The Miracle Thief

by Iris Anthony

  ***

  I did not see any reason to pretend I was anything other than a prisoner. Returning to my tower, I vowed I would not leave it until the canon returned from Rochemont. Pray God it would be without the relic. I would have thought the presence of a princess would generate some sort of excitement, or that the household and officials from the city would take pains to entertain me. I had planned on refusing such offers of amusement, but I was not able to, for no one came to extend any.

  My dinner that forenoon was brought by one of the count’s maids. I unbarred the door for her. When she would have lingered, I dismissed her. That evening, a boy came with my supper. He set out the food and the drink upon my small table, and then he went to fasten a new torch to the wall.

  “Have you another?”

  “My lady?” He paused in his work.

  “Have you another one of those?” I did not fancy entertaining a second nighttime creature in the dark. “I wish to have enough that they will last until dawn.”

  At least one person was eager to do my bidding. He scampered off, thumping down the stairs. At length, I heard footsteps coming back up. But when the door pushed open, it was not the boy. It was the count.

  “What am I to do with you, my lady? You refuse to grace us with your person.”

  It seemed I was not quite so forgotten as I had thought. “I am not in the habit of having to find my way through unknown parts, wandering about like some poor beggar in search of sustenance or welcome.”

  “Forgive us. We had thought you might be in need of rest from your travels.”

  “I have recovered.”

  The ends of his lips crimped into a frown. “My lord, the king, sent a message to the mayor, informing him of your stop here before journeying to the abbey, and inquiring after your welcome to our city. The mayor regrets he was not previously aware of your presence. He hastens to organize a fete on your behalf.”

  “And I regret I will not be available.”

  He smiled, though it was perfunctory, without pleasure. “I have not yet told you when it will be.”

  “You cannot hold a princess as your prisoner and then command her to display herself at your whim.”

  “You are not being held anywhere. You are free to go about the palace and the grounds. If you complain of restraint, then you have chosen it for yourself.”

  “And what of the city? May I wander about the streets? And what of the countryside?”

  “I am sure they would not please you.”

  “Being lodged in an ill-kept room such as this does not please me either. Nor does the absence of my people. So I do not see why I should take such pains to please your people.”

  “You do not seem to understand that your father’s name holds little importance here. He has done nothing to succor us in our tribulations. I have done everything.”

  “Do you not understand that your meaning could be taken as treason?”

  “Your father himself would agree with me. Did he not approve the terms of the treaty? Did he not cede the Dane lands in exchange for help in protecting his borders?”

  “He exchanged your lands, if I am not mistaken.”

  His brow darkened as rage glimmered in his eyes. “He has taken a policy of protecting his own men in return for me risking mine. A policy that has bred no little feeling of ill will here in Neustria. So forgive me if I do not seem properly grateful.” He paused, taking a deep breath and steeling his jaw. “You will accompany us to the fete and give these people, whom your father seems to have forgotten, the honor of your presence. My lady.”

  He was, perhaps, not wholly wrong about having done the bulk of the work in protecting this western edge of my father’s empire, though he might have been more gracious about it. There could be no harm in trying to establish my father’s good name among these people. And so I inclined my head by way of acquiescence. “Then perhaps your lady wife would care to attend me.”

  His jaw tightened. “Of course. You do us great honor.”

  ***

  The fete took place two days after my conversation with the count. I’m certain it must have galled him that I had to be given the place of honor.

  As I picked at my food, talk swirled of the hunt and the animals with which the count had stocked his park. He had taken my attendants; he had placed me in a tower. Why should I be denied the pleasures of the hunt? Especially when they could be used to my advantage? For what better way could there be to distract his attention. If I could manage to remain at the outer edges of the party, then I might be able to escape when no one was watching. “There has been a hunt organized?”

  He spared me a glance as he nodded. “The day after tomorrow.”

  “May I accompany you then?”

  The count’s lips pursed as he contemplated me. “What would I tell the Dane if you were to come to injury, or if you should lose yourself in our deep, dark wood?”

  I raised my voice as I answered. If he would not let me ride, there were others present who might advocate on my behalf. “I have survived many a long ride in woods more dense, and with trees much thicker than yours.”

  Several of the nobles grabbed at their cups and took deep, long draughts. Only the trembling of their shoulders betrayed the laughter that had seized them.

  I recognized that sort of laughter. I had said something I should not have. And now the count was scowling. I felt my cheeks pink as I considered what to say next. I must be allowed to join the hunt! “The royal demesnes are the finest in Christendom. Perhaps you fear I shall best your men.”

  His smile flashed briefly, though I could have sworn it mocked me. “I have no fear of that.”

  I decided to try a different tack. “Though I can hardly credit the reports, it has long been rumored your lands are the equal of my father’s. If that were true, then I should very much like to see them.”

  One of the local nobility banged his cup against the table. “Let her ride!”

  Another joined him. “What harm can it do?”

