“It’s true.”
“Then how is it that your husband knew about
the Spanish campaign before he died? Charles did not decide upon it
until last autumn, yet you claim to have been traveling for years
to warn us against it.” He gave her such a concentrated, direct
look that she could not move or in any way escape his next
questions. “Was your husband a magician? Did he foresee the
future?”
Here was the danger she had feared if she
said too much. She knew she would have to answer Alcuin truthfully
but very carefully. He was too intelligent to be fooled for long by
lies or evasions, yet evasion and half-lies were all she dared to
give him. She hated the need to do so, wishing she could tell this
wise and obviously good-hearted man everything that had happened to
her.
“Robert Baldwin was not a magician; he was a
scholar,” she said. “I was only his secretary and now am but the
carrier of his message. His knowledge and his intelligence were far
greater than mine.”
“I have known women who outdistanced many men
in both, Charles’s mother and sister among them, and a few ladies
of this court also. Whatever your full story may be, I sense in you
no evil intent, only the desire to protect those you love. India, I
beg you, take my advice for which you asked.” His ink-stained right
hand covered hers, the touch imparting a genuine solicitude for
her. “During the short time remaining to you, do not torment
yourself or Theuderic with your fears for him, nor press him to
change what he will do in battle. Love him, give him all your
heart, and the day after tomorrow send him away with a smile. When
he is gone, pray constantly for his safe return. Weep then, if weep
you must, but not now, not while he is still with you.”
She was saved from making an impatient answer
to advice she did not want to hear by the sudden appearance of
Bishop Turpin, Count Hrulund, and Autar. Turpin, in full bishop’s
regalia, greeted Charles and Hildegarde with severe dignity.
Hrulund fell on both knees before Charles, bowing his head so low
that India half believed he would touch his forehead to the
floor.
“My lord king,” Hrulund proclaimed in a loud
voice, “I come before you prepared to give my life in your
service.”
“Let us hope that won’t be necessary,” said
Charles, shifting little Rotrud a bit higher against his shoulder
so he could motion to Hrulund to rise.
“I will perform any task you set me, dare any
danger, and count it nothing for your sake,” Hrulund replied.
“It would please me,” Charles told him, “if
you would have a care for your life and the lives of your men.”
“I can think of no greater glory than to die
in your name while killing black-hearted Saracens,” said Hrulund.
He went on in this way, passionately vowing the complete
extermination of every unbeliever in Spain.
“Alcuin,” India said, still watching
Hrulund’s posturing, “
He
is the most dangerous man in
Charles’s army.”
“Charles understands him well and uses the
man to his own advantage,” Alcuin told her, patting her hand again.
“You need not concern yourself about Hrulund, my dear.”
Upon hearing those words, she understood at
last that no one would take her fears seriously. There was no way
for her to prove that she had come to Francia from the future or
that she knew what would happen in Spain. It was a miracle that
Theu believed her. No one else would. If what had happened to her
was beyond her own comprehension, how could she expect Charles and
his friends to understand it? Her conversation with Alcuin had
frightened her, for his searching questions had almost led her into
saying more than she should. With a long sigh, she admitted that
Theu was right. The only thing for her to do was keep quiet, let
history take its course, and pray that Theu and all his band of
friends would survive the coming warfare.
At that point in her thoughts, she saw Theu,
Marcion, and Hugo enter the room. They went at once to Charles, who
was still listening to Hrulund.
“Theu,” cried little Chariot, not caring that
he interrupted Hrulund’s latest boast, “look at my new sword. Will
you practice with me?” He jumped down from his father’s lap and ran
to Theu, who stooped to admire the wooden blade. Hrulund looked
about angrily, but Charles only smiled.
“He’ll be a fine warrior in a few years,”
Charles said to Theu, pride in his son sounding in every word. He
glanced around the room. “This is what I like best. It’s good to
have my family and my dearest friends near me. The memory of this
evening will cheer my heart until we are all together again.”
“Some of those friends are impure and
unworthy of you,” declared Hrulund in his most arrogant tone.
