“Oh!” Renewed fury boiled up in India. She
could not remember ever being so hurt and angry. She turned to
address the nun standing beside Marcion. “Sister Gertrude, I think
you are absolutely right. It is better for a woman to live in a
convent than to subject herself to the whims and the indifference
of a man.”
“I told you so,” said Sister Gertrude.
They headed south from Tours, the weather
growing steadily warmer as they traveled along a road that cut
through yet more forest. In fact, most of Francia was wooded,
though here and there farmland had been cleared and planted, and in
the infrequent open meadows cattle grazed. These southern lands
were lush and green with all the freshness of early spring. Showers
were frequent but brief and caused no inconvenience. As soon as the
sun came out again, their clothing dried, so there was no need to
seek shelter from the rain.
India estimated that it was by now the end of
March or early April, and probably close to four weeks since Eudon
had been wounded by the boar. He claimed to be completely healed.
Certainly he had borne up well during their travels and seemed to
be less stiff each morning. India herself was growing used to
riding all day, the exercise and fresh air combining to make her
feel remarkably healthy. But physical well-being was not
everything, and her heart was in turmoil.
Unable to deal with what she saw as his lack
of concern for her feelings or her safety, she avoided Theu as much
as possible and spent her days riding with Danise and Sister
Gertrude, willingly sharing a room and frequently a bed with the
two of them at night. It hurt her deeply that Theu did not seem to
notice or care.
“Never rely on a man for your happiness,”
Sister Gertrude said to her one evening while Theu sat with his men
and their host. All of the men ignored the women when they left the
great hall to seek the guest room. “Even Hugo does not spare a
glance for Danise. Men think nothing of destroying a woman’s peace
and contentment.”
Having seen Danise and India into bed, Sister
Gertrude made them promise to remain there, then took herself off
to the chapel, saying she had neglected her prayers of late. India
and Danise lay beneath a feather-filled quilt, India trying not to
weep. She wished she could put her head under the pillow and cry
herself to sleep, but she had no privacy, and so she had to keep
her feelings bottled up inside herself.
“Sister Gertrude does not like men,” came
Danise’s soft voice out of the darkness.
“I had noticed,” India replied dryly.
“She will not speak of her youth at all,”
Danise went on, “so I cannot say for certain, but I have heard
gossip about her at Chelles that makes me believe she was
disappointed in a man while she was just a girl. One story the
students tell about her youth claims that a man she loved and hoped
to marry was killed in battle. As a result, the story goes, Sister
Gertrude hates everything to do with warfare and the use of
weapons, and she refuses to trust any man. You have seen how
carefully she guards me from Count Theuderic’s men.”
“To Hugo’s great sorrow,” India said, making
Danise giggle.
“And now to Count Theuderic’s sorrow also,”
Danise responded, still laughing a little, “since Sister Gertrude
protects you from him.”
“Theuderic has his own sad past,” India
replied. “It is no secret that he has sworn never to love again in
order to avoid being hurt a second time as he was when his wife
died.”
“While my mother was still alive,” Danise
said, “my father looked at her as if his heart would melt at the
very sight of her. Count Theuderic looks at you in the same way. I
think you have touched his heart, whether he wanted it or not. He
may be struggling against himself, but I think he will not long
deny what he feels. From what I have seen of the warriors under my
father’s command, I believe they seize the moments of happiness
granted to them, for they above all men know how short life can
be.”
“You are remarkably wise for so young a
girl,” India said.
“Perhaps not so wise as you think,” Danise
responded. “I am nearly seventeen and should have been married
years ago except that my father could not bear to lose me after my
mother died.”
India began to think about what Danise had
said about the way Theu looked at her. She thought, too, about her
anger toward him. She was still not sure exactly what had happened
to him at Tours during the time when she was locked in her cold,
unfurnished cell, nor why Theu had treated her with such marked
indifference since that day. It was possible that Danise was right
and Theu was struggling with emotions he did not want to have. One
thing was certain – he would soon go to Spain, where he would be in
terrible danger. Whenever she thought about what could happen to
him there, fear clutched at her heart. It was fear that kept her
from hearing Danise’s next remarks, until the girl repeated her
question.
