“Sister, if I may suggest,” said Theuderic,
all politeness, “there is a guesthouse but a few hours’ ride from
here, where I plan to spend the night. If we leave at once, we can
easily be there before dark and, I believe, without tiring you or
the lady Danise too badly.”
“The lady Danise’s health will not permit an
immediate departure.” Sister Gertrude was adamant.
“But I am perfectly well,” Danise declared,
laughing at the nun’s concern. “I want to ride on. Besides, those
clouds will bring rain soon. Perhaps we can reach the guesthouse
before the weather breaks.”
“I believe it will snow,” Theuderic said to
her, “but you are quite correct about reaching the guesthouse.
Sister Gertrude, I have an injured man in my company. I would like
to see all of you properly sheltered tonight.”
“Yes,” said Danise. “Our duty of charity
toward the sick requires that we not inconvenience poor Eudon, who
I am told is in great pain. Lord Hugo, if you will help me to
mount, I am prepared to ride.”
With no excuses left, Sister Gertrude was
helped to her own horse. When she saw India mounted with Theuderic
she found more cause for complaint.
“That boy ought to ride behind you,” she
insisted. “Or better yet, put him with someone else. The leader of
a troop of the king’s men ought to display his rank by riding
alone, at the head of his men. Why didn’t you require a mount for
him from Savarec?”
“Sister Gertrude,” Danise protested, “surely
Count Theuderic knows more about military matters than we women do.
We must allow him to distribute his men as he sees fit. Come now,
ride beside me, for I do enjoy your company.”
“That’s a good girl,” Theuderic noted, after
the two women had fallen back to ride behind the first group of his
men. “She’s worthy of Hugo.”
“Do you believe he has a chance to win her?”
India asked.
“I think so, if he seriously wants her. He
has little land now, but his family is a good one, and Charles
likes him. Hugo could win an estate with his sword and then ask for
Danise. Other men have won their wives that way.”
“I hope it happens,” India said fervently. “I
like Hugo. He deserves to be happy.”
“Most men do, but few men are,” he retorted.
“Happiness is not the only goal of life. Loyalty to the king,
personal honor, the welfare of one’s family – all are more
important than one man’s feelings.”
“But you cannot always control feelings,”
India said. “Love comes unbidden.”
“Yes.” His voice was quiet. “It comes.”
She turned around to look at him, and if he
had moved his head by a fraction of an inch their lips would have
met. But he seemed to have an infinite amount of self-control.
“I was right,” he said. “Look, it’s
snowing.”
Fat flakes drifted slowly downward, melting
when they touched the ground, but collecting on tree branches. Once
more, as she had done so often on this apparently endless journey,
India sought shelter in Theuderic’s cloak and warmth from his solid
body. She leaned back against his chest. His left arm came around
her waist, his face was in her hair, she felt his breath on her
brow. Then he was pushing her away.
“Don’t,” he said. “Sit up and away from me,
or by heaven, I’ll make you ride pillion behind Sister
Gertrude.”
“A fate worse than death,” she said,
straightening her spine as he had demanded. She heard him chuckle,
low in his throat, and a great tenderness rose in her. She was
still a bit unsure of her feelings for him, but she knew now that
it was something more than mere physical attraction.
Because of the heavy clouds and the steadily
falling snow, it grew dark early on that day, and by the time they
reached their goal, they were all glad to seek warmth and light and
hot food. The guesthouse was a large hall with a firepit in the
middle of the earth floor. There were shelves down each long side
of the hall, where travelers could sleep. There was a separate
kitchen building with quarters for the caretaker and his family, a
stable, a small chapel, and a tiny, windowless room off one end of
the hall, which Sister Gertrude immediately appropriated for
herself, Danise, and their serving woman.
“You are far more accustomed to rough
conditions than ladies are,” she said to Theuderic. “You won’t mind
sleeping with your men. When the evening meal is ready, you may
send it to our room.”
“That’s the rudest nun I ever met,” remarked
Hugo, looking wistfully after Danise, who was being shepherded
toward the separate room.
