Italian Time Travel 02 - Time Enough for Love

by Morgan O'Neill

  Gasping, Adelaide crossed herself. “Lord, I knew, somehow I knew.”

  “Yes. She said Berengar does not know, must not question the child’s parentage. She swore to kill both of us if he is ever told about Stefano, or if any of them are sentenced to death for their crimes. And I wouldn’t put it past her if she tried to kill others, even Stefano’s child. Please, don’t do anything that could jeopardize this child.”

  “Mother of God.” Adelaide stared at Willa, then turned to Gwen and whispered, “I must end her evil once and for all.”

  “But the child is innocent!”

  “This is something I’ve planned for a long time, Gwen,” the queen said. “Be assured, the babe shall live and thrive. I will see to it.” She turned to Otto, Liutprand, and Father Warinus. “Gentlemen, I would seek your counsel.”

  Shaking badly, Gwen retreated from the dais, falling back into the crowd as Adelaide’s counselors closed in about her. Within a minute, the men stepped back and Adelaide stood before the entire assembly, her voice ringing out, “Willa, I understand you and Berengar are to be congratulated on the pending birth of another child.”

  Willa’s mouth dropped open and Berengar pivoted to stare at her, a look of shock on his face.

  “However,” Adelaide continued, “it is beyond doubt that you are not fit to raise a child, twisting its mind toward evil, as you are wont to do. Therefore, when the babe is born, it shall be brought to us, to be raised at court with all the rights and privileges of any royal child. You may visit and should you prove worthy the child may one day be allowed to visit you. Guards, bring forth the witch-basin!”

  Stunned, Gwen’s gaze flew to Willa, who dropped to her knees, her face drained of color. All turned as the doors swung wide and several guards carried the familiar basin into the chamber.

  Adelaide stood, her chin high, her eyes flashing retribution. “Destroy it!” she shouted.

  The men raised it over their heads and Gwen suddenly wanted to scream, to stop them, but it was too late. The basin crashed against the floor, shattering with a thunderous boom.

  Trembling, head swimming, Gwen attempted to focus her eyes, to see, but tears blinded her. She tried to be logical, reminding herself that now Willa couldn’t do any more harm.

  But… but… it was my only hope, she thought, crushed. It was my only hope of finding a way home, and now it’s gone, destroyed. I’m here forever, alone forever.

  The last shreds of resolve evaporated, and, ignoring protocol, Gwen bolted for the main doors and open air. She had to get away.

  But the queen’s words floated out as she pronounced final sentence, sealing the fate of the prisoners. “You are hereby exiled to the far northern fortified city of Luciliburgum, there to serve a term of house arrest for a period of three years. If, at that time, you have proven your remorse and taken renewed vows of fealty, you shall be fully, though conditionally, reinstated, and the Ban of Excommunication shall also be lifted. Guards, take them away.”

  Sobbing, Gwen raced blindly down the pathway toward the gates. Adelaide’s voice faded, but another, stronger one took its place in her mind.

  I remember, I remember. Of course! On the tour through the church catacombs, Stefano had talked about his family’s long history in Santa Lucia, and he’d said, We traced our roots from an ancient Italian family – we are descended from Princess Rozala Susanna.

  *

  Gwen burst through Garda’s lower gate, racing toward the trees. Even in her distress, the memory of a similar moment nearly caused her to scream. She had to put everything out of her mind. She’d go mad if she didn’t.

  But the circumstances, the place, were so familiar, so déjà vu. The last time, a gallant knight, her love, now lost, had rescued her. However much she wished for the feel of Alberto’s arms lifting her away from her terror, she knew he would not come, would never come again.

  “Lady Gwendolyn?” a familiar voice called.

  Gwen spun toward the sound, frantic, hopeful.

  Memmo waved uncertainly and looked back at the keep. “My lady, is there a problem?”

  Gwen stared at him for a moment, before gathering her wits and attempting a coherent reply. “I… no. It was hard to watch, that is all. Too many terrible memories.”

  Gwen glanced beyond Memmo, seeking an escape. Please be quick, she willed him. She couldn’t make small talk anymore. She couldn’t pretend. She needed to leave.

  “My lady, forgive me for bothering you.” Memmo nodded solemnly, shifting from one foot to the other. “I was merely returning, as you bid, wondering if you could find it in your heart to grace my little home with your presence.” He shook his hand dismissively. “I know it is much to ask, that a highborn lady should visit with common folk, but my wife keeps a clean house, and she has cooked a good meal, in hopes. Also, I may have bragged to my son of my few exploits just a bit, and he wishes beyond all things, to see one of the great ladies I served.”

  Gwen stared at the simple, honest man. He had risked everything for her, and it was little enough she could do. Shutting her pain away, she smiled and placed her hand over his. “I would be delighted to come and meet your family, Memmo, honored. You saved our lives. You are saving me again, now, from everything this day has been.” Her smile grew more genuine. “And I’m starving, too. Show me the way.”

  Memmo’s eyes lit up, but then he glanced away, uneasy. “There is one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “The prisoner, the… the man… your friend,” Memmo stammered and nodded toward the front gate. “I took it upon myself – I hope I wasn’t acting out of line – to approach the queen, er, Lady Willa, about