Song of Isabel

by Ida Curtis

  Isabel’s head jerked up, and she looked him full in his stern face.

  “Such a defiant look! I doubt there are many serving wenches like you,” Lothar exclaimed.

  Chetwynd tried to distract him. “Let the wench go about her work, Your Majesty. You came to talk to me. I’m ready to answer all your questions,” he said, struggling to keep his voice as casual as possible.

  Without looking at Chetwynd, Lothar grabbed a handful of Isabel’s hair and pulled her toward him. Chetwynd jumped forward, but before he could reach Lothar, one of the guards blocked his way and the other moved in to knock him to the floor.

  When Isabel turned toward Chetwynd, Lothar put his arm around her waist and dragged her out of the way. It took both guards to hold down the struggling Chetwynd. One tried to subdue him by hitting him on the head. Chetwynd heard Isabel scream and managed to throw the guards off him and push himself to his feet.

  But Chetwynd stopped struggling abruptly when he saw Lothar holding a knife to Isabel’s throat. “You hurt her and you are a dead man,” Chetwynd hissed at Lothar, just before he was hit from behind and knocked to the floor again.

  “We will see who is a dead man,” Lothar shouted at the downed prisoner.

  Terrified at seeing the guards kick Chetwynd as he lay on the floor, Isabel pushed the knife away with her right hand. Struggling against Lothar, she almost reached her husband. But Lothar managed to grab hold of her and dragged her out of the cell. He kept a tight grip around her waist until the guards had locked Chetwynd’s cell, then pushed her at the guards.

  After all the shouting, the silence from the cell was even more frightening for Isabel. “Let me see,” she begged the guards, pointing toward the barred opening.

  “Bring her to my chambers,” Lothar ordered. He turned his back and strode ahead of them.

  Reluctant to be moved away from Chetwynd’s cell, Isabel dug in her heels. The nearest guard whispered in her ear, “He’s not dead, only unconscious. I doubt he is seriously hurt. You’ll do best to follow the king’s order.” The kind way in which he spoke reassured Isabel about Chetwynd’s condition, and she became limp with relief.

  During the struggle with Lothar, Isabel hadn’t paid any attention to the fact that she had cut her hand when she pushed away his knife. By the time they had reached Lothar’s chambers, there was a great deal of blood soaking her apron. When Lothar saw the red stain, his expression changed from anger to shock. The blood drained from his face, and he ordered one of his guards to fetch his physician.

  “Let me see your hand,” he ordered, and his voice was so commanding Isabel did as he asked.

  To her surprise, Lothar gently examined her hand and located the deep cut in the fleshy area at the base of her thumb.

  “I know what I’m doing. I have two sons and have attended to my share of cuts,” he assured her.

  By the time the physician arrived, Lothar had wrapped her hand tightly in a clean cloth and seated her in a cushioned chair.

  The king’s physician, an ancient man with long white hair, gently unwrapped the blood-soaked cloth. He glared disapprovingly at Lothar and spoke in a harsh voice. “You stopped the bleeding. At least you had the sense to wrap it in a clean cloth, Your Majesty.” He pronounced the title in a disparaging tone.

  “It was an accident, Marlin. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life. Is she going to be all right?”

  “I don’t believe in accidents. Go fetch me some water.”

  Lothar hesitated to obey the curt order, but he and Marlin had been through many battles together, and with a grimace he finally moved away.

  The physician leaned forward and whispered to Isabel, “It’s not as bad as it looks. The hand tends to bleed a lot. But no need to let the king know it’s a minor injury.”

  “Lord Chetwynd has been beaten. He’s in the dungeon. Could you see to him?” Isabel pleaded with the kindly man who was leaning close.

  Marlin straightened up and turned to Lothar, who was returning with a jug of water. “What have you been up to? This serving maid says there is an injured man in the dungeon. Lord Chetwynd, she says. I’ve heard of the knight. Does he need my attention as well?”

  “She is no serving maid,” Lothar mumbled. “Go have a look at Chetwynd.” Lothar waved the physician away.

  “See that she drinks this potion with lots of water.” The physician handed the powder to Lothar. “And have one of your servants remove her bloody apron and find her a clean one.”

