by Speer, Flora
“Not only women,” Autichar told her. “Clodion likes little boys, too. And older women, young men, whores of every kind, and I have no doubt, he also eyes the occasional sheep.”
“Oh! I pity any girl who marries him.”
“I’ve seen his future wife,” Autichar said. “She’s a thirteen-year-old virgin, pretty as a spring morning, with hair even paler than yours. I feel a bit sorry for her myself, but it can’t be helped. She and her enormous dowry of land and gold will go to Clodion in return for his assistance to Tassilo. Then, of course, there is the direct payment of gold that will be made from Tassilo to Clodion on the success of our plan.”
“Just exactly what is it that Clodion is going to do to help Duke Tassilo?” Danise asked.
“He has already done it,” Autichar responded. “He abducted you.”
“Me? But I am no one of importance.”
“There you are wrong,” Autichar said. “You are of great importance, if only for a few days. Then you will have no further value to us. That is why I will let Clodion have you after he rejoins us at a place where his ravishing of you will in no way imperil me, my men, or our arrangements with Tassilo. What happens to you after Clodion is finished is of no interest to me, though I suppose you will want to know, won’t you? Clodion will probably hand you over to my troops, so I doubt if you will live to see the end of this, but if you do, you will be free to go where you want.”
There would be no place for her to go save to some obscure convent where no one would recognize her. Danise could not bear to think about what Clodion would do to her – or Autichar’s men, either. Worse even than her defilement at their hands would be the disgust and pity she would see on Michel’s face, or on her father’s, or Redmond’s. She could never see any of them again. If she lived, she would have to let them believe she was dead so they would never learn of her shame.
“But why?” Danise cried, not ready yet to accept the terrible fate awaiting her. “What have I to do with all of this?”
“You are the excuse, the maiden whose cruel abduction will infuriate Charles. He and your father are friends. Charles’s queen is fond of you. All of them will want vengeance for your sake. Charles will gather his army together and march against Duke Tassilo.”
“I have been abducted to provoke a war between Charles and Tassilo? Charles will crush Tassilo,” Danise said scornfully. “The Frankish army far outnumbers Tassilo’s Bavarian followers.”
“Not if the Frankish army is divided.” Autichar grinned, his eyes shining in the firelight. “Tassilo has been negotiating in secret with the Saxon leaders. As soon as Charles marches into Bavaria, the Saxons will attack outposts on the border between Francia and Saxony. To put down those revolts Charles will have to divide his army in two. Tassilo’s own army will then be the larger, and it will easily defeat the Franks who remain in Bavaria. Once that victory is accomplished, Tassilo will march to Saxony to join his allies there, and together Saxons and Bavarians will destroy what remains of the Frankish army.”
“The Saxons are untrustworthy. They will turn on Tassilo,” Danise declared.
“He and the Saxons have already come to an agreement on the division of Frankish lands.” Autichar spoke with perfect confidence. “Is it not a clever plan, Danise?”
“A diabolical plan,” Danise said, appalled that Autichar could be so openly proud to be involved in such treachery, “except for the fact that Tassilo will never defeat Charles.”
“Charles is not invincible. We know it well after last year’s disaster in Spain. And Charles knows it, too.”
“Why do you hate Charles so much?” Danise asked.
“I don’t hate him. But Tassilo is my true overlord and he despises your Frankish king. Therefore, I fight with Tassilo against Charles.”
“If Tassilo hates Charles, it’s because he suffers from a guilty conscience for deserting the Frankish cause in time of war,” Danise declared angrily.
“That may be so,” Autichar agreed. “Guilt is often a reason for hatred. Whatever the cause, I do not question that Tassilo will be the victor in the coming war.”
