Wheel of the Fates: Book Two of the Carolingian Chronicles

by J. Boyce Gleason

  Tedbalt had yet to climb into the driver’s seat. “Why is your house any safer?”

  Hélène frowned. “They didn’t know I would intercede and so they couldn’t have planned for that course of action. But it won’t be safe for much longer. Our position is simple. We have too little information to make a sound judgment so we must choose the most conservative path. My sister bade me to protect Bertrada and I intend to, with my life, if necessary. But standing here only increases our danger. We must go, now!”

  It took another moment before Tedbalt nodded. Hélène gave him further directions before joining Bertrada and Aude in the carriage. With the crack of a whip, the carriage pulled back onto the road.

  As she had before the attack, Hélène kept watch at the window as they rumbled over the rough roads northeast of Paris. This time, however, no one spoke. The only sound they heard was Aude’s whimpering. Eventually that too drifted into silence. The carriage lurched at every turn and bounced over every rock, shaking Bertrada’s confidence in Tedbalt’s driving abilities. At every crossroad, Hélène banged her hand against the carriage and pointed the way for Tedbalt.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Hélène announced they had arrived. She leaned out of the window to shout last-minute directions and the carriage pulled through a large iron gate.

  It was a cloistered estate surrounded by high walls and thick bushes on all sides. At a sign from Hélène, a servant closed the gate behind them. Hélène ushered her three charges inside, calling for servants as they went.

  Bertrada was stunned by the opulence of the estate. Thick tapestries hung from the walls and elegant rugs covered the floors. A servant went to light a fire in her public rooms, but Hélène waved him away. “We won’t be staying.”

  She ushered the three of them into her private rooms on the far side of the house.

  “Tedbalt, you and Aude must flee. Although you are not the target tonight, Childeric might try to use Aude as hostage. I’ll give you horses. Take Aude back to Soissons or Laon where she can be protected. Avoid the main roads when you can. If you can’t get back home – if they are searching the highways for her – find somewhere in the south where you’re not known and wait until Pippin returns and can assure you safe passage.”

  Tedbalt had already assumed the role of Aude’s protector and had his arm around her. Although clearly still shaken by the night’s events, Aude looked comforted by it and took his hand in hers.

  “Aude and Bertrada, there are riding clothes in my closet. Best change now. Tedbalt, there’s a coin purse in my desk. Take it and whatever else you need from here.” She opened a tall cabinet on the far side of the room filled with swords, knives, and a dozen weapons Bertrada didn’t recognize. When the three women were finished changing their clothes, Hélène began arming herself with a number of the blades.

  “Tedbalt, if you make good time now, you probably won’t have to kill anyone. Every hour you delay, however, increases the likelihood that you will.”

  “I should go with them.” Bertrada trusted Tedbalt more than Hélène

  “You’re going with me.” Hélène’s face brooked no argument. “We have to disappear. It’s you they’re after. Going with Aude only puts her life in danger. You won’t be safe anywhere until Pippin returns.”

  “I don’t want to disappear.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me. At least until Pippin returns.”

  To Bertrada, the urgency in Hélène’s tone coupled with the distress in her eyes was far more compelling than her words. Hélène was telling the truth – at least as far as she could perceive it. Bertrada decided to trust her. She nodded her agreement.

  Hélène led them to the stables and ordered horses saddled for the four of them. It gave Bertrada time to say a hasty goodbye to Aude and Tedbalt. She tried to put a brave face forward for her sister’s benefit.

  “We will survive this, Aude. We’re from a long line of strong people. Be brave. Trust Tedbalt and I will see you when Pippin returns. We’ll spend long leisurely days in court together watching our future children play.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I do.” Bertrada kissed Tedbalt on the cheek. “I’m holding you accountable.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “See that you don’t.” Bertrada hugged Aude one last time. “Come back to me.” And then they were gone.

  Hélène turned to Bertrada. “Have you had any bleeding?”

  “Bleeding?”

  “Spotting. Your pregnancy. Have you bled?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then you can ride.” She instructed one of her stable hands, an elderly man named Javier to drive the carriage east to the edge of the city – enough to be seen – and then once outside of town, to circle back to her estate.

  “Where are we going?” Bertrada asked.

  “Someplace where no one will ask any questions. Now, wrap this scarf around your head so that your blond hair doesn’t show.”

  The stableman came forward with two more horses. “Bit late for a ride, Milady.”

  “Yes, I know Javier, but we have to be in St. Denis by morning.”

  The man knuckled his forehead and helped them mount. Hélène put her heels to horse and led them out of the estate and up the northern road.

  “I thought you said we weren’t going back to Paris?”

  “We aren’t.” Hélène turned down a side street. “But we have to assume that Javier will be questioned. Now he’ll be able to give them an answer.”

  After five minutes Hélène turned east, heading back into the farmland that surrounded the city. The rolling countryside looked black against the night sky, but there was plenty of light from the moon and the array of stars above them. They settled into a comfortable pace and Bertrada’s panic began to recede.

