Anvil of God

by J. Boyce Gleason

  “That’s what makes them valiant,” Trudi whispered.

  ***

  Odilo was running out of time. If he was going to be of any help to Sunni and Gripho, he needed to move east to rally the eastern provinces. The trip to his capital city of Regensburg would take him at least two weeks of hard riding. Any further delay would be disastrous.

  But Odilo didn’t start out for Bavaria. Instead, he went to Reims to seek news of Trudi. When he arrived with his contingent of Bavarian knights, he found Bertrada and Childebrand lording over the city. He suffered through a host of questions concerning Charles’s funeral and its aftermath before he could casually inquire after Trudi.

  Bertrada reached out to take his hand. She described the rape of Loivre and Trudi’s abduction. He was shocked. The news that had been reported in Paris had been far less ominous. He felt Bertrada’s eyes watching him and struggled to maintain his composure. He offered his men in assistance, but Childebrand thought more men would be an encumbrance. So Odilo waited.

  Fortunately, Bertrada proved to be a gracious hostess. Childebrand had commandeered a small villa so Bertrada could establish a guesthouse for those from Quierzy. She provided rooms for Odilo and his senior officers, had dinner prepared, and kept him company during his anxious vigil.

  Although Odilo had met Bertrada several times at court, he had had few opportunities to actually speak with her at length. He was surprised to find her both intelligent and entertaining. She was so charming that he found himself reevaluating Pippin. The young man must harbor more than skill with a sword to attract such a dynamic woman.

  As the eldest daughter of the Compte de Laon, Bertrada had intimate knowledge of the region. She took him on a tour of Reims. She showed him the grand arch built by the Romans in the first century and took him into some of the vast tunnels they had dug beneath the city. There she showed him endless rows of the area’s wine being stored in the cool temperatures below ground. After dinner on the first day, she sat with him by the fire, and they talked late into the evening.

  He was surprised to learn that Bertrada, much like Trudi, once had her hand promised in marriage. At the time, she had been happy with the choice; he was the son of the Compte in the neighboring city of Soissons. Bertrada chuckled when she described his gangly arms and big ears.

  Meeting Pippin had changed everything for her. He was nothing like anyone she had ever known. Within days, they had become lovers. Within weeks, she had broken her engagement, left her father’s house, and moved to Quierzy. Bertrada’s face fell as she described her father’s reaction to the news. The Compte had been furious, but Bertrada was in love and had a lifetime’s experience having her way with the man.

  Three of Carloman’s Knights in Christ arrived at the house in Reims, and Bertrada made them welcome. Odilo tried to engage them in conversation but had little success. They were close-lipped about their reasons for being in Reims and suspicious of his. One was named Ansel, a brute of a man who had acquired a peculiar malady that Odilo found oddly disturbing. Something caused him to sweat profusely. Since the man’s companions seemed to take no notice of it, Odilo, out of politeness, did not inquire.

  After another night of waiting, however, Odilo became concerned. If he stayed, waiting for Trudi, and Carloman declared war on Gripho, Odilo would be trapped in the west. If he left, he might lose Trudi forever. Desperate to make a decision, Odilo decided to confide in Bertrada his feelings for Trudi.

  He was surprised to find that she already knew. And while he was delighted to learn that Trudi had fled Quierzy and her betrothed to wait for him, it did little to change his situation. He told Bertrada that he would have to leave in the morning.

  “You should stay,” she said. “She came for you. You should be here when she returns. Who knows what condition she will be in when Pippin finds her. She will need you close.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot,” he said with some difficulty. “Events have overtaken us. If Carloman renounces Gripho, there will be civil war. If there is, I cannot be found here. I am exposing myself to grave risk delaying here as I have. I must move east.”

  Bertrada seemed to weigh this. “What of Trudi? What if Pippin finds her?”

  Odilo drew from his cloak a sealed letter. “Give her this and tell her I await her in Bavaria. I will leave four knights to escort her.”

  “Pippin may not let her go.”

