Glancing back, she tried to determine if any of Lydia’s horsemen had made it through to help her. She wasn’t even sure if she could budge a single plank of the bridge herself, let alone send them all toppling into the ravine before the Illyrians made it across. She urged her horse onward and prayed that somehow, she’d make it ahead of them. Somehow, she would stop them.
* * *
“You held my love at sword point!” Warrick screamed as he attacked.
For one disoriented instant, John wondered what the younger prince was referring to.
Then Warrick’s blade knocked Rab the Raider back, and John realized precisely what was happening.
Warrick was ridding himself of an unwanted rival.
John didn’t waste a second to see how their battle ended, but pushed off the wall with a mighty kick, turning Moses toward the road that led to Castlehead.
The Illyrian cavalry had gotten far too generous a head start. Gisela was up there, alone.
“Ride with me!” John shouted to the mounted Lydians nearest him. He pointed with his sword and charged forward, trusting that those who could follow him would.
There was no time to go around by the narrow path Gisela had taken. The alternate route would only be advantageous if he hoped to pass the Illyrians. It would be difficult enough for him to catch up with them riding by the straight route.
Moses charged forward eagerly, his hooves licking up the ground beneath them as he stretched out, flying as though he understood John’s desperate need to catch up to those who would take his castle and harm his family.
With the wind whipping in his eyes, John glanced back to see a handful of riders pounding down the road after them. He recognized a few of his Lydian men, and at the rear, bloodstained sword gripped tightly in his hand, Warrick charged after them all.
John could only imagine he’d dispensed with his unwanted rival and now came to seek his revenge against Lydia. There was no point engaging him now, not if it meant leaving Gisela alone to face the Illyrians. Still, it would not do to let Warrick catch up to him.
“Fly, Moses, fly!” John urged the stallion to greater speeds as the haunches of the Illyrian cavalry came into view ahead of them.
They rode as men saving their strength for battle, and not with desperate speed.
There was some chance John might catch up to them, had the plank bridge across the ravine not already come into view. It was just wide enough to accommodate the widest merchant carts. Two horses could ride abreast, but they’d have to take care not to miss a step. The sides had no railing to keep them from falling.
“Your Majesty,” a voice panted from just behind him.
John turned to see his men, including Tertulio, the great ox of a man who’d nearly eliminated him from the fencing tournament.
“The bridge!” John directed them. “We’ve got to topple it!”
He could see Gisela had already dismounted and heaved at the massive timbers.
John and his men blew through the midst of the Illyrian cavalry, scattering them to the sides. “On your horse!” John shouted to Gisela as he approached. “Defend the far side!” If she could cross with her mount before the beams fell, she’d have the advantage over any men who might make it up the far side.
“Ride with me!” she urged him, leaping on her horse.
Tertulio leaped from his stead and lifted a beam, heaving it down. “Cross quickly, sire.”
John didn’t hesitate, but rode after Gisela as his men scrambled to topple the bridge while defending it from the Illyrians who’d already reached them.
Tertulio sent three more of the dozen or so beams tumbling down into the ravine before the first Illyrian riders pushed past him. There wasn’t enough left of the bridge for them to cross in any formation but single file, and they slowed their steps to prevent an accident. Still, six mounted men took to the bridge while the Lydians struggled to stop them.
John heard Warrick shouting something at his men, but the pounding of hooves against hollow wood drowned out the meaning of his words.
“Stay behind me.” John maneuvered his way in front of Gisela, glancing at her only briefly and wishing he could take her in his arms again. He’d have to cut down the approaching soldiers before he could do that. “Be prepared to ride ahead to Castlehead if they get past me.”
“They will not get past us.” Gisela drew her sword, but obligingly stayed off to his right, just behind him.
The Illyrians leaped from the bridge with their swords drawn. John hastily unhorsed the first rider with a swipe of his sword and sent him sprawling back over the lip of the ravine. The next man proved to be a better fighter, pushing John back and making room for his comrades to come across.
John fought to see as sweat poured under his helmet, filling his eyes, transforming the bright flash of swords into a dazzling blur. The pounding of hooves was replaced by the clang of swords as Gisela fought alongside him.
Timbers boomed and cracked as they fell into the ravine, but John saw another horseman make his way across.
Warrick.
“Stand down!” the Illyrian prince commanded his men with drawn sword.
When the blade before him no longer flew, John peeled back his helmet and swiped the sweat from his eyes, unsure precisely what Warrick was up to, but unlikely to discern anything without the clear use of his eyes. He turned to Gisela, whose horse had pranced backward under the press of swords.
She gripped her leg where a bloody gash rent her skirts, staining them deep crimson.
“No!” he screamed and leaped from Moses’s back. Even from a distance he could see the wound was deep. He hurried to her side and tore the slashed fabric from her skirts, quickly using it to bind her injury and stem the flow of blood. Warrick rode on toward Castlehead with four men behind him.
John let them go. He doubted Warrick would do anything to hurt Elisabette. Whatever happened, John could address it later. He couldn’t lose the woman he loved.
