by Speer, Flora
Michel knew he did not have much more time in which to prove himself to Savarec so he could compete for Danise’s hand. Secretly he began to wish for some minor skirmish, perhaps with a few Saxons, in which he could display his skill with weapons.
* * *
As a result of her interlude with Michel beside the river, Danise decided the time had come for her to take her future into her own hands. She was tired of the questions and the uncertainty within her own mind. When she saw Michel leave the table at the end of the midday meal, she hurried after him, calling out his name. He stopped, waiting until she caught up with him.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around alone,” he said. “Didn’t Sister Gertrude pass on my warning about Clodion?”
“Clodion isn’t here. He’s still sick and hasn’t left his tent for two days. Michel, if we do not talk, I think I will go mad.”
“Talk about what?” He headed toward the trees. Danise went with him.
“Do you know a woman named India?”
He stopped walking to stare at her for a long, assessing moment. She sensed a strange tension in him, as if he were waiting for something terrible to happen.
“India was my dear friend,” Danise went on. “I miss her. I wish she and I could speak together now, so she could advise me. Do you know her, Michel?”
“We’ve never actually met. We have a mutual friend, that’s all.” Still tense and wary, he frowned at her. “How much do you know, Danise?”
“Only what Alcuin understood. He said when India first met his assistant Adelbert, she mistook him for someone else, a man called Ahnk. You also thought Adelbert was Ahnk. Since you know the same person, Alcuin concluded that you and India must have come from the same country. We both realized that if you can remember this Ahnk person, then your memory has returned.”
“Clever fellow, Alcuin,” Michel muttered. “You’re pretty sharp yourself, Danise.”
“Is it true, then?” she asked. “Do you know who you are?”
“It’s true,” he said after some hesitation.
“Why didn’t you tell me at once?” she cried.
“It’s complicated.”
“Are you married? Have you family? A wife? Children? You are no young boy. It would be strange if you were not wed.” Danise held her breath, waiting for him to speak.
“My family consists of a couple of cousins whom I seldom see,” he said. “I was married once. I am divorced now. I really don’t want to talk about that. Let’s just say I wasn’t home often enough to have a good marriage. My work keeps me in northern France and Belgium. Your ancestors built villages in the weirdest places.”
“My ancestors?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. There’s no way to explain to you or to anyone in your world what my work is. God, this gets harder every day. Danise, I don’t want to keep things from you, but I have to, for your sake.”
Danise was so moved by his painful intensity that she spoke her thoughts without concern for maidenly modesty. But then, when had she ever been modest in her dealings with this man?
“Michel, you have caused me so much distress. Since the day I found you, my heart has been torn between you and my pledge to Hugo. You have said you want to earn the right to become one of my suitors, you have embraced me more intimately than any other man has ever done, including Hugo, yet you are still concealing an important truth from me. Don’t deny it; I can tell it is so by the way you treat me. You alternate between rudeness and an almost overwhelming affection.”
“Leave it alone, Danise.” `
“I cannot leave it alone. Your secret, whatever it is, stands between us.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You must. There is no hope for us otherwise.” As she spoke those words, Danise knew why his recent treatment of her had hurt her so badly. Her first feelings for him had been a mixture of pity and fascination, but she had quickly passed beyond those emotions to something more. He had led her to believe that he felt the same way.
“You wouldn’t understand.” His voice was low and sad. “The whole story would only frighten you.”
“Do you think me a coward, then? I assure you, I am not.” When he did not speak, she regarded him from tear-filled eyes. “Your continuing silence means you do not trust me enough to confide in me.”
“It means I want to protect you,” he said.
“From what? I can bear any truth. I bore the news of Hugo’s death, and though it brought me low, it did not break me. I thought that was the most terrible news I would ever hear, but this is worse, for you are still alive, yet you are separating yourself from me as if you were dead, or at a distance so great that I cannot reach you.” She paused, swallowing hard to keep herself from weeping, before she went on. “Is that it? Are you planning to return to your own country and leave me behind? But if so, why did you place yourself under my father’s command? Michel, neither your actions nor your words make any sense to me; they contradict each other. It’s no wonder I am confused, no wonder I cannot decide between you in the present and Hugo in the past.”
“I never intended to hurt you. Danise, you are the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen, you are intelligent, and you have a kind heart. I even like your father,” he ended on a wry note.
“You are not telling me what I need to know.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“How can you know that until you tell me?”
“You are also the most persistent woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “You aren’t going to stop, are you? You are going to keep asking questions until you get the information you want.”
“If you do not want anyone else to know, I can keep a secret,” she promised. He regarded her in tense silence for so long that she began to wonder if he would ever speak to her again. But it seemed he was wrestling with the decision whether or not to do as she wanted.
“I hope you meant what you just said,” he told her, “because you are going to have to keep this secret for the rest of your life.”
“I swear,” she promised, “that I will never reveal what you say to me unless you release me from this vow.”
