The voice may have been young, but his movements were slow, painful, and unsteady as if he dragged himself along by an effort of will. His brother’s eyes rested on him with so much love and resigned sadness. They spoke more clearly than any words the certainty of Antonius’ doom.
Regeane and the child hesitated in the doorway.
Antonius paused beside the bench. “Please come in. You need not fear any contagion. While in this room I sit only on my bench and handle nothing that is my brother’s. He is not infected and never has been, though I and the other unfortunates who dwell here are in his care.”
“Oh, no,” Regeane cried. “It’s not that.” She looked down at her tattered dress and the child’s matted hair. “Our own state is …”
“We are dirty,” the little girl said flatly, “and we’re sorry, but we had no time to be particular. We were running for our lives. The slave dealer who had me wouldn’t let me wash. He kept me chained up. He was afraid I’d run away. He was a bad man, though he was right. I would have run away if I’d gotten a chance. And,” she said, looking up at Stephen, her dark blue eyes defiant, “I am not a handful. My father always said I was a good, obedient child. And I am.”
Antonius chuckled again, the sound muffled by the heavy mantle.
Stephen suppressed a smile and showed them to a small scullery where Regeane and the child did their best to repair some of the damage wrought by their flight. They had clean hands and faces when they returned to the other room.
Stephen set wine, bread, and yellow cheese before them, then sat down in his big chair at the head of the table, taking only a little watered wine for himself.
At the sight and smell of the food Regeane realized she was ravenously hungry. It was all she could do to keep from bolting it down. Only when she’d taken the worst edge from her hunger and relaxed, sipping the wine, did Stephen begin to question her.
“Now, why was Basil the Lombard chasing you?” he asked.
“She wouldn’t tell me,” the little girl said. “Maybe she’ll tell you.”
Regeane was annoyed. “I can understand your skepticism, but don’t carry it too far. I am truthful in most matters. We both know what is generally said of liars.”
The child shot her a glance. “I stand corrected,” she said stiffly. She sniffed and applied herself to the food.
“Brother,” Antonius said, “I don’t think you need to look any further than her lovely face. Basil saw her and—”
“No,” Regeane broke in. “He tried to kill me, charged at me sword in hand to strike me down.”
“How did you escape?” Antonius asked.
“That was wonderful,” the little girl said. “She caught the horse at the bit and pulled him down. I’ve heard of that warrior’s move,” she said enthusiastically, “heard my father’s men talk of such things, but never before seen it done.”
“Who are you?” Stephen asked. “The child said you were a Frank. What is your name?”
Regeane turned toward him. “Regeane, daughter of Gisela and,” she hesitated, then said proudly, “Wolfstan.”
“Gisela the Pepined?” he asked.
“Yes,” Regeane answered.
“You are betrothed to Maeniel, the outlander. No wonder Basil wanted to kill you.” Stephen sat back on the chair. He looked horrified. “What is a lady of your rank doing wandering around the streets of Rome unescorted and in the thieves’ market of all places!” He looked outraged.
“I was trying to buy a dress,” Regeane stammered. “You see, we’re very poor and … his name is Maeniel, then? Gundabald didn’t tell me his name. He only said he was a mountain lord.”
“Yes,” Stephen answered. “Something of a man of mystery, this Maeniel, but he holds a fortress that commands a pass through the Alps.”
“A very powerful position,” Antonius said. “The king of the Franks has bestowed an important match on you.”
“I don’t understand,” Regeane said. “What has that to do with Basil?”
Stephen pushed his chair back from the table. “You need not concern yourself with such things, girl. Tell me where your uncle lodges. I’ll call two of my men. They’ll see you return there safely. Don’t stick a hand or foot out of doors until I have a chance to drop a word in the ears of a few of my friends and see to it that Basil is driven out of the city.”
“No!” Regeane shouted, jumping up so quickly she almost overset the bench. “I’m not going home. As for this Maeniel, he can find some other woman to marry. Today in the square I met a woman named Lucilla. She—”
“What is this nonsense!” Stephen shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. “Lucilla! Are you so foolish, so naive as not to know what Lucilla wants of you?”