  Odilo nodded. “My men have been instructed not to force the question. They’re here only to protect her if she comes east.” He held Bertrada’s eyes. “Tell her I love her. And pray she returns soon.”

  ***

  Several times, Bradius doubled back on their trail or laid false trails for their pursuers to follow. He must think they’re close, Trudi thought. Otherwise he wouldn’t work so hard to throw them off his trail. To Trudi, her captor looked haggard and exhausted. Bradius was barely holding on.

  He had been silent since telling his son’s tale by the fire. His eyes had become dark and haunted. Several times during the day’s ride, she had caught him looking her way with an emotion somewhere between anger and need. Each time their eyes had met, he averted his gaze.

  When they camped, they did not untie her. “We won’t be here that long,” Auguste had said. As was their habit, the men set up two fires, some distance apart. Bradius sat near his without a word. He cut a small slice of cheese for himself and pulled out his wineskin. Instead of his usual ceremony for savoring his cup, this time he drank directly from the skin. He looks ready to weep, she thought. He leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree.

  “I’m going to close my eyes for a moment,” Bradius said, his eyes already closed. Within seconds, a soft snore purred from his mouth.

  Trudi sat very still. The men at the other fire were still drinking and awake. Her eyes searched the camp for something sharp. She spied the small knife Bradius had used to cut his cheese. He had left it by the wineskin.

  Crawling as quietly as her bound hands would allow, she picked up the knife and fumbled with it between her hands. It took her some time to invert it to press against the rope. She tried sawing with the blade but couldn’t find enough leverage. Frustrated, she propped it on a broad flat stone and pushed her bonds down on it, moving her wrists back and forth. The blade turned sideways. Fumbling, she tried again. And again.

  She held the blade between her teeth and then her knees. Finally, she positioned the knife between the heels of her boots, sawing gently back and forth. At last, the blade bit into the ropes that held her. She worked at the bonds for several minutes and then rested to save her strength. When the last strand parted, she wanted to shout in triumph. Instead, Trudi rubbed her wrists and surveyed the camp to find a path to escape.

  It was not completely dark, though the trees of the wood blocked out most of the moonlight. From what she could see, she would have to cross through the other campsite to regain the path leading back toward those who followed. Like Bradius, many of his men had fallen asleep. She would have to go now.

  Pocketing the small knife, she went through Bradius’s sack and found a small square of cheese. This, too, found its way to her cloak. Satisfied, Trudi backed away from the fire. Bradius still snored.

  Inside the cover of the trees, she circled around the other campsite. She moved from tree to tree, stopping at each to listen for any sign of alarm. Staying just outside the camp, it took her less than an hour to gain the path. She stayed to its side, hidden in the wood. She hadn’t yet seen the picket. She would have to be careful.

  Moving away from the campfire, she found him. He was on the opposite side of the path, facing south. Taking great care with every step, she continued to advance. She held her breath. Despite her best efforts, her left foot snapped a twig. The picket turned and saw her among the trees. She stood frozen, praying that she blended into the fading day. It took him a moment to discern who and what she was. He shouted and sprinted across the path toward her. Trudi turned on her heel and bolted into the woods.<
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  She ran blindly, which she knew to be a mistake. But the picket was so close there was nothing else she could do. The trees seemed to fly by her. Her right shoulder caught a small sapling that had blended into the darkness. She careened into a large oak on her left. She started to fall but kept her balance by dropping her left hand to the ground. Instinctively, she flipped over her hand and felt her shoulder scream with pain. She needed to stop. She needed to hide.

  Her near fall had oriented her to the left of her pursuer. She pushed hard to find some place ahead in which to hide. She saw a patch of undergrowth. She dove for it and struggled to control her breathing.

  Her pursuer halted at the silence. He called again to the camp and began to walk in ever widening arcs to find her. She knew she would have to move before his methodical search found her, but for the moment she had to stay put to catch her breath.

  ***

  A forward scout waited in the road. “They turned into the woods,” he said.

  Pippin moved his horse into the brush to examine what was left of the tracks. Climbing back onto the road, he sat for a moment and then rode south without explanation. When he returned, it was at full gallop.

