Love Lost in Time

by Cathie Dunn

  A whimper went up in the crowd, quickly stilled until only a series of sobs remained. Bellon recognised the woman as Theodosia, Roderic’s wife, who had often helped Hilda with the household accounts. Her reaction gave him a sense of comfort. Others mourned Hilda’s absence almost as strongly as he did.

  “The lady Nanthild was taken? How? Where to?”

  “By this man on his horse. It was a white stallion with a black spot on his right hind flank, Amalberga said. After he had gone with…Mother, one of his accomplices knifed Amalberga repeatedly, rolled her into the undergrowth and left her to die.”

  Gasps echoed around the room, followed by cries of “murderer”.

  “Silence!” Guillaume thundered. After a while, a hush fell over the hall again. “For the record,” he nodded to the monk sitting beside him, whose quill scratched furiously across the parchment, “the lady Alda describes the horse of the accused, as I have personally verified.”

  “She would’ve seen it during my last visit,” Clovis argued, pointing at Alda.

  “I could, perhaps, but I did not.” Alda glared at him, and Bellon bit back a smirk.

  “So we have the knight and his stallion at the scene of the attack.”

  “The feverish ramblings of an old woman!”

  “She was of sound mind. You must believe me, lord duke.”

  “I do, child. As does your father.” Guillaume smiled at her. “I thank you for being such a brave girl, Alda. Your mother would be proud of you. I have no further questions.”

  “You may retire to your chamber, if you wish,” Bellon said to her.

  She shook her head. “I’d rather stay, Father.”

  “So be it. Then rejoin your brothers over there.”

  “Lord duke. Father.” She inclined her head and went past the packed benches to where Guisclafred and Oliba stood with Roderic, Theodosia and other members of their household.

  “So this is your proof? The word of a dead woman?” Clovis chuckled. “Wait till the king hears of this mockery of a trial.”

  Guillaume leaned back. “Oh, he shall. And I’m certain that he will agree with our judgement.”

  “We have another witness.” Bellon raised his voice. “Carloman, step forward.”

  A stocky man of two score years came to a halt where moments earlier Alda had stood. He inclined his head. “Lord. Lord duke.”

  “Greetings, Carloman. You live in the hamlet the lady Nanthild was visiting?” Guillaume asked, propping his elbows on the table.

  “Yes, lord. My wife and I, we are neighbours of Gunda, the woman who had sought the help of the lady Nanthild.” He stared at his feet. “Had she known what were to befall the lady, she’d never have called for her. She has been praying for her day and night.”

  “But she delivered Gunda’s child safely, and both are well?” Bellon asked quietly.

  Carloman met his gaze. “Yes, lord. They are.”

  “Then her visit was not in vain.” His words pained him, but it was how Hilda would have seen it.

  “No, lord.”

  “During the lady’s visit to Gunda, did you notice anything unusual?”

  “Yes, lord duke. This man,” he pointed at Clovis, “and two others who looked like mercenaries were lurking on the hillside nearby. They had arrived not long after the lady Nanthild and her companions, but kept themselves hidden in the forest; or tried to.”

  “That’s a lie!” Clovis gnarled.

  Carloman shuddered. “I do not lie. You were filling up your flasks with water from our well. I saw you with my own eyes, as did my wife.”

  Clovis rattled at his chains. “You’re a dead man.”

  Carloman blanched.

  “Threatening witnesses won’t help your cause, Clovis. On the contrary, I shall regard your comment as an admission of your guilt.” Guillaume turned to the witness. “Thank you, Carloman. You can now return to your seat.”

  “And please tell Gunda that we thank her for her prayers,” Bellon added.

  The man gave him a wan smile and went back to his seat. His wife took his hand and squeezed it.

  Guillaume faced Clovis. “What do you have to say to your accusers?”

  “That they’re all liars! I am a lord of the realm of the Franks, a trusted soldier for King Charles. You will do well to remember that.”

  “Are you threatening me, Clovis? Have you forgotten your station?”

  “No, but that dog beside you has messed with your head.”

