by Speer, Flora
“You see,” Hildegarde said to Charles, “I was right.” Charles took his wife’s hand and pressed it to his lips.
Danise and Michel barely noticed the queen’s words or the king’s action, for they quickly lost themselves in a tender kiss. They did not have long to revel in their private joy. Friends began to crowd about them, congratulating them, until Danise found herself separated from Michel and standing next to Redmond.
“I had planned to tell you tonight that I could not wed you,” she said to him, a little embarrassed by the situation. “I am sorry if you were hurt by the way this was done. I never guessed what Michel would say to Charles.”
“I believe you and I could have been content together, Danise,” Redmond told her. “But if you feel Michel is the man you should wed, then let us be friends. Nor will your choice ever change my friendship with Michel.”
“You have a generous heart, Redmond. I think of you as more than a friend. To me, you are like a dear brother.”
“It’s not what I hoped for,” Redmond said with a wry little smile, “but I will gladly accept what you offer.”
When Redmond moved on to speak to Michel, Sister Gertrude pushed her way through the throng to where Danise was standing.
“So, your choice is made,” she said to Danise. “Now you will have to live with it until your last day of life.”
“Do not be angry with me because I could not do what you wished for me,” Danise begged. “I love Michel as much as he loves me.”
“I hope you do not regret it,” Sister Gertrude responded. Then, brightening, she added, “I do approve of Charles’s decision about Lady Ingeborg, though I doubt if the nuns at Prum will thank him for it. At least this ordeal of a trial is over, and we can forget about Clodion and Autichar and their wicked plans.”
However, as they were to learn in the course of time, they had not heard the last of Autichar or his plot.
Chapter 12
New Mexico October 1992
“If you ask me, it was a stroke of luck having him disappear like that. Why do you want to mess everything up now?” Alice shook her head in bewilderment. “Hank Marsh, you are an idiot to do this. Just leave the guy where he is and forget about him.”
“I can’t do that.” Hank spoke absently because he was working on the computer, checking the electrical connections, moving components around, and then calling up long mathematical equations on the screen.
“Why not?” Alice stuck her hands on her hips and glared at the back of Hank’s head. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“Yeah, I know.” Hank cleared the screen before swinging around to face Alice. “You really don’t understand, do you? O.K., I’ll explain.
“First,” Hank began ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “If I don’t get him back, I’m as bad as any murderer, because Mike Bailey went into my computer, on a program I invented.
“Second, sending someone back in time is only half of the experiment. For me to prove beyond a doubt that my theories about the space-time continuum are correct, I have to be able to bring the object or the person back to this time and this place in one piece and in good health.”
“What happens if what you get back isn’t a person any more, but just a lump of bleeding protoplasm?” Alice demanded. “How would you dispose of it? Send it back in time again? Or into outer space? And what are you going to tell the authorities if someone finds out what you’ve done?”
“That’s reason number three,” Hank told her. “This Bailey guy is not some unimportant nobody. If half of what he said is true, there are important people who know he has been looking for me. I bet he told somebody he was coming here today. Where do you think that leaves me if I can’t get him back?
“Fourth, and most important of all,” Hank said, “if I want to call myself a scientist, and I do, then I have a moral obligation to make certain that no one gets hurt because of my theories and my experiments.”
“I never would have picked you to have a conscience,” Alice said.
“You don’t know much about me,” Hank replied. “You know, India Baldwin told me once that I didn’t have any right to fool around with time and space, and I’m beginning to think she may have had a point. Every time I try this experiment, something goes wrong. Maybe I’ve been breaking some cosmic law I don’t even know about.”
“You’re going soft,” Alice said. “I warned you about hiking in the desert every morning at sunrise. Or maybe it’s just too much Mexican food that’s interfering with your mind.”
“Call it whatever you want,” Hank said, “but I am going to do my damnedest to bring Mike Bailey back here in one piece. Wherever, or whenever, he is, he doesn’t belong there. He belongs here.”
Chapter 13
With Clodion sent off under heavy guard to his one remaining estate, Redmond preparing to leave on the morrow to deal with Autichar’s army, and Autichar himself about to return to Bavaria to face Duke Tassilo, Michel assumed that the rest of the Franks would spend the remainder of that last day of Mayfield packing up their belongings. Many of them did, but a few had other duties to see to before taking leave of Duren.
“We cannot in good conscience linger much longer,” Charles said to Michel and Savarec. “We have already been at Duren days beyond the time we originally intended to spend here, and because there are so many of us, we have eaten most of the food available in the area. It would be unfair to the good folk of Duren for us to stay until a suitable and dignified wedding feast for Danise and Michel can be arranged.”
“I have no desire for an elaborate celebration,” Michel said. “A simple wedding will do.” He thought he saw Savarec breathe a sigh of relief at hearing he would not be expected to provide a festive meal for everyone at Mayfield. Michel reflected that in his concern over the wedding feast Savarec was not much different from many a twentieth century father of a bride. The thought startled him. Michel did not often dwell on memories of his former life, which seemed to him more distant and more uninteresting with each day that passed for him in the eighth century. Now that his future with Danise was a certainty, he was perfectly content to remain in Francia.
