Unbidden (The Evolution Series) (37 page)

A wet covering of snow as deep as the horses’ fetlocks coated the ground by morning
. The further east they traveled, the more remote the surroundings became.

Doeg announced heartily, “We
will pass Eichstadt today. Tonight we sleep in a hut, and by tomorrow we should arrive at Atrum Calx, if the snow does not slow us down too badly.” He’d become less arrogant, perhaps even a bit cautious with her of late. He acted like someone who had belatedly realized his own blunder, finding himself set on a track he could not leave.

“What will you do with me there?” Rochelle asked cautiously, trying to make out his purpose.

“I will show you the estate,” he replied, “after you have had a day or so to rest, of course.

The strange answer threw her, but his caring whether she had rest was even stranger
. They retreated into the usual uncomfortable silence, only heightened by the muffling effect of the falling snow.

The hut he’d
mentioned offered poor shelter — she could see the last of the daylight through little cracks in the plank walls as they settled in — but even a poor roof was better than nothing, and a small shelter nearby gave the tired horses some protection, as well. The hut had two chairs and a table, and a shelf on the wall held a few wooden bowls and tin cups. It was used for hunting parties, Doeg explained, as he placed the last of the dry wood in the middle of the dirt floor. “We are at the edge of my father’s land now,” he announced proudly, “and we still have to ride several hours tomorrow to reach the house.”

Rochelle shivered
. She’d been wet through for two days and dearly longed for an hour of privacy to dry her clothes. The best she could do was drape her cloak over a chair then stand as close to the fire as she dared, watching the steam rise off her dirty brown tunic.

The snow fell heavily that night, laying a thick blanket that slowed the horses to a fraction of their former pace
. Only Magnus was unperturbed, digging his nose in it and bounding around like a puppy.

As they passed over the estate, Rochelle did not see anything to impress her
. The homes of the tenants were small, with poorly thatched roofs emitting gossamer tendrils of smoke from within. She saw thin, dirty people who watched Doeg carefully, as if he were a stranger to them. He looked at her often. She sensed he wanted to ask her something, but he invariably clamped his mouth shut.

It took half a day to reach the main house
. She’d expected to feel some relief when they approached the end of the journey. The building only filled her with foreboding. The first floor was constructed of stone so dark with lichen as to be nearly black. The wood siding of the second floor was beginning to rot, though a steeply pitched lead roof proved the estate had had money once upon a time. There were a few windows in the second story only, giving the house the countenance of a fortress. Atrum Calx.

A few steps led up to to the imposing front door
, and when Doeg, carrying both their parcels of clothing, pushed it open, Rochelle instinctively drew back from the noise, stench and mayhem within. There were a dozen filthy men eating and shouting around a long greasy table. A few full-bosomed women walked over discarded bones and other detritus, carrying large ewers and loaves of dark bread to the table.

Rochelle had never seen anything like it, not even when surreptitiously peeking through the open doors of the most common inns in Aix-la-Chapelle.

Doeg tugged at her elbow, almost dragging her through the portal into the dim interior. There were two doors in the wall to the left, one open to show a slovenly barracks, the other tightly closed. Stairs clung tenuously to the wall, leading to a decrepit gallery hung with spiderweb garlands. Three doors lined it, one barely squashed under the ceiling that sloped down to first story level at the back of the house. It and the one at the front of the house were obviously dusty from disuse even from her vantage point at the entrance to the house. She and Doeg waited near the front door at the top of two steps leading down to the level of the hall while the inhabitants became slowly aware of their arrival.

Rochelle watched a
man at the far end of the table. She knew without introduction that he was David’s father. The shape of his face and the line of his nose made him unmistakable. His eyes were blue, though slightly clouded compared to Doeg’s. But his hair grew thick and wavy, different from his sons’ only in its gray color.

“Have you finally got yourself a woman?” the man called unkindly.

Rochelle raised her eyebrows at his rudeness, but kept quiet. The men at the table guffawed, staring at her like the next haunch of beef to be put before them on a platter.

