Finally, murmuring echoed from across the room, and Gwen turned to see what was happening.
Adelaide, dressed in a stunning peach silk gown, entered with Otto. Gwen heard horrified gasps and wondered, then realized the queen had come in without a veil. Although her hair had grown out enough for a short bob cut, which looked darling on her, the crowd reacted with cries of outrage. Nevertheless, it was a bold reminder of the cruelty Adelaide had suffered and Gwen approved of her daring.
But just two steps inside the hall, the queen faltered, her gaze wavering when she looked at the thrones on the dais.
Otto spoke to her quietly, and she took a long, steadying breath, then proceeded on. “Remove these thrones and burn them,” she ordered a nearby guard when she reached the platform. “They are defiled. Bring a bench, or a stool. Anything will do.”
Benches were brought and the king sat, but the queen remained standing. Liutprand and Father Warinus came in from a side room and approached, each saying a few words before Warinus receded, taking a place behind Adelaide.
Liutprand’s smile was wolf-like, cold. “Bring in the accused!”
The crowd erupted with shouts of derision and contempt. Gwen was surprised to see Berengar appear at the door disheveled now, angry, and struggling with guards, who pulled him to the foot of the dais and forced him to his knees. Adalbert came in next, head down, offering no resistance as he dropped to the floor. But when Willa arrived, the people grew quiet. Head bowed, face partially hidden by her veil, she took a few steps forward and then stopped, the rustling of her ivory silk the only sound.
When her guard attempted to push her toward the dais, she jerked her head around, her veil falling off. “Don’t you touch me, dog!”
Seething, Gwen fought the urge to rush forward and tear at the bitch’s face with her own hands.
“Willa!” Adelaide’s voice boomed.
Startled, Willa looked up. Her face was pale, whiter than her gown.
“Thank you for your attention,” Adelaide continued. “Guard, unbind her hair.”
Willa gaped, then staggered noticeably, and Gwen smiled at last, reassured Adelaide wasn’t about to go soft.
The guard reached up with both hands and shook the knotted tresses until they loosened, falling to the small of her back in shimmering waves of honey-gold.
Gwen glanced at Adelaide, who was impassive, then to Otto, who looked ready to kill, his hands clamped on his knees, knuckles white.
“Liutprand, you searched Lady Willa’s bower?” Adelaide asked calmly.
“Yes, my queen.”
“And what did you find?”
Liutprand stepped to the side and picked up something Gwen had not noticed before. A cloth covered the thing, and she couldn’t make out anything by its shape.
“This!” Liutprand pulled away the cloth with a flourish, revealing a long, thick braid of blond hair.
An angry rumble passed over the crowd, and several voices cried out for revenge.
“Your tresses, Queen Adelaide,” Liutprand went on. “In her bedchamber, displayed like a trophy, just as you suspected.”
Adelaide held up her hand and waited for the crowd to quiet. “Put the thing on the floor at my feet, Prand. Willa wanted my hair displayed and so it shall be. We will now commence with the hearing.”
The queen looked directly at Willa. “Cousin, if you do not join your husband and son before me, I shall have you driven to the floor, and you shall be forced to come to this end of the room upon your knees. The choice is yours.”
Surprisingly, Willa stepped forward without further protest and knelt beside her family, but Gwen noticed her eyes flicking often to the braid in front of her.
Adelaide turned to Liutprand. “Have you found anything else in her room that belongs to me?”
“Yes.” Liutprand gestured to a servant holding a wooden chest, bracketed with bands of brass. As he worked to unlatch the lid, Otto and Father Warinus stepped forward and stood before the queen.
Silence blanketed the room, all eyes on the dais.
When the box was opened, Otto brought out a gold and amethyst circlet, Adelaide’s crown. Raising it reverently with both hands, he held it poised over her head for a long moment, the two of them looking at each other with respect, love, admiration, even contentment.
Gwen’s heart ached to see their love.
“Adelaide, Princess of Burgundy,” Otto spoke commandingly, “Queen of Northern Italy and Queen Regent to King Lothaire’s rightful heir, Princess Emma.” He turned to Father Warinus, placing the crown in his hands. “Once given by God, it should be returned to its rightful owner by the hand of God’s own servant. Father, please.”