“Would you help me?” Danise asked. “I want so
much to speak privately with Hugo, but Sister Gertrude would never
allow it.”
“I shouldn’t allow it, either,” India said,
unwilling to be drawn into whatever romantic plot Danise might be
formulating. “Sister Gertrude would have my head if she discovered
I had let you meet Hugo.”
“But you are a widow, which makes you an
acceptable guardian for me. I only want you to stand a little aside
so you can’t hear what we say. It would only be for a few moments,
just so I can let him know I will think of him often while he is in
Spain. Once we arrive at Agen, I may not have another chance to
tell him what is in my heart before he goes away.”
“To Spain.” India said the word as if it were
a curse. “Always Spain. Yes, I’ll help you.”
Sister Gertrude returned just then, heralded
by the light of the oil lamp she carried, and the two younger women
broke off their talk. India moved over to make room in the bed for
the nun. Soon Sister Gertrude began to snore, while on India’s
other side Danise’s quieter breathing indicated that she, too, was
asleep. But India lay awake thinking about Hugo and Danise, and
then about Theu and what Danise had said of the way he looked at
her.
At mid-morning of the following day India
reined in her horse beside Hugo.
“Do you know where we are to stay tonight?”
she asked.
“There is a manor house, where the lord will
have left for Agen by now, but his lady will give us a meal and a
bed.” Puzzled, Hugo gave her a searching look. “Why didn’t you ask
Theu?”
“Have you been to the house before?”
“Once or twice.” Again he sent a questioning
look her way.
“Is there any place where a young girl and a
man might have a private conversation? Nothing too secluded, you
understand, in case they are discovered. We don’t want a scandal,
do we?” Seeing the smile that had begun to spread across his face,
she quickly put out a hand to touch his arm. “No, don’t look at
her. You don’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicion. If you can think
of a good place now, or if you find one after we arrive, speak to
me, not to Danise. And, Hugo” – here her hand tightened on his arm
– “I will be there, too, to protect her reputation. I don’t want
unpleasant gossip attached to her name.”
“Nor do I,” said Hugo. “But, if she will
allow it, may I kiss her on the cheek? It might be my only
chance.”
“If you ask her,” India said, “she may feel
obligated to say no.”
“Then I’ll be a thief and steal the kiss I
want.” He laughed aloud at the prospect, then sobered almost
immediately. “I’m going to ride with Eudon for a while, because
that cursed Autar is watching us. Marcion and I believe the message
he carries is just an excuse, and he was really sent to spy on all
of us, which means I’ll have to think of a way to keep him well
occupied this evening.”
The manor house in which they rested that
night was small, and at first India thought there would be no
opportunity for Danise and Hugo to meet. But the lady of the manor
was a pious woman of about Sister Gertrude’s age, a famous
needlewoman who was currently engaged in embroidering an
altar-cloth for the local church, and soon the lady, the nun, and
the servant Clothilde decided to retire to the lady’s chamber to
spread the cloth out upon the bed in order to examine it more
thoroughly away from the hall and the possibility of spotting from
food or wine.
“Be sure you and Danise stay together,”
Sister Gertrude said to India. “I leave her in your care.”
“I’ll see that she comes to no harm,” India
promised.
When the older women had gone, she looked
around the hall, but could not find Hugo.
“Where is he?” Danise whispered nervously.
“Perhaps he has changed his mind. India, did he speak to you at
all?”
“What he said,” Marcion remarked, passing
behind India on his way to where Theu and Autar were talking, “was
that Lombards like me are skilled at intrigue and therefore I am to
whisper to you of the beauty of the herb garden at twilight. For
myself, I would much prefer a candlelit room, but the Franks have
their own peculiar customs.” With a teasing smile for both of them,
Marcion moved on.
“But where would the herb garden be?” India
asked.
“I can find it.” Her pretty face alight with
expectation, Danise headed for a door at one end of the hall.
