Wheel of the Fates: Book Two of the Carolingian Chronicles

by J. Boyce Gleason

  “Of course. But I didn’t bring one.”

  Bertrada frowned. “Surely the danger is slight.”

  Lady Hélène fumbled in the darkness. Bertrada heard something like a latch open. “There. I thought my late husband kept a weapon in here.” She handed Tedbalt a short Roman sword. “Will this suffice? Just as a precaution?”

  “Yes,” Tedbalt said. “But I can’t imagine that we’ll actually need it.”

  “Hopefully not.” Hélène turned her gaze to the window.

  They traveled again in silence. The cab jostled and bounced its way down the streets along the southern bank of the river. Bertrada had the distinct impression that Lady Hélène was discretely analyzing her appearance. It made her self-conscious.

  “I’m am no longer Pippin’s consort,” she blurted.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that. How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

  “Before tonight, two months or so.” Again, Lady Hélène’s eyes swept over her. “I didn’t expect to see him tonight.”

  “From the look of it, he didn’t expect to see you, either.”

  Again, they rode in silence. There was something about the woman that put Bertrada on edge, but for the life of her, Bertrada couldn’t identify what it was.

  Suddenly, the coachman pulled hard on the reins and the coach came violently to a stop. Harsh voices rumbled in the night and the coachman started to protest. Bertrada heard a grunt, and then all was silent.

  The four waited inside the cab for some indication. The door flew open and the face of a huge bald man peered inside. A massive arm thrust inside the cab and latched onto Lady Hélène. With an ease Bertrada couldn’t fathom, he picked up her up like a doll and tossed her out into the darkness.

  Tedbalt lunged. His sword thrust through the open door at their assailant. Bertrada heard a grunt outside the coach. Then a hand grabbed Tedbalt by the arm of his cloak and he, too, was pulled from the cab. Aude began to scream. More hands reached into the cab and Bertrada found herself lying in the mud next to her companions. Only Lady Hélène had regained her feet. She looked small in the feeble moonlight. Their captors had their backs to the moon, which made them appear as dark and menacing silhouettes.

  There were three highwaymen, the bald man and two others. From what Bertrada could see, they wore rags for clothes. One held the reins of the coach and another had his sword pointed at Tedbalt’s throat. The bald man stood before them, gesturing with his sword.

  “Purses and jewels,” he commanded. All of them rushed to obey.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” Aude whimpered.

  In moments, their purses and jewels littered the ground before them.

  “On your knees,” the bald man said to Bertrada. Her heart pounded within her chest. She could barely breathe.

  “Please, no,” Aude whispered.

  “I said on your knees!” He grabbed Bertrada by the hair and forced her into a kneeling position before him. This put him between Bertrada and the others. The man’s private parts swung obscenely beneath his ragged shift and Bertrada could smell the foulness of him. She tried to recoil, but he held her fast. Twisting her hair, the bald man pulled her head to one side. Panic took her. Oh God, no! He raised his sword, its point down, high above her exposed neck.

  Aude began to pray.

  Bertrada caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and with a grunt, the man guarding Tedbalt pitched backward into the mud. The highwayman lay face up, unmoving with a knife in his chest. Tedbalt started for the man’s sword but the bald brute was faster. He had his sword at Tedbalt’s neck. He called to the highwayman still holding the reins of the carriage. “Do you suppose you can keep an eye on this one? Be careful, he’s quick with a knife.”

  He turned back to Bertrada. She looked back up at him, realizing she could have run while he was distracted. The bald man recognized it too and laughed. Again, he seized her hair.

  “Bertrada!” It was Lady Hélène. She was running toward them, waving Bertrada away. The brute hit Lady Hélène in the face with the back of his hand. She crumpled beside them. Bertrada stared down at her dumbfounded. Everything seemed to stop.

  “Fight,” Lady Hélène’s voice was insistent.

