“Not bad,” Gundabald said. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“This is,” Regeane said, “not a tenth of what he brought. The more valuable pieces are locked away.”
Gundabald went to the table and picked up a small stack of gold coins. They jingled loosely in his hand. “A tenth of what he brought?” His eyes gleamed with greed.
“Less than a tenth,” Regeane said. Suddenly, she was tired. Tired and angry. She’d won. Now, all she had to do was trick this pair of fools into trusting her, and Lucilla’s assassin would do the rest.
She eyed the pair of them staring transfixed at Lucilla’s bait. She lifted a ring from the table, a magnificent ruby set in ridiculously complex, twisted Celtic knot work, and dropped it into Hugo’s outstretched hand. “This pretty trinket will buy you a lot of women and a great deal of wine as well. Won’t it, Hugo?” she asked.
Hugo backed away from her, gazing down at it, mesmerized by the gem in his hand.
“What do you want?” Gundabald asked.
Regeane met his eyes with an artificially artless glance. “What could I possibly want?”
Gundabald laughed. The laugh ended in a snort of derision. “You want something. Otherwise, your fine friends would never have allowed us past the gate. It’s clear to me,” he said with some chagrin, “that you’re not afraid of me any longer.”
Regeane’s fingers played idly with the precious litter on the table. She separated a few fine Indian rubies from the rest, scraped them to the edge of the table and poured them into her hand. Then, stretched out her arm toward Gundabald. He spread his palms for her largess. They trickled through her fingers into his cupped hands. He picked out one and held it up to the light.
“This lord is plated with wealth,” she said. “He must sleep and dream of gold, only to waken and find it falling into his coffers. A river of riches flows through the high mountain passes. Caravans laden with spices, silks, jewels, and gold. He is anxious for Charlemagne’s favor so that he may grow even richer. I have presented myself as the road to that favor.”
“And what of moonlight?” Gundabald asked.
Regeane laughed. “I’m not afraid of moonlight. You were always too shortsighted to understand. I welcomed it, embraced it, loved it. But no, Gundabald, I never, never feared it. And now, I am mistress of the night and all contained therein. For this lord of mine, I will be a tender plaything draped in silk until he reaches his home. The high fastness of which you spoke. Fools, he is not a pigeon to be plucked, but an orchard to be cultivated, increasing its yield year by year until I have garnered all it has to give. He is a proper man, this Maeniel, and I can make him one of the greatest lords in Franca. I will be his lady, and you two my trusted companions, if you will but let me. I’ll have no rivals for his favor and I will suffer none. They will meet with … accidents. I’ll see to that. Neither of you has ever had the slightest conception of what Gisela gave birth to.”
Gundabald stepped back and studied her. “Do you seriously think you can deceive him about your true nature for years?”
Regeane tried to make her face hard. “With your help, I can deceive him as long as I like.”
Gundabald gave her a long, slow, brooding look. Then, he walked to the door and gazed out into the garden. “This takes a bit of getting used to,” he said. “My plan, you will admit, was very simple. Take what we could get, arrange a hunting accident, and then as the grieving heiress and deeply religious widow—an appearance of piety would do you no end of good, my dear—you would spend the rest of your life under the safe supervision of your uncle and cousin.”
“Yes,” Regeane said, “in a narrow stone cell, chained by my neck to the wall. Was that what you had in mind?”
“Oh, no!” Hugo stammered. “We wouldn’t dream …”
“The hell you wouldn’t!” Regeane’s voice cracked like a whip silencing him.
“That’s better,” Gundabald said. “At last, the bribes have been paid.” He tossed the rubies in his hand. “The pretty words spoken. Now, we’re getting down to business.”
Regeane nodded. “You two gentlemen had best listen to my terms, because, Gundabald, I don’t plan to spend even one day of my life under your so-called ‘supervision’.”
Gundabald turned in the doorway and rested his back against the wall. “What you’re planning is absolute folly.”
“Folly?” Regeane laughed. “You murdered my father, robbed my mother blind, and made my girlhood a hell of misery and despair. Give me one, one reason to trust you about anything.”