Regeane faced him, chin lifted defiantly. She groped for the Saxon girl’s hand, caught hold of it, and said, “I’m neither foolish nor naive. I know exactly what Lucilla wants of me, but it’s better than being sold to some man who’ll hate me. Living my life in fear, afraid to eat and drink …”
Stephen stared up at her in astonishment. “What fancies are these? Who’s been stuffing your heard with foolishness? How can you despise an honorable match and turn to a courtesan like Lucilla?”
“Regeane,” Antonius said, half rising from his bench. “Stop shouting and sit down. No one here will force you to do anything.”
Regeane turned toward him. He still held the mantle up over his face, but the dark eyes above it looked up calmly and compassionately into hers. “And,” he said turning to his brother, “I do not find her evident terror at this match to be unfounded. Consider the situation of Desiderius’ daughter. That marriage was also hailed as a brilliant one, securing peace and amity between two great kingdoms. How did it end? The girl was sent home, driven from her husband’s bed disgraced, her reputation ruined. She was the daughter of a Lombard duke. There are other frightening stories. At times the women fared even worse. Regeane’s not a child. No child successfully escaped Basil and—”
The Saxon girl piped up proudly. “She dumped him to the ground. The horse kicked like mad. The warrior cursed and shouted. Everyone began fighting. I crawled through people’s legs and escaped.”
Stephen sat back in the chair and shaded his face with a hand cupped at his forehead, but Regeane could see he was smiling.
“Very well,” he said, dropping his hand to the table and looking back at Regeane. “As usual my brother is right. He nearly always leads me back to the path of wisdom when I stray from it. These things should be discussed calmly, rationally, so sit down. No one will force you into anything.”
Regeane sat; her knees still trembling.
Stephen leaned forward and folded his fingers together. “What do you know of politics, girl?”
Regeane shook her head. “Almost nothing.”
“Good,” he said. “Then I won’t have any silly misconceptions to clear up. So listen; this is how it stands. Rome, the once-proud mistress of the world, is now fallen on evil times.”
“So I noticed,” Regeane said.
“Yes,” Stephen said, the dark eyebrows rising. “It doesn’t take a genius. The city is two-thirds ruined, its inhabitants struggling with poverty and intermittent food supplies. The magnificent aqueducts my ancestors built are cut off. Even fountains which until recently ran pure water are dry. We are nearly powerless, placed as we are between two great powers—the duchy of Spoleto and the kingdom of the Lombards. Either one of which, I might add, would be happy to gobble us up, sit in the rubble, and pick their teeth with our bones. What prevents them, girl?”
Regeane looked at the shrewd face with a feeling of surprise. She wasn’t used to being talked to in this way by distinguished gentlemen. “Respect for the Holy Church,” she hazarded.
Stephen gave a hollow laugh. “No, my dear. The Franks do.”
Regeane was bewildered. “How can the Franks keep them from conquering you? They are far away.”
“But very powerful,” Stephen said, “and both Des
iderius and the duke of Spoleto fear them. And its very much in the Frankish king’s best interest to secure the Alpine passes. If he doesn’t, he could wake up some fine spring morning to find himself with a Lombard army at his back. So you can see why Desiderius would like to prevent a marriage between a woman of the royal house and this mountain lord, Maeniel. Basil is, as his name implies, a confidant, servant, and friend of Desiderius, king of the Lombards.”
“I still can’t understand why I’m so important,” Regeane said. “Couldn’t the king simply find another lady to wed this Maeniel?”
“Yes,” Stephen said, “but these are matters of some delicacy and, in the meantime, Desiderius, seeing this Maeniel uncommitted, might begin other maneuvers to bring him into the power of the Lombard kingdom. Besides, in some ways you’re ideal for Charles’ purposes.”
Regeane looked away from Stephen and down at the bread in her hand. She crumbled a little of it with her fingers. “My family is poor, you mean, and I have no proud kinfolk to object to such a match. And I am no great beauty, so …”
“On the contrary,” Stephen said, “it was of your youth and beauty that I was thinking when I said you were ideal.”
