Anvil of God

by J. Boyce Gleason

  How did they find me so quickly? Trudi’s dread returned. Wanting to see her hunters, she searched for a vantage point behind the rocks. She found one, but it required climbing onto one of the boulders to peek through an opening higher up on the rocks. She found a handgrip and using her left arm pulled herself up to a small sliver of an opening between the stones.

  They were Lombards. One stood in the clearing, letting the horses drink from the lake. The other was below Trudi’s vantage point, squatting in the underbrush.

  “Think on it, man,” the growling-voiced soldier said. He was older, fat, and jowly. “Our Aistulf marries Charles’s daughter, and what does that make their son? He’d be heir to the kingdom, both kingdoms.”

  “Where do you think she’s hid?” The nasally-voice soldier was the one defecating in the underbrush. “She couldn’t have gotten too far.”

  “Won’t matter. Our trackers can find anyone. If she’s on this road, we’ll catch her.”

  “I’ll bet a pint of grog we find her before tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll bet we have her tonight,” the first said. “Once Aistulf tracks his prey, he never loses them.”

  The nasally one came into view, pulling up his pants. He joined the fat, jowly soldier in the clearing.

  “She’s crafty, I’ll give her that,” the nasally voiced soldier said. “That trick with the ferry was pretty good. Good thing there was another ferry an hour south.”

  Trudi had an odd sensation that she was missing something, something essential. She couldn’t put her finger on it. The two men were talking casually by their horses. She was safe, out of sight behind the boulder. Yet her sense of dread grew with every breath. Her eyes searched frantically for what could be wrong.

  The horses. There were three, not two.

  She scanned the camp for the third rider. He was nowhere to be found. As quietly as she could, she backed down off the boulder.

  Just as her foot touched the ground, she heard a sound behind her. Her heart sank. She tried to turn, but her limbs refused to respond. Before she could see her assailant, an arm grabbed her from behind, and a knife was at her throat.

  “Found her!” a delighted voice called from behind her ear. To her, it said, “Settle down now, miss. I expect you’ll be coming with me.”

  ***

  They escorted her to the great room of an inn where she was kept under guard for the better part of the day while soldiers went to find Aistulf. For supper, they brought her stew with bread and water. She savored it, thankful for a warm meal. The fire in the hearth was also welcome. She had forgotten what it was like to feel warm.

  “So nice to see you again.” Tall and elegant, Aistulf strode into the room, smiling at Trudi. He seemed relaxed, confident. He wore beautifully tailored black clothes, black boots, and a gold and white cravat around his neck. He might be bearable, thought Trudi, if he wasn’t so goddamn condescending.

  “Do you always assault your fiancées?” she asked.

  “That was very unfortunate,” Aistulf said. “I have already disciplined the soldier, explaining quite forcefully that no one is ever to touch a hair on your head.”

  “Why have you been chasing me?”

  “You surely know the answer to that question. Have you forgotten our engagement?”

  “I have thought of little else for several weeks now. Does it concern you that I don’t love you?”

  “Not in the least. I never expected to marry for love. That is for people who don’t have kingdoms to run. We’re marrying for one reason only, our children. Our poor lives are but a link in the chain. It is our children who are important. Your sons will be direct descendants of Charles Martel, every bit as much in line for mayor as is Drogo—or Pippin’s son—if Pippin ever has a son. My son will inherit the Roman peninsula. If our son is one and the same?” He let the idea hang there.

  “I know the argument,” Trudi said. “I come from a long line of mayors.”

  “Was this merry little chase, then, really necessary?” Aistulf asked. “Do you find me so unattractive?”

  Trudi rolled her eyes.

  “Ah, well, you don’t need to answer. But tell me this: how can you be sure that this man you chase across the continent is really in love with you? Or is he, perhaps, as interested in your progeny as am I? And is he able to protect your children as well as I can? You have considered it, haven’t you?”