“Count Theuderic found a strange woman in Saxony and has taken her
as his concubine. Autar can testify to that.”
“Indeed I can,” Autar spoke up. “One day,
while we journeyed here from Tours, I discovered him alone in a
field with the woman India, kneeling before her, replacing her
boots. From his tender manner toward her, it was clear to me what
they had been doing.”
“My lord,” Theuderic began to protest, but
Charles held up a hand, silencing him. Setting Rotrud down with a
gentle hug, he rose, and when he looked up from his tiny daughter
to his friends he was laughing.
“In a field, eh?” he said. “I’ve done the
same myself more than once. So long as the lady is willing – and a
widow, not an innocent maiden – and the weather is dry, where’s the
harm? Now, Hrulund, Autar, understand this: not all men can
maintain your unblemished purity, my friends. Keep a little charity
in your hearts and do not chastise the rest of us for loving our
women often and well.”
India saw Hildegarde blushing at her
husband’s words and could feel her own face flaming.
“Well, Theu,” said Charles, grinning broadly,
“what have you to say to this accusation? I will listen now.”
“When we return from Spain,” Theu responded,
smiling back at his king, “I will marry India, if she will have me.
Since she has no male relatives in Francia, I have already spoken
directly to her.”
“And I, my lord,” spoke up Hugo, seizing the
opportunity to make a request dear to his heart, “will also ask for
a lady’s hand when I return. Perhaps one day my children and Theu’s
will further cement our long friendship by intermarrying. And all
of our children, I know, will gladly follow your heirs when we
three have gone from this world.”
“Theu has mentioned your hopes to me, Hugo,”
said Charles. “I approve of your choice. You need only win an
estate large enough to satisfy the lady’s father. I think it will
not be a difficult task for you.”
Hugo rightly took these words to mean that he
was assured of a substantial reward once the Spanish campaign was
completed. He could not keep himself from looking at Danise, who
gazed back at him with shining eyes, so that everyone present saw
the happiness and the bright dream that lay between them. India saw
something else in addition. She saw Hrulund looking at Theu as if
he would like to run him through on the spot. An instant later,
Charles began to talk to someone else, and Hrulund was forced to
move aside. Theu came to where India still sat beside Alcuin. The
two men exchanged a few friendly words.
“Excuse me,” Alcuin said to them. “I believe
Charles wants me.”
No sooner had Alcuin left them than Bishop
Turpin approached.
“Lady India, what a pleasure to meet you
again.” Turpin smiled at her. Before he could say anything more,
Theu stepped in front of India.
“If you touch her,” Theu said to Turpin with
barely suppressed violence, “if you threaten her again, or frighten
her in any way, or lay one hand on her, I will forget who you are
and punish you as you ought to be punished. Harm India, and your
priestly robes will no longer protect you.”
“If I were you, I would not be so hasty.”
Turpin’s fixed smile did not reach his eyes. “Were I you, I would
never forget that a bishop is not without his own power. Nor would
I trust a woman about whom nothing is known.” Turpin’s smile
vanished. With a chilling glance at India, he moved on to speak to
someone else.
“I hope you were not embarrassed,” Theu said
when they were as alone as two people could be in that crowded
room. “I thought it best to warn Turpin.”
“I think you should not have angered him,”
she responded, “but I thank you for trying to protect me. I also
appreciate what you said to Charles.”
“I meant every word,” he assured her. “I
begin to hope you may be able to remain with me. After all,
Ahnk
has attempted twice to take you back, and he has failed
both times. As for Autar’s accusations, no one here will think less
of you for lying with me. Widows are free to love where they
choose, especially those who do not have great estates to
consider.”
“I want to spend tonight with you,” she told
him, “and every moment until you leave.”
“It cannot be tonight. Charles will keep us
up late, talking and planning. He loves to work at night, when
others are abed. But at mid-morning, put on your riding clothes and
join me at my tent.”
“Theu,” called Charles, “we are going to the
council chamber.” Most of the warriors present, along with Alcuin,
Adelbert, and a few other clerics, left the room with him.