  Surprised that Lothar followed the physician’s demands, Isabel studied the dark-haired ruler, noticing that his features were well-formed and his beard neatly trimmed. Although she knew Lothar didn’t believe she was a serving maid, she wasn’t sure whether he knew she was Chetwynd’s wife. Because her hand was starting to hurt and she trusted the physician, she drank the potion handed her and tried to think what to do next. But the throbbing pain in her hand made her feel weak. Fatigue kept her from thinking straight, and she closed her eyes for a minute.

  When she had recovered a bit, Isabel saw that Lothar was staring at her from a nearby chair. “Who are you?” he finally asked, much more gently this time.

  She struggled to sit up straight, looking him in the eye. “I am Lady Isabel, the daughter of Lord Theodoric of Narbonne and wife of Lord Chetwynd,” she answered in a steady voice.

  Lothar shook his head back and forth. “I was afraid of that. And your brother is Lord Justin, a minister and advisor to King Louis,” he mumbled, as though to himself. He was still shaking his head.

  Finally, he turned to one of the guards and spoke in a weary voice. “Go find Lord Justin and bring him to me.”

  Isabel noticed his anger had disappeared, and he too seemed tired. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Would you please free Chetwynd?” She collapsed back against the pillows and, although it wasn’t an entirely calculated maneuver, she hoped it would win her some sympathy for her request.

  “We’ll see about that. I didn’t mean for you to be hurt. You must believe that, Lady Isabel. And I really had no idea who you were.” Lothar frowned and shook his head. “What were you doing in the cell?”

  “I wanted to make sure Lord Chetwynd was all right. He disappeared so suddenly. I only planned to stay a minute.” Isabel was too tired to say more.

  “Did Chetwynd entice you to visit him?”

  “No, of course not. He was most upset that I came,” she answered in a small voice, remembering how worried he had been.

  “You disguised yourself as a serving wench and went to visit your husband in the dungeon. You are a brave woman, Lady Isabel. But you have caused me a great deal of grief.”

  “I think it is you who have caused me grief,” she retorted, forgetting her resolve to do all she could to persuade him to free Chetwynd.

  “Hold your tongue, or I’ll throw you back into a cell, and not with your husband.” Although his words were harsh, he sounded like he was scolding an irritating child.

  Lothar took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean that, Lady Isabel. Things have been getting out of hand around here, and I don’t need another martyr. I had no idea who you were when I saw you in that cell. How could I possibly know that Lady Isabel would visit Lord Chetwynd in the dungeon? In case you aren’t aware of the fact, it’s simply not something ladies do.”

  Lothar had risen to pace back and forth in front of Isabel, and she closed her eyes because his movements made her feel sick. When he pulled over a stool to sit directly in front of her, she opened her eyes and saw his concerned expression.

  “Are you all right?” When she nodded, he continued. “How long have you been married to Lord Chetwynd?”

  “Almost three weeks, Your Majesty.”

  “Almost three weeks. All that time. And did you know about your husband’s involvement with Queen Judith before you married him?”

  “Yes,” she replied quickly, telling herself that Lothar didn’t need to know that she had no idea that Chetwynd’s attachment was the queen. “How is that
any concern of yours?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions here. I must admit I find this situation very curious.” Once again he stood up to pace the floor.

  Isabel wished he would stop jumping around. Her head was beginning to ache, and she leaned back and closed her eyes again. There was a buzzing in her ears, but she could still hear Lothar mumbling in the background. He seemed to be talking to himself. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “Now I remember. I’ve heard stories of you. You’re the one who escaped from the kidnappers. No wonder they couldn’t hold you. My god, you are the type of woman who inspires legends. They will be writing poems about you and singing them along with the ode to Lord Roland. His bravery on the battlefield will be compared to your bravery against kidnappers. I do not want to become part of the legend. As I said before, I don’t need another martyr. What am I going to do with you?”

  Isabel couldn’t make sense of his mumbling, and wondered if he had gone mad. Why was he talking about Lord Roland? What did she have to do with the legendary hero of Charlemagne’s Spanish war? She must have gone to sleep for a few minutes, as the next thing she knew Gilda was leaning over her.