* * *
Gisela held tight to John’s chest as he rode with her toward Castlehead.
“What of the battle for Sardis?” She could feel her thoughts swimming from the loss of blood, and hoped by speaking to keep from slipping out of consciousness.
“I believe Rab the Raider is dead, killed by his half brother Warrick. From what I could see of it, your father disabled the catapults and overwhelmed the Illyrians with his surprise attack. Once the remaining Illyrians realize Rab is dead and Warrick has fled, they’ll likely surrender.”
“They won’t chase us all the way to Castlehead?”
“If they do, Tertulio will knock out the rest of the beams of the bridge.”
She sagged against him and felt her strength waning.
“Gisela?” He touched her face, obviously aware that her strength was leaving her. “Gisela, my love, don’t leave me.”
“I shan’t leave,” she whispered. “But I must rest.”
The weary horse beneath them gathered speed. Gisela felt it, but let her fingers loosen their grip on King John’s arms. She lacked the strength to hold on any longer. And she trusted John would keep her safe. He would not let her fall.
* * *
“Is she going to live?”
John turned at the sound of the heavy accent. The Emperor Charlemagne approached him.
John immediately dropped to bow before him. “She is strong. I’ve stopped the bleeding, and she roused enough to drink earlier. She should recover.”
Charlemagne crossed the room to where John knelt by Gisela’s side, supervising her every breath as if by the force of his will alone he could compel her to continue breathing.
The emperor placed a hand on his daughter’s forehead. “She is strong,” he agreed, then turned to John, who’d risen from his bow just high enough to ke
ep watch over Gisela. “King John, accompany me to Constantinople. We must present Warrick and Garren to Empress Irene for punishment. I understand their crimes are many. I’ll need you to testify to their extent.”
John reluctantly stood. “I’ll do as you command. But my kingdom—”
“Your brother Luke is holding Sardis, not that the remaining Illyrians are likely to give him any trouble now. As for this fortress of yours, a man arrived by ship with many men in time to reinforce my advance at the Illyrians’ rear. He claims to be your brother Mark. He fought valiantly. Can we leave Castlehead in his care?”
John felt a surge of relief that his brother had finally returned. He smiled. “I believe we can.”
Charlemagne continued, “As for you, I’ve been told repeatedly, first by Boden and his men, and since then many times by my daughter and her maid, that I owe you a debt for my daughter’s life. Name your price.”
John swallowed. He owed the emperor for saving his kingdom. The man was powerful, and protective of his family. He might destroy John and take his kingdom from him for daring to request a treasure beyond what he deserved.
And yet, John knew he would not be able to live with himself if he did not ask. “Your Majesty? I would ask for your daughter Gisela’s hand in marriage.”
Chapter Seventeen
Christmastide, Castlehead, Lydia
“A ship approaches, Your Highness. Her sail is spread with the Carolingian cross.” Renwick stood in the doorway of Gisela’s chamber to deliver his message.
“They’ve returned?” Gisela rose and hurried after him, hope rising inside her. King John had been gone with her father for many long months. She knew of the dangerous nature of their mission, and the many threats that lay between Lydia and Constantinople.
Boats approached from the anchored ship by the time Gisela reached the wharf. She searched the faces of the men aboard, quickly finding the two that rose higher than the others. King John’s face glowed with health. So did her father’s.
She dropped to a low bow as they stepped onto the dock.
“Gisela.” Charlemagne extended his arms.
Gisela flew to her father’s embrace, holding him tight and thanking God for his safe return. But even as she did so, she looked past him to King John.
He had been away so long. She knew the political situation was complicated. The men might have made any number of promises for the sake of peace with the Byzantines. Did he still care for her as he had once claimed? Did their feelings even matter, given the complexities of the relations between the empires?
“How was your journey?” she asked her father.
“Long,” he said with laughter in his eyes, “but fruitful. We have strengthened the allegiances between our empires, and forged agreements to ensure the safety of Lydia.”
“Praise the Lord.” Gisela fought to keep her eyes on her father as he spoke, but found it nearly impossible not to look at John. His eyes twinkled. Did he long to hold her as she longed to be held by him? She wet her lips and tried to think clearly. “Where do matters stand with the Illyrians?”
The emperor began to walk down the wharf toward the castle. He held her arm and pulled her alongside him, explaining as they went. “Garren and his son Warrick have been chastised. They have repented of their actions against Lydia. Their apologies were sincere.”
Gisela felt cold dread fill her. If the men survived, the agreements between them might stand. “Do they remain in power?”
“In light of their activities with Rab the Raider, Garren has stepped down as king and Warrick has taken his place. To secure peace in the region, we’ve negotiated a marriage alliance.”
Gisela pinched her eyes shut and gripped her father’s arm. She couldn’t bring her feet to carry her forward another step. “A marriage between...” Her voice failed her.
“Between Warrick,” Charlemagne began, “and the Princess of Lydia, King John’s sister, Elisabette.”