Hildegarde headed toward the women’s
quarters, holding Rotrud by one hand, Chariot by the other, and
followed by the nurse with the baby. Danise and Bertille were
talking to Bertille’s mother. No one noticed when Theu put his arm
around India’s waist and drew her near for a swift, hard kiss.
“Until tomorrow,” he said. “When I finally
sleep this night, I will dream of you.” He was gone, leaving her to
look after him with a resurgence of her earlier fear, yet with an
odd renewal of hope. If he was right and Hank could not take her
home, if he returned safe and whole from Spain, they might have a
future together after all.
She shared a bed with Danise again that
night, and found herself bound to listen to Danise’s girlish
happiness.
“What good fortune for us that Charles likes
Hugo,” Danise whispered. “I am sure he will return to me a wealthy
man, and then, since we have the king’s approval, my father cannot
object to our marriage.”
“There are still many battles to be fought
before that day comes,” India reminded her, hoping to calm the girl
so they both could sleep.
“I know it,” Danise whispered back, “and I
will pray for him every day that he is gone.”
In the morning the ladies all went to chapel,
then broke their fast with bread and a little wine. Hildegarde was
not feeling well and had asked for Sister Gertrude and Bertille’s
mother, Lady Remilda, to attend her, so there was no one to object
when India changed from the borrowed blue gown to her own tunic,
trousers, and boots. Nor did anyone stop her when she left the
palace and made her way from the town to the outlying fields where
Theu’s tent was pitched among dozens of others in what had become
an auxiliary town.
He was waiting for her with her horse and his
own. In the midst of that military encampment, with his men all
about, he gave her only a brief, unemotional greeting before he
helped her to mount. They rode out of the camp, away from all the
noise and the bustle of packing and loading baggage carts, past
smoky cooking fires and the smell of roasting meat and boiling
cabbage, past itinerant merchants who hoped to dispose of their
wares to the soldiers, and past the inevitable camp followers in
tawdry rags who would trail after the army into Spain, taking with
them their pimps, their children, and occasionally their aged
parents.
Soon they had left the camp behind. Agen was
built in a pleasant spot between the protection of the wide River
Garonne and a high hill that guarded its back. Theu headed toward
the hill, keeping the horses at a walk. As they climbed higher,
more of the landscape came into view. Below them rolled the
Garonne, joined near Agen by the sleepy River Gers, which flowed
into it.
“The army will cross there,” Theu said,
pointing to an ancient stone bridge, “and take the Roman road into
the mountains.”
She could see the foothills, green with
spring, the leaves fresh and new on oak trees and birch and
chestnut and, in the far distance, beyond the first rippling rise
of land, the darker shades of evergreens. And then came the
Pyrenees themselves – white-capped, rocky, stretching all across
the southern horizon.
“And beyond the mountains, Spain,” she said,
noting the now-familiar knot at her heart. There were other words
on the tip of her tongue, words of warning, begging, pleading
words, but she remembered Alcuin’s advice and did not speak
them.
She was rewarded for her reticence when Theu
leaned across the space between their horses to kiss her, his
tongue teasing along her lips, one of his hands brushing
deliberately across her breasts. The tight feeling in her chest
eased, replaced by the warmth his touch always roused in her. If
she did not know yet where he was taking her, she was certain of
what they would do when they got there. A heavy, sweet ache began
far inside her.
Theu found a spot where they were sheltered
by trees but still could look out upon the scenery below. He spread
his cloak for them to sit on, and brought out bread and cheese and
a small jug of wine from his saddlebags.
“We won’t be disturbed here,” he said,
drawing her down to sit beside him and putting his arms around
her.
“The food,” she began, but he stopped her
half-hearted protest with his mouth.
“We will eat later,” he informed her in his
commanding way. “I want you now. And you want me, or you would not
be here.”
He was not wearing chain mail, not on this
occasion, and he made short work of removing his clothes. India had
her outer garments off and was pulling at the straps of her teddy
when he put his hands on top of hers.