  Humiliation bloomed within Bertrada. I’m not that strong. Once again, her captor’s crotch stood an inch in front of her face. Once again, he raised his sword high above her neckline. Bertrada saw an opportunity but lacked the courage to act. She felt her captor’s body tense.

  “BERTRADA!” Lady Hélène screamed.

  Bertrada grabbed the man’s testicles. His body jerked and his blade sank deep into the ground just behind her. The man doubled over as he tried to pull away, twisting in her grasp, but Bertrada refused to let go. His testicles felt like two bird eggs. She tried to crush them in her hand.

  Screaming in agony, he clouted her on the side of the head, and she collapsed into the mud. The bald man stumbled away from her holding his hands between his legs.

  Lady Hélène was back on her feet and moving with incredible speed. The noblewoman spun towards the man holding Tedbalt and with a grunt he collapsed to the ground. Then she threw something at the bald man who dropped to one knee. Suddenly she was behind him with a large stone. She brought it down on his head and he collapsed into the mud.

  “We must leave, now!” she said.

  Bertrada looked down at their attackers. Knives protruded from the chests of two of them, while the bald brute had a knife sticking out of his back.

  Tedbalt checked on their coachman, still sitting atop his perch on the cab. He shook his head to indicate the man was dead.

  “How? How did you do that?” She looked to Lady Hélène.

  “We don’t have time for such questions.” The left side of Lady Hélène’s face was bleeding. She stepped over the dead highwayman and pulled the knife from his neck. She wiped the blade on the man’s tunic. She moved next to the bald man and repeated the ritual as if she were dusting off furniture.

  “Tedbalt, can you drive a coach?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Take us to my home. I’ll give you directions. We have to get out of here at once.”

  “I want to go back to the inn,” Bertrada said.

  “No.” Lady Hélène’s voice brooked no quarter. “I don’t think that will be safe.”

  “I don’t understand.” Tedbalt came to her defense. “These highwaymen won’t be following us. Why wouldn’t we be safe at the inn?”

  “They aren’t highwaymen.”

  “What do you mean? Who are they?”

  “Look at their mounts.” Lady Hélène pointed. “Highwaymen don’t ride warhorses. These men are knights. They were sent to kill you. And I’m betting if they don’t return soon, there will be more.”

  Tedbalt clearly wasn’t convinced. “Why do you think they’re after us? Perhaps they’re chasing you.”

  Lady Hélène seemed to assess each of their party in turn. Then she sighed. “I’m not pregnant with Pippin’s child.” She pointed at Bertrada. “She is.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Regensburg

  For Trudi, time appeared to slow. Odilo was away buying armaments for the Slavs and she was left alone to mend in a never-ending progression of white linens and clean towels. The evolution of her days was measured by the chamber pots left to replace her food trays and the appearance of a new guard outside her door to replace the old. Nameless midwifes came and went, but Eta wasn't among them.

  Over time, the weight of these days dulled the edge of Trudi’s panic and dried the bulk of her tears. Every morning, she left her bed to stand by the window, hoping that the dawn of a new day would restore her. When it didn’t, she retreated to her sheets and pillows to await the potential of another day.

  Three weeks after her confinement Trudi rose again to greet the dawn. As with every other morning, light peered over the eastern horizon, a blend of gold and orange hues spilt above the blue and white roiling Danube.
At first, the cloud cover obscured the curvature of the sun, but soon it lifted ever so slowly, asserting its dominance over the world.

  And like every other day, Trudi found no sense of renewal, no restoration of her former self. She still felt alone, violated, afraid…and angry.

  The realization caught her by surprise. She seized this new emotion, exploring the depth and texture of it. Ire welled within her, becoming a torrent of fury that flooded her being. Relieved to feel anything other than humiliation, her pulse raced to keep pace with her exhilaration and she strode back and forth across the span of her chamber, seething in the throes of rage.

  When she no longer could contain it, she screamed. It wasn’t the scream of a victim but a full-throated howl of wrath, a defiant battle cry, carrying the promise of retribution.

  The midwife seated by her bed grew pale and ran for the door. She threw it open to an alarmed guard outside Trudi’s room.

