“True enough,” he drawled, “but a
boy
,
traveling alone, is something different from a virtuous woman, is
he not?”
“It is just possible,” India declared hotly,
“that such a boy would need the same protection a woman would.”
“That is so,” said Theuderic, very quietly,
“which is why I have given you my protection. Boy or maid, I’d not
see innocence ruined without trying to help.”
“Theu.” Marcion, who had been conversing with
Hugo and Osric, now broke into his leader’s speech. “If you prefer,
India may share my shelter with me tonight. I sleep more soundly
than you and would scarcely notice his presence.”
Theuderic gave him a long, level look, during
which it seemed to India that the two men shared an unspoken
understanding.
“Thank you for your concern about my rest,”
Theuderic said dryly, “but the boy is my responsibility. He stays
with me.”
“As you wish.” Marcion acceded with a
graceful movement of his expressive hands. “Though you should know,
Theu, that after the care he gave to Eudon, all of us consider
India to be a member of this band and therefore our joint
responsibility.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Theuderic said,
adding, to India’s consternation, “If I am killed, see that India
is safely delivered to Charles.”
“Killed?” India cried. “Do you anticipate
having to fight before we reach Aachen?”
“I do not. But, as you saw in Eudon’s case,
unexpected events happen.” His big, square hand rested on hers for
the briefest of moments. “I want you kept safe. If I am not
available, Charles will care for you.”
Later, with her wrist bound to him for a
third night, after both of them had lain stiffly for hours beneath
his cloak, each trying not to touch the other, Theuderic turned to
her with a muffled oath and took her into his arms, to hold her
close so they could sleep at last.
When she wakened, he was gone – hunting,
Eudon told her – and he did not return until the day was almost
over. Eudon spent the better part of the day moving about the camp
and exercising his right leg in preparation for the long ride to
come.
“Riding will be painful for you,” India
warned. “It will be a while before that wound is fully healed.”
“Theu has given me more time to recover than
any other leader would have,” Eudon returned. “I won’t delay him
any longer.”
Theuderic took the first watch that night, so
India retired alone to the lean-to they usually shared. She was
glad of his absence, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to
hide the way she felt about him. He had given her his cloak, saying
he would be warm enough until he joined her later, but in the
morning he was not in their lean-to. She found him stretched beside
the dying fire.
“Why did you sleep on the bare ground when
you might have had shelter with me?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter.” His abrupt manner
suggested to her that he, too, was having trouble concealing his
feelings. “Eat quickly. I want to leave at once.”
By now, the bread the men carried with them
was so stale and hard that it could only be eaten by soaking it in
their ale first. It made a singularly unappetizing mess, but India
did not complain. It was not long before she was mounted in front
of Theuderic once more and they were back on the almost invisible
track through the forest, traveling more slowly than before, to
accommodate Eudon.
They reached the Rhine in mid-afternoon.
Flowing smoothly along its course through dense forest and a few
low hills, it was not as exciting a sight as India had expected.
All the wild, romantic cliffs and rapids she had read about and
seen pictures of lay upstream, to the south, and most of the famous
castles that in her own time were the signatures of that great
river, would not be built for several centuries.
On the western bank, across the sparkling
clean, blue and silver water, lay the town the Romans had
originally named Colonia Agrippina, though the Franks referred to
it simply as Köln. By squinting against the bright sun, India could
make out a recently restored Roman wall around the town and what
looked to her like a Romanesque church surrounded by smaller
buildings.
Of more immediate interest to their party, on
the eastern side of the river a few houses stood near the water,
making the tiniest of villages. The flat barge that served as a
ferry was tied to a wooden wharf. Set apart from the houses was
also a large Roman building, its stone faded over the centuries
into a warm, golden hue. Innumerable additions had been added to
this edifice, its sprawling walls now housing the Frankish garrison
kept there to guard the ferry crossing.
Theuderic led his men through the open gates,
past a series of sentries, all of whom snapped to attention when
Osric called out their identity, each syllable rolling off his
tongue in a way that suggested this was his usual job and one he
relished.