Danise did not know enough about military matters to determine whether Duke Tassilo’s treacherous plan could succeed. She feared it might. After listening to Autichar she was more frightened than ever. Autichar would not have spoken so freely to her if he expected her to survive her captivity. It was a chilling realization, but not only her virtue and life were in danger. Michel, her father, Charles, Redmond, perhaps even Hildegarde and the royal children, Alcuin – all those she held dear – could be mistreated, imprisoned, killed, by these wicked men. When she thought of so many lives senselessly destroyed, her own fate seemed almost unimportant.
While Danise considered what she had just learned and tried to think of a way to free herself and warn Charles, Clodion reappeared and sat down across the fire from Autichar and his prisoner.
“Well, Clodion,” said Autichar with a malicious glance at his partner’s disheveled clothing, “did you enjoy yourself by yourself?”
“You’ll pay for keeping the girl from me,” Clodion muttered.
“Speak kindly to me,” Autichar warned, “Or I will advise Tassilo not to give you your next bride after all.”
“You do, and I’ll tell Charles what you plan,” snarled Clodion.
“Warn him,” said Autichar, not at all concerned by this threat, “and I will free Danise and give her safe conduct back to Charles so she can tell him about your part in this scheme. This is another reason for me to keep her away from you, Clodion. I can always send her back to Duren unharmed.”
“And ruin your own plans?” Clodion was shouting now, while Autichar maintained his calm and humorous outward appearance.
“When he learns from Danise of my part in that plan, Charles will still chase me into Bavaria, where he will find Tassilo waiting to do battle with him. You see, Clodion, now that you have delivered Danise to me, I don’t really need you any more. Perhaps I ought to kill you now and be done with it.” He chuckled when Clodion made a strangled sound in his throat.
“What villains you are,” Danise cried. “No one ought to trust either of you, and you cannot trust each other.”
“You, be quiet,” Autichar ordered, still smiling. “Actually, I rather like the next step in our original plan, so we will carry it through after all. Clodion, you ought to find it perversely stimulating.”
“It was my idea,” Clodion said.
“I do remember.” Autichar’s smile now was not pleasant.
“You need me alive to carry it through,” Clodion said. “I can delay Charles in his search for Danise, giving you time to move on toward the Bavarian mountains unimpeded. You need me,” Clodion said again.
“What are you going to do?” Danise asked, half expecting to see murder committed before her eyes if Clodion and Autichar continued to quarrel.
“To you, for the moment, nothing,” Autichar responded. “You, Danise, have just become our security for Clodion’s part in this plan. If he wants you, he will have to return to me, and he knows I will kill him if he plays me false. Nor will Clodion get his Bavarian bride and all her wealth without my personal recommendation to Tassilo. Which ought to guarantee my own safety. It’s checkmate, Clodion,” he ended with a nasty grin.
Danise could see flaws in the plan concocted by these men, but she would not point them out to Autichar or Clodion. A great many things could go wrong for them. For herself, she could see no future unless she could manage to escape. She realized that she could not do so that night. After a word from Autichar to one of his men, she was led to the side of the camp, given a blanket, and told to lie down and sleep. Her two guards remained with her. They did not sleep at all that night and neither did she. Nor did Autichar and Clodion sleep. They sat together by the fire, talking and occasionally arguing. Danise could not hear what they were saying, but she was certain they were still plotting against Charles and the Franks.
Toward dawn two of
Autichar’s men rose and began to saddle horses.
“Give Clodion the same mount he rode yesterday,” Autichar commanded. “Someone is sure to remember his horse.”
After a hasty meal Clodion and the two men mounted and rode away together through the trees. When Autichar paused to look down on Danise on his way back to the fire after seeing them off, she hastily closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
Chapter 9
In the forest near Duren it was so uncomfortably hot even in the shade that Charles’s great hunting party ended early. It had been successful, with many birds and rabbits brought down, and in spite of the heat most of the hunters were cheerful as they headed back toward the campsite.
“Redmond, have you seen Danise?” Michel called to his friend. “I have been looking for her all morning.”
