by Speer, Flora
They were all up well before the sun, and as soon as it was light they loaded the horses onto the barge that served as a ferry. India and most of Theuderic’s band also went aboard, but Theuderic, Marcion, and Hugo waited on the shore with the two ferrymen. “Why the delay?” India asked Osric, who was helping her to make Eudon comfortable on some bales that had been stacked near where the horses were tethered.
“There are more passengers to come,” Osric replied. “That’s all I’ve been told. But, see, there they are now.”
Having finished tucking Eudon’s cloak beneath him in a way that would help to support his injured hip, India turned to look at the building that dominated the little village. The gates of the garrison were open, and out of them rode Savarec in a green cloak. Behind him came two horses, each bearing a woman who was sitting sidesaddle and, last in the group, a young man whose horse also carried a sturdy middle-aged woman riding pillion behind him.
While those on the barge watched with considerable interest, this procession made its way to the wharf, there to be greeted by Theuderic and his lieutenants. Eager to learn what was happening, India moved toward the gangplank.
“I give my daughter Danise into your safekeeping,” Savarec was saying to Theuderic. “Deliver her to Aachen, and from there she will be escorted back to school at Chelles.”
India knew the abbey of Chelles near Paris maintained a famous school for noblewomen. The king’s own sister resided there, and she would in time become its most famous abbess. It was perfectly reasonable for Savarec to ask Theuderic to see his daughter safely as far as Aachen, but after the previous evening, India could not help wondering if the garrison commander had some ulterior motive for the arrangement.
Of Danise herself, little could be seen. She was completely covered by a hooded brown mantle. India guessed that the tall thin woman in black robes would be the nun who was her companion, and the middle-aged woman was doubtless a servant. The young man would be a groom sent with them to care for the horses.
With the respect owed to a woman sworn to the religious life, Theuderic politely gave his arm to the nun to help her cross the gangplank, and Hugo, at a word from his leader, extended his own arm to Danise. Having delivered his daughter to Theuderic, Savarec started back toward his headquarters.
With neither the nun nor her father watching her, Danise pushed her hood off, revealing the pale gold braids and oval face that India had seen in the garden the day before. As she put her hand on the waiting Hugo’s forearm, Danise looked up to meet his eyes and smile at him. Hugo’s face reddened. Danise appeared a bit startled, but then an expression of wonder and joy crossed her features, making her radiantly beautiful. Hugo smiled down at her.
It happened in the time between two breaths, but India, watching the scene, knew that Hugo had just found the love for which he longed. From Danise’s entranced expression, she did not doubt that Hugo’s feelings were returned.
How she envied them. How she wished that she, too, could allow herself just to feel without analyzing her emotions and without fearing them. Deeply moved by what she had witnessed, she watched Danise glance one last time toward her departing father, watched Hugo leading her onto the barge, saw them exchange a few words. As though in a dream, India wove romantic predictions about the pair until a footstep beside her caught her attention. With her expression unguarded and all her feelings open to him, she looked into Theuderic’s eyes. The longing she saw there made her tremble with a rush of sweet desire.
With the additional horses and people now brought aboard, the barge was more crowded than ever. Someone brushed against Theuderic, making him take a few steps forward. India put out her hands, resting them on his chest, on links and links of chain mail. His lips parted, his eyes devoured her. She felt his right hand at her waist. She could not breathe.
“Count Theuderic!” The nun tapped him on the shoulder as if he were a servant.
“The lady Danise and I expect more attention from you. I see no provisions to make us comfortable or to keep us sheltered from the sun. Lord Savarec assumed that you would provide the necessary amenities for ladies of our rank.”
“Dear Sister Gertrude, don’t fret.” Danise had arrived on board, with Hugo beside her. “I am quite content with the arrangements made for us.”
“Danise, put up your hood at once,” snapped the nun. “You know your father’s orders. Do not display your face for all these common men to see. Oh, what are we to do? There is not even a decent place for us to sit. This is shameful treatment, shameful. The next time I see your mother, Count Theuderic, I will complain to her about this.”