  His eyes probed mine. I only hoped I betrayed none of my thoughts. Finally he nodded. “Then see my lands, you shall.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Over the next day, I saved what I could from my meals. I would have warned Andulf, but I considered the less he knew the better. Once away, speed would be to our advantage. After we cleared the count’s lands, we could survive on what we hunted. Only one day, perhaps two, would be needed before we could declare ourselves away from the count’s lands and out of his reach. And the farther east we traveled, the more friends I might find.

  On the morning of the hunt, I wrapped the food—a wedge of cheese and some bread—in a cloth and tied the ends about my thigh. When I descended, I found my palfrey waiting for me, my gilt-embroidered caparison glinting in the sunlight. Though the day was cool, I knew the riding would soon warm me.

  While the count’s men formed up beside me, Andulf remained at the count’s side.

  “You would keep my man?” As I fled to my father, I would need his help.

  The count rode close. “I wished to observe him and see if there is not something I can learn and—”

  “He is not yours to command!” I spoke the words louder, perhaps, than I had meant to.

  “—and, since you do not know my lands, I thought it prudent to send with you those who do.”

  Had he managed to discern my plans? Again I was caught between my suspicions and his eminently reasonable prudence. To do anything other than accept his considerate concern would seem strange indeed. “Your forethought is much appreciated.” I tried to smile. I do not think I succeeded.

  He gestured toward the gate. “Shall we?”

  ***

  We rode through streets both narrow and twisted before leaving the city behind us. Spread about us were fields. The peasants were plowing, cheeks gone red from exertion. Swea
t seeped down their dust-lined brows into their eyes. At the far edge of the fields, a hedge of trees had laid a boundary betwixt sky and the upturned earth. The count’s men kept a respectable distance, and they let me set my own pace, but never did they leave me, and never did their attention stray from me.

  As we rode into the forest, awaiting the bark of dogs or the signal of a horn, the air shed its scent of dust. The horses ventured forth onto a cushion of fallen leaves, releasing the odor of decay with each step, and cracking the acorns that littered the ground. The taller oaks had already given up their orange mantles in exchange for scarlet. Parti-colored leaves spun down upon us as we went deeper into the wood. Already, sky could be glimpsed through limbs gone bare at their tips and trees gone bald at their tops.

  A horn sounded.

  Time stopped for just an instant as it hung in that space of mottled darkness and light. Then all the earth seemed to shift. Fallen leaves took flight as horses were spurred into a canter. Shouts rose and joined the horns in chorus as we set out with merry abandon. My palfrey leaped forward at my urging. I fed her more rein, and she stretched out her neck as she veered around brush and sprang over fallen trees. My hair fanned out behind me, tugging against the constraint of my fillet. I searched the wood before us, straining for a sight of the prey that awaited.

  And then I remembered what I must do.

  The horn sounded once more. It was closer this time, but off toward the left.

  As the count’s men adjusted their course, I too adjusted mine, ever so minutely. I could not delay leaving, so I would have to do it without the luxury of my knight. I would make for the royal abbey at Chelles, where I could claim sanctuary. From there, I could send a message to my father.

  As the count’s men thrashed through a coppice, I let my palfrey carry me away from them, though none too quickly, for I did not wish to raise alarm.

  “My lady!” The shout came from the count’s men. Too early they had remembered me. I had not gone quickly enough. Turning a full shoulder to them, I raised a hand in reply.

  The horn sounded again, still farther to the left.

  As the count’s men reeled to the chase, I spurred my palfrey forward in the opposite direction, and this time I did not dally in the doing of it. Though twigs snapped and my horse’s hooves thundered, I could only pray they were masked by the noisome hunt. Though I took care to duck low-lying branches, one of them reached out and tore off my fillet.

  Behind me, the horn sounded. Once. Twice. And then a long, wavering note. They had cornered the prey, then. I tossed a glance back across my shoulder, envying them the thrill of the hunt.

  When I turned back, Andulf was there before me. Providence had conspired to reunite us! But as I careened toward him, he did not move.

  I jerked at the reins. The horse arched her neck, chafing at the bit. She danced sidewise to arrest her flight, slipping across the acorns that blanketed the ground. As we jounced by, the knight reached forward and grabbed hold of the reins, wrenching them from my grasp.

  “What do you do?”

  “I am trying to protect you, my lady.” The effort he exerted in mastering the horse showed as a thin white line above his lips.

  “I do not want your protection. Come and quickly, while they are not yet with us. We shall make our escape.”

  He drew my horse to a standstill.

  “Release me!”

  “No, my lady.”

  No? “Have you forgotten whom you serve?”

  Around us, there was a rustling in the underbrush, and then, to our immediate right, a hound began to howl.

  “My lord the king has entrusted your safety to me, and it would not be safe to go deeper into this wood alone.”

  “But I am not safe anywhere in the count’s grasp.”

  “You may not be safe, but at least your life is not in danger.”