“I have not seen her since the hunt began,” Redmond answered, glancing around in search of Danise. “She was with Savarec and Clodion. I don’t see them, either.”
“Clodion?” Michel reined in his horse next to Redmond. Riding with Michel was Guntram, who also halted. “Savarec knows Danise doesn’t like Clodion. Why would they all ride together?”
“Perhaps Savarec thought to soothe Clodion’s injured pride,” Redmond suggested. He frowned. “Now that I think on it, the last glimpse I had of Danise, I did not see Savarec with her, but only Clodion. Danise waved to me.”
“Was she beckoning? Did she want you to join her?” Michel asked in sudden concern.
“She called something to me, but I could not hear what she said. There was so much crowding and everyone was in such a rush that it was more like a race than a hunt. But if Savarec was near, and so many ladies were present, what harm can there be if Danise rode beside Clodion? We’ll find her soon enough.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Michel demanded, his concern for Danise becoming certainty that her absence meant something was amiss. “How can you be so complaisant with Clodion wandering around looking for opportunities to get Danise alone? My God, Redmond, just the other day, he was spying on her while she bathed in the river!”
“That is disgraceful. It is unworthy of a nobleman to behave in such a way. But, as I said, Savarec was with her today,” Redmond assured Michel. “Clodion would not dare to say or do anything offensive toward Danise if her father is present.”
“No,” Guntram interrupted the heated retort Michel was about to make. “Savarec was not with Danise, not after the hunt advanced into the forest.”
“Where was he, then?” Michel turned his full attention to Guntram.
“Savarec ordered me not to say,” Guntram replied. He got no further in any explanation he might have made because Michel leaned over and grabbed the front of his tunic, nearly pulling Guntram out of his saddle.
“Damn it, Guntram, Danise is missing and no one has seen Clodion recently! What do you think that means? Where is Savarec? He must be told.”
“He had an assignation,” Guntram revealed, most unwillingly.
“What? Savarec?” cried Redmond in disbelief.
“A certain lady invited him to her tent. He was to meet her there while most folk were absent in the forest. Don’t look so angry, Michel. Savarec is a healthy man and needs his recreation.”
“It’s not Guntram’s fault.” Redmond put a restraining hand on Michel’s arm and kept it there until Michel released Guntram. “If something terrible has happened to Danise, we are all equally to blame. You, Michel, myself, Savarec, and you, Guntram – all of us know what Clodion is. We should have been more protective of Danise. She should have had a guard with her at all times.”
“Hindsight won’t help Danise now,” Michel said, his expression grim. “We have to find her as soon as possible.”
“First find Savarec,” said Guntram. “He may be able to tell us more. I’ll look in his tent in case he has returned there, and then I’ll ask the lady.”
“Who is she?” Michel demanded.
“Savarec ordered me not to tell, but you are right, Michel, this is not a time to blindly obey Savarec’s orders. It is Lady Ingeborg. She’s a widow of Savarec’s age. When he told me about their meeting for today, I suspected Lady Ingeborg was looking for a good second husband. It may be as I thought, but still, I begin to wonder now.”
“Well you should wonder about her intentions,” Redmond told them. “I know Lady Ingeborg. You wouldn’t want Savarec to marry her, Guntram. She is circumspect enough here at court, because Hildegarde insists on discretion in all her attendants. Away from court, Lady Ingeborg’s reputation is none too savory among certain of our nobles. Furthermore, she is a friend of Clodion’s – another person who keeps his private affairs well hidden from Charles and Hildegarde.”
A moment of tense silence followed this revelation with the three men looking at each other until Michel began to issue orders.
“We have no time to waste,” he said. “Danise is in danger. I feel it in my bones. Redmond, ask among the rest of the nobles, particularly the ladies. Perhaps one of them has seen Danise recently, or someone may have noticed in which direction she was heading. Guntram, you check Lady Ingeborg’s tent, and Savarec’s as you suggested. Find Savarec.”