Warinus took the crown and solemnly placed it on Adelaide’s head. The room erupted with applause, causing Adelaide to look up, startled, and she beamed.
Father Warinus waited until the sounds died away, then made the sign of the cross. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
Otto returned to Adelaide’s side, his expression filled with pride and love as he looked into her eyes. He took her hand and she stood, and together they faced the crowd. “I give you your queen,” he proclaimed.
Again, the crowd signaled their approval with applause and cheers, while Berengar and his family kept their eyes lowered, their expressions bleak.
Adelaide quickly returned to the business at hand, and for the next several minutes their crimes were listed in detail.
From her vantage point, Gwen watched as Otto took a seat. While the queen spoke, he struggled to control himself, shifting about as he glared at their enemies. Clearly, he was ready to leap forward and strangle them, legalities-be-damned.
Finally, after nearly an hour of considering their crimes and finding them guilty as charged, Adelaide started to mete out the punishments: Berengar’s familial lands and titles were revoked; likewise Willa’s and those destined for their son; also their wealth in gold, jewels, plate, and silks were forfeited to the Crown. Then, with official duties nearing an end, Adelaide sat as Father Warinus stepped forward and solemnly read a Decree of Excommunication and Banishment from the Church. It had been duly signed by the Pope, and leveled against all three.
As murmurs of dread spread through the crowd, Adelaide nodded to Liutprand, who opened a scroll of parchment.
He cleared his throat. “In light of the evil deeds undertaken against the Crown, because of the countless murders, wanton destruction, and misery caused by the willful acts of this entire family, Queen Adelaide does hereby condemn––”
“Stop!” Otto yelled as he leapt to his feet.
Surprised by the interruption, Gwen watched Adelaide rose to face her husband. He bent and scooped up the braid. Her mouth dropped open and she took his arm, but he shrugged off her hand.
Gwen edged her way toward the front, trying to get as close as possible. What was he going to do?
Clenching the braid in his fist, Otto held it out before the eyes of the prisoners. “You sought to shame and torment a fine, noble woman. Your rightful queen. You sought to demean her and humiliate her publicly.” He walked down the steps and went from captive to captive, towering over them. Halting before Willa, he shook the braid in her face. “In my land, death is too sweet, too quick, for such deeds. An eye for an eye, we like to say.”
He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her neck.
Terrified, Willa’s gaze shot from Otto, to Adelaide, Father Warinus, and Liutprand. “Mercy,” she croaked.
Otto’s face reddened. “Mercy? Why should anyone here show you mercy, when you showed none?” He gave her an icy smile and let go of her hair with a shove. “By God, a Byzantine punishment would not be unjust for the likes of you!”
Willa shrieked and cowered.
Gwen’s eyes darted from Willa to Otto. What did he mean?
“My lord husband, we must speak,” Adelaide said nervously, as Willa’s cries lessened to moans and groveling.
Otto returned
to Adelaide’s side. “Dearest madam, I have remained silent until now,” his voice shook with anger, “because this is not my realm. But I insist on my own form of punishment, in recompense for my help in the war.”
Frowning, Adelaide stared at him. “Husband, I cannot allow mutilation.”
Otto nodded curtly and turned to Willa. “My Lady Queen has a merciful heart. You, however, are beneath contempt. Worry not about your fine features, I shall leave them be. In any case, I would despise the touch of you too much,” he went on, “to bother gouging out your eyes, or cutting off your nose.”
Oh, my God! Gwen thought, horrified.
“Besides, you would not be able to behold the end result and the revulsion in everyone’s gaze if you were blind. No, I strive for something other – a memory – one that shall not be forgotten.”
“Don’t take my hair!” Willa whimpered with fear, her face blotchy-red, a mess of fluids.
Smiling, Otto turned to the guards standing behind the captives. “Why would I want your filthy hair? Strip them! Unbind them, and strip them naked!”