“I believe you.” He touched her cheek for an instant, before he spoke again. “Is there some place where we can talk and be absolutely certain we won’t be overheard?”
“In the place where I found you,” she suggested.
He led the way. It was cooler beneath the trees, and the hot glare of the open meadow faded as they moved farther into the forest. In just a few minutes they reached the tree that marked his entry into Francia.
“In a way, I’m glad you insisted on this,” Michel said, seating himself on the ground. “I need to talk to someone, to make all of it more real to me.”
“Tell me everything,” she invited. She sat beside him, hands clasped in her lap, her eyes fixed on his. When Michel began to speak she did not exclaim in disbelief, she simply listened. He had been right to warn her that she would be frightened by what he said. What she did not understand was why he had not gone mad from terror over what had been done to him. Since he appeared to be in complete possession of his reason and in control of his emotions, she did her best to hide her own fear.
“Your story is beyond comprehension,” she said when he was finished. “Yet I believe you would not lie to me about something so amazing, so magical. You are right when you say that all we can do is accept what has happened to you, and be glad that you were not more seriously injured when your journey to Duren came to such an abrupt end. Michel, I believe there is a heavenly purpose to everything that occurs on this earth, so I know there is a reason for your arrival here. In time, we will learn what it is. However, I do have a few questions.”
“Ask away,” he said. “I’m just glad you aren’t calling me a liar, or crazy.”
“You say that my friend, India, also came to Francia from your time? And later returned home again?”
“That’s right.”
“Is she well?”
“She married the brother of our mutual friend who sent me to see Hank. I hear she’s very happy.”
“But she loved a man in this time. He died with my Hugo.”
“Then, she learned to love again.” He smiled at her. “Some people do love more than once, you know. I asked you this before, Danise, but I am going to ask again. Do you think Hugo would want you to be lonely for the rest of your life? If he would, then his was a poor, selfish kind of love.”
“Hugo was not selfish. He always thought of me. It’s why we never lay together.” She blushed a little at the intimate confession, but did not lower her eyes from his.
“Don’t you think it’s time you stopped dreaming about the past and started living in the present?”
“As vou have done? Except that vou have been forced to put aside the future in order to live in the present in which you find yourself. Michel, I marvel at your courage.”
“You’ve taken all this very well yourself,” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
“A story so strange must be true. No one could invent such a tale. It’s also true that your explanation has answered most of my questions about you, and has laid to rest some lingering concerns about the happiness of my dear friend, India. Do you think we should tell Alcuin? He was fond of India.”
“The fewer people who know about this, the better,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “You did promise to keep the secret.”
“I will do so.” She sat silent for a while, staring at their linked hands and thinking that their futures were linked together, too. Michel’s honesty had forged a new bond between them to strengthen the connection she had always felt to him. “Shall I tell you a secret of my own?”
“Must I swear to keep it to myself before I hear it?” he asked lightly.
“You may do what you like with it. It is only a simple secret, not a great and terrible one like yours. You advised me to stop dreaming of the past. I have stopped. Here, now, in this present moment with you, I am happy.”
“So am I, because of you. You make all of this bearable.” He drew her into his arms. She went willingly, and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her brow, her cheek, her ear, then lifted her chin to kiss her soft lips.
When his hand drifted downward to caress her breast she did not protest, but leaned into his palm, letting him feel the delicate roundness, murmuring softly when her breast tightened and grew hard at his stroking touch. He eased her backward onto the ground, half covering her body with his so he could more easily scatter heated kisses onto her throat and face. Danise now lay with her head on his arm and one of his legs thrown across hers, letting him explore the supple curves of her body.
“We belong together,” Michel whispered. “I’ve known it since the first time I saw you. There is something binding me to you.”
“I feel it, too,” she admitted. She raised one hand to skim tender fingers over his face and then to smooth back his dark hair. “When you touch me as you are doing, when you kiss me, my blood begins to stir and I do not want you to stop.”
“I don’t want to stop, either. But we must.” He drew away from her. “I owe it to you, and to your father, to treat you with some respect. We have to face the truth, Danise. My future is highly uncertain.”
“Do you think there is a chance that you will be taken home again?” She clutched at his arms as if she would keep him with her by force of will and sheer physical strength.
“Nothing in life is certain, least of all in my life,” he said roughly. “But, as I explained to you, I don’t think Hank will make any effort to return me to the twentieth century. I was talking about my lack of property. In my own time there would be no problem. I had a career I enjoyed and I had been honored for my work. I had saved a fair amount of money. But none of that means anything here in Francia, in this time. I came to Duren with only the clothes I was wearing. My Frankish clothes, my armor, even the horse I ride, are gifts from your father. I have nothing to offer you, Danise. If I tell Savarec how I feel about you, he will refuse to accept me as one of your suitors, and I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want a daughter of mine to marry an unknown, penniless man.”
“Then, what are we to do?” she cried.
