by Speer, Flora
“You aren’t,” she said. “I can stay awake for a while longer.”
“I am no animal to force you into compliance with my desires. We have tomorrow and the next day.”
“Have we? How can we be sure?” she murmured, already half asleep.
“I am sure,” he told her, shifting his position so her head was supported on his shoulder. She muttered something, then lay still.
After a full week of abstinence Dominick ached to possess her, yet he wouldn’t, not unless she was wide awake and as hot and eager for him as he was for her. He was old enough and experienced enough to know he’d not perish from the hardness in his groin. It would pass, and the next time he took Gina into his arms, she’d remember his restraint. He would see to it that she was writhing in ecstasy and begging him to take her. And when he did, the bliss she’d confer on both of them would prove worth the wait.
Once he was certain that Gina was sound asleep, Dominick picked her up and carried her to her own room. He tucked her into bed, then paused to look down at her, struggling against the unaccustomed tenderness that suddenly filled his heart. Gina was nearly as tall as he and physically quite strong, yet when she slept she appeared fragile and defenseless. The hand that lay folded against her cheek was small and delicate. Her rosy lips were slightly parted as if inviting his kiss. Soft violet shadowed her eyelids. What Dominick wanted most at that moment was to lie beside her through the night and watch her wake when morning came, to see her emerald eyes open and a smile of greeting meant just for him light her face.
He sternly warned himself that this was no time for soft emotions. If he intended to serve his king as he was duty-bound to do, then unflinching resolve was what he needed.
He picked up the oil lamp that burned on the chest beside Gina’s bed and walked out of the room, not allowing himself to look back. He stood in the corridor for a moment, listening. His house was quiet, as it ought to be at that late hour. Only one completely trustworthy man-at-arms stood guard at the door.
Ah, but on the docks along the riverfront and in the drinking houses of Regensburg, men were awake who would sell their own souls for a cup of wine or a few coins, men aware of the most surprising twists and turns of conspiracies supposedly unknown except by those involved in them.
Dominick caught up his dark cloak, wrapped it around himself, and pulled up the hood before he slipped out the door. He made a silent gesture to the well-trained guard, who nodded and said nothing. Then Dominick vanished into the darkness.
Chapter 11
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ella said for the fourth time. She was following Gina, both of them picking their way among the ruts and mud puddles of the unpaved street that led to the palace. “We ought to wait for Dominick to return.”
“It’s midday, and no one has seen Dominick,” Gina responded. She lifted her blue silk skirts a little higher to avoid the mud being splashed in their direction by a horse whose rider wasn’t paying attention to lowly pedestrians. “If he’s not at home and not at the palace, then something has happened to him. And to Harulf, since he is missing, too. Aren’t you concerned about him?”
“They may have gone hunting,” Ella said with placid assurance. “Men often do, you know.”
“If Dominick planned to go hunting, he’d leave a message for me.”
They reached the palace gate. Gina gave her name to the guard and told him she was to meet Count Dominick.
“I haven’t seen him this morning,” the guard said, “but it’s possible he entered by one of the other gates. You’ll most likely find him in the great hall.”
Dominick wasn’t in the hall. Few people were, and none of them had a face Gina recognized.
“Ella, I want you to stay here,” Gina said. “If Dominick arrives, tell him I’ll return shortly and I’d like him to wait for me.”
“I shouldn’t leave you alone. Dominick won’t approve. Where will you be?” Ella asked.
“Looking for Dominick, of course.” Following Dominick’s order, Gina hadn’t said a word to Ella about the plot they were investigating, so she couldn’t say anything more, and she didn’t dare admit just how worried she was. She didn’t like not knowing where Dominick was. She only felt safe when he was near. He was the one dependable person in her strange new life, the only other soul who knew what she really was. Gina wasn’t going to let the size of the palace deter her. If Dominick was anywhere within its walls – anywhere from the throne room to the dungeon – she was going to find him.