  Bellon laughed out loud. “Clovis, ever since you first set eyes on the lady Nanthild, your intentions towards her have been very clear. I remember each occasion.”

  “It should have been me, not a Pagan half-blood like you.”

  “Bellon is a Christian, Clovis, not a Pagan. Your accusations are ridiculous. Is there anything you wish to say about the day the lady Nanthild disappeared, before we pronounce judgement?”

  “You have it all stitched up neatly, haven’t you?” Venom dripped from Clovis’ voice, and he leaned forward. “This cur gets the title, lands, everything. I’ve risked my life for the king many times—”

  “For which he rewarded you richly, with property and silver,” Guillaume finished.

  Clovis huffed.

  “It kept your wife in comfort, I hear, until she passed away.”

  “Your wife died?” Bellon raised an eyebrow. That might explain much. Had Clovis abducted Hilda to keep her?

  “Yes.”

  “So you thought you could help yourself to another man’s woman?” Rage grew inside him when he saw Clovis’ eyes sparkle. The man taunted him. “Where is Hilda?”

  “Bellon…” Guillaume tried to calm him.

  He stood and leaned over the table. “Where is my wife, Clovis? Is she still alive?”

  Clovis chuckled. “You’d want to know, don’t you? You, with your fancy fortress,” his hands swept a wide circle, rattling the chains, “and your perfect family.” He turned to glare at Bellon’s children. “But the one thing you’re desperate to find out will always elude you.”

  Bellon skirted the table and reached the accused in three strides. He lifted him off the stool by his tunic, tearing it. “I’m asking you once more. Where…is…she?”

  “You’ll meet her in Hell one day, your Pagan bitch!” Clovis spat on the floor.

  Bellon tightened his grip, his heart pounding in his ears. If only he could wrest Hilda’s whereabouts from this dog.

  “Bellon! Release Clovis.” Guillaume’s voice drifted through the fog in his head. Then Dagobert’s hand clasped his shoulder.

  “He will die, Bellon,” Dagobert whispered.

  “But not before he’ll reveal what he did to Hilda!” He shook Clovis to bring home his point, but the man let out a mad laugh.

  “Never! I’ll haunt you day and night, Bellon.”

  “You’ll—”

  “She cursed me, you know.” Clovis’ face contorted. “The witch cursed me. She had to pay…”

  Rage surged through him. His fists pummelled the accused’s chest, and it took Dagobert and Guillaume’s combined strength to pull him away from Clovis.

  “Where is she?” He fought against their hold of him, but failed.

  “Let it be, Bellon.”

  Clovis laughed. “She cursed me, but you’ll be the one who’ll suffer for the rest of your days…”

  Bellon straightened. “I demand to wield the sword that cuts off his head, lord duke.”

  Guillaume gave him a long glance, then nodded.

  “So be it. Clovis, you have brought shame to the army of King Charles, and to any Christian soldier of the kingdom.” He stepped back behind the table and pointed to the scribe. “Let it be known that Clovis of Marteuil, lord in service to the illustrious Charles, king of the Franks, be put to death for the murder of the lady Nanthild, countess of Carcassonne, the dame Amalberga, and Lot, their guard, whom he waylaid on their return home. Count Bellon of Carcassonne will carry out punishment by beheading immediately following the
conclusion of this trial. The murderer’s remains shall not be buried in hallowed soil, but instead be cut up and scattered across the kingdom, to be placed on pikes by the roadside as a warning to others.”

  Clovis blanched and crossed himself. “You can’t do that.”

  “I can, and my decision is final. God’s sacred earth is no place for the likes of you.”

  Bellon took a deep breath. Hilda’s curse would haunt the man forever.

  And him…

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  21st June, 2019

  The manor of Château de Minervens

  “Here, let me get this.”

  “Léon, I’m pregnant, not ill! I can carry a box of six bottles of wine perfectly well, thank you.”

  He laughed and picked up another. “I can try.”

  “Ha! Just a shame I won’t be able to enjoy any of this stuff.”

  “True, but you’ll have plenty of chances to catch up once Bump is born and weaned.”