  I kicked at my palfrey with my heels. She tried to spring from the knight, but he held the reins fast, so I put out a foot and kicked at his courser. The creature snorted and rose up on its hind feet. The knight dropped my reins so he could take a firmer grip on his own. Fisting my hands in my horse’s mane, I kicked at her, urging her forward.

  But the count had appeared from the wood in front of me like an apparition in that mottled light.

  He took us both in with a glance, lifting his chin and peering at us through narrowed eyes. “What happens here?”

  His men rode up in trio behind him, dashing whatever hope there might have been of fleeing.

  Andulf answered. “My lady thought she saw a hare farther on, just there.” He gestured toward a jumble of large stones that had been piled atop one another to form a sort of mound.

  The count’s gaze shifted there, to one of the most unlikely spots for a hare I had ever seen. “Is that true, my lady?”

  Why had Andulf stayed me from my course? If he had not stopped me, we could both have been free of the count by now. “It is as he said.”

  The count frowned as he peered at the mound. “I have never known a hare to favor such an exposed position.” His gaze swung back to me. “There are not so few creatures here that you must weary yourself in the process of hunting a single hare.” He handed my fillet to me.

  I took it from him. “I was just going back to retrieve it when my man found me.”

  “And such a long way back it was.” His gaze lingered on me. Then he turned his horse toward the nobles who trailed him. But not before instructing his men to stay with me for the rest of the hunt.

  ***

  When we returned to the palace, I excused myself from any further activity and made for my tower.

  Andulf had difficult work keeping up with me. His shoes slapped along the packed earth of the courtyard as he jogged to catch me. “My lady. Wait!”

  I spun on my heel, throwing my mantle out around me. “Wait? For what? For you to stay me once more? So that you can keep me from gaining my freedom?”

  “The count was riding right behind me. I wanted only to help you.”

  “Help me! You ruined my best chance of escape.”

  “You said you would wait for Saint Catherine. If you leave now, it would put into question the king’s honor.”

  What could I say to that? How could I admit to my fears? To my suspicions that the saint’s power could be counted as nothing compared to the wiles of men?

  “If you wish to allow Saint Catherine to decide, then you must give her leave to decide, my lady. Or some might think you have lost your faith.”

  “Can you not see? The decision has already been made.” I started for my tower once more.

  “Yes.” He called out after me. “By God Himself. So you see you can change nothing. Even your leaving would not alter the outcome.”

  I did not slow my step, but threw my words over my shoulder. “It would if I were not here in December to wed the Dane.”

  “Ah. But when you ask something of the Almighty, you must first be certain you do not ask with an answer already in hand.”

  What gave him the right to speak to me thus? I changed course and rounded on him. “How simple this must seem to you! How easy it is to trust in God when you do not have to trust Him for your life.”

  “On the contrary. I think it would be far more difficult to trust if nothing depended upon my faith.”

  “So you believe then? That Saint Catherine will decide?”

  “I believe when I should need it, I will have faith to believe.”

  “What sort of belief is that?”

  “The most sturdy of kinds.”

  I did not understand him at all. Tears of frustration swamped my vision. “You tell me I must wait? That I must put up with this insolence and stay with this group who wants only to see me given over to the pagan?”

  “I think you can do nothing else.”

  “What goo
d are you to me then? And what gives you the right to decide? Be confident in this: next time I set my eyes on escape, I will not stop for you.”

  ***

  My dinner had been sent up to me, but my hunger had vanished, and so I left it on the table, undisturbed. I had determined to put my exile to use and work a border around one of my tunics in gold thread. I had not yet grown used to sleeping alone, and so I lit three torches that night, hoping the light would help me in my work. I soon regretted the decision as the smoke served only to darken the gloom as it smudged the lines between shadow and light. Gathering my furs about me, I was bound for my bed when a boy suddenly appeared on the far side of the room.

  I crossed myself, whispering a hurried prayer, and then called upon the name of Our Lord for deliverance.

  The smoke parted in wispy swirls as he advanced. As he approached, I could see him more clearly. He was thin and short of stature, with a mop of unruly dark hair. His right cheek had been split and was marked by a green-colored bruise. Two paces from me, he stopped. “Are you the princess?”

  “Who—who are you?”

  He dropped to one knee. “I am Hugh, my lady.”

  Hugh. “Hugh?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “The count’s son, Hugh?” The one whose name I had invoked to my father? Had the count sent the boy to spy on me? I could not seem to gather my wits, nor to keep my knees from knocking together at the nobs. “How did you get here?”

  “It’s for me know.” He glanced around, then fixed his gaze back on me. “So…you are the princess?”

  “Yes.” I tried to gather myself to my full height, but I fear I failed at that as well. “But what are you doing here? What gives you the right to approach me thus?”

  He rose and then stood looking at me, hands clasped in front of him. “I came to meet you.”

  It was to this runt of a lad the count had wished to wed me several years back. Having seen the boy, I could take it as nothing but an affront. “Now that you have met me, you may leave.”

  He glanced over at the tray that sat on the table. “Are you going to eat?”