  “Milady? Are you well?” The guard’s eyes searched the room. “What is amiss?”

  “Get me Eta.” Trudi’s voice sounded odd to her. Cold and distant. She had never given an order before; she had always asked for help. She noticed that the guard hadn’t moved.

  “Now!” She barked and the man obeyed.

  The ancient midwife arrived minutes later. She entered the room with a stately calm, her back straight and her hands folded before her. Even in the face of Trudi’s rage, the woman radiated power.

  “Why did you stop coming to see me?” Trudi resumed her pacing. “I was hurt. I was alone.”

  “I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”

  “I wanted your help.”

  “You wanted my pity. And that wouldn’t have served you.”

  “You know what I went through!”

  Eta’s eyes flashed with an inner anger, but it was gone almost as it appeared. “Such things are never forgotten. The question you must ask of yourself is, will you let it define who you are?”

  “I am Hiltrude, Duchesse of Bavaria, daughter of Charles, son of Pippin of Herstal, mayor of the palace.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Eta’s lips. “And so, you are, Duchesse. Now, how may I serve you?”

  With Eta’s quiet affirmation, Trudi’s sense of herself – her worth – surged within her. She wasn’t the same young woman who had arrived in Regensburg, but neither was she the humiliated victim she had been for the past few weeks. She was something new.

  Trudi looked to the door. “How did you get the guards to watch my door? They were here before Odilo ordered them.”

  “I’ve lived here a long time, Duchesse. Such a request from one so old is often granted out of respect.”

  “I must never be put in such a position again. I need a cadre of knights loyal to me to guard my person.”

  “Only your husband can authorize such a command.”

  “They must be loyal to me.” Trudi scowled. “Only me.”

  Eta seemed to weigh her next words. “If Duc Odilo will order it, I’m sure we can find men loyal to you.”

  Trudi had no time for platitudes. “How?”

  “One has been outside your door every night since your…tragedy. He’s as steadfast and loyal as any man in Bavaria. He could recruit your cadre of knights.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Hans.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s my son.”

  Trudi blinked away the sudden emotion that sprang to her eyes. “I will speak to my husband.”

  “Milady.” Eta curtsied to leave.

  “Eta?”

  The midwife turned.

  “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”

  ✽✽✽

  Hans was a veteran soldier in Odilo’s service. He wasn’t a knight, but a man at arms, skilled with sword and ax. He had long, brown hair, a bold Roman nose, and moved with the grace of a swordsman. Trudi guessed that he was older than forty years of age but had the athleticism of a much younger man.

  Refusing to wait for Odilo’s return, Trudi insisted that Eta broach the commission with Hans that very night. She paced about her room while Eta ushered her son inside. He stood in Trudi’s chambers as if still on guard. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword and his eyes searched the chamber for hidden dangers. He looked as vulnerable as a mountain.

  Eta spoke first. “Milady, may I present my son, Hans, son of Manfred.”

  Trudi stopped her pacing to stand in front of him. Hans bowed stiffly and Trudi nodded her head.

  “Did Eta explain why I wished to speak with you?”

  Hans nodded.

  “Do you understand the nature of this commission?”

  Again, he nodded.

  “Is it something you would be willing to accept?”

  Another nod.

  Trudi needed to hear him say it. “Will you vow to give me your loyalty above all others and to protect my person with your life?”

  Hans hesitated and looked to Eta.

  “You may speak.” Eta rose to stand behind Trudi. “The Duchesse will answer your questions.”

  Hans frowned. “I don’t understand why it’s necessary.”

  “My protection?”

  “We already guard your door. Everyone in the Duc’s command would protect you with his life.”

  “But what if the Duc ordered you to arrest me, or confine me, or take my life?”

  “We would comply. But, if I may ask, why would he do that?”

  “What if it was his brother Theudebald?”

  “We are in the service of Duc Odilo.”

  “What if he wasn’t here? What if he died?”

  Hans looked confused.