  Aistulf should have taken vows, thought Trudi. The man loved to preach.

  “Regardless, the running ends here. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long even with your brother Pippin and that renegade, landless knight you found.”

  Anger soared within her at the jibe.

  “Young women, particularly those of marrying age, should not be prancing around through the forests alone. From now on, you will travel with me and under guard. We will be on the Roman peninsula within a fortnight. “Once there, if it is lovers you desire, you may have as many as you wish—but not until you have my son.”

  The more he spoke, the more appalled she became. “Is this your idea of a proposal?”

  Aistulf laughed. “How delightful! A woman with a sense of humor. I look forward to our journey south. We leave in the morning.”

  “I can’t wait,” Trudi said.

  Aistulf stood and bowed. “One more thing,” he said as he made his way to the door. “I’ve sent for more appropriate attire than that peasant dress. And please don’t wear that silly armor any longer. People on the peninsula would find it … odd.”

  The only thing Trudi could think to do was stick out her tongue. Aistulf left, laughing.

  She had to get away … had to. She was escorted upstairs to a bedroom. A guard was placed at her door. Just like a child, she thought, I’m being sent to bed. She went to her closet and found her two sacks on the floor. Opening the heavier, she took out her armor. “I’ll show you odd,” she said.

  She put it on and stowed her dress in the other sack. She was surprised to find they had also left her sword in the closet. They must think I’m playing dress-up. Her wound still gave her trouble holding the blade in her right hand alone, but she felt more confident just having it with her.

  She went to the window. It was already dark outside; the only light on the street emanated from inside the inn. Looking down, she guessed she was fifteen feet off the ground. A small ledge circled the second floor. Without hesitating, she doused the one candle in her room, threw her sack over her shoulder, and climbed out onto the narrow ledge. She moved carefully down the length of the building until she spied one of Aistulf’s men watching the road. He moved at a leisurely pace, staring out into the darkness. After a few moments, he turned and walked back along the road beneath her toward the door of the inn where the light was better. She pressed on, passing to the far corner of the house. There were no guards on that side of the building.

  She jumped. It was farther than she thought. Her legs buckled under the impact, and her armor clattered against the cobblestone road. With a groan, she got to her feet and backed up against the wall. The guard she had passed came into view, investigating.

  “Who’s there?”

  She didn’t move. He stepped cautiously in her direction. “Who’s there?” he repeated, peering into the darkness. He took two steps toward her … and then two more. He was about to turn away when he saw Trudi’s sack. Bending down to pick it up, he saw Trudi in the darkness.

  “Who—”

  Something out of the darkness struck him in the back of the head, and he went down. A beggar stood behind him. He wore a hooded cloak that obscured his face. He motioned for her to follow. Without hesitation, she left the wall, retrieved her sack, and raced behind her disappearing savior. They moved down two streets, him ten steps ahead. He cut through an alley, and then a second, stopping eventually at a stable. Motioning her to wait, the beggar went inside and returned with two horses. They were not of the same caliber as her warhorse, but she didn’t have any choice.

  “Who a
re you?”

  The beggar pulled off his hood and stared at her. It was dark and his face was large and misshapen. She moved him out to the street and into the moonlight.

  “Who are you?” she repeated. But he didn’t need to answer. Recognition dawned on her, and she would have hit Bradius in the face if it wasn’t already so damaged. “No,” she seethed. “Not with you!”

  He made hand signals to quiet her down while his eyes searched the alley. “We must go now!”

  “Go back to your pious widow,” she retorted. “I don’t need you.” But shouts erupted nearby. The guard had been discovered, and Trudi sobered. Racing to the horse Bradius held, she pulled herself up.

  “Follow me,” he whispered, mounting the other horse.

  Trudi hesitated. Then, for once, she decided to listen.