  “Isabel, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, of course. Stop shouting, Gilda.” She tried to look around. “What are you doing here?”

  “When the guard sought out your brother, I was with him in the dining hall. Marianna had told us where you went, and I tried my best to calm Justin down. We were both waiting for you to return. When Justin was summoned by King Lothar, I followed along.”

  Isabel saw Justin over Gilda’s shoulder, and she smiled at him. “Greetings, brother.” The pain in her hand had ceased, and she felt very relaxed.

  “What did you give her?” Justin asked Lothar. “Her eyes are glassy. She looks like she has been drugged.”

  “My physician gave her a healing potion. I’ve no intention of harming her, Lord Justin. I never did.”

  “Yes, yes. So you say, Your Majesty. But she has been hurt.”

  Because it was becoming hard to follow the conversation, Isabel closed her eyes. Gilda was stroking her face with a sweet-smelling cloth, and she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation.

  “And who are you?” Lothar was saying again. Isabel was puzzled because she had already told him who she was.

  “I’m Gilda, Lord Chetwynd’s sister. I’m a nun from the Convent at Saint Ives. I became acquainted with Isabel there. Queen Judith sent me to Aachen to prepare for her arrival. She and King Louis are on their way.”

  “You’re a nun?” Isabel heard Justin’s shocked voice and tried to find him in the blurry sea of faces around her.

  “Yes, I’m a nun.”

  Clearly Gilda hadn’t told Justin she’s a nun. Isabel wondered if Justin was disappointed to hear this news.

  “Lord Justin, you brought this woman to my chambers and you don’t even know who she is?”

  “I know she’s Lord Chetwynd’s sister, but she didn’t tell me she’s a nun. Look at her; she doesn’t look like a nun.”

  Isabel decided Justin was definitely angry, and she smiled to herself. Justin and Gilda would suit each other perfectly.

  “What’s a nun supposed to look like, Lord Justin?”

  Gilda sounded angry as well.

  Lothar interrupted them. “Can we return to the problem at hand, Lord Justin? I didn’t know Lady Isabel’s identity, but I did, indirectly, cause her to be injured. It was an accident that happened in Chetwynd’s cell.”

  “It’s easy enough for you to make amends, Your Majesty. Release Chetwynd and let him take Isabel back to his manor. That way they will be gone by the time King Louis and the queen arrive. Why you had to put him in the dungeon in the first place is beyond me.”

  Isabel approved Justin’s plan. But she wasn’t sure he should talk to Lothar in that manner. She always assumed diplomats spoke more diplomatically.

  “You’re speaking to a king, Justin. I could have you thrown in the cell with Chetwynd.”

  “Just settle down, both of you. Why can’t you just release Chetwynd, Your Majesty?”

  Good. Gilda was keeping her head, Isabel thought. Don’t let them start fighting again.

  “It’s very simple, my dear . . .”

  “She is not your dear.”

  Saints in heaven, Justin. You’re supposed to be the diplomat. Isabel tried to open her eyes, but she became dizzy and gave up the effort.

  There was silence for a while, and Isabel wished she knew what was happening. Finally, she heard Lothar speaking. “I don’t think it would be wise to release him just yet. We need a little time for Lady Isabel to recover from her wound. Lord Chetwynd is going to take one look at her and attempt to kill me. He already threatened me in his cell. I think his words were, ‘If you touch her, you’re a dead man.’ Since I don’t want any more trouble with either of them, I think I should delay his release.”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise, Your Majesty. If Chetwynd’s worried about Isabel, there is no telling what he will do.”

  “The man’s locked in a cell.”

  “He has a lot of friends. If Isabel was able to get into the dungeon, one or two of them might also succeed.”

  Isabel was nodding at Justin’s reply. She could picture Jerome storming the dungeon.

  “I see your point. I need some time, Justin. The king and queen return to Aachen tomorrow, which is no longer far off. When they arrive, I will return to Rome. Can we delay releasing Chetwynd until then? Lady Isabel should be recovered, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Isabel heard Gilda’s voice again, and she struggled to open her eyes.