  Hélène stopped to give the horses water at a stream bed alongside the road. While Bertrada was glad for the rest, she didn’t like being so exposed. She felt as if her attackers could see her from afar. She stayed close to her horse, hoping to blend into the shadows.

  They regained the road and again headed north, but after passing a small village, Hélène turned east again, this time on a road that looked well-travelled. The landscape began to change from farm to woodland. Tall trees girdled what was left of the pastures and Hélène rode straight to them. Soon, dark branches towered over them, cutting off the light from above. They could barely make out the outlines of the road and had to slow the pace of their horses.

  The sounds of crickets and small animals grew loud around them, as if the relentless beating of their horse’s hooves angered them. After an hour, Bertrada called for Hélène to halt.

  “It’s not safe here.” Hélène looked around frantically.

  “I have to piss.”

  “Christ.”

  “Just for a minute.” Bertrada dismounted. Hélène followed and led their mounts into the trees for cover. Bertrada squatted down, leaning her back against a tree. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Someplace where I can protect you.”

  “And where is that?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You seem to know what direction to take.”

  Hélène hesitated. “I have a friend who can keep us for a day or two. But after that?” She shrugged. “We have to – ”

  They could hear the hoof beats coming up the road behind them. Hélène signaled for quiet. The hoof beats grew louder as the shadow of two horsemen grew large and then passed by them. Bertrada held her breath. The riders disappeared around the bend and silence retook the night. They waited another minute just to be sure.

  Hélène shook her head. “They were too close behind us. They must have seen us take the forest road.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We can’t go forward or risk overtaking them. And if they realize they’ve missed us, they’ll just lie in wait to ambush us. Our best bet is to wait here, make sure they’ve gone ah
ead, and then turn back.”

  “Turn back? But where will we go?”

  “We could ride north. There’s a road east.”

  “A fine plan.” A gruff voice called from the road. “But what if they double back on foot to catch you here?”

  Hélène spat on the ground.

  “Come out and show your face.” The voice called. “Only thieves ride this road at night.”

  Hélène swore under her breath and led her horse out onto the road, signaling for Bertrada to stay behind.

  “Both of you.” The man ordered, peering into the darkness.

  Bertrada captured her horse’s reins and followed Hélène onto the road.

  A large bearded man stood in the middle of the road. “Now what business would two women have riding this road at night?”

  Hélène was closer to him. “You would do well to ride along.”

  The man laughed. It gave Bertrada a sick feeling inside. He turned his head to shout over his shoulder. “I was wrong, Pierre! Mayhaps something good does ride this road at night.” He stepped towards Hélène.

  “Stay back.” Her right foot stepped backwards.

  “Don’t you worry, little miss,” he came closer, “I won’t hurt you. You might even like it.”

  Hélène called to Bertrada. “Run!”

  Bertrada needed no further encouragement. She grabbed the reins and tried to mount her horse. Too late she saw the second man. He was on her so quickly she barely had a chance to react. He pulled her off the horse and threw her to the ground. The impact knocked her breath from her. She grunted, trying to breathe.

  With her attacker above her, Bertrada didn’t hesitate. With all the strength she could muster Bertrada kicked upward with her foot and caught the man between his legs. A grunt escaped his lips and he doubled over. Bertrada scrambled to her feet.

  A quick glimpse behind the man showed Hélène a blur of motion in the darkness, twisting and turning in ways that seemed impossible all while landing blow after blow on her assailant. Bertrada ran to her horse but her attacker had recovered enough to block her way.

  She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t fight him. Her only option was to run. She had barely taken two steps when a backhanded blow caught the side of her head. She tried to turn her head away from it, but its force jolted her and sent her reeling. The man was on her in seconds, his hand closing around her throat.

  She struggled against him trying to hit and kick her way free, but his grip was too strong. As the seconds slipped by her lungs began to burn and her eyes started to bulge from the lack of air. Bertrada’s exertions became more frantic. She tried to gouge his eyes and scratch his face. She was weakening and her vision was growing clouded. She tried to pry the hands from her throat knowing the effort was useless.

  She was going to die. The thought seemed absurd to her. Not here. Not like this.

  She looked for Hélène, praying for her intervention. She found Hélène still trading blows with her own attacker. A quick strike to the man’s throat seemed to immobilize him for a moment and then the palm of Hélène’s hand shot up into the man’s nose. He keeled over onto his back and didn’t move.

  Although Bertrada felt a moment of celebration, she couldn’t help herself from slipping away. It was as if the corners of her sight crowded in on her until there was nothing.

  She awoke to Hélène kneeling beside her. “Sorry I took so long. I must be out of practice. Are you okay?”

  Relief washed over Bertrada. She sat up and tried to clear her throat. “I thought I was going to die.”

  “It was close. I wasn’t expecting them to be such good fighters. I took too long to get to you.”

  “I’ll be alright.” Bertrada said with more confidence than she felt.

  “Good. We have to go.”

  Bertrada gave no argument. She stood and straightened her shift.

  “How did you – ” She looked down at the body of her attacker. A knife was buried in his ear. “Oh.”

  They regained their horses and left the two bodies where they lay. Hélène grabbed the reins of their attackers’ horses and led them east along the road for a few miles before letting them go.