Leaving Ella muttering and shaking her head at the idea of a young noblewoman wandering about unattended, Gina hurried out a side door of the great hall and into a courtyard. A few noblemen and some clerics in dark robes were there, but not Dominick. Across the courtyard and through another door leading to a large reception room she went. There she paused to greet Ansa, one of the young ladies she’d met the previous night, and to be introduced to Lady Ansa’s newly chosen betrothed. After offering her best wishes, Gina asked if either of them knew where Dominick was.
“I haven’t seen him, though I haven’t been looking,” said the young nobleman, gazing fondly at his lady while he spoke to Gina. “He could be in one of the king’s private chambers, perhaps with Charles himself.” He tore his attention from the girl at his side long enough to indicate the direction Gina should take.
When the happy couple turned to speak to a friend, Gina slipped away toward the private wing of the palace. A short time later she found herself in yet another courtyard. This one boasted a cloistered walk around all sides, with thick stone columns supporting a series of the rounded arches routinely used in Frankish architecture. Stone paths crisscrossed the sunny courtyard, with colorful flower beds set into the open spaces. Gina paused to admire the pretty sight.
She was immediately glad of the impulse that had made her stop before venturing out of the shady cloister and into the sunlight. Fastrada and Father Guntram stood in the exact center of the garden, where all the paths converged. Seeing them with their heads together, Gina quickly ducked behind one of the wide columns. They were so deep in private conversation that they hadn’t noticed her, and her soft shoes made no sound on the stones of the cloister floor to alert them.
Not a word of the low conversation between the priest and the queen reached Gina’s ears. Still, she trembled with fear. If she was discovered, Fastrada would have good reason to accuse her of spying. Given Gina’s association with Dominick, the queen would have a perfect excuse to call him a spy, too. Gina harbored no doubts about the queen’s eagerness to cause trouble for Dominick.
“I have to get out of here, fast.” She was so unnerved that she didn’t realize she had whispered the words aloud until someone responded.
“An excellent idea, Lady Gina,” said a soft voice next to her ear.
Before she could make any sound a long, ink-stained finger was laid across her lips, enjoining silence. She looked up into a face that was seamed with lines of humor around the mouth and calm blue eyes. The man was very tall. His shoulders were stooped, as if he made a habit of bending to the height of shorter folk, and he wore a plain, dark cleric’s robe. His thinning gray hair was cut short all the way around in the bowl-shaped style Gina had seen on other palace clerics. The man allowed her a moment to look at him and take in the fact that he was unarmed except for the bunch of stiff feathers he held in one hand, a collection that only added to his harmless appearance.
“Come,” he whispered, beckoning. “Follow me.”
Gina had no choice but to do as he asked. If she protested or made any sound, Fastrada would know she had intruded on a private conversation, and the queen wasn’t likely to believe it was an accident.
With his inky finger now at his own lips, the cleric moved to a door at the side of the cloister. Gina glanced backward to ensure that she and her companion were hidden by the thick stone column. She couldn’t see Fastrada at all, and Father Guntram was facing away from the side of the cloister where Gina stoo
d. A moment later Gina was through the doorway, and the cleric quietly shut and bolted the wooden door behind them. Then he beckoned again.
All was done in silence until they were two rooms away from the courtyard, safe behind a closed door in a small, untidy office where books and scrolls lay scattered across a large table, with more books piled on several stools. Shelves along one wall held rolled-up scrolls, a tag dangling from each. A hasty look at the tags revealed that they identified the contents of the scrolls. Gina turned to the man who stood observing her with an air of amused friendliness that told her she had nothing to fear from him.
“Who are you?” Gina asked. “How do you know my name?”
“I am Alcuin. I saw you in the great hall last evening when you were presented to Charles. You are fortunate that I chose this hour to procure a fresh supply of quills.” He laid the feathers on the table next to a pot of ink. “The queen does not like to be interrupted when she is carrying on a private conversation.”