“You could sit with Eudon,” Hugo offered helpfully. “Some of those bales are soft as pillows.”
“Bales?” Sister Gertrude was outraged. “Do you mean we shall have to sit upon cargo?”
“Please, Sister Gertrude,” came Danise’s patiently respectful voice, “I don’t mind standing. Indeed, I would enjoy it, so that I can see everything better. Perhaps, Lord Hugo, you would show us a place where we won’t be in the way.”
“It would be my greatest pleasure.” Hugo wisely offered his arm to the nun rather than to Danise. With surprising grace for a man so large, he led the ladies across the now moving barge toward the port railing.
“I will speak to you more strongly later, Count Theuderic,” said Sister Gertrude. Over her head, Theuderic smiled at India.
“I am at your service, Sister Gertrude,” he said with perfect manners.
India watched the nun try to pull Danise’s hood forward, but as soon as Sister Gertrude’s hand left the fabric, Danise swept the hood off again. Then she smiled into Hugo’s eyes.
“Does Sister Gertrude really know your mother?” India asked Theuderic.
“It is entirely possible. She looks to be about forty years, which is my mother’s age. My mother was schooled at Chelles, so they might have been girls together. But my mother is nothing like that nun, I assure you.”
At the moment, the nun seemed to be concerned by all the horses on board, watching them with a wary eye instead of guarding her young charge. Standing at the railing, Hugo bent his head toward Danise.
“Hugo loves her,” India murmured.
“Who, Sister Gertrude?” She was familiar enough with Theuderic by now to be able to see the way he tried to keep his mouth firm and hard, but the corner that always betrayed his sense of humor turned upward in spite of his best efforts.
“That would be a remarkable match,” said India, trying not to laugh. “No, I mean Hugo and Danise. I saw it happen. It was beautiful.”
“Love is a foolish thing. It always ends in grief.”
Somehow she knew he did not speak only of Hugo and Danise.
“Theu.” She had never before called him by the familiar nickname his men used so freely.
“India.” He said her name in the slow, accented way that always stopped her breath. His eyes held hers, and in their silver-grey depths she saw the answer to the question in her heart. Her throat closed, preventing any sound. Her breasts tingled. Why, oh, why, would he not touch her? Why did he keep his arms so stiffly at his sides instead of putting them around her? She ached for some physical contact with him.
“It’s madness.” At first she wasn’t sure whether she had spoken or if he had, because the same thought lay in her own mind. But it was Theuderic, with his firm sense of reality, who guided her away from the paralyzing, overwhelming desire that would have exposed them both to scandal. “We cannot give way to feelings. See to Eudon’s comfort. Consider that an order and leave me, please India, for at this moment I have not the strength to leave you, and we are attracting Sister Gertrude’s notice.”
“Yes, sir.” It was fearfully hard to break contact with his eyes, but she did. Bowing her head, she went to Eudon, and at his side she stayed until they reached the western bank of the Rhine. By then it was mid-morning, and the sunny sky had been replaced by rolling clouds. India was glad to leave the dampness of the river for E
udon’s sake as well as for her own.
“We will need to rest here for several hours,” Sister Gertrude said to Theuderic as soon as they were all ashore at Köln, “to recuperate from the rigors of the crossing.”
“Sister, if I may suggest,” said Theuderic, all politeness, “there is a guesthouse but a few hours’ ride from here, where I plan to spend the night. If we leave at once, we can easily be there before dark and, I believe, without tiring you or the lady Danise too badly.”
“The lady Danise’s health will not permit an immediate departure.” Sister Gertrude was adamant.
“But I am perfectly well,” Danise declared, laughing at the nun’s concern. “I want to ride on. Besides, those clouds will bring rain soon. Perhaps we can reach the guesthouse before the weather breaks.”
“I believe it will snow,” Theuderic said to her, “but you are quite correct about reaching the guesthouse. Sister Gertrude, I have an injured man in my company. I would like to see all of you properly sheltered tonight.”