  ***

  Pursuit was immediate. Had it not been for Bradius’s elusiveness, Trudi knew they would have been captured before a thousand paces. She watched her vassal with amazement as he backtracked, planted false trails, hid their tracks, and used the talents of the hunters against them. Yet when Trudi and Bradius paused to listen, the sounds of their pursuers always drifted to them on the night air.

  More than a few times, Bradius and Trudi hid off the trail to let their pursuers pass. Shielded only by the cluster of a few convenient trees, they watched from their saddles as their hunters lumbered by unaware. Bradius, relentless in his art of deception, never missed an opportunity to hide their tracks in an available stream or to follow hard ground to make no tracks at all. Trudi had to admit that he was good.

  A range of mountains blocked their path east. Bradius led them north, where the mountains were less imposing. They never camped; they rested. They never ate; they snacked. To avoid detection, neither of them spoke. Bradius used simple hand signals to guide their movements. After a day’s ride, they finally turned east into a vast wood, thankful for the cover it provided.

  Tall ancient trees towered over them, with great branches stretching outward only at the very top of the forest. Massive limbs formed a canopy that filtered out much of the light and created a shadowy realm beneath its shield. The undergrowth was sparse, and the forest floor was covered with a thick layer of decaying leaves that muted the sound of their passage. Bradius signaled for her to pick up the pace.

  From the moment they entered the deep forest, however, Trudi’s breath grew short. She leaned forward in her saddle and strained to see into the shadows. As on her journey from Metz, shapes threatened her from the darkness. The hairs on her arms lifted from her skin. No birds chirped. No animals scurried. No wind rustled. In the permanent twilight of the forest, Trudi became unsure of the passage of time.

  Bradius, his damaged face stern and uncompromising, led them steadily eastward. He left no room for questions or discussion, so Trudi had to content herself with trailing behind him as he navigated the woods.

  When the ground began to slope steeply upward, Bradius meandered to ease their climb. They rode across the western face of a mountain for an entire day, only to spend the next meandering down its eastern face in similar fashion. Always, they headed east. Always, they made their own trail.

  She hardly noticed when it first started to rain. The forest’s natural cover sheltered them from the worst of it. But as the downpour grew in intensity, it penetrated the canopy and drenched them both.

  The ground became sloppy. Their progress slowed. The air became colder. They tried to ignore the elements and push on, but the weather’s continued hostility slowed their pace. Trudi’s hands grew cold, and she began to shiver. She withdrew as best she could into her winter cloak and fell into her habit of concentrating on Bradius’s back to block out the elements and her exhaustion.

  Trudi refused to ask him to seek shelter. Her anger with him had not waned. If anything, it had intensified over the past few days. He had been so terse with her that she would not let herself be weak in his eyes. He had said almost nothing since they reunited. He never discussed his choices or consulted her opinion. She merely followed him over one mountain after another until the day it stopped raining.

  It was midmorning. Despite his habit of forging their own path through the forest, Bradius had taken a small trail that led gradually downward. The forest thinned with their descent. The sky was gray, and the rain had lost its force. The wind, too, had abated. Like a shutter opening on daybreak, the rain ended, and the sun broke through the cloud cover.

  Trudi looked up, stunned. A great valley, broad and flat, swept out before them. She could see for a hundred miles. A small city was nestled into the mountain to their left. Canstatt, she thought, surprised they had come so far. Mountains crowded the horizons to their north and south and pinched together at the end of the valley far in the east. Shafts of sunlight lanced down on the farmland before them, creating a colorful display of lush greens and yellows.

  Trudi began to laugh. It started as a chuckle but warmed into a full-bodied laugh, rich with irony and affection. Bradius reined in his horse sharply and turned to her.

  “We lost them days ago, didn’t we?’ she accused him.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. We lost Aistulf days ago, and you’ve kept up this silence to avoid talking to me. I’ve been following you blindly for almost a week now, and I suddenly realized that I haven’t heard them in days. We lost them, didn’t we?”

  After a long and embarrassed look, Bradius shrugged.