  “That still means a long time.”

  “Must be tough being a woman, and all that…”

  Maddie tried to aim a kick at him, but he deftly avoided it. “Bastard!”

  “No, my dear, that’s your heritage.” He winked. “Speaking of which, when will Pierre, Eleana and the others arrive?”

  “Around 5 pm, Aunt Eleana messaged. Just as well that your mother has organised their rooms and the dinner for tonight. No stress about heading out in several cars.” She put the box on a large table set up against a wall inside the cave. “Oh, thank you,” she said as Paul brought in three boxes. “Please leave it all right here, so we can easily take the bottles we need for tomorrow’s fête out.”

  “No problem.” Paul grinned, setting the boxes on the table. Gina had left the winery when Maddie moved in last October, but Paul was a great support in the day-to-day running of the wine-tasting sessions. Now marketing fell to Maddie, and she enjoyed learning new skills alongside her research. She’d discovered that she enjoyed dealing with people face-to-face.

  She stopped in the door to the cave and scanned the landscape that opened before her eyes – the large yard with the shop annexe set against the wall of the old manor house and the sweeping views over the Cabardès hills and down into the plain.

  “Happy?”

  She nodded and gently rubbed her growing middle. “Very. Not at all how I envisaged my life to be, but much better than anything I could’ve imagined.” Linking her hand in his, they walked over to where the low wall allowed her to admire the scenery fully. She breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the warm breeze.

  Their latest addition to the family, a young black cat called Shadow, jumped up, and she stroked his silky fur, revelling in the droning sound of his purrs. “Hmm, my sweet! You’ll be in hiding tomorrow during the fête!”

  Shadow looked up at her and meowed.

  “I take that as a complaint, then.” She laughed, then turned to Léon. “All OK at the gîte?”

  After the renovations were completed and Maddie had moved in with Léon, they decided to rent her mother’s house to holiday visitors. Mindful of Bernadette, they chose their clients carefully, although they allowed pets, much to her old neighbour’s delight.

  “Yes, the German couple have settled in fine. They’ll come up for a tasting next Tuesday morning, and they bring their Labrador.”

  Maddie laughed. “I bet he’ll be all over the place. Shadow won’t know what’s hit him.”

  Another meow confirmed the cat’s objection.

  “You’ll be OK, my boy. Just get Old Susie to chase him.”

  Léon snorted. “The old girl will likely doze in the shade rather than have a young Lab ruffle her.”

  “True.” Maddie took a deep breath. “She deserves her peace, at eleven.” Still stroking the cat, she was smiling at the thought of their rescued Pyrenean mountain dog putting a bouncy young Labrador in his place.

  “Lucky girl! No peace for us, though, in the next few weeks. Tomorrow’s engagement party, sightseeing with your family, and your new book release – it’s all coming together.” He wrapped his arm around her. “Just one last thing left to do.”

  “Bury the cranium?”

  “Umm, I rather thought about deciding on a name for this one,” he put his free hand on her bump. “Or do you want her to be born nameless?”

  She laughed out loud. “We can’t have that, can we? Fine. Let’s choose one, but later. Aunt Eleana wants to see the cranium before I close the casket. Tomorrow, Bertrand will give her a private tour at the museum where she can see the rest of the bones. But tonight, we’ll have our burial ceremony, so the lady can finally rest in peace.”

  “In the spot you marked in the rose garden?”

  “Yes. It’s perfect. Calm, surrounded by wonderful scents. Hopefully, she’ll be at peace there. I’m so grateful to your parents for their permission.”

  “You didn’t need it, but we all agree it is the best place. OK. If you keep an eye on the preparations here, I’ll get a shovel and dig a hole. Where is the casket?”

  “Yes, on the desk in the library. It’s ready.”

  “Great. Then I’ll see you later.” He gave her a kiss and Shadow a final scratch behind the ears and walked off.

  Meow.

  “Yes, Shadow, you can join us too if you wish.” Maddie smiled. The presence of a black cat would make it special.