An explosion of sound filled the great room. Shocked beyond decorum, everyone frantically discussed the Saxon king’s command. From the startled expression on Adelaide’s face, Gwen knew this had not been planned ahead of time, yet the queen did not intervene.
“Strip them! Now!” Otto thundered. “An eye for an eye! Humiliation for humiliation! You will have yours, and it will live with you forever, or at least until you taste the fires of hell!”
Liutprand chuckled openly, but Father Warinus was red with rage and opened his mouth to protest. Otto stopped him with a fixed stare.
Adalbert burst into tears as the guards moved on him first, tearing at his clothing. After they were done, he tried to cover himself with his hands and continued to sob, head bowed with shame.
Gwen felt a twinge of remorse as she witnessed his humiliation; he was just a teenager, after all, and perhaps only caught up in his parents’ crimes.
The guards moved on to Berengar. “Let me alone! Don’t touch me! Bastards!” He let out a guttural cry, trying to fight back as he was wrestled to the floor, but he continued to thrash, flecks of spittle flying as he cursed them. Soon, he, too, lay naked, livid and swearing incoherently.
When the soldiers approached Willa, she recoiled and fought, screaming, “No, no, stop!” She continued shrieking as they ripped away her gown, and once naked, she crumpled to her knees and tried in vain to crawl away, to cover her bare skin with her hair.
“Make them stand before us,” Otto called out.
Gwen watched, riveted, as each was forced to rise. Otto left the dais again, pacing the room in anger.
Berengar glared, silent now, his face purple with impotent fury. Willa sobbed, eyes tightly shut. Adalbert tilted his head back and wept openly.
When Otto reached the far end, he wheeled about, facing the prisoners. “Turn around, and keep your hands at your sides,” he commanded. “Turn, else I shall mete out more punishment!”
The crowd grew still. The squeaking of the prisoner’s naked feet on the floor broke the silence. Gwen heard someone laugh and looked at the dais.
“Go to hell!” Liutprand said, grinning at Berengar.
Yes, Gwen agreed, as her gaze returned to their mutual enemies, you can all go to hell.
Otto swung his arms wide, as if presenting the captives to the world. “Here they are. No finery. No power. Do they fill you with awe? Guard, pull back her hair. She shall not hide from us.”
As Willa cried out, Berengar looked ready to kill. The guard took Willa’s tresses and gathered them behind her back, baring all.
“Why do you glare at me, Berengar?” Otto asked. “Do you dislike my barbarian Saxon punishments? And you, Willa… quit your sniveling! You should not have supported your husband in ravaging this land and imprisoning my Lady Queen. You should have realized I would ride to save her, to take vengeance against you in her stead, for the murder of the king and the good people of Pavia, and for striking off the head of an innocent man, her friend and protector.”
Willa’s head snapped up then, a sudden look of triumph in her eyes. “Ha! Stefano! Yes, but…” She wrested her hair away from the guard and turned toward Otto. She stood straight, puffing out her chest, and declared, “If you wish to gaze upon my body, so be it. You are not alone among men.”
For once, Otto was speechless, but his knuckles went white as he clenched his fists.
Willa smiled and turned to Adelaide. “I would speak privately with you.”
“You may not!” Otto bellowed.
Willa waved her hand dismissively. “Cousin Adelaide, would you deny Stefano’s last wish?”
Otto took a step toward Willa, but Adelaide stopped him with a raised hand. “Let her speak.”
Willa smirked. “During my… my interrogations of your friend, he bid me deliver a final message to you.”
Gwen leaned forward and saw Adelaide do the same, just as Otto exclaimed, “She bluffs! From what others have told me, he could hardly make himself understood.”
Adelaide straightened, then looked about the room. “Let Gwendolyn listen to what she has to say, for she understood Stefano…”
No! Gwen’s mind railed. No, I can’t, I don’t want to talk to Willa.
“… and has dealt with Willa, as well,” the queen went on, “so, if she deems the message valid, she will convey it to me. Gwendolyn? Where are you? Come forward.”
Otto nodded and then scanned the crowds, quickly spotting Gwen and motioning to her.
With all eyes turned her way, Gwen could do little but obey. She approached Willa and noticed that despite her bravado, the bitch looked afraid, and Gwen took some comfort in this.