“I wasn’t going to interrupt. I stumbled into the garden by mistake. I was looking for—”
“For Count Dominick?”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Not at the moment.” Alcuin poured wine into two cups and handed one to Gina.
She looked into the red liquid in her cup, then looked up at him, recognition dawning. Alcuin of Northumbria was one of Charles’s closest friends and advisors. When she had learned about Charlemagne in school, Alcuin was also mentioned, though much too briefly for the classroom memory to be of much assistance now. Gina knew only that he was a great scholar who devised a script that was easier to read than the older writing style.
“I have been told that you are also a native of Northumbria,” Alcuin said.
The mildly uttered statement brought Gina back to dangerous reality. With a few well-chosen questions Alcuin held the power to blow her cover, as the author of a twentieth-century spy novel might have said, by proving that she knew nothing at all about Northumbria. Perhaps the man wasn’t as innocuous as he seemed.
“Courtiers do love to gossip, don’t they?” Gina’s hand began to shake. Fearing she’d slosh her wine all over his documents, she set the cup down, its contents un-tasted. Alcuin sipped from his cup and watched her.
“Actually, I come from a place very far away,” Gina said, instinctively aware that she couldn’t lie to him. He’d know it if she tried. “Dominick misunderstood the name of the city where I used to live.” She fumbled to a halt, caught by Alcuin s suddenly penetrating gaze.
“Once, almost fifteen years ago, reckoning by the time in which I am living, I knew another woman like you,” Alcuin said slowly. “Her name was India. Her lover was killed at Roncevaux along with Count Hrulund. After that, there was nothing to hold her in Francia any longer, so she returned to her own home, in Connecticut. I don’t know how she did it, so I cannot help you to do the same.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Gina cried in astonishment at the one, oddly pronounced and obviously unfamiliar word he had emphasized.
“I am merely saying that you remind me of an old friend. But then, I am an aging cleric who likes his wine too well,” Alcuin answered. “I do think there is someone holding you in Francia. And I believe there are certain subjects that ought never to be discussed aloud.”
“You’re telling me I’m not likely to get home again?”
“Perhaps the decision is yours to make. That was the case for India.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There are mysteries that mortals are not meant to understand.”
“Dominick once said something similar. He said sometimes we just have to accept what happens and not worry so much about understanding why.”
“I have always found Dominick wise beyond his years.”
“Thank you for rescuing me just now,” Gina said, feeling the need to change the subject before her whirling thoughts could drive her into a state of total confusion.
“It’s not often a cleric has the opportunity to rescue a beautiful lady. Our unexpected meeting has enlivened a rather dull morning.”
“What do you do in here?” Gina asked, surveying all the paraphernalia of medieval scholarship piled high on the table and shelves.
“I am working on a new translation of the Bible,” Alcuin said. “I am also head of the palace school, and I correspond with many friends. That is why I was in need of new quills,” he added, touching the feathers.
“It sounds like a lot of work. I shouldn’t keep you from it. If you think it’s safe, I’ll leave now.”
“Let me see.” Alcuin headed toward the door. “Drink up your wine. It’s too good to waste.”
“This is good,” Gina said after a hearty gulp.
“I serve only the best to my friends. India also enjoyed the wine from that vineyard.” Alcuin stepped out of the room, returning a moment later. “The courtyard is empty.”
“Thank you again.” Gina started to leave, but then turned back. “Alcuin, do you know Father Guntram?”
“I do.” The cleric s kindly face was suddenly hard and cold as stone.
“I don’t like him either,” Gina said, guessing at the reason for his reaction. “But I do like Pepin. Have you seen him this morning? Could Dominick be with him?”
“Pepin has not yet come to Regensburg,” Alcuin said. “We expect him any day.”
“Not here? But, when I saw them at Feldbruck, he and Father Guntram were traveling together. Why is Father Guntram at Regensburg, but not Pepin?”
