel. A marriage is cheaper and a whole lot less trouble than throwing an army against his stronghold. The king will expect him,” Gundabald chuckled, “to be deeply and tangibly grateful for a match among the royal kin, and so will I. In fact, the moneylenders had only to hear his name and their purses opened. Did you think all of this luxury fell like manna from heaven?”
Regeane’s nose had stopped bleeding though she could taste salt in her mouth from an oozing cut on the inside of her cheek. But the terror she felt outweighed the pain. “What about the full moon?” she whispered.
Gundabald stepped toward her. She shrank back, cringing away from his fist.
“Wolf,” Gundabald said softly. “More like a dog, and a whipped dog at that.”
Regeane hated herself for being grateful that he didn’t hit her again. Somewhere in the darkness deep down, the wolf was enraged beyond reason, but the woman wouldn’t let her near consciousness.
“You are a fool,” he continued. “Do you know that? This man loves you about as well as you love him—that is to say, not at all. What were you thinking he’d do—welcome you to his bosom? A penniless woman fobbed on him by a king. A mighty king. A king he dare not disobey.”
Gundabald backed up and warmed his rear end at the fire. He laughed harshly. “God, my sister was a mawkish sentimentalist. The idea of bringing up a thing like you to be a proper lady? But then considering what has to be done, perhaps you’re better off as you are. No, trust me, bitch creature. Your secret is the least of your worries. From the day you arrive, you’ll probably have to be careful of everything you eat or drink. As soon as he dares, he’ll be rid of you.”
Regeane stared at him, eyes wide, her guts turning to water, sick with terror.
“Wake up, you lackwit,” Gundabald said gleefully. “Nothing protects you. How many wives have been dismissed in disgrace, labeled barren by their husbands because they were never bedded?” Gundabald smiled. His big, blunt teeth gleamed yellow against his black beard.
“Barren,” Gundabald mused. “Barrenness is a kindly, even compassionate excuse. Are you aware of how easy it is for a great lord to arrange the pollution of his marriage bed? He waits until nightfall, then sends a strong servant to her room. They are caught. The man—already paid—flees. But the next morning, she is led out into the wilderness with a halter around her neck. Unless she has a family to uphold her protestations of innocence,
the woman is doomed. There, near a lake or swamp, the erstwhile wife is strangled or drowned. She is forgotten, the mud is her tomb.
“I’ve only mentioned two ways husbands have of ridding themselves of inconvenient spouses. There are others, many others. One wrong move—one moment’s silly arrogance—and he’ll be done with you.” Gundabald shrugged and smiled his terrible smile again. “Perhaps your foot won’t even have to slip. Perhaps he prefers his concubines already. In fact, the more I think about it, the less I doubt my own judgement. And, as for you, whey-faced brat, you have nothing to recommend you. Not wealth. Not strong kinfolk. No, not even a hint of beauty. You pale, flat-chested, stupid little twat …”
“Father,” Hugo shouted. “Stop! Look at her. I’ve seen dead men with more color in their faces. You don’t want her to hang herself before she even sees him. We need the money!”
Gundabald snorted. “What do you want me to do? Let her go into this marriage with her head stuffed with moonbeams? Most men are like me, even the good ones. They have the morals of bulls or stags.
“This one now. This one likely has the morals of a jackal.” He spoke thoughtfully, at least as much to himself as to Regeane. “Else, how did he rise from paid hireling to his present position of eminence?
“God, but Gisela spoiled you. It is time you found out how the world goes and what drives it. I see it’s up to me to teach you and, if you don’t learn, your husband will likely kill you, if the church doesn’t burn you first.”
Regeane could feel herself trembling. Her stomach muscles fluttered. Not so much because of the threats Gundabald held over her head. She had confronted them all her life. But because she knew she was in the presence of evil. Gundabald was cruel, but when he was sober, his outbursts were almost always calculated to serve his interests. He wanted something from her and it couldn’t be good.
Regeane wiped blood from her mouth with her hand and looked at it.
Gundabald walked up to her and slapped her again. Not as hard as before. This time only enough to make her ears ring and
her nose bleed a little. “Pay attention,” he said smiling. “Pain is a great attention-getter. At least I’ve found it so. Now, don’t be downcast,” he said gently. “And don’t be afraid. We won’t abandon you.”
She wondered if he was egotistical enough to believe she found this promise comforting.
His face was close to her. His breath laden with the scent of the elaborately spiced food was hot on her skin. She sat down to escape the sickening smell.
“This man’s demesne straddles one of the passes through the Alps. Every merchant and traveler crossing the mountains makes him richer. But this rascal is an upstart, lord of a band of mercenaries. Their loyalty can, no doubt, be bought once his strongboxes are in our hands. But it will be up to you to make the killing look like an accident!
“Now.” He lifted her out of her chair by the loose fabric on the front of her dress. She could feel his knuckles pressing into her sternum. His lips were near her ear. “Now, little girl,” he said softly, “tell me you understand me and will do as I say. Sweet, now,” he shook her lightly. “Repeat after me. ‘I will do as my wise uncle tells me.’ Say it!” he commanded.