  “I think Chetwynd needs to see that Isabel is all right. I can bring her to the dungeon so she can talk to him.”

  “He will see her injury, Gilda.”

  “Wait, the nun has a good idea, Justin. Lady Isabel can stand outside the cell door. She will inform her husband that she is fine and has convinced me to release him as soon as King Louis arrives.”

  “The nun does not have a good idea. Look at Isabel. Do you think she is in any shape to do what you say?”

  “I can do it,” Isabel tried to shout, but even to her ears it sounded like a whisper.

  “My sister has just made my point,” Justin said.

  “Wait. Here’s the physician. Marlin, why is Lady Isabel so sluggish?” Lothar asked. “Her color is good and the wound has been tended.”

  “I gave her something to relax her. Just leave her be for an hour, and she’ll be fine.”

  “What about Chetwynd?” Isabel managed to ask the physician, remembering that she asked him to check on her husband.

  “Lord Chetwynd is not seriously injured, Lady Isabel. I’m sure he has received much worse treatment and survived. If you go to sleep for an hour, perhaps you can go see him.”

  Isabel sighed at this promise and gave in to the drowsiness she had been fighting.

  The physician looked at the other three and nodded. “Move away and keep your voices down. She should have been asleep an hour ago. No doubt Lady Isabel was straining to hear what you were saying.”

  Even after they moved to another part of the chambers, Justin kept his voice low. “Did you know that Isabel was kidnapped on the journey from Narbonne, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, of course. People love a good story, and it has been repeated around the palace. I understand she managed to escape.”

  “Chetwynd is going to want to know who was behind Isabel’s kidnapping. Did you have anything to do with it?”

  Gilda, impressed by Justin’s daring, kept her eyes on Lothar to watch for his reaction. She wondered if he would admit it even if he were involved.

  “No, Justin. I had nothing to do with it. Don’t you think it’s more likely to have been the queen? No doubt she was upset to learn that Chetwynd had married. She could have arranged to have his wife kidnapped.”

  Since Lothar and the queen took every opportunity to slander each other, Justin wa
sn’t surprised at his accusation. “Kidnapping does not seem her style. Judith would seek to seduce Chetwynd away, or perhaps discredit Isabel in his eyes. That would be more in keeping with her usual methods of obtaining what she desired.”

  “And you think I would arrange to kidnap a woman?”

  “Shhhhh. Keep your voice down,” Gilda said, then blushed when she realized to whom she was speaking. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Justin grinned. “It runs in the family,” he commented to Lothar.

  Gilda narrowed her eyes at Justin before directing a question to Lothar. “If not you, and not the queen, who do you think would do such a thing?”

  “Couldn’t it have been some ordinary bandits? I understand outlaws survive by preying upon travelers along that route.”

  “According to Chetwynd, the leader was later seen in the queen’s party,” Justin answered.

  Lothar smiled smugly. “That supports my theory. I tell you that Jezebel is capable of anything.”

  Justin was about to give up when Gilda asked, “What about one of the church fathers? From what I understand, Bishop Agobard was behind the plot to use Gerberga to discredit the queen.”

  Both Gilda and Justin were watching Lothar, wondering if he would confide in them. He took his time, clearly thinking about how much he should say.

  “I did know about the plot to discredit the queen. My dear stepmother was telling people that Gerberga predicted Charles would be the next emperor. The church fathers worked hard for many years to establish a succession that would keep the empire strong and were understandably upset by Gerberga’s prediction.

  “Several of the bishops arranged to have Judith banished, claiming she had been bewitched by Gerberga. The queen brought it upon herself, and I supported their plan. It seemed logical. As I’m sure you remember, Louis himself banished two of his sisters to a nunnery when he first became emperor. They were said to consort with many different men. In my eyes, Judith is no different.

  “But I had nothing to do with Gerberga’s execution. One of the bishops took matters into his own hands and had a quick trial. Gerberga was an old enemy. If nothing else, you should believe I’m smarter than to make a martyr of Gerberga. Her death defeats the whole purpose of the plot. Now there is no reason to confine Judith to a convent. She can’t be influenced by a dead nun.”