  Late that evening, the waning gibbous moon lit up the path as they left the manor house through the back door in double file towards the rose garden. Apart from Maddie, each family member carried a white candle with a drip protector, to avoid burning themselves or the dry shrubs.

  She carried in front of her an open box lined with velvet. Inside, the partial cranium of the ancient lady lay on a small cushion. Tonight, she would be blessed, laid to rest, and hopefully at peace.

  As they approached the hole Léon had dug between two large rose bushes, Maddie placed the box on the ground and asked, “Please can we form a circle around her?”

  When all stood gathered, she joined in between Léon and her aunt. She then intoned her blessing.

  “Here and Now

  I invoke the God and the Goddess

  I seek your blessing

  To shine your light upon your daughter

  Who we herewith return to the earth

  Her circle of life complete

  Banishing the darkness that surrounded her

  We bring forth your light

  To guide her on her journey ahead

  So mote it be.”

  When silence fell, Maddie stepped forward and, closing her eyes, held her hand over the cranium. It sent a tingling through her fingers and up her arm. After a deep breath, she blinked and reached out to Léon who passed her a sprig of dried lavender. She placed it inside the box and closed the lid, content that she had made the connection.

  The circle opened, and she put the casket into the hole, with a final sign of a blessing. Shadow lay beside the opening, peeking in, mesmerised. He felt it too.

  Léon joined her and, together, they laid down a single white rose on top of the box. “May you now rest in peace, my dear.”

  ‘Nanthild…’

  A whiff of lavender hung in the air, but it could have come from the branch Maddie held seconds earlier. She looked up as Léon drew in a sharp breath.

  “Your name is Nanthild?”

  ‘Peace…’ The scent of lavender grew stronger.

  “Blessed be. May your spirit find your family, dear Nanthild. Farewell.” Tears stung in her eyes, and a sense of loss rushed through her. “I feel like I lost a friend.” She held out her hand and Léon helped her up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

  “You set her free, Maddie. She is grateful. Paul will fill up the hole, then she can rest.”

  “We can get a plaque with her name now, can’t we?”

  “Absolutely. A lovely touch.”

  “So that was her name – Nanthild?” Beside her, Eleana looked at the b
ox. “Wouldn’t it be a fitting memory if you named your daughter after her?”

  “You heard her speak, too?”

  Léon’s mother joined them, nodding. “Yes, we all did. I like Eleana’s idea.”

  Maddie swallowed hard. “Umm…” She glanced at Léon.

  “It is a lovely name, and ancient French, I guess,” he said. “I like it too.”

  Maddie smiled as a sense of happiness engulfed her. “Yes, what a wonderful idea!” She lay her hand on her belly.

  Nanthild…

  ***

  They turned to walk back to the manor, and Shadow ran up to her, weaving his small body around her ankles. Maddie picked him up and cuddled him, his purrs a warm comfort. She leaned into Léon whose arm encircled her waist.

  It was time to return to the realm of the living and look towards the future.

  Paul gently shovelled loose earth over the casket, then crouched to pat it firmly into place. Goosebumps rose on his skin when he felt a surge of energy, and he quickly pulled his hands away. All done, he shrugged off the strange sensation, wiped his hands on a handkerchief and returned to the house at a brisk pace. He did not turn to look back.

  In the rose garden, the scent of lavender grew.

  ‘Peace…’

  Epilogue

  Mid-October, AD 793

  Carcassonne

  Bellon stood on the ramparts, looking out over the plain below, his arm wrapped around Alda. The sun had set much earlier, but a faint red glow remained firmly rooted in the western sky.

  “Will Mother be at peace?” Oliba asked.

  Bellon looked at him and put his other hand on his shoulder. “I hope so. Wherever she is…”

  “We will never know now,” Guisclafred, standing beside Alda, whispered hoarsely. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

  Bellon ached for his children. Their pain hurt his heart more than anything. Yet, he could not take it away from them. They all suffered too much.

  “No, son, we won’t. But your mother’s curse ensured that her murderer’s spirit will roam this earth forever. No heaven for him, no eternal life.”