  “It’s a false trail,” Pippin said. “Real one’s up ahead.”

  Gunther ordered scouts into the woods to be certain the first trail was false and signaled the rest of the men south down the road.

  When they arrived at the spot Pippin had explored, Pippin pointed out the distinctive marks left by the horseshoes of Bradius’s party. Several clear and deep hoof prints with the telltale signs appeared in the mud just below the tree line.

  “We’re close,” he said to Gunter. “We’ve always been one step behind them, and I think this is that step. Send Arnot. He knows how to be quiet.”

  Gunther signaled for Arnot to scout forward. With a nod from Pippin, Arnot dismounted and melted silently into the woods.

  Pippin met the eyes of his men to acknowledge the pending action. Their respiration grew heavy in anticipation, and its vapor curled in the cold to shroud their faces. Bodies tensed. Hearts thundered. “Easy,” Pippin whispered.

  Arnot was back. He knelt before Pippin and Gunther to map the landscape. A long road in. Ten men. No pickets he could see. No sign of Trudi or of Bradius. No ground advantage. No archers. Pippin was suspicious. Bradius would leave pickets.

  Pippin motioned for them to dismount and remove all armor to increase their speed and reduce the potential for noise. With almost no sound, his men complied.

  Bringing them in close for instructions, Pippin singled out the six archers into two groups of three. The rest of the men were divided into three squads. One knight would stay behind with the horses. The two groups of archers would enter the woods in north and south flanking motions, circling the camp to position themselves slightly west of the outlaws on both sides of the camp. He drew a circle in the dirt with an X through it. Each of the three squads would be responsible for attacking one quadrant of the enemy camp—north, east, and south—the three closest to their position. Archers taking the west would attack first and drive any remaining outlaws east into the main body of their attack. Pippin signaled for knives and hatchets only and sent the flanking archers into the woods. As they left, he flashed them the hand signal for “luck.”

  ***

  When her pursuer followed his search pattern away from her, Trudi slipped further into the woods. She heard calls from the camp behind her and turned left again, hoping to circle back to regain the path behind her pursuit. She came to a small clearing and waited at its edge, struggling with the thought of being so exposed. She decided to risk it, ran into the clearing, and stumbled. Rising to her feet, she found Bradius standing at the opposite edge of the clearing, waiting for her.

  She froze. His face was contorted with anger. Voices and the sounds of pursuit grew behind her. She sprinted left. Bradius moved to intercept her. He caught her before she reached the woods, throwing himself forward to trip up her legs with his arm. She rolled left out of his grasp and scrambled to her feet.

  She threw a kick at his head. He blocked it with his left arm. She spun left and kicked, hitting his rib cage. He grunted and turned to face her. He seemed to reevaluate his quarry. A coldness descended over him. He looked detached, unreachable, murderous.

  He walked right at her, standing straight, leaving himself wide open to attack. When he came within striking distance, she kicked, punched, rolled, and kicked again. Somehow, he blocked every blow. She feinted with her left hand to set up a spin kick with her right leg. He waited for the kick to develop and then blocked it easily. God, he was fast. She threw a punch; he countered and somehow pinned her right arm to his side. Swinging his right leg and hip under her, he took her to the ground.

  He clasped her wrists in his hands and wrapped his legs over hers. She struggled underneath him, straining to throw him off with her hips. She found the nearness of him suffocating. The tension and intimacy of their struggle touched something raw and familiar. Images of Ansel pushing against her flooded her thoughts. She felt the heat rise within her.

  Surprised at her body’s reaction, Trudi stopped struggling altogether. For long moments, their breath mingled in the growing darkness, shrouding their faces in white clouds. She looked up into his eyes and saw the coldness in them melt away. In its place rose a look of pain and lust. His face flushed, and his lip began to curl.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  He bent to kiss her lips. She turned her head. His lips found her neck.

  “Bradius!” She renewed her struggle beneath him, but this just drove her hips into him. She felt his hardness through their clothes. Again she stopped, short of breath. He moaned and ground himself against her.