“She gives holiness a bad name,” India
agreed. Hugo let out a loud whoop of laughter at that, slapping
India on the back so hard she almost fell to the floor.
“Aye, lad, that she does. A bad name indeed.”
He went off to tell the other men what India had said.
The caretaker brought food for them, a stew
of salted fish, turnips, and cabbage, tasty dark brown bread,
cheese and apples, and a jug of ale. All of this was placed on a
trestle table at one end of the hall. India noticed that Eudon was
not eating much.
“He looks feverish to me,” she said to
Theuderic.
“The best thing we can do for him,” Theuderic
replied, “is get him to Aachen and let him rest there until he has
completely recovered.”
With the meal over, India left the hall in
search of the latrine, which the caretaker had told her was on the
far side of the guesthouse compound. She was glad of the snow, for
it outlined buildings and well-trodden paths with white, making it
possible for her to find the hut she sought. Inside, it was
foul-smelling, and the wick burning in the dish of oil that the
caretaker had given her provided little light.
When she came out again, she noticed a series
of footprints around the hut that she had not seen before.
Apparently someone else had come into the night after her, but had
not returned to the hall. She started back along the path, pausing
when a skinny figure appeared out of the gloom.
“Hello, boy,” said an unfamiliar voice. “You
know me, don’t you? Lady Danise’s groom. I followed you here to
speak with you alone.”
“Is something wrong?” India asked. “Does Lady
Danise need help?”
“No, but I do,” the groom said. “There’s a
part of me that’s burning for your help. Come into the stable with
me, boy.”
“I cannot. Count Theuderic expects me.”
Uneasy now, and fearing the groom had realized she was not a boy at
all, India began to walk toward the hall again. The groom stepped
in front of her, barring her way, his sharp features illuminated by
the oil lamp she still held.
“I’ve seen you cuddling up to him,” the groom
said, adding with a sneer, “I know what you are, boy, and I want
some for myself.”
“Some what?”
Her question was answered when the groom made
a grab for her crotch. With a cry of dismay, she struck his hand
aside. She dropped the oil lamp, the flame quickly sizzling out in
the snow, leaving her with no light except that reflected off the
thin layer of snow on the ground. The groom stood between her and
the hall, and the door was closed. No one would hear if she called
for help.
“Let me pass,” she demanded, trying to sound
brave, though she was shaking.
“Not till you come into the stable with me,”
the groom said, reaching for her again. India stepped backward. He
followed her, beginning to whine as he spoke. “Come on, it’ll only
take a little while. I won’t hurt you, boy, but I have to have it
now. Count Theuderic will never know.”
“He already knows.”
The groom spun around, as startled by
Theuderic’s appearance as India was. But not for long.
“This boy accosted me,” the groom declared,
having recovered his earlier boldness.
“He wanted to stick his thing up my arse and
got mad when I told him no.”
“Get back to the stable where you belong,”
Theuderic said, “and count yourself lucky if I do not report this
incident to Sister Gertrude.”
“You do, and I’ll tell her the boy belongs to
you,” warned the groom defiantly.
“Get out of my sight!” Theuderic’s hand
rested on his sword hilt. The groom needed no further convincing,
but faded into the night.
“Are you hurt?” Theuderic asked India.
“I’m fine.” She was surprised to hear how
frightened she sounded. “It didn’t happen the way he said.”
“I know.” He laid his palm against her cheek
and she reveled in his touch. She leaned toward him, giving in to
the irresistible attraction that drew her.
“India.” She loved the way he said her
name.
“He is still there, in the shadows, watching
us,” Theuderic said, so softly she could just hear the words. “If I
kiss you now, he will believe that what he suggested about us is
the truth.”
“Isn’t it?” Her voice was as soft as his had
been, but he heard it, and he dropped his hand.
“Go inside,” he said. “I’ll follow in a
little while. If anyone asks for me, say our paths crossed coming
and going from the latrine.”
“Don’t send me away.”