“Yes,” said Danise. “Our duty of charity toward the sick requires that we not inconvenience poor Eudon, who I am told is in great pain. Lord Hugo, if you will help me to mount, I am prepared to ride.”
With no excuses left, Sister Gertrude was helped to her own horse. When she saw India mounted with Theuderic she found more cause for complaint.
“That boy ought to ride behind you,” she insisted. “Or better yet, put him with someone else. The leader of a troop of the king’s men ought to display his rank by riding alone, at the head of his men. Why didn’t you require a mount for him from Savarec?”
“Sister Gertrude,” Danise protested, “surely Count Theuderic knows more about military matters than we women do. We must allow him to distribute his men as he sees fit. Come now, ride beside me, for I do enjoy your company.”
“That’s a good girl,” Theuderic noted, after the two women had fallen back to ride behind the first group of his men. “She’s worthy of Hugo.”
“Do you believe he has a chance to win her?” India asked.
“I think so, if he seriously wants her. He has little land now, but his family is a good one, and Charles likes him. Hugo could win an estate with his sword and then ask for Danise. Other men have won their wives that way.”
“I hope it happens,” India said fervently. “I like Hugo. He deserves to be happy.”
“Most men do, but few men are,” he retorted. “Happiness is not the only goal of life. Loyalty to the king, personal honor, the welfare of one’s family – all are more important than one man’s feelings.”
“But you cannot always control feelings,” India said. “Love comes unbidden.”
“Yes.” His voice was quiet. “It comes.”
She turned around to look at him, and if he had moved his head by a fraction of an inch their lips would have met. But he seemed to have an infinite amount of self-control.
“I was right,” he said. “Look, it’s snowing.”
Fat flakes drifted slowly downward, melting when they touched the ground, but collecting on tree branches. Once more, as she had done so often on this apparently endless journey, India sought shelter in Theuderic’s cloak and warmth from his solid body. She leaned back against his chest. His left arm came around her waist, his face was in her hair, she felt his breath on her brow. Then he was pushing her away.
“Don’t,” he said. “Sit up and away from me, or by heaven, I’ll make you ride pillion behind Sister Gertrude.”
“A fate worse than death,” she said, straightening her spine as he had demanded. She heard him chuckle, low in his throat, and a great tenderness rose in her. She was still a bit unsure of her feelings for him, but she knew now that it was something more than mere physical attraction.
Because of the heavy clouds and the steadily falling snow, it grew dark early on that day, and by the time they reached their goal, they were all glad to seek warmth and light and hot food. The guesthouse was a large hall with a firepit in the middle of the earth floor. There were shelves down each long side of the hall, where travelers could sleep. There was a separate kitchen building with quarters for the caretaker and his family, a stable, a small chapel, and a tiny, windowless room off one end of the hall, which Sister Gertrude immediately appropriated for herself, Danise, and their serving woman.
“You are far more accustomed to rough conditions than ladies are,” she said to Theuderic. “You won’t mind sleeping with your men. When the evening meal is ready, you may send it to our room.”
“That’s the rudest nun I ever met,” remarked Hugo, looking wistfully after Danise, who was being shepherded toward the separate room.
“She gives holiness a bad name,” India agreed. Hugo let out a loud whoop of laughter at that, slapping India on the back so hard she almost fell to the floor.
“Aye, lad, that she does. A bad name indeed.” He went off to tell the other men what India had said.
The caretaker brought food for them, a stew of salted fish, turnips, and cabbage, tasty dark brown bread, cheese and apples, and a jug of ale. All of this was placed on a trestle table at one end of the hall. India noticed that Eudon was not eating much.
“He looks feverish to me,” she said to Theuderic.
“The best thing we can do for him,” Theuderic replied, “is get him to Aachen and let him rest there until he has completely recovered.”