  She did not want this. Not this. “I beg you in the name of your son,” she said. She felt him hesitate.

  His green eyes bore into her. Doubt flickered behind them.

  “This is not revenge,” she said. “Not anymore. You cannot take me like this. ‘This, I do of my own will.’”

  He looked at her with surprise.

  “I am a woman of the earth,” she said.

  A great sadness clouded his eyes. He rolled his weight off her to lie beside her on the ground. “Ah, Trudi,” he said, his voice reeking of dejection. “I thought I could do this. I wanted to do this. I have lost so much—my wife, my son, my lands, the tree, and now, my soul. I beg your forgiveness.”

  ***

  Pippin was wary. There were no pickets. Bradius would never make that kind of an error. He and his men moved into position. They stopped within twenty steps of the main campfire, hiding among the trees and underbrush. He waited several minutes for the archers to circle the camp. When he was confident that they had time enough, he gave a short whistle and signaled for the men to advance.

  Silent as ghosts, they waded into the camp. Pippin could see four men near the fire. Moving past the nearest, he sliced backward with his knife to sever the man’s throat. His hatchet took the next. The outlaw looked down in horror at the ax head, half-buried inside his chest. Pippin was already on to the third. He drew a second knife.

  The man slashed first. Pippin blocked it with one blade and buried the other in the man’s abdomen. With barely a moment’s hesitation, he drew the blade upward, gutting him to the sternum. Hearing someone behind him, Pippin spun to his right and dropped into a crouch, looking for the attack.

  It never came. A lone figure stood with an arrow protruding from the center of his neck. It had punched its way through the man’s Adam’s apple. Pippin’s eyes searched the camp. There was no one else to fight. It had taken less than a minute. Each of the three parties met at the fire.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “Bodies?”

  Two hands were raised. Each held up three fingers. “That makes ten,” Pippin said. “Any sign of Trudi?” All heads shook no.

  “Pippin,” Arnot’s whisper came from the woo
ds. “This way.”

  Pippin nodded to Gunther and followed Arnot into the night.

  ***

  Trudi heard Pippin’s roar before she saw him. Scrambling to their feet, she and Bradius separated. Bradius crouched to await the attack. Pippin burst from the woods at full sprint, aiming straight at Bradius.

  When Pippin reached him, Bradius feinted left and spun right. Two knife blades flashed in the moonlight. Neither bit. Both men turned, circling, blades up, seeking advantage.

  Trudi couldn’t bring herself to believe that Pippin had finally come. She stood to the side, watching dumbly as the men circled. Gunther, Arnot, and a dozen others spilled into the small clearing. They, too, went for Bradius.

  Pippin raised a hand to them without taking his eyes off Bradius. “He’s mine.”

  Realizing that she was finally safe, Trudi doubled over in relief. Gunther came to her side. “I’m all right,” she said. “I just can’t believe you are here.”

  “This will be over in a second.”

  Pippin and Bradius closed on each other, blades blocking blades, elbows flying. Bradius head butted Pippin. Pippin stepped back, his nose starting to bleed. With a growl, Pippin closed again, and a flurry of metal again shone in the moonlight. This time Bradius backed away bloodied. His face was cut, just below the eye.

  “Stop!” Trudi shouted. No one paid any attention to her.

  Pippin advanced again, and the two exchanged blows once more. Pippin’s blade caught Bradius’s shoulder.

  “Pippin! Stop!” They continued to circle.

  Trudi advanced toward the fighters. Gunther grabbed her by the arm. Without thinking, she spun toward his grasp and wrested her arm away from him. She sprinted toward the combatants. The men closed again.

  “I said, stop!” Trudi stepped between them just as blades began to descend.

  Bradius’s knife caught her in the right shoulder. Pippin’s blade arced toward her chest with all his weight behind it. Trudi raised her fists to ward off the blow, but her arm gave way under Bradius’s knife. Pippin’s blade descended just as she collapsed. He tried to turn the blade, but it sliced into her arm. The blow took her to her knees.