“I have brought David’s wife to meet you,” Doeg answered, sounding much less sure of himself here
than he had in Alda’s hall.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man said
. “Bring her here, then, so I can have a look at her.”

If Rochelle had not been a courageous sort, she would have pressed herself against the wall to keep as far from the voracious men as possible
. She was meeting David’s people, she reminded herself. She lifted her chin and curled her fingers into Magnus’s fur as Doeg led her to her father-in-law.

“Father, this is Rochelle
. Rochelle, this is my father, Drogo.”

The man pushed up out of his chair to tower over her
. He had crumbs in his unkempt beard and the front of his tunic bore evidence of several other meals. He studied her carefully, his eyes chilling her as Doeg’s always had. “I see he sent his mangy dog too,” he sneered as he dropped back into his chair. “Doeg, you know I do not like noblewomen in my hall.”  He looked down the table at the men. “Noblewomen have only three capabilities. Sewing, cooking, and bearing heirs.”  His companions chuckled at his observation. “Can she sew, Doeg, or cook?”

“Not that I have seen, Father.”

“Then what use is she here?  This house has its heir.”  The words were cutting, and not only to her. Drogo did not even try to hide his derision for his heir.

Doeg betrayed no reaction
. “We have had a long journey in the snow. Let her rest.”

“Put her in David’s room,”

“Perhaps we should give her some privacy upstairs.”

“You know I do not li
ke women upstairs either. Do as I say!  Ingrid!” he shouted, snapping his fingers at a wisp of a girl near what Rochelle assumed was the kitchen door. “Give her a torch and some food, then come back and see to Doeg. I am sure he has missed your attentions.”

The table erupted with laughter
.

Rochelle felt the men’s eyes on her as she followed the thin teenager to a black door toward the front of the house, near the long side of the table
. The girl, Ingrid, struggled to push it open. She disappeared into a dank space. The torch revealed very little:  a few sacks of grain, a broken cask that probably held wine at one time, some housecleaning items and several pegs in the wall. Doeg tossed her pack in the door behind her, then left them.

“This is David’s room?” Rochelle asked the girl.

She bobbed a little in affirmation. “He hardly ever comes here. It has been years. My boy was just born the last time and now he’s, umm, three. Things have changed since your man was here last.”

Rochelle stared at Ingrid, trying to make the image fit the words
. She hardly looked old enough to have a child, and her clothes hung off her as they would on a gangly boy.

Ingrid shifted awkwardly under the scrutiny
. “I will bring you a pallet and some food.”

“Could I get a bath?” Rochelle asked with hope, still chilled to the bone.

Ingrid’s dark eyes flicked to the door and back. “I would not if I was you,” she said nervously. “I can bring you some warm water.”

“Thank you, Ingrid
. I would appreciate that.”  Rochelle gave her a tired smile.

The girl’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she slipped out the door, carefully drawing it closed behind her.

The noise continued from the hall for hours
. The men practically shouted their conversations and laughed drunkenly. Occasionally, a woman cackled or shrieked. Rochelle huddled on the thin pallet, wrapped in the blanket Ingrid had brought. She had changed into her fresh clothes, but they were also damp from their snowy days in the leather bag. She knew she would be warmer without them, yet could not imagine being in this house in her undergarments, or worse, naked.

Magnus rested on the floor between her and the door that thankfully had a small bar she put in place as soon as Ingrid left her the second time
. She’d forced herself to eat a little, feeding Magnus the remains of her bland meal, then propped herself up against the cold wall, her dagger clutched under her cloak.

She had begun to doze when someone banged on the door
. Magnus barked, inciting hoots of laughter from the hall. It took her hours to sleep after that. She thought of David, at first gentle imaginings of him sitting with her, his arms wrapped around her. She then began wondering again how she had come to be here, and niggling annoyance crept into her mind. Her worry that Doeg had somehow harmed him never left her completely, but she couldn’t help but speculate. If David had believed her and Theo when they warned him about his wretched brother, Doeg would not have been at Alda in the first place and she certainly wouldn’t be here.

She began to move past hurt feelings toward anger
. She began to wonder if David would really follow her here or if she would have to be her own savior.