Gundabald rushed toward her. “We know your secret,” he roared.
He stood over the table. Regeane was behind it, only inches away. Her voice dropped into a low, hoarse whisper. “Back up, Gundabald, and get your foul breath out of my face or you will learn more of my secret than you care to. Right now!”
Gundabald obeyed. Hate glittering in his eyes, a dark evil shimmer. “I still say what you plan is folly. Sooner or later, the man will learn your secret and he will kill you.”
Regeane fought for composure. “Perhaps not,” she said, “or perhaps he will learn my secret and not be able to kill me. But one thing I tell you, and you had better listen well, there will be no convenient hunting accidents! This marriage is important in a way neither of you understands. Denied as you are the councils of popes and kings. Your intriguing would ruin me and I’d bring you down with me. I’d make sure of that. Be advised, Gundabald, you no longer have the power to rule me. It’s the other way around. I’m giving the orders here and you’ll obey my commands now or get out. One loud shout from me would bring a dozen men into this room. And I’d tell them to throw you in the gutter. Without my money, that’s where you’d stay for the rest of your miserable lives. Am I making myself clear?”
With one swipe of her hand, Regeane sent some of the gold and gems tinkling to the floor. Hugo scrambled after the gold, snatching it up in handfuls and thrusting it into his purse.
Gundabald stood his ground, his chest heaving with rage. “I believe,” he said quietly, “we understand each other.”
“I don’t know about you, Gundabald, but I understand you perfectly. The one and only throw of the dice you have is to reveal my secret to the world. And what would that get you? Tell me!”
Gundabald’s eyes shifted from hers to the shadows in the half-darkened room. “Nothing,” he muttered.
“Oh, you’re wrong, Gundabald. It might get you worse than nothing. My new lord and husband is very pleased with his lady of the royal house. He might decide you are a madman or a liar and have you silenced himself. Or the pope who greatly supports this marriage might see you as a dangerous troublemaker. You must ask yourself, are you willing to take the chance?”
Gundabald snorted, then smiled, though rage still smoldered in his eyes. He spoke between his teeth. “My dear niece, you are a clever woman. Far cleverer than I had previously thought. I can see if I’m to benefit by our close blood tie, it will be on your terms.”
Hugo rose from his knees, purse bulging. He looked from Regeane to Gundabald and back again. “Father,” he said hesitantly, “I think we better do as she says.”
Gundabald shot a glare at him, but the look he gave Regeane was carefully neutral. “Very well,” he said quietly. “What would you have me do?”
Regeane relaxed. She was sure she had them. They waited, bought and paid for. Bullied into submission, not by her, but by their own greed. They were ready to be herded into her trap.
The wolf had a memory of this moment. A lot of memories. The memories of a huntress. Her experienced eyes scanning a herd for prey; looking for the telltale stagger where the footing wasn’t difficult; heavy breathing with no expenditure of effort; the limping fawn not able to keep up with the rest; the bull or cow touched with the signs of age. She eyed Hugo and Gundabald for a second with the cold, mechanical gaze of a killer.
Hugo backed up a few paces and a muscle jerked in Gundabald’s cheek.
“Wha
t do you want us to do?” Hugo asked nervously.
“Take a bath, for one thing,” Regeane snapped. “All the money left on the table is yours.”
Hugo forgot his fears and began snatching it up at once.
“Buy new clothes so you’re in a fit state to be presented to my lord. Gundabald, you still have connections at Charlemagne’s court, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Gundabald said slowly.
“Very well,” Regeane said. “I’ll need you.” She took a deep breath. “I really need you very badly. I can’t turn this lord of mine into a great man all by myself. I’ll have to have the help of an experienced man of affairs such as you. I’ve been remiss in never paying attention to politics.”
Gundabald began helping himself to the gold on the table also. Nodding as though he’d come to some decision.
“I’ll have Lucilla’s servants show you out,” Regeane said. “Come back in a few days and we can dine together quietly and talk over the future.”
“To be sure,” Gundabald said. “A congenial family dinner.”