“What we can do,” Charles went on, “is hold the formal betrothal ceremony late this afternoon, just before our final meal together, the feast that ends Mayfield. If you can come to agreement on the terms of the contract, I’ll have my clerics write it out for you.”
“That ought to be easy enough to do,” Michel said. “If anything happens to me, I want my new lands to go directly to Danise, and then to our children.” Michel paused on that thought. His eyes met Savarec’s. They smiled at the same time.
“I should like to see grandchildren,” Savarec said.
“I will be happy to provide you with them,” Michel responded. “I believe Danise and I are of one mind on the matter.”
“Danise’s dowry is respectable, but not large.”
“I don’t care. It’s Danise I love, not her land or some pile of gold coins. Now, I understand from Redmond that in Francia it is customary for the bridegroom to settle a third of his possessions on his new wife.”
Michel estimated that it took them less than ten minutes to come to an agreement. They shook hands on it, and Charles called in one of his secretaries, ordering the contract prepared in time to be signed and sealed before the evening meal.
“Now,” Charles said to Michel, “I know you have no wish to be parted from your love, but it is necessary for you to travel at once to Clodion’s former lands, to take possession of Elhein. There may be some difficulty if Clodion’s relatives are unwilling to leave it. Savarec, can you spare a few of your men to go with Michel? He may need a show of force to convince the present occupants that he means business, and I want all of those confiscated lands firmly in the hands of my own good friends as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Savarec agreed. “It’s best if Michel puts Elhein into order before he takes Danise there.”
“From what I know
of Clodion,” Michel said, “I’ll want to have all the buildings scrubbed and fumigated before I let her set one foot in the place.”
* * *
While the men conferred Danise searched for Alcuin. She found him among the clerics, directing them in writing out the account of the morning’s trial.
“Several copies must be made for the royal records,” he said to her. “Then, the new law Charles made today will have to be copied over and over until we have a parchment for every noble in the land. The royal messengers will be kept busy if all the copies are to be delivered within a week as Charles has ordered.”
“My father says the royal messenger service is most reliable,” Danise remarked. “When he is at Deutz, he receives letters and instructions from Charles every few days.”
“Letters will also go out informing everyone of the land gifts made today, and of your betrothal,” Alcuin said. “I was glad to see you so happy when Michel asked you to marry him. I have not forgotten how saddened you were last year by Hugo’s death.”
“Master Alcuin, may I speak with you about that?”
“You look troubled. Are you uncertain about your decision to marry Michel? Do you want the betrothal ceremony stopped? If so, we must speak to Charles at once. It will be difficult for you, there will be gossip and whispers, but a betrothal can be broken if you so wish it.”
“I have no doubt at all about marrying Michel,” Danise said. “I would like to talk with you about who, and what, he is.”
“Ah. ves.” murmured Alcuin. “The matter of Michel’s recovery of his memory. Has he told you about it yet?”
“He told me, but he asked me not to discuss the circumstances of his coming to Duren with anyone else. Master Alcuin, something strange has happened. I need your advice.”
“Then let us walk apart to a quiet place where we can speak in private.”
“That always seems to mean the forest,” she said, smiling a little. “Or else the riverbank.”
“Since many folk are bathing in the river today in anticipation of their homeward journeys, it will be quieter in the forest,” Alcuin noted.
“I will take you to the place where first I found Michel,” Danise decided. “Perhaps well find some answers there.”
When they reached the spot, Alcuin looked around with considerable interest.
“It seems an ordinary enough place.” Gathering his black cleric’s robe about him, he lowered his tall frame downward to the ground, inviting Danise to sit beside him. “Surely, we will not be disturbed here,” he said.
“I must start by begging you not to judge me too harshly,” Danise said. “I am forced to make a personal confession before I can begin my story, because I believe two events are deeply connected, one to the other.”
“I am not an ordained priest,” Alcuin warned her. “I cannot give you absolution from your sins or impose a penance on you. I can, however, promise not to reveal anything you tell me.”
“I don’t believe this involves a sin,” Danise said. “Master Alcuin, after Michel rescued me and took me upon his horse, Redmond ordered him to remove me from the scene of the battle with Autichar.”
“So much I heard from you yesterday and again in the tale told to Charles this morning,” Alcuin remarked quietly, “but naught has been said of what transpired during the night when you and Michel were alone together. Is it of that time you wish to speak?”
“When it began to rain we took shelter in a charcoal maker’s hut,” she said, “and there we lay together. There was no wicked lust in our actions. I knew then, as I know now, that Michel loves me and I love him.”
“Your confession does not shock me,” Alcuin told her. “Nor does it surprise me. It is but the way of young men and women when the desire is present and the opportunity occurs. Since love is present between you, and since you are now to wed, I find no great harm in what you did.”
“Neither did I, either then or now.” Recalling her night with Michel, Danise looked at Alcuin with shining eyes. “It is what happened afterward that disturbs my thoughts. During the night the door of the hut blew open in the storm. Michel went to close it, and as he stood in the open doorway, there came a great flash of lightning. At that moment, I saw Hugo. He and Michel were the same person.”