“Wait, not so fast. We don’t want to be
noticed,” India told her, following as rapidly as she dared. “You
aren’t going anywhere without me. I promised Sister Gertrude.”
The herb garden was long and narrow, set
within stone walls, with a path down the length of it and an old
apple tree at the far end. There were only a few delicate new
shoots on the plants and no flowers in bloom yet, but India
recognized savory, rue, and sage, a patch of mint peeking up in a
sheltered corner, a rosebush that would in early summer produce
five-petaled, single flowers. Some green leaves that looked like
lilies were pushing their way up out of the damp soil. Hugo stood
next to a sundial at the halfway point on the path, waiting for
them.
“My dear lady.” He went to one knee, seizing
both of Danise’s hands to kiss them.
“Hugo, you must behave yourself,” India
cautioned. “And I cannot leave you alone.”
“There’s a bench under the apple tree,” Hugo
said. “If Danise and I sit there, you could walk and look at the
plants.”
“And not hear what you are saying?” Feeling
like an elderly aunt, and suddenly understanding at least some of
Sister Gertrude’s responsibilities, India waved them away. “Go on,
but remember I will be nearby, and don’t stay too long. If we are
caught, we will all be punished by an outraged nun and you may
never be allowed to speak to each other again.”
She watched them hurry down the path before
she turned her back to give them some privacy. She tried to
interest herself in the herbs, and then in the pink and gold sunset
that lit the sky. From the direction of the apple tree came the
sound of Hugo’s low-pitched voice and Danise’s gentle laughter. The
evening air was soft and mild, and it was so quiet that India
whirled at the sound of a foot on the grass. She looked anxiously
toward the garden entrance, fearing the approach of Sister
Gertrude.
But it was Theu who came through the arched
opening in the garden wall. He stood watching the couple at the
other end of the path, while India wondered how to explain why she
had permitted their meeting and tried to think of a way to convince
him not to tell Sister Gertrude about it. Then, as she had done, he
turned his back toward Hugo and Danise and stood beside her,
looking down at the patch of mint.
“Did you plan it?” he asked. “Or did
she?”
“We planned it together,” she answered.
“Actually, Hugo found the place, and Marcion delivered the message.
You might say we all contributed.”
“At the moment, Marcion is plying Autar with
wine. I suppose that is part of your scheme, too – to keep Autar
occupied? Or did Marcion or Hugo think of that? It’s how I knew.
Marcion never drinks so much unless he has a good reason for it.
Then I noticed that the three of you had disappeared. Finding you
was easy.”
“There’s no harm,” she began.
“Especially not with two of us to watch
them.” His hand rested on her shoulder in the gesture that had
become familiar to her. “Are you still angry? Still disappointed in
me?”
“Yes.” She was curious about his response to
such an answer, but she refused to disguise what she felt.
“So am I angry,” he said, “and disappointed,
too, for I thought you would trust me. I thought you’d know I would
never let any harm come to you.”
“I believe you mean that,” she said, “but if
you had been killed at Tours, Hrulund would have killed me along
with the rest of your people.”
“Turpin would not have allowed my death,”
Theu said. “He knew that if Hrulund killed me, Charles would have
seen both of them executed for the murder.”
“Theu, what was the purpose of that strange
meeting?” India asked. “Why did they send Autar to meet us, and to
make certain we stopped at Tours?”
“They weren’t interested in you and the
others,” Theu said. “I am the one they hoped to intimidate. The
evening I spent with Turpin and Hrulund was unpleasant as well as
pointless. Turpin, at least, must have known from the first that he
could not change my opinion of this summer’s campaign. Hrulund was
there solely for the pleasure of insulting me to my face. I cannot
pretend to understand the workings of Turpin’s mind, but Hrulund is
easy enough to read.”
“I think Turpin had another purpose once you
told him I was carrying a message to Charles,” India said. Quickly,
choosing her words carefully so as not to further inflame his wrath
against either Turpin or Hrulund, she described her midnight
interview with the bishop.