“Yes,” Regeane said wearily. The wolf was ready to kill. There was little more to be said and she was anxious to be rid of them.
At the gate, Gundabald turned and faced her. “I’m sure,” he said smoothly, “now that we’ve come to an estimate of your true worth, there will be no more quarrels between us.”
“I’m sure,” Regeane replied. “Partnership will be so much more fruitful than dissention.”
WHEN THEY WERE GONE, REGEANE FOUND LUCILLA and Antonius waiting for her in the garden. She sank down on a bench beside the pool. She looked not at them, but at the dark water. “You listened?” she asked.
“Of course,” Lucilla answered. “I listened closely. What do you take me for? Some silly incompetent? You’re my protégé.”
“Did I succeed?” Regeane asked.
“I don’t know,” Antonius said. “I think you might have been a little less … honest.”
“I couldn’t help myself,” Regeane said. “I detest them both.”
“It showed,” Antonius said, turning a troubled gaze to the portico through which Gundabald and Hugo had exited.
“What they thought doesn’t matter,” Lucilla said. “I accomplished my objective. She was seen to receive them in a civil manner. They accepted rich presents from her. My guess is the pair of them, scoundrels that they are, will spend at least part of the money on a drunken spree in the lowest taverns and brothels in Rome. My man will take them tonight or tomorrow.”
Regeane raised a stricken face to Lucilla. “You really didn’t care what I said to them, did you?”
Antonius shrugged and smiled, then strolled off along the pool.
Regeane leaped up and stamped her foot as she confronted Lucilla. “You had this all planned.”
“Yes,” Lucilla said with infuriating smugness.
“I’m surprised you even consulted me,” Regeane said bitterly.
“I very nearly didn’t,” Lucilla snapped back. “but you needed to know how and why these things are arranged. But, be aware of this, my dear. Once I knew your secret, I never intended to let the wretch live.”
“But why?” she asked. “You hadn’t even met him.”
“Why would I need to meet him?” Lucilla asked. “I saw that ghastly lodging house. The stinking sty where they kept you penned up. The weals on your back. What else did I need to know? Pray, tell me.”
Antonius turned and walked back toward them. “Regeane,” he said, “consult the wolf. What does she think?”
Regeane turned away in confusion. “I already have,” she whispered. “I know what she thinks. The wolf is … indifferent.”
“Your better half, I think,” Antonius said, “or at least your smarter half. Listen, girl, in all places among all peoples, husbands are granted by law certain authority over their wives. We … the three of us … have already taken steps to make you independent of your husband.”
“Yes,” Regeane said.
“Fine.” Antonius spoke slowly as if speaking to a child. “Now, the other group empowered to control women are their male blood relatives. Are they not?”
Regeane nodded.
“With Hugo and Gundabald gone, how many blood relatives would you have left?”
“None, or at least none close enough to matter,” she said. “I see. I would be free.”
Antonius glanced at his mother. Their eyes met and an unspoken message passed between them.
“There is more, isn’t there?” Regeane said.
“In a sense I suppose Gundabald is my wedding gift to you, Regeane,” Lucilla said. “And possibly Hugo, too.”
“I’ve never agreed with you about Hugo, Mother,” Antonius said. “I believe Hugo is a porridge-brained, nincompoop, blabber-mouth who would spill the contents of his empty head in every tavern and whorehouse in Rome and the surrounding countryside. And sooner or later, his drunken ravings would be sure to come to the wrong ears. Take him down, too. Regeane’s right. They both need a long bath. Give them one … in the Tiber.”
“God in heaven!” Regeane exclaimed.
“Face facts, girl,” Antonius said. “Neither of them can possibly do you any good, and it is in their power to do you a great deal of harm.”
“Face facts? My God, Antonius!” Regeane exploded. “Do you know Gundabald once said that to me? He wanted to use me to help murder my own husband. I told Gundabald I wouldn’t spend even one day under his supervision. Well, I won’t accept yours either. Yours or your mother’s. No,” she sobbed. “No, I don’t want to be involved in this heinous act. Did you see them with the gold? They can be bought off. I’m sure of it.”