“He just called you count,” India said. She
was not especially surprised. She knew Theuderic had a large estate
near Metz, for he had told her so himself, adding that his son, now
three years old, lived there under Theuderic’s mother’s care. No
man who wore chain mail and led a well-disciplined warband could be
less than a nobleman. Still, she was impressed. In the realm of
Charles the Great, only a few dukes and Charles himself ranked
higher than a count.
“My grandfather fought the Saracens at Tours
with Charles Martel,” Theuderic responded to her comment with quiet
pride. “My father was a close friend to King Pepin, and I am
Charles’s man. It was he who made me a count.”
They were by now inside the courtyard of the
garrison, and India could see that it was crowded with busy men and
with horses. Apparently, the king of the Franks believed the Saxons
were a danger serious enough to make him keep this outpost well
staffed.
“Now for some decent food,” said Hugo,
smiling when he saw a portly man in a green tunic and jeweled sword
belt coming toward them. “Savarec keeps a fine table. India, lad,
we have returned to civilization at last.”
Behind India, Theuderic moved, dismounting,
and then he and Marcion, now on foot too, went forward to greet the
garrison commander.
“My dear Count Theuderic, Lord Marcion,
welcome, welcome.” Savarec’s ruddy face shone with pleasure. “I am
pleased to see you return in good health and with your men
uninjured. You must give us the news of your battles with the
Saxons. Have you a report from Paderborn? Perhaps some news
directed especially to me? With so many men stationed here, I would
welcome the chance to let them work off their extra energy in a
small battle.” Still talking in a way that allowed no interruptions
or even answers to his numerous questions, Savarec swept Theuderic
and Marcion with him through the door of what appeared to be the
main section of the garrison building.
“Enthusiastic, isn’t he?” Hugo grinned at
India, who still sat upon Theuderic’s horse. He tilted his chin
toward the doorway through which Theuderic and Marcion had
vanished. “You’d better dismount, lad. I see a servant coming
toward you with a look that suggests Theu was finally able to get a
word in to tell Savarec we’ve a king’s messenger among us.”
“But I’m not,” India protested.
“Don’t tell Savarec that,” Hugo advised
kindly. “He’ll treat you better if he thinks you are. He’s a good
man, and a brave one, but a bit too much in awe of rank and
title.”
Once on the ground, India faced a swarthy
fellow who sported both a lush beard and a sweeping mustache.
“If you will be so good,” the man said,
almost stumbling over the words in his eagerness, “please come with
me. Savarec regrets that he was not aware of your presence. This
way, please, good sir.” With what was apparently intended to be a
bow, the man indicated that India should precede him into the
building.
“Go on,” said Hugo, his big face perfectly
serious. “Don’t worry about the rest of us. I’ll see the men well
billetted, and then I’ll join you.” By now India’s guide was some
distance ahead of her, and after a quick glance in the man’s
direction, Hugo gave her a long, slow wink. “Enjoy your exalted
state, lad.”
She knew as she entered the building that she
was probably in serious danger of having her disguise penetrated in
that place, but suddenly she felt like laughing. Hugo had looked so
comical, and the other men had been openly grinning their
encouragement. She followed Savarec’s man with a jaunty step.
“My dear young man,” exclaimed Savarec when
she had been shown into the great hall, “I assure you, I intended
no slight when I neglected to greet you as well as Count Theuderic
and Lord Marcion. Come in, please, and join us.”
India did as she was bidden, looking around
with great interest at this first Frankish interior she had seen.
The hall had a high roof and a long pit down the center of its
stone floor, wherein burned several separate and rather smoky
fires. Two rows of tables were arranged on either side of the
firepit, confirming India’s assumption that this was where the
garrison assembled for meals. Theuderic, Marcion and their host
stood together near the door. The only other people in the room
were servants who were setting the tables with wooden plates and
cups. From behind the door at the end of the hall wafted the smell
of cooking meat and vegetables, particularly cabbage, which
overlaid the even less pleasant indoor odors of damp wool and
unwashed bodies.