“Go now. Leave me or I’ll take you here in
the snow and not care if the groom watches us. Sleep next to Eudon
tonight.”
“Theu—”
“Go!” There was such passion, and so much
pain in that one word, that she fled from him into the hall, to
smoky warmth and masculine laughter and at least the semblance of
safety.
The king of the Franks would not begin to
build his famous palace and chapel at Aachen for another two years,
but he often visited there to enjoy his favorite sport of hunting
amidst the beauty of Aachen’s wooded hills and its lake. An
accomplished swimmer and firm believer in personal cleanliness, he
also delighted in the many hot springs in the area. In fact, the
springs had been popular since Roman times for their
health-restoring properties, and there were still a few picturesque
ruined stone buildings of ancient origin scattered about the
landscape. There was also a good-sized lodge, along with other
wooden dwellings erected to accommodate Charles and his nobles when
they came to hunt.
It was mid-afternoon when India first saw
these rustic beginnings of what would one day be the capital city
of the Frankish empire. The late-season snow had stopped during the
previous night and had melted as the day progressed, so their
journey had not been delayed. After leaving the guesthouse in the
early morning they had forded a river and then had made their way
southwestward through miles of thick forest.
Theuderic reined in his horse on a slight
rise, waiting there for the rest of his company to catch up with
him, and India saw before them a wide swath of meadow. Here and
there a patch of snow still showed, but during the midday hours the
air had become so warm that a mist was rising from the ground,
making the settlement look as if it lay within some fairy
enchantment. The sky was milky blue, nearby trees were bursting
with early buds, and Charles’s hunting lodge rose out of the mist
like a magical construction.
“It’s lovely,” she breathed.
“Look there,” Theuderic whispered, touching
her arm. A few feet away a doe stood gazing at them with soft brown
eyes. They sat in silent delight upon Theuderic’s horse watching
the deer until it moved off through the trees.
“Aachen seems deserted,” India said, looking
again at the misty scene just below them.
“It’s not. There are always clerics and
servants and plenty of men-at-arms, in case Charles arrives with
little notice,” Theuderic told her.
“He’s not here now,” India said. “If he were,
his nobles would be living in tents all over that field, and we
would have been challenged to explain our presence long before
this.”
“You are right.” He nodded his approval of
her observation. “Charles has taken the court southward. He left
shortly after Christmas and plans to spend Easter along the way.
The levies are to gather at Agen, and Charles will meet them there
soon after Easter.”
India felt a cold chill in spite of the
springlike air. She knew what his words meant.
“Levies for the Spanish campaign,” she
said.
“So you’ve been listening to the men talk.
Yes, as you heard Savarec say, last summer our yearly gathering was
held at Paderborn, not far from where you and I met. A delegation
of Saracens appeared there to invite Charles to take his army into
Spain. They want him to resolve the dispute between two would-be
rulers of their country. In return, they have promised to turn over
several of their great cities to him. Charles is not blind to the
glory and the wealth he will garner in Spain, but most of all, he
hopes to convert the Saracens who live in that land to the True
Faith.”
“What do you think of the expedition?” she
asked. “You told Savarec you weren’t too pleased with the
idea.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I wonder if the infidels
can be trusted, and I question whether any man who rules a city
will willingly turn it over to another man without a fight. We are
unfamiliar with Spain, and once we have entered it, there will be a
tall mountain range blocking the way between us and Francia, with
only a few passes we can use to bring our army home again. Count
Hrulund and a few others are less cautious than I, and eager to do
battle with the Saracens.”
“But you won’t have to go there, will you?”
she said. “You are stationed here, in the north.”
“I have sent my levy on ahead,” he told her.
“My orders from Charles were to ride into Saxony, put down the
small revolt that had begun there, and return to Aachen to make a
report, which will be sent to him by rapid messenger. After a few
days’ rest, the men with me and I are to ride south to join Charles
and the rest of my levy at Agen.”
“Do you mean that you will march with him on
the Spanish campaign?” Fear for him made her choke out the
words.