  Trudi shook her head in wonder. “Idiot!” she said, letting him wonder if it was meant for her or for him. She swung out of her saddle and began to take off her armor. Bradius looked at her with shock.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “Taking off my clothes.”

  A strange look crept across Bradius’s face. His horse shied to the left. “Why?”

  Trudi had gotten down to her undergarments. “Because I’m soaked through,” she said, exasperated. “And I’m sick of staring at your back.” Finding a tree limb that stretched into the sunlight, Trudi pulled her peasant dress out of her sack and spread it across the tree.

  “We should get out of the open,” said Bradius, searching the landscape.

  “You must be joking,” Trudi said. “We haven’t seen anyone in days. Aistulf isn’t anywhere near us, and I need to get dry. If you had any sense, you’d do the same.”

  Bradius was staring at her strangely. Looking down, she lifted her shirt at the shoulders to fluff the garment out. She found a large boulder facing the sun, climbed up on top, and lay back in the sunshine.

  Bradius stayed in his saddle for a long time before he dismounted and took off his armor. He climbed up onto the boulder next to her.

  “How did you find me?” she asked without opening her eyes.

  “I followed Aistulf. He never bothered to cover his tracks.”

  She relaxed, letting the warmth of the sun seep into her, enjoying the feel of air on her skin. The relief she felt, however, was tinged with disappointment. “I’m not naïve. I saw the way you were with Myrna at the inn. I know you slept in her room. If that was what you wanted, you could have just told me and let me go on my way. You didn’t need to rub my face in it.” She hadn’t meant to say that. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Myrna thought she was protecting me.”

  “Now who do you think is naïve?” she asked and lay back down to face the sun.

  Bradius didn’t automatically respond. In time, he said, “She is in love with me … and maybe she didn’t like my being with you.”

  I don’t care about Myrna, you ass, Trudi thought. “Why did you come back?” she whispered.

  “It’s hard to be a vassal when your liege lord is in custody,” he said, pushing his jaw to the right until it popped into place. “I met your intended.”

  Trudi sat up again, a new realization dawning on her. She examined his face. The swelling had gone down, but the yellowish-blue discoloration remained. She touched his cheek. She had been wrong. Her e
yes welled at his pain.

  “Aistulf did this?”

  “He had it done.”

  Trudi knelt before him and explored his injuries. She gently measured the damage to his eye, following the bruise to his face and neck. She untied his shirt to follow the discoloration to his chest and ribs. She placed her palms against his ribs and pressed firmly inward. He winced, a soft grunt escaping his lips. She took off his shirt to probe his arms.

  “You are hurt.”

  “It’s hard to breathe. And my eye won’t stop running. My hand is starting to heal. I’ll be fine.”

  Her hands had not left him.

  “Your ribs are broken,” she said, her voice choking on the words. “Oh, Bradius, I am so sorry. I hadn’t realized.”

  Without thinking, her arms encircled him, and she hugged his head to her chest. She rocked him back and forth like a baby. “I’m so sorry,” she said. And then she was kissing his face and his lips and holding him against her.

  It took several moments before she realized he hadn’t moved. He didn’t resist her, but he hadn’t returned her embrace. She felt the color bloom in her face as the horror of his rejection took her. She let go of him and tried to stand without considering that they were still on the boulder. She climbed down clumsily and made her way to where her clothes hung on the tree.

  “These are dry enough,” she ventured, ignoring the fact that they were still quite wet. “I suppose we should get going.” How could she have been so stupid? He didn’t want her. Not her.

  “Trudi,” Bradius said from the rock.

  “Just let me get my armor back on,” she said. “It won’t take but a moment.”

  “Trudi,” he insisted.

  Holding up her hand, she said, “I understand … I do. It was a mistake … I just thought …” She turned back to her clothes, throwing the dress into her sack, and pulling her armor back on piece by piece. Reluctantly, he followed her, donning his armor and regaining his horse.