  “Who would protect me?” Trudi’s voice was rising with urgency. This wasn’t progressing as she had imagined. Hans didn’t understand. “Who would protect my child?”

  “Your station wouldn’t be forfeit by such an event. Nor would your child’s.”

  “Who would ensure that?”

  “I can conceive of no one who would harm your person.”

  “Can’t you?” Trudi was getting frantic. How could she make him understand? “Who stands to gain if there is no clear succession? Who might benefit by an accidental death of the Duchesse and her child?”

  Hans shook his head. “Perhaps I should-”

  “I was raped.” She had not intended to say that. A horrific silence filled the room. Hans looked to his mother, dread and malice staining his eyes. Eta’s face had flushed red and she nodded. Something unspoken passed between them.

  He knows, Trudi realized. Hans knows about Eta’s rape all those years ago.

  Tears leapt to Trudi’s eyes. She couldn’t stop her words. “I was raped right here in this house by Odilo’s own brother.” Her face crumpled with the memory. “I…I nearly lost my baby…your future Duc. Who will stand up to such a man? Would Odilo?”

  Trudi left the question in the air, suddenly sure that it was the basis of her fear. “I don’t need protection by people loyal to my husband, Hans. I need protection by people loyal to me.”

  The muscles on Hans’ body coiled and clenched as if they might explode. His face was furious in indignation. Trudi half expected that he might shout in rage.

  Instead, he knelt. “I pledge my sword and my life to your protection. With or without your husband’s approval, I will defend you and your child to the limits of my power.”

  “As strong as your arm is, I will need others to defend us.”

  “You will have them.”

  Trudi nodded in appreciation and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Hans. You may rise. I will accept your vow publicly once I’ve secured agreement with my husband. Until then, we’ll need to keep your pledge secret. If you have someone who you think might serve me, bring him to me under the guise that my husband is establishing a household guard for the family. I wish to evaluate each candidate before you speak with them of our true purpose.”

  Hans’s impassive face had returned. “Mil
ady,” he said, bowing to take his leave.

  “Before you leave,” Trudi said, “I’m going to need some knives. Small ones that I can hide on my person.”

  “Of course, milady.”

  “And Hans?” She waited until his eyes met hers. “Make them sharp.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paris

  Pregnant? Bertrada’s hand explored the outside of her stomach, trying to feel the presence of life within her. She felt nothing. When was her last menses? She couldn’t remember. Of late, she had been so distracted.

  Although she could hear Lady Hélène barking orders to Tedbalt, the woman seemed so far away that her words barely registered.

  “Help me get these bodies off the road. Ladies get back in the carriage. We have to get out of here.”

  Bertrada had trouble focusing. Aude was still on her knees and there was blood pooling beside the two bodies in the road. Tedbalt too, seemed immobilized, standing over one of the bodies as if he was trying to remember how it had gotten there.

  Hélène grabbed Bertrada’s arm. “We must go! Help your sister.”

  That broke the spell. Bertrada bent down to gather the girl in her arms, shushing her like an infant. “Come, Aude, let’s get you into the carriage. Let’s get away from here.”

  Tedbalt still hadn’t moved. Hélène shoved him, forcing him to look at her. “I need your help!”

  After a moment, he nodded and helped Hélène drag the attackers off the road. One of the bodies left a swath of blood trailing behind it.

  “Can you drive this thing?” Hélène’s voice was uncompromising.

  Tedbalt nodded.

  “Good. Take the first road east. We’ll head to my estate in the banlieu.”

  “No.” It took Bertrada a moment to realize that she had been the one who spoke. “We have to go to the palace. We have to find Pippin.” It was the only place she would be safe; he could protect them.

  “Pippin isn't staying at the palace. He’s encamped with his army on the other side of the river.” The frustration was showing on Hélène’s face. “What if the gate is compromised? What if the king’s men are waiting for us there? We’d be dead before Pippin could save us. No. We can’t chance it. It’s far safer to flee until we understand what the threat is.”