Chapter Thirty-two

The headaches were a test of David’s will, requiring intense concentration to keep from running mad, or running himself through
. He did not know when Rochelle would come to him. He simply endured in his own private hell as he had before.

David lost all sense of time after talking to Doeg
. He’d slumped down to the floor near the desk, going flat to his back, the balls of his hands digging into his temples, his jaw clenched against any sound. He drifted in the pain, caught in a perpetual nightmare, paralyzed by a constant, unbearable agony from which his mind could not awaken. The gray light increased at the windows and muffled sounds came from the hall, all part of some other world that could not occupy the same space as his torment.

Marian found him
near midday, hidden from view behind the desk. She’d been pacing, waiting for word from Ardo who’d she’d sent searching despite Woden still being safe in the stable. She’d stopped near the office door when she heard the rasp of heavy breathing. She crept in, trepidation clear on her face. As she knelt beside him, she whispered, “Dear God, what did he do to ye?”

Her voice came from a distance and it took him a moment to decipher her words
. “My head,” he croaked, then winced at the pain his own voice evoked.

“One of yer headaches?”

“Rochelle” he whispered. “I need her."

Marian inhaled sharply
. “She is gone.”

“Gone,” he choked as he tried to roll to his side and push up
. A white explosion seared behind his eyes. He fell back.

“Lay here, laddie
. I’ll be getting her healing things. Stay right here.”

He heard her footsteps recede
as she called for help.

A blanket over him
. “Can ye move over just a tad?  Ye will rest better on this pallet for the night.”

Hands lifted and guided him, cradled his head onto something infinitely softer
. “I want Rochelle,” he said again, hearing the desperation in his voice and not caring.

“Drink this.”

A warm drink. Rochelle’s potion. The same healing flavor again and again. Darkness came.

He drifted again, finally asleep, the pain prodding from the outside now, instead of acting as a clawing part of him.

Weak light pushed at his eyelids. He slit them. His head responded, but not with the crashing extravagance of the night before. He took in the room, the office at Alda, so unchanged despite the private war he’d just fought in it.

And what had his mother-in-law said about Rochelle? 

He sat up too quickly, ending up with his head in his hands, until the room stopped turning. When he opened his eyes again, Marian stood in the doorway.

“Tell me where she is,” he rasped.

“Yer brother took her to Bavaria.”

“Took her!”  David struggled to his feet, grabbing at the edge of the desk
. “Why?”

“He said ye told him to
. Made it sound like a test of her loyalty to ye.” 

David shook his head emphatically, immediately regretting it
. “When?  How many days ago?”

“They left yesterday, early in the morning.”

David flung himself toward the door, ending up on his knees.

“Now just wait a minute, lad,” she said softly, putting her hand on his head where he knelt
. “Yer no good like this. Ye’ll be needing a meal and another good night’s sleep before ye dart off.”

“No, I want to go now.”

“Rochelle would never forgive me if I let ye go to keel over heaven knows where. She thought Doeg had let ye to die somewhere and it seems he did, but I will not be losing ye now.”  She tugged at his arm. “See if ye can sit up to eat.”

David drank another cup of the headache remedy as he forced some food into his gullet, occasionally asking the hovering Marian a question to try to sort
out why Doeg would have taken Rochelle away. He remembered the three of them in the office. That hadn’t ended well. He remembered telling Doeg to leave him in peace, which is when his memories became blurry. Doeg returned sometime, but David could recall nothing his brother had said. He remembered his own pleading to bring Rochelle to him. Could he have mistakenly said to take her?

No
. Never. Even in the utter madness of his pain he would never give another man permission to remove Rochelle from their home. Not even Doeg.

He must go after her to explain, no matter how badly it hurt his dignity that his loathsome weakness had left him completely incapacitated
. If only he had asked for her help when he’d felt the first hint of the headache. His pride truly did go before his fall.

“Did you say Rochelle thought Doeg had done something to me?” he asked Marian.

“When ye dinna show up to ride with them, she was sure of it. She dinna want to go without ye. Doeg said you would catch up to them, but she told me to find ye, that something was wrong. And she was right. Yer brother left you in agony.”