Gisela sagged with relief and let out a yelping sigh.
Her father laughed. “Are you encouraged by this news?”
“It is wonderful news, Father.”
“The purpose of your journey was to marry Warrick. And yet, he never intended to have you.” Charlemagne looked down into his daughter’s eyes. “I have negotiated a different marriage contract for you, but I must know whether the match pleases you before the final plans can be made. If you could choose your own husband, who would you wed?”
Gisela felt her mouth drop open. She looked behind her and found that King John had followed them down the wharf.
Charlemagne extended one hand toward King John, but kept his focus on Gisela’s face. “He must be a worthy man.”
Finding her voice, Gisela asked, “Would you consider King John a worthy man?”
“There is no man more worthy.”
Hardly had her father spoken than John fell to his knees before them both. He looked up at Gisela with tears sparkling in his eyes. “Would you have me?”
Gisela struggled to speak past her joy. “Yes.” She reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet, then looked to her father for his blessing.
Charlemagne threw back his head and laughed a great billowing laugh toward the sky. “Do as you desire. You have my blessing.”
Before the emperor finished his statement, John wrapped his arms around Gisela and found her lips with his. She kissed him eagerly, then pulled away just long enough to ask her father, “How soon may we be wed?”
Charlemagne gestured to the crates of goods that were being unloaded from the boats. “We’ve brought the finest silks for your dress, and spices for the feast.” He turned to Renwick, who still stood near. “Have your messengers deliver the invitation throughout the kingdom. King John is to wed Princess Gisela three days hence.”
Three days hence
Gisela stood by the window while three maids and their needles held on to the long train of her white gown, working feverishly at an elaborate embroidery along the edge of the train. The courtyard was filled with those who would not fit inside the chapel.
“We’ve finished this layer of embroidery, Your Highness,” the head seamstress announced. “Would you like us to do another?”
“I don’t believe there will be time.” Gisela looked at Bette.
The girl hopped up. “The veil.” She nodded to Hilda, then examined Gisela’s face. “You look as lovely as any bride ever has.”
A steward arrived at her door. “The Emperor Charlemagne,” he announced.
Gisela flew to meet her father, who took her arm and led her down the hall.
Outside the chapel, Emperor Charlemagne paused and lowered the veil over her face. The lutes and horns ceased their festal notes and sounded her arrival. Gisela trusted her father to guide her forward. As she made her way on her father’s arm through the crowded hall, Gisela focused on breathing as King John had taught her when he’d stitched up her eye. Still, she feared she might faint from happiness.
“Emperor Charlemagne, if it is your intent to see this woman married, please present her to the groom.”
Gisela watched John’s hands take her veil by the edges and lift it up past her face.
She beamed at the sight of the man she loved.
Deacon Bartholomew proceeded with the service. When he reached the Scripture, Gisela listened with respect, all the while gazing at King John, still hardly able to believe he stood before her. Finally the old deacon pronounced them married, and John pulled her back into his arms, kissing her soundly as a cheer went up from those assembled, the noise nearly shaking the stone walls.
Finally the people quieted their cheers while her father turned to face them. Charlemagne announced blessings and gifts from the Holy Roman Empire.
“Lydia now holds all the lands between this coast and the
Mursia River,” he declared, and a shout rose up from those assembled. He extended his hand toward King John, presenting him with a marvelous jewel-encrusted scepter. “A token of my esteem for your kingdom.”
John accepted it with thanks, but his eyes hardly left Gisela’s face, and she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him again, as the emperor announced, “Hail to King John of Lydia and his queen. Long may you reign.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Handpicked Husband by Winnie Griggs!
Dear Reader,
Charlemagne was King of the Franks from 768 A.D., and was crowned the first Holy Roman Emperor in the year 800. Many of the historical events noted in this book are real; for example, Charlemagne’s daughter Rotrude was engaged to Constantine VI, until his mother, Irene (Empress Irene at the time of our story), broke off their engagement. The Illyrians, who were ruled by various tribal kings, dominated the area where our story takes place. However, the Kingdom of Lydia is a fictional nation inspired by Lydia in Acts 16 in the Bible. Warrick and Garren are fictional characters, as is King John himself. History records that Charlemagne had a daughter named Gisela, but no details survive of the events of her life. It is unlikely that her experiences were precisely as I have recorded them; nonetheless I’ve taken care to make my story as historically accurate as possible without obscuring the romance of the tale.
If you would like to learn more about Charlemagne, one resource I heartily recommend is Two Lives of Charlemagne by Einhard and Notker the Stammerer. If you are interested in more stories about the Kingdom of Lydia, look for my Reclaiming the Crown series by Love Inspired Suspense, and the forthcoming books in the Protecting the Crown series, which include more suspense tales set in Lydia, as well as the romance between John’s brother Prince Luke and the mysterious woman with hair pale as moonlight. Visit my website, www.rachellemccalla.com, for the most up-to-date listings of the books in my series.
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