“It would seem to me quite natural for you to be thinking of Hugo at such a time,” Alcuin mused, “since what you never knew with Hugo, you had that very night enjoyed with Michel. Perhaps you cast your thoughts backward briefly, and in that moment you saw in your mind’s eye the image of Hugo.”
“No, it wasn’t my imagination, or a dream,” Danise cried. “Hugo was there, Master Alcuin! His form and his face enveloped Michel. And I knew, not in my thoughts but in my heart and – yes, it was so and still is – in my very soul I knew that part of Hugo, the best and dearest part of him, lives on in Michel.”
Alcuin’s eyes grew wide. He looked at Danise for so long a time that she began to be afraid he would speak of blasphemy or heresy. He did not, and when he spoke again his words brought comfort to her troubled thoughts.
“So strange a mystery defies mere human comprehension,” Alcuin said. “I do not doubt what you have told me, Danise. It is well known that a deep and true love transcends time and place. It can even conquer death.”
“When I first began to care for Michel, I felt guilty,” she said. “I feared I was being disloyal to Hugo’s memory. But no more. I will never forget Hugo. Some part of me will always love the Hugo I once knew. But I love Michel now, and in him, Hugo also.”
“Perhaps Hugo’s spirit drew Michel here to Duren, to find you,” Alcuin suggested.
“A love beyond time,” Danise murmured, half to herself. “It would be just like Hugo to want me to be happy again. Michel said something like that soon after we met. But Hugo would not arrange; he would never insist. Hugo would simply put happiness in my path and let me stumble upon it in my own way. Master Alcuin, is it wrong for me to think like this?”
“The ways of heaven are beyond the understanding of any mortal,” Alcuin replied. “Who in this land would dare to say why Michel so suddenly appeared at Duren? Or by what means?”
When Danise looked sharply at him, he raised a hand, silencing her before she could speak.
“Do not say anything more on this subject, Danise. I have my suspicions, but I think it best if they are not confirmed. If I were to learn something definite, I might then feel obligated to take action. What you and I have said here, I will never repeat. Tis better so.”
“I understand your scruples, Master Alcuin. I will not burden you with a terrifying, an almost unbelievable, truth. I will only tell you that Michel has information about our friend, India. He says she is well and happy and has married a good man.”
“I am glad to hear it. I will always remember India with affection. And you, my dear.” His words and his tone of voice startled her. It was almost as though Alcuin were saying a final farewell to her. When he smiled at her, Danise shrugged off this impression and returned to her original request.
“I have not spoken to Michel of what I saw on that night. Do you think I should tell him? He did trust me with his truth. I ought to reciprocate. Master Alcuin, you are older and wiser than I, and you think more deeply than I could ever hope to do. What advice will you give me about all of this?”
Alcuin rose, and so did Danise. He took both of her hands in his and stood looking into her eyes.
“I do not find any wrongdoing in you, or in Michel in regard to your love for each other. I cannot explain what you saw or what you now believe about Hugo. As for telling Michel, do what your heart urges you to do. I do not think I have been able to help you much, Danise, and for that I am sorry.”
“Your willingness to listen has helped me more than you know,” she said. “I will tell Michel, when the time is right for him to hear what I have to say.”
They remained as they were, standing with linked hands until Alcuin bent forward to kiss Danise upon both cheeks.
Once again she had the odd feeling that he was saying farewell.
“Go in peace and be happy,” he said, and released her.
After Alcuin left her to return to his work for Charles, Danise wandered slowly back toward her tent, thinking about their conversation until her meditations were suddenly interrupted.
“Where have you been?” Michel caught her around the waist, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around and around until she shrieked with laughter and commanded him to put her down. He obeyed, but only to kiss her.
“Have you heard about the betrothal?” he asked, still with his arms around her waist.
“Do you mean ours?” she responded, laughing at him. “Of course I have. I was there. Or have you forgotten my presence so quickly?”
“How could I ever forget anything about you?” His eyes crinkled in answer to her laughter. “I was talking about the formal reading of the contract and the feast. It’s set for this evening. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“I have not seen my father since the trial this morning. Nor Sister Gertrude nor Clothilde, either. I was talking to Alcuin, in private.” Noting his surprised expression, she said, “I’ll tell you all about it soon. I promise I will. Now, what is this about a formal ceremony?”
“It’s true.” Clothilde came around the corner of the tent. “Danise, do you mean no one told you about your own betrothal ceremony? For shame, Michel!” But the maidservant’s eyes were sparkling with mischief.
“Who told you, Clothilde?” Michel teased her. “Guntram, perhaps?”
“Did everyone at Duren know except me?” cried Danise, feigning annoyance.
“How could we tell you what Charles has decided if you were off somewhere with Master Alcuin, discussing philosophy or the motions of the wandering stars?” Clothilde demanded. “I have unpacked your best gown and it is airing now. I’ll help you with your hair. Michel, do go away and let her get ready. I believe Redmond has a silk tunic for you to borrow for the ceremony.”