  Bertrada’s followed dutifully, no longer questioning where Hélène led. Her thoughts seemed oddly detached from her body, as if the events of the night were but a dream or had happened to someone else. The only thing that kept her mind present was the ache in the left side of her jaw. She realized she didn’t care where they were going, as long as Hélène stayed with her.

  ✽✽✽

  As the eastern sky grew pale with the morning’s first light, Hélène pulled off the road. Bertrada could see that they now followed a path – not much more than a trail – heading southward. The landscape had changed back to farmland and it seemed to roll away from them to the ends of the earth.

  After an hour, Hélène turned east again, but this time Bertrada could discern no path. It was as if Hélène knew her way by heart. They climbed one rolling hill after another. Each one seemed to tap whatever was left of Bertrada’s strength. “Just one more,” she whispered as they began each climb.

  At last, they came to a small farmhouse well back from any road. It had a barn for livestock and a pen for chickens. Hélène led them up to the front porch and dismounted. Bertrada slid down from her horse, quietly thanking God for the respite. At last, she could rest.

  A young man with a long wooden staff appeared at the door of the house. “Don’t need strangers here.”

  “Patrice? Is that you?” Hélène strode easily towards him as if the staff was a welcome bouquet of flowers.

  “Who are you? What do you–”

  “Put the staff down, Patrice.” A comely woman emerged from the house behind him. Bertrada guessed she was the boy’s mother. She had a stateliness about her that belied her dress and surroundings. “Don’t you recognize nobility when you see them?”

  “Agnès.” Hélène pronounced the name like a sigh of relief. “Ahh-nyess.”

  The two women embraced and held each other for a long moment. When they separated, the peasant woman noticed the blood on Hélène’s clothes. Her eyes quickly assessed Bertrada in turn.

  “You’re in trouble.” It was a statement rather than a question. Hélène nodded. “Were you followed?”

  “No. But they’ll come looking. They know we are on this side of the river.”

  “Who is looking for you?”

  “The king’s men.”

  Agnès looked to her son. “Patrice, put these horses up in the barn and see that they’re fed and rubbed down. Turning back to her guests, she said, “Let’s get you inside.” She led them into the small cottage. It had but one large room, a fireplace, a table, a pantry, and two bedrolls placed in the corner. They sat at the wooden table.

  Hélène’s eyes rested on the two bedrolls. “Jacques?”

  “Dead now, three years.”

  Hélène’s voice fell to a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  Although sadness touched her eyes, Agnès chuckled. “Bah! You never liked the man.”“But you did.”

  Hélène was still serious. “That’s all that mattered to me.”

  Bertrada struggled to understand the connection between the two women. Agnès was clearly well below Hélène’s station, yet the two spoke and acted as if they were equals. If anything, Hélène appeared to defer to Agnès. It was as if the two were sisters.

  Agnès focused on Bertrada. “And who do you bring me under the cloak of night? A young noblewoman in distress?”

  “This is Bertrada, daughter of the Compte de Loan.”

  “And what trouble are you in, child?”

  Before Bertrada could protest that she was not a child, Hélène interceded. “She’s carrying Pippin’s babe and the Merovingian is trying to kill her.”

  Angès’s eyes widened. “That certainly qualifies as trouble. And Pippin?”

  “He doesn’t know. And we can’t reach him directly. His army left toda
y for Regensburg. He won’t be back until the fall.”

  Agnès frowned. “So, you must hide.”

  “I was hoping you would have some ideas. Given her condition, we can’t go too far.”

  Agnès turned to Bertrada, her eyes assessing her as her lips thinned into a straight hard line. “How far along are you?”

  The question caught Bertrada off her guard. “I beg your pardon?”

  “How many months have you been with child?”

  “I – I don’t know.”

  Agnès nearly growled. “When were you last with Pippin?”

  “I don’t see how that is your affair –”

  Hélène cut her off. “She’s asking if you want to keep the babe.”

  The question shocked Bertrada. “I don’t know what you mean. I am not aware that there’s a choice in the matter.”

  “There are always choices.” Agnès’s eyes were uncompromising. “Some harder than others.”

  Bertrada shook with the implication of such words. Again, her hand spread across her belly looking for some sign, some reassurance that there was in fact a life growing inside her. Again, she felt nothing. In fact, she still wasn’t sure she was with child. She only had Hélène’s word for it.

  But a choice? She thought she had already made her choice when she left Pippin. She didn’t want his life. But could she refuse his child?

  She now understood the implications of it. It was not – as she had thought – a moment of celebration that would make her the envy of the court. It was a terrible responsibility. With a child, she was the target of assassins, and forever would be threatened. Her children would be a target; her husband would be a target. What kind of a life was that to live?

  If she accepted Agnès’s offer she would be once again simply the daughter of a Compte. She would fade from prominence, fade from court. No harm would come to her. She could live the life she wanted, one of comfort and wealth.

  But could she sacrifice the child for herself? The thought horrified her. She turned back to Hélène. “Is this why you brought me here? Is this woman – ”