David looked grimly at his plate, no longer able to blindly defend his brother, but not yet ready to denounce him either
. His vision blurred. He tried to focus. He had to go after her.

Marian touched his shoulder. “It is nearly dusk
. Go to yer bed. Ye will do her more good when ye are in a condition to travel than in the state yer in now.

David trudged up the stairs to ease himself carefully across the bed
. His face landed in Rochelle’s pillow. The smell of her made his throat ache with loneliness. He curled his fingers into the softness, wondering again what had led to this separation. Rocks by the river. Iron bloom. Salt. The image of the men at the wagon. Doeg. What would he give to have her here, lecturing him about salted pork?

When David rose the next morning, snow coated the ground while more steadily fell. Marian grimly handed him another steaming cup of the healing brew. Worry lines rimmed her mouth and eyes. Traveling in snow was foolish and dangerous, and now her only child was out in it. David ate and drank quickly. He pushed back from the table as Ardo entered the hall, the grayish light of the wintry dawn barely brightening the doorway.

The man stood by the door, shifting from foot to foot
. “It is snowing,” he announced.

“Yes, I have seen it,” David said as he picked up the heavy bag of food Marian had packed.

“Samuel is young. I wonder how he will fare.”

David felt the mantle of responsibility press down on his shoulders
. He didn’t give a damn about Samuel as compared to Rochelle. But as Ardo expectantly peered up at him, David knew it was about more than Samuel. It was the salt. The people needed it. Now.

He wracked his brain for a solution that allowed him to leave for Bavaria
. Now. Who could he send to make sure Samuel and the precious salt were safe?  No one. Woden was the best horse and David the most experienced traveler. And Rochelle would want her tenants to come first. She would expect their needs to rate above David’s wants.

“Fire and smoke,” David cursed
. He stalked to the stable, leaped onto Woden, starting toward the road at a quick trot. Another rider, dusted in white, approached out of the thick snowfall.

“David, what brings you out on a morning like this?” called Theo’s voice, his smile dimming as he took in David’s expression.

“I have no time to explain. My damned head has had me down for days. Now I need to ride in two directions at once.”

“Been married a few weeks and already made a muck of things?”

“You have no idea.”

“Where is Rochelle?”

”Doeg has taken Rochelle to Bavaria.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“You let him take your wife!”

“I did not let him. It was during the headache. I do not know what happened but now she is gone.”

“She must be terrified,” Theo breathed.

David looked at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“She does not like Doeg
. She knows he tried to have her kidnapped. She suspects he was behind The Black’s attack on you at the tournament. She does not trust him and now she is out there alone with him?  How could this happen?  You are such a jackass!  How could you let this happen?”  Theo was shouting by the end.

It was not to be borne
. David had pictured her tired, cold, hungry and furious with him. He had even imagined her feeling a little bereft at his apparent dismissal of her from her own household. That she might feel fear had not even entered his mind. She’d never liked Doeg, never felt comfortable with him, but David had ignored her to the point that her opinion didn’t even exist. Her being frightened never even occurred to him.

A pain pierced his heart, squeezing in his chest until he could hardly breathe.

Theo continued, only slightly calmer. “I am sorry to tell you, she was right. Just coming from Sewell’s. He sent for me after the tournament. Said he saw someone there he recognized. Guess who?  Your brother, the same man who told them Rochelle wanted to be rescued along with details of exactly when and where to do it.”

The world tilted and David was sliding, cut loose from the
underpinnings of his past, though only for a moment. A firm image formed in his mind, anchoring him. Rochelle. He quickly made the only acceptable decision. “I do not care about the salt. If the peasants get hungry they can eat
me
. I am going after Rochelle.”

“Wait!  What salt?”

“Samuel is supposed to be getting salt in Ribeauville. He will probably find disaster in the snow. I cannot think about that now. I have to get to Rochelle.”  He turned Woden east.

“I will go afte
r Samuel. Do not worry about him. I will go. You find your wife!  And dammit, this better be the last time I have to fix things for you!”