“ ‘Whey-faced’ and ‘flat-chested’ were the terms my Uncle Gundabald used.”
“Indeed,” Stephen said. His eyes hardened and his mouth drew into a tight line. “Did he? Why, pray tell, did he say such a thing to a maiden who is so soon to be married?”
Regeane looked up at his face. Something in it and the way he asked the question frightened her. She thought, This man has power. She didn’t know what kind of power or how much, but there was in his expression the absolute self-assurance of a ruler.
“He would like me …” She faltered, realizing she didn’t dare communicate Gundabald’s plans to these men. “To help him … He feels this lord should be grateful for the marriage …”
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “I begin to like this Gundabald less and less, and I haven’t even met him.”
“What a cruel insult,” Antonius spoke up softly, “and not true.”
Regeane turned toward him. His beautiful eyes were fixed on her. The shadow of an almost forgotten hunger shone in them.
“You have not the matron’s blossom, but the maiden’s pliant grace. The air of springtime hangs about you. You are a bud, velvet petals as yet unfolding, the golden fruitfulness of its heart untouched by the sun of love.”
The compliment was so beautifully spoken, so gently turned, that Regeane’s palms flew to her cheeks.
“In other words,” Stephen said, “there are many things about you that would tend to endear you to a husband—beauty, youth, and the ability to cement his relations with the royal house and legitimize his position.”
“Besides,” Antonius said softly, “you are not as unprotected as you may believe.”
“How so?” Regeane asked.
“Charles is a very powerful king. He personally arranged this marriage. If word were to reach his ears that you were badly treated by your husband, he might see such behavior as an affront to his honor. And, my dear, Charles is not a man I would care to insult.”
Regeane shook her head. “But Charles doesn’t know me and besides, Gundabald said he—my husband—likely had the morals of a jackal and he probably has other women he’ll prefer to me. And I’ll be poisoned …” To her own horror, Regeane felt tears start in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but don’t you see? I can’t live on fruit and spring water …”
“Stop yammering,” the child snapped. “You are making a fool of yourself and convincing these men you are a coward when really you’re dauntless, like me. Besides you can’t get married.”
Antonius cocked his head to one side. “Why not?”
“She has no breasts, and you can’t get married without breasts, because you can’t catch a man.”
Regeane made distance from misery to mortification in one leap. “What!” she shouted.
Stephen turned his face away and Antonius pulled the cowl down over his eyes.
“Are you bent on embarrassing me?” Regeane asked furiously to the child. “How dare you …”
“Wait!” Stephen said. “Don’t be angry. She is a child and has a child’s frankness. We understand.” He grinned wickedly. “I would like to know more of this matter of breasts.”
Antonius had himself under control and cautioned, “Brother …”
Regeane turned her face away.
The child spoke animatedly to Stephen. “My cousin, Matilda, came to visit us. She was to be married. My aunt stood her up next to me and I was taller.”
“Mmmm,” Stephen said. “So?”
“Well, they said it was a disgrace I was so big and flat-chested and ran around and played like a boy and if I didn’t stop growing soon and get some breasts, I would never marry.” The child stopped and took a deep breath. “I asked them what I needed breasts for and they said I couldn’t get married without them. I said I hoped I would never have any there, but later on I cried. But my father said I should not worry about breasts yet. He said they were not important. What was important, he said, was to be truthful in all matters of consequence.”
“Yes,” Antonius said. “We are allowed tact, kindness, and excuses, are we not?”
“You mean like saying you’re busy when you’re on the pot?”
Antonius nodded.
“And, he said to give one’s word sparingly, but once given to always keep it, for good or ill.”
“True,” Stephen said.
“And,” the child sighed, “to be dauntless in battle. She is,” the child indicated Regeane, “and so am I.” She ended proudly, “You know, though, I still don’t understand about breasts.”