Antonius threw up his hands and turned away.
Lucilla sighed deeply. “A very fine-tuned moral sense you have. I’m quite sure they can be bought off … for a time. But what happens when you run out of gold?” she asked gently.
Regeane continued to weep quietly, tears pouring down her face. “I can’t bear it,” she whispered thickly. “Let them live. I hated Gundabald once, but poor Hugo. I never hated him …”
Lucilla embraced Regeane and rested her head on the girl’s shoulder, patting her gently.
“Let them live,” Regeane repeated.
Lucilla pushed Regeane away at arm’s length and studied her tear-stained face. “Oh, no …” Lucilla said sadly.
“Let them live,” Regeane insisted stubbornly.
“Mother,” Antonius said, “she needs to be free. She must make the decision herself. We can’t make it for her.”
Lucilla looked at Antonius over Regeane’s head, then gave a deep shuddering sigh. “My only son, best of sons, I believe you’re probably right. Very well, Regeane, I wouldn’t do this for another living soul, probably not even Antonius, but I will spare them for you, my dear daughter in love. But—” Lucilla raised one finger. “There is something more you need to know.”
Regeane wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingers and looked up at Lucilla.
“Regeane,” she continued, “I suppose, once in the wonderful realm the Romans created, a man or woman could carve out a niche for themselves and live an independent life. This is no longer possible. In this disorderly, broken world there exist only the rulers and the ruled. You must decide for yourself which one you would rather be.”
A FEW HOURS LATER, REGEANE FOUND HERSELF alone in a mule litter riding toward her betrothal feast. She’d been the recipient of advice from both Lucilla and Antonius before departing, lots of advice.
While she was dressing there was a short, sharp conversation with Lucilla about piercing her ears.
“They don’t stay pierced,” Regeane said.
“What do you mean?” Lucilla asked.
“They just go away.”
Lucilla sat down on a couch, looking shocked. “Are you telling me the holes just go away?”
“Yes,” Regeane replied. “What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking about your hymen, my dear.
Things might become very uncomfortable for you if your hymen were to perpetually be, ah … renewed.”
“I’m not worried,” Regeane said. “My mother told me she didn’t have a moment’s discomfort. I don’t think I will have, either.”
Lucilla sighed. “In a way, it’s a pity … a real pity.” Then she turned and began fumbling through the contents of her dressing table.
“What’s a pity?” Regeane asked. She was wiggling into a coan silk shift. The shift was embroidered with crystal and seed pearls at the neck, sleeves, and hem.
“Be careful of that. It might tear,” Lucilla chided.
“What’s a pity?” Regeane repeated.
“A woman able to perpetually renew her virginity would drive men wild. You would have been an immense financial success as a courtesan,” Lucilla said.
Antonius was standing in the next room behind a curtain. “Mother!” he said in reproof.
“I know, I know. ‘Don’t give the girl ideas.’ In any case, I have a little jar of ointment here. You rub it on just before the act and it decreases the discomfort. Here,” she said, extending a small glass bottle to Regeane. “Take this and keep it with you.”
Regeane staggered back and sat down heavily on Lucilla’s bed. “Tonight?” she gasped. “Is it tonight?”
“My dear girl,” Lucilla said, “you will never be more married than you are now. Yes, certainly tonight.”
Regeane’s head was spinning.
“Considering the way he greeted you,” Lucilla said, “I think he will be eager.”
Regeane remembered Maeniel, the gentle chaste kiss he’d given her as a greeting. The wolf, deep in her brain, started up from sleep and eyed her with a knowing expression. This might be fun. Regeane leaped to her feet, palms against her burning cheeks. “We’ve been longing to try it,” she said.
“Both of you, eh?” Lucilla gave her a look of disapproval as she tapped one foot.
Behind the curtain, Antonius burst into gales of laughter.
“Hush up!” Lucilla exclaimed in the direction of Antonius. “Regeane, you must listen to me. Virgin brides aren’t supposed to be eager. You must be diffident, timid, a little afraid.”
The Silver Wolf Page 44