Gwen hated being there, but forced herself to think of Stefano, so brave and kind, and then reminded herself of all this woman had done to him. She grew furious.
“What is the message?” she asked coldly.
Oddly, Willa’s response was not immediate. The next few moments passed silently, and Gwen watched as she stared into space, her expression changing from fear to awe, as if she were seeing something wonderful.
“I notice you do not wear your wristlet,” Willa whispered. “Keeping it safely hidden, eh? Stefano’s as well?” She paused, smiling for effect. “I’ve discovered whence you came, for I drew someone else forth, another man, after I brought the two of you here. I searched long and hard for one who might understand me – a priest. He knew Latin, of course, and he told me his birth year, which was 1930. Is that your era, also? Alas, he was old and feeble and died quite unexpectedly when I tried to question him further… about the future.”
Gwen felt numb, frozen to the spot, as if Willa had cast an evil spell over her.
“Yes, whore.” Willa gloated. “I see it in your eyes. You and Stefano traveled here and now you are lost, aren’t you? Lost and all alone.” She took her time, looking Gwen over, then leaned in, her voice lower still. “Does Alberto Uzzo know of your origins? There were rumors he was fucking you. I wondered at his overweening devotion to my cousin, but now I can see it in your eyes – there was something between you. Yes, that’s what spurred him on. Ah, but the affair is no more, eh? I’ve also heard he cast you out. Was it because you confided in him?” Willa grinned with delight, assured her barb had hit its mark. “So, how does it feel to lose everything as I have?”
Inwardly shattered, Gwen nevertheless forced herself to stand her ground. This wasn’t about her. “What message did Stefano have for the queen?” she asked flatly.
Willa frowned, then shrugged. “As to that, well, the priest was no equal replacement for Stefano, of course, rather pitiful, in fact. Ah, dear Stefano was a wonder in bed, but mayhap you know that as well as I, whore-monk. He was a great lover – massive and potent! Pleasuring me endlessly.” She smiled. “In any case, the queen cannot order me killed, as it is forbidden by Christian law to execute a woman who is with child.”
Stars swam around Gwen
’s field of view. She’s pregnant… with Stefano’s baby?
Willa’s voice grew lower still, the tone mocking, menacing. “The babe’s lusty sire shall not be forgotten by me, especially when the nights are long and dreary. If a daughter, nay, it shall be a daughter and she shall be called Rozala, for the name carries great power. Yes, Stefano has sired a girl, because I foresaw it, and it was for that purpose I summoned him in the first place.” She leaned closer, her eyes boring into Gwen’s. “Be forewarned,” she whispered. “Should Berengar ever be told of my romps with Stefano, or should anyone in my family be sentenced to death for our deeds, I shall strike you and Adelaide down, for I have ways of delivering vengeance, even from afar.” She grinned. “Ah, but this should not surprise.”
Gwen felt sick thinking of the witch-basin, then realized Willa meant Lothaire; she’d poisoned the king.
“So,” Willa went on, “ask the queen if she wants my Rozala to live. Is she beholden to Christian law? If so, then she cannot sentence me, or anyone in my family to death, now or ever, for the child’s very existence is tied to our survival.”
This last was delivered with all the force of Willa’s dark nature, and Gwen stumbled backward, seeking to put distance between her and this evil woman. She clutched at someone next to her, trying to stay on her feet, and realized it was Father Warinus, come to lend his support.
Rozala. Where had she heard that name? Where? Her mind was a jumble. Was it true? They couldn’t kill a pregnant woman? Rozala. She knew she’d heard the name before.
Mumbling an apology to Warinus, Gwen hurried to the dais, clamored up the steps, and then fell to her knees before the queen. “Please, I beg you. You must not kill Willa or any of them. I need to tell you something in private.”
Adelaide’s brow knit. “We cannot leave the room, Gwendolyn. You must whisper it to me.”
Gwen cupped her hand around the queen’s ear. “Willa told me she is carrying Stefano’s child!”
Italian Time Travel 02 - Time Enough for Love Page 16