“Unless a war erupts in the next week or so, to provide me with a chance to prove what I can do, I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know.”
* * *
Charles arranged a large hunting party for the last day but one of Mayfield. Hunting was his favorite sport and he urged anyone who was physically able to take part in the day’s activities.
“We will have a great final feast tomorrow,” he declared. “We’ll eat the game we bag today and give the leftovers to the folk who make their permanent home here at Duren. Clodion, I’m glad to see you have recovered from your indisposition. I hope you feel well enough to join us.”
“How could I miss such an event? I am eager to start,” said Clodion.
Danise was sorry to hear this. She had been hoping that Clodion would keep to his tent until Mayfield ended. She was not fond of hunting, but when Charles personally asked her to be there, she did not want to refuse him, not even if her presence meant she could not avoid speaking to Clodion. Gowned in sturdy brown wool, with the hunting knife all ladies wore at such times belted at her waist, she sat upon her horse, waiting until Charles, his uncle Bernard, and the huntmaster together decided how to organize the large group of participants. Redmond rode up to join her, but she did not see Michel.
“’Twill only take a short time until they are ready,” Redmond informed her. “Over the past days, they have grown used to dividing us into smaller groups.”
Danise gave him only a distracted smile in answer because she was still looking for Michel.
“Ah, there is the signal,” Redmond said, craning his neck to see what was happening. “We are to leave in the next group. Come this way, Danise. And there is Michel. Michel, will you join us?” Redmond shouted. He waved an arm in the air.
“Where is Michel? I can’t see him.” Even as she spoke, Danise was separated from Redmond as the other hunters began to move forward, heading toward the forest. Eager men and women streamed past her on both sides.
“Danise.” Savarec drew abreast of her. “Clodion has asked my permission to ride next to you today.”
“No, Father. I do not like Clodion. I would much prefer to ride with Redmond and Michel.”
“Humor me, my dear.” Savarec leaned across the space separating their horses to touch her hand and speak to her in a quieter tone. “I am not completely blind. I have noticed the way you try to avoid Clodion. I know now that you will not marry him. It may be that Clodion knows it, too. But this kindness from you will make him believe that you are seriously considering his suit, so that when you do finally refuse him, he will be less likely to claim the contest between him and Redmond was unfair.”
“Father, I wish you would not insist on this.” Danise knew her father could not afford to have so important a nobleman as Clodion angry with him. Perhaps she could agree to do as Savarec wanted and then lose Clodion during the heat of the hunt. At Clodion’s age and having recently been ill, he might well find it difficult to keep up with the rest of the hunters. Besides, what real harm could he do to her while they were both mounted and while there were so many other people, including her father, around them? It would not be the entirely pleasant morning she had envisioned, but she would refuse to listen to any salacious remarks Clodion might make.
“Very well, Father,” she said, intending to separate herself from Clodion as soon as possible in order to join Michel and Redmond. Turning in her saddle she looked for them, but she could see neither man.
“You will be surprised by how well Clodion rides,” Savarec said to her. “He is a famous horseman.”
“Really? How interesting.” Danise groaned inwardly, suddenly fearing she would not be able to escape Clodion’s presence as easily as she had hoped.
At Savarec’s sign to him, Clodion, who had been waiting off to one side, quickly joined them, moving through the crowd of horsemen with a deftness Danise found dismaying in view of her plans. With Savarec present, Clodion was on his best behavior.
“I thank you for allowing me to spend this time with you,” he said to Danise. “I fear that Count Redmond has had the better opportunity to win your approval, since my recent illness has kept me away from you. I hope to rectify that unhappy omission today, and make you realize what a fine husband I will be for you.”
“My father must have told you. Count Clodion, that I still have not decided whether to marry at all. But you are welcome to ride with us.” It was all she could do to get the words out. She despised the man, could scarcely bear to look at his smug face, and she wished he were at the uttermost end of the world. And, like Sister Gertrude, she wished her father had exercised better judgment when choosing her suitors.
“Danise, perhaps I did not explain that I will not be riding with you after all,” said Savarec, looking embarrassed. “There is a certain lady who asked me to ride with her today. You must excuse me.”
“Father!” Danise was appalled. “I have told you about Clodion. Please don’t leave me with him.” But Savarec had kicked his horse’s flanks and moved out of hearing. “Father, how could you!”
“The lady who wants to ride with him is a friend of mine,” Clodion informed her, “a wealthy widow, and still surprisingly attractive. I suspect your father of lusting after her. He will not be disappointed. I doubt if anyone will see Savarec again before nightfall.”
“Did you arrange this – this -?” Danise was so angry she could not complete the sentence.
“Assignation?” Clodion supplied the missing word. “Your father is usually so protective of you that I had to think of some clever means of getting you to myself. Isn’t it amazing the way any man will rise to the bait of a charming woman who pretends to be interested in him, even to the point of neglecting his beloved daughter? Foolish Savarec.”