“What will you do?” Redmond asked.
“I’m going to talk to Sister Gertrude,” Michel said. “She’s a sensible woman and she has known Clodion for years. She may have some ideas that would help us. We will meet at Savarec’s tent.”
They separated, Redmond to mingle among the nobles, Michel and Guntram to ride ahead of them back to camp. Near the royal tents Michel dismounted, turning his horse over to Guntram. Then he hurried to the queen’s tent. Only a serving maid was there.
“The women have gone to the edge of the forest again, to rest beneath the trees,” the maid said in answer to Michel’s agitated questions.
He found Hildegarde lying on a mattress in the shade while her ladies fanned her. One glance at the queen’s pale, wan face and Michel knew he could not raise the alarm over Danise until he had more information. Hildegarde would be terribly upset at the news that Danise was missing, and being so disturbed might well complicate her already difficult pregnancy. He would have to depend upon Sister Gertrude’s sharp eyes and swift comprehension. He was not disappointed in the nun. She came to him at once, and drew him aside so they could speak in private.
“What has happened?” she asked.
“Have you seen Danise recently?”
“No. She’s at the hunt. Hasn’t she returned?”
“Do you know a Lady Ingeborg?” Michel asked.
“That one.” Sister Gertrude’s voice conveyed her opinion of Lady Ingeborg. “She was late in joining us this morning.”
“Is she here now?”
“She’s over there.” Sister Gertrude pointed to a plump, middle-aged lady in a dark red gown that was too tight for her ample curves.
“I don’t want to alarm the queen unnecessarily,” Michel said. “Can you coax Lady Ingeborg into strolling to Savarec’s tent with you?”
“No need to coax,” replied Sister Gertrude. “I’ll order her and she will obey or I will tell Hildegarde a few interesting facts about dear Lady Ingeborg. Michel,” Sister Gertrude’s eyes were dark with worry, “where is Danise?”
“That’s what we are trying to discover,” he said.
“And you think Lady Ingeborg may know something? She is one of Clodion’s oldest friends. Oh, dear saints in heaven!” Sister Gertrude’s voice sank to a harsh whisper. “You believe Clodion has captured Danise.”
“Exactly,” said Michel, not troubling to hide his own concern from her. “Bring Lady Ingeborg along as fast as you can, will you?”
He found Guntram in front of Savarec’s tent, supporting a dazed, soaking wet Savarec.
“I found him in his bed in a stupor,” Guntram said, “so I dragged him out here and dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. He’ll wake up soon enough.”
“Wine did it,” Savarec muttered in a thick, slurre
d voice. “Herbs.”
Michel caught Savarec by the hair, pulling his head upward. Savarec winced as the sun fell full on his face.
“Are you saying that Lady Ingeborg drugged your wine?” Michel demanded.
“Couldn’t stay awake,” Savarec said. “Why here? I was – her tent – her bed.”
“She probably had her servants carry you back here,” Michel observed. “I believe this is the lady herself, come to apologize to you. Good afternoon, Lady Ingeborg.”
“I have nothing to say to Savarec. He was a great disappointment to me.” After a scathing look in Savarec’s direction Lady Ingeborg started to leave. She was prevented by Sister Gertrude, who took her arm in a tight grip and turned her around again to face the three men.
“You will answer Michel’s questions honestly,” Sister Gertrude instructed, “or I will speak to the queen about you. I know a great deal about your activities, alone and in concert with Clodion. I can have you banished from court forever.”
“I do not want that. I love being so close to the power and the excitement that swirls around Charles. Life on my late husband’s estates is so boring.” Lady Ingeborg’s resistance wilted quickly. “Very well. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s begin with Savarec’s condition,” said Michel. “Why did you put sleeping herbs in his wine?”
“It was the only way I could think of to fend him off,” Lady Ingeborg protested. “He insisted on meeting me in my tent, and I – I was afraid of him. I feared he would ravish me.”