With the meal over, India left the hall in search of the latrine, which the caretaker had told her was on the far side of the guesthouse compound. She was glad of the snow, for it outlined buildings and well-trodden paths with white, making it possible for her to find the hut she sought. Inside, it was foul-smelling, and the wick burning in the dish of oil that the caretaker had given her provided little light.
When she came out again, she noticed a series of footprints around the hut that she had not seen before. Apparently someone else had come into the night after her, but had not returned to the hall. She started back along the path, pausing when a skinny figure appeared out of the gloom.
“Hello, boy,” said an unfamiliar voice. “You know me, don’t you? Lady Danise’s groom. I followed you here to speak with you alone.”
“Is something wrong?” India asked. “Does Lady Danise need help?”
“No, but I do,” the groom said. “There’s a part of me that’s burning for your help. Come into the stable with me, boy.”
“I cannot. Count Theuderic expects me.” Uneasy now, and fearing the groom had realized she was not a boy at all, India began to walk toward the hall again. The groom stepped in front of her, barring her way, his sharp features illuminated by the oil lamp she still held.
“I’ve seen you cuddling up to him,” the groom said, adding with a sneer, “I know what you are, boy, and I want some for myself.”
“Some what?”
Her question was answered when the groom made a grab for her crotch. With a cry of dismay, she struck his hand aside. She dropped the oil lamp, the flame quickly sizzling out in the snow, leaving her with no light except that reflected off the thin layer of snow on the ground. The groom stood between her and the hall, and the door was closed. No one would hear if she called for help.
“Let me pass,” she demanded, trying to sound brave, though she was shaking.
“Not till you come into the stable with me,” the groom said, reaching for her again. India stepped backward. He followed her, beginning to whine as he spoke. “Come on, it’ll only take a little while. I won’t hurt you, boy, but I have to have it now. Count Theuderic will never know.”
“He already knows.”
The groom spun around, as startled by Theuderic’s appearance as India was. But not for long.
“This boy accosted me,” the groom declared, having recovered his earlier boldness.
“He wanted to stick his thing up my arse and got mad when I told him no.”
“Get back to the stable where you belong,” Theuderic said, “and count yourself lucky if I do not rep
ort this incident to Sister Gertrude.”
“You do, and I’ll tell her the boy belongs to you,” warned the groom defiantly.
“Get out of my sight!” Theuderic’s hand rested on his sword hilt. The groom needed no further convincing, but faded into the night.
“Are you hurt?” Theuderic asked India.
“I’m fine.” She was surprised to hear how frightened she sounded. “It didn’t happen the way he said.”
“I know.” He laid his palm against her cheek and she reveled in his touch. She leaned toward him, giving in to the irresistible attraction that drew her.
“India.” She loved the way he said her name.
“He is still there, in the shadows, watching us,” Theuderic said, so softly she could just hear the words. “If I kiss you now, he will believe that what he suggested about us is the truth.”
“Isn’t it?” Her voice was as soft as his had been, but he heard it, and he dropped his hand.
“Go inside,” he said. “I’ll follow in a little while. If anyone asks for me, say our paths crossed coming and going from the latrine.”
“Don’t send me away.”
“Go now. Leave me or I’ll take you here in the snow and not care if the groom watches us. Sleep next to Eudon tonight.”
“Theu—”
“Go!” There was such passion, and so much pain in that one word, that she fled from him into the hall, to smoky warmth and masculine laughter and at least the semblance of safety.
Chapter 7
The king of the Franks would not begin to build his famous palace and chapel at Aachen for another two years, but he often visited there to enjoy his favorite sport of hunting amidst the beauty of Aachen’s wooded hills and its lake. An accomplished swimmer and firm believer in personal cleanliness, he also delighted in the many hot springs in the area. In fact, the springs had been popular since Roman times for their health-restoring properties, and there were still a few picturesque ruined stone buildings of ancient origin scattered about the landscape. There was also a good-sized lodge, along with other wooden dwellings erected to accommodate Charles and his nobles when they came to hunt.