“Well, don’t ask these men about the matter,” Regeane said acidly. “Wait until we’re alone and I’ll explain it to you.” The child subsided. “She’s still innocent,” Regeane said. “I can’t bring her home with me. She bit Hugo and he hit her in the face. God knows what he’d do to her. No, I know what he’d do to her and the fact that she’s a child wouldn’t make a bit of difference to him. I won’t bring her back and let him get his hands on her.”
“Very bad,” Antonius said. “Brother, can’t you see how much damage is being done here? Her relations are terrorizing this girl. And Regeane, I believe you understand why.”
“Yes,” Regeane said bitterly. “They are very poor and want my help in extorting money from my husband.”
Stephen nodded his head. “What will they do with the money if they get it?”
Regeane shrugged. “What they do now—spend it drinking and wenching in every taverna and brothel in Rome. They boast of my future husband’s wealth, saying the mere mention of his name opened the moneylenders’ purses immediately.”
Regeane bit her lip. She’d made her decision last night. Her fear was that this Stephen, whoever he was, might have the authority to return her by force. If so, she wasn’t going to place herself in the position of having them tell Gundabald to take measures against her running away. Still, she was more afraid for the child than herself. A night with Hugo and the little girl would wake up far less sure of the ultimate goodness of the world than she was now. First, Regeane had to secure her safety.
“Please,” she continued, “place the child in the Saxon colony in Rome and I will return peaceably to my uncle if you wish.”
“No,” Antonius exclaimed decidedly. “No. Brother, look at this lady. She arrived hungry and the dress she’s wearing would not do credit to the lowest maid in an honorable house, much less to a lady of rank. And, Regeane, whatever my brother decides about you, the child may remain here among us. Many here are not infected with disease. They are the victims of Paul Afartha’s cruelty. That woman, Crysta, has a bitter tongue, but a kind heart. She will look after her.”
Regeane felt a wave of relief wash over her. She was sure, and oddly the wolf was also certain, that with Antonius’ protection, the little one would be safe, even here.
&nb
sp; “I don’t know,” Stephen said slowly. “The men in her family are her legal and traditional guardians.”
The sigh Antonius gave rippled the covering over his mouth. “All my life, your face and only one other have been the fairest I have ever looked upon. When I wander among the shades I will ask the gods to remember only you two. But, Brother, there are times when, dealing with you, I feel I’m facing a talking law book.
“If this mountain lord comes to Rome and finds his bride in her present neglected condition, he is more than likely to believe she has been discarded by her royal kin and the marriage was intended not as an honor, but a cruel jest. He may rebuff her and turn to the Lombards. Brother, I beg you, don’t allow your scruples to override your common sense. Send the girl to Lucilla.”
Stephen stared thoughtfully at Antonius. “Lucilla is an old friend. She’ll do as I ask.”
Regeane looked quickly from one to the other. “I don’t understand you. Only a few moments ago you spoke as if Lucilla were a woman of … the streets; her home a house of … ill repute.”
Stephen waved a hand at Regeane in a gesture of negation. “No. No, not at all. Lucilla’s ladies aren’t streetwalkers and never become so. They usually go to her as virgins and, after some training, she places them discreetly in the arms of one protector or another where often they remain for many years. Not a few eventually marry quite respectably.”
“That sounds heavenly,” Regeane said. “I wish I were so free.”
“Well, you aren’t,” Stephen said harshly. “Your marriage is in a minor way dynastic and the king of the Franks must understand that we—”
“Brother!” Antonius exclaimed sharply.
Regeane glanced from one man to the other again. Stephen had been about to reveal a secret, and Antonius had prevented him.
“Ah,” Stephen continued, “my brother and I are of a noble house. We are well connected. I’ll write a letter to Lucilla explaining the situation. She’s a woman of intelligence and, as I said, a friend of mine. She’d be the first to understand the importance of this match to both you and the city. Lucilla is a staunch supporter of the Holy See.” Stephen smiled a quick, rather strange smile and gave Antonius a meaningful look. “As I am, my dear.”
The Silver Wolf Page 10