Regeane’s hands rose from the chair arms. The nails were sharp at the tips. She dragged them down both of Gundabald’s cheeks to the chin. Blood and skin peeled in long strips from his cheeks.
He screamed. He lifted her upright with one hand. With the other, he drove his fist directly into her face.
She flew backward. The chair went over. Her body hit the floor and rolled. In the darkness, she fought the wolf for control. The creature was madly trying to come to her aid, but she had the woman’s more rational terror on her side—the fear that if the creature appeared in her present weakened condition, Gundabald would be able to kill it.
The wolf was hesitant—retreated into savage silence. Regeane came to full consciousness on her knees.
Gundabald was holding her body up by her hair and flogging her with his belt. She was in so much pain, fighting back was instinctive.
One of the braziers was within reach. She snatched at it, got one leg, and flung the coals at Gundabald.
He ran across the room, drawing his sword. Hugo jumped behind him.
Regeane realized the reason for their terror. The brazier was solid iron. No normal woman or even most men would have been able to lift it and scatter the contents as she just had.
“The building will burn,” Hugo squeaked.
No
, Regeane thought.
I might hope so, but it won’t
.
She was right. Damp had invaded every piece of wood in the holy city during the last few weeks of rain. The floor was slimy with it. The coals smoked, stank, and hissed viciously, but began going out one by one.
“It’s dark outside.” Hugo gave a hiccuping wail.
“Yes, I know,” Gundabald said, flourishing the sword. “Jesus Christ,” he continued in a soft, astounded voice. “She’s just like her father.”
Regeane was on her feet—swaying a bit, but standing.
“Twice,” Gundabald said. “I hit her as hard as I could with my fist. A normal woman would be dead or at least unconscious.”
“Tell me about my father?” Regeane asked.
Gundabald shrugged.
“You want this man to die very suddenly. The same way my father did. He was hard to kill, wasn’t he?” Regeane asked.
“Nearly impossible. In fact, we wouldn’t have succeeded with him if your mother hadn’t taken a hand.”
“No!” Regeane shouted. “Not my mother!”
“Oh, yes,” Gundabald said cynically, “the saintly Gisela.”
“It’s not true,” Regeane said, shaking her head from side to side like a tormented beast. “I don’t believe you. I won’t believe you. I can’t believe you. She loved him.”
Gundabald sheathed his sword, sat down, and poured himself a cup of wine. Gundabald was smiling again. He loved inflicting pain and he was succeeding beyond his wildest dreams with Regeane. “Oh, yes, we tried twice. His constitution defied poison. He had the wolf’s ability to vomit immediately anything that disturbed him. We sent paid assassins. They didn’t return. I can’t think of what he did with them.”
Gundabald looked baffled for a moment. “We never found
any trace. Not clothing, weapons, bones, not even skulls or—damnation on it—teeth. They simply vanished. It wasn’t until we convinced your mother that his powers were demonic, and he would carry her off with him, that she took a hand. She was difficult to persuade. I believe they may have had that sexual intensity between them that passes for love. At any rate, he fell victim to her wiles.
“They had a place near his stronghold—a love nest where they crept away alone to engage in private dalliance. We all rode out on a hunt party—you must understand ordinary hunts bored him—she enticed him to their special bower and I—” Gundabald paused for effect and simply beamed upon Regeane. “I put a crossbow bolt through his heart. He died instantly before his alter ego had time to heal him.”
Regeane bowed her head and rested her forehead against the back of the chair. She wondered for how long she had refused to see, refused to understand.
She’d spent her life burdened with her mother’s sorrow, long nights of weeping, self-accusation. Her mother’s despair had been their constant companion as Gisela dragged Regeane from church to church, shrine to shrine. Gisela spent the remainder of her life on her knees, begging God’s forgiveness for the one sin she didn’t dare admit, even to Regeane: the murder of the man she loved.
“Those Saxons,” Gundabald continued. “I was afraid of them, but there again, your mother was invaluable. Her grief was so terrible we had to set a watch over her lest she do herself some harm. So his people were convinced we couldn’t have had any part in his death. When they understood his line failed—their sorrow was nearly as great as your mother’s. They departed for their northern forests. Unfortunately, as I found out later, they also took the greater part of his wealth with them. Your mother retained only what was bestowed on her on the morning after the wedding. A very generous sum. A handsome endowment for a woman, but not nearly enough for a family’s needs. Now you have a chance to repair our fortunes. And you’re playing the fool!”
“I’m sorry,” Regeane said quietly. The wolf gritted her teeth, but the woman really tried to sound penitent. “You had not
heretofore fully explained the situation. My mother understood her duty to her family. I’m sure I will understand mine.”
A crossbow bolt through the heart. She’d never seen a human shot with a crossbow, but they were common weapons. Mostly used on large animals, wild cattle, boar, or bear. She had once seen a stag brought down by one. Though not hit in a vital spot, the deer fell, its shoulder crushed. It died of shock and blood loss a few seconds later. Her mind turned from the memory. Wolfstan had known himself betrayed by the woman he loved, even as he fell.