Savarec himself looked reasonably clean, his
graying hair and mustache carefully combed, his clothing fresh and
unspotted. He personally poured a cup of wine and gave it to India,
his manner revealing no sign that he saw the woman beneath the
boyish exterior. Offering up silent thanks to heaven for Savarec’s
acceptance of her, India took the cup from him with a polite bow of
her head.
“Drink it slowly,” warned Theuderic. “After
the last few days, wine will be new to you.”
On impulse, she lifted her cup, toasting him
for an instant before she drank. She saw his eyes widen in
surprise. At once, he returned the gesture with his own cup. The
wine was slightly fizzy, and a little too sweet for her taste, but
it was doubtless the safest liquid she could drink in that
land.
“Excellent,” she said to Savarec, as if she
were a connoisseur. Savarec looked pleased.
“I hope you will find the evening meal to
your liking also,” he said, beaming at her. “I am curious to know
more about your land of
Chess-veeck
, which Count Theuderic
has been describing to me. Will you be good enough to tell me about
it tonight?”
“Describing it? Theuderic?” India stared at
that gentleman, but all she got in return was a bland, innocent
look.
“We will talk more tonight,” Savarec
promised. “For now, let this servant escort you to your room while
I oversee the details of our feast. I regret that we are so
overcrowded that there is but one guest room available, and most of
your men will have to sleep in the barracks. Until later, Count
Theuderic, Lord Marcion, Lord India.”
India nearly choked at that bestowal of an
unearned title upon her, but went with her companions to the guest
room that had been prepared for them on the second floor of the
garrison building.
It was not large, and half the space was
taken up by the bed that sat in one corner. This piece of furniture
had railings at the head, foot, and one long side. It looked
remarkably like a twentieth-century daybed. The similarity was
increased when Marcion lifted the undyed woolen coverlet to pull
out a trundle bed tucked underneath.
“Hugo and I can sleep on this,” Marcion
remarked, pushing the trundle back under the bed until it should be
needed. “There will be plenty of room for all of us.”
“What about Eudon?” India asked, more than a
little shaken by Marcion’s apparent assumption that she and
Theuderic would be sleeping together in the larger bed.
“Eudon really ought to have a comfortable
place to stretch out his right leg tonight, or he’ll be too stiff
to ride tomorrow.”
“I’ll see to Eudon’s comfort.” Marcion’s
boyish grin was filled with pure mischief as a servant appeared
with twin pitchers of steaming water, a second man following with a
wooden basin, a bowl of soap, and a linen towel. “I’ll check on the
horses, too. My absence will give you both more room to move around
while you wash. Hugo and I can take the second turn at the water,
after you’ve finished.”
There was a single window in the room, with a
wooden table beneath it. The servants set the water pitchers and
other supplies down on the table and withdrew. Marcion followed
them, leaving Theuderic and India alone.
“Are we all really expected to sleep in here,
together?” India asked nervously.
“Why not?” Folding his arms across his chest,
Theuderic stood watching her as if to judge her every reaction and
each word she spoke. “We have slept as closely together every night
since you joined us.”
“It’s not the same. That was in the open.
Here there are walls, a floor, a ceiling.”
“It will certainly be more pleasant than the
damp forest,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving her face.
“And presumably safer,” she added, believing
it would not be safe at all to spend an entire night in the same
bed with this man. “Will you still bind my wrist and tie me to you
tonight?”
“If I thought you would fly out the window
while I slept, I might well tie you again.” He moved suddenly, the
action surprising her. He stood so close to her that they were
almost touching. “You would leave if you could,” he accused her,
his voice soft.
It was true. If Hank were to give her any
indication that he had found a way to take her home again, she
would go without a backward glance. Or would she? Looking at
Theuderic’s hard face, into his sharp grey eyes, she wondered if
she had been driven mad by what had happened to her, because the
thought of never seeing him again stabbed her like a knife in the
heart.