“I have been asking myself the same question since I saw the priest with the queen,” said Alcuin.
“If you learn the answer, let me know,” Gina said, heading for the courtyard. “I’ll do the same for you, if I can discover what’s going on.”
“I can be found most evenings in the great hall,” Alcuin’s quiet voice followed her. “Or here during the daylight hours. You are always welcome.”
“I will remember that.”
By the time Gina returned to the great hall, Dominick was there, with a younger man whose blond hair and gray eyes lent him a striking resemblance to Dominick.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Gina said, joining the two men.
“I intended to return home to fetch you in time for the evening feast,” Dominick responded.
“Well, then, I’ve saved you the trouble.” Gina thought he didn’t look very pleased to see her.
“Women almost never obey orders,” Dominick’s companion stated in a challenging way.
“I have an unblemished record in that respect,” Gina said, laughing in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Both men were frowning at her. “I take orders from no man.”
“Lady Gina, this is my younger brother, Count Bernard,” Dominick said.
“We are only half brothers.” Bernard was glowering, looking ready to erupt into a tantrum or perhaps a full-blown battle. “Dominick, you are a fool to return to court. The queen still hasn’t forgiven you for the way you sent Hiltrude off to a convent. She certainly isn’t going to welcome your concubine amongst her ladies.”
“I am not a. concubine!” Gina cried. “And I wouldn’t be one of Fastrada’s ladies if you paid me.”
“Gina, be quiet!” Dominick commanded.
“She won’t obey you,” said Bernard, sneering.
“She has already declared her refusal to accede to the wishes of mere men. Have a care, Dominick. Acting on your own initiative, you achieved only partial ruin. With this woman’s assistance, you may well be completely destroyed.” Uttering a rude sound that clearly indicated his disgust, Bernard walked away.
“I’ve done it again,” Gina said, looking after him. “Wouldn’t you think I’d have sense enough by now to keep my mouth shut, to just smile politely and say nothing when I’m insulted?”
“Silence would be best, considering you are ignorant of the various loyalties and dissensions among Charles’s courtiers,” Dominick responded. “
Bernard likes me not at all, though before others he will bestir himself to hide his distaste for his father’s bastard. He imagines his display of good manners makes him appear to be a better man. His mother is not so polite. Fortunately, she is not presently at court.”
“That’s good news. It means one less enemy for me to antagonize. Dominick, you will never guess who I met while I was searching for you. Please tell me Alcuin is a true friend.”
“He is.” Dominick’s stern expression softened at the mention of the cleric’s name. “Alcuin is so honest and valued an advisor and stands so high in Charles’s regard that all Fastrada’s wiles cannot dislodge him from his position at court. Where did you meet him?”
“He rescued me and spirited me away to his office when I was about to stumble into a secret conference Fastrada was holding with Father Guntram.”
“That cursed priest is in Regensburg? Then where is Pepin?”
“That’s what Alcuin and I were wondering. Personally, I think the queen and that unpleasant priest are up to no good.”
“I agree,” Dominick said.
“Since I’ve vowed to be more cautious, I guess I should ask, is it safe for me to be seen talking with Alcuin in public?”
“Of course.” Dominick chuckled, his usual good humor restored. “Everyone talks to Alcuin, and drinks his wine, too.”
“It’s very good wine.” Gina hesitated, reluctant to speak of what else she and Alcuin had discussed – the tale of a lady who had apparently visited Francia for a while and then, after her lover died and nothing held her in the eighth century any longer, returned to another time and place. Gina wasn’t sure she wanted Dominick to know about that possibility. She was even less certain what, if anything, she wanted to do with the unexpected knowledge. She decided to postpone revealing what Alcuin had said about his friend, India.
“Dominick, where were you for half the day? I’ve been worried sick. That’s why I was wandering around the palace. I was looking for you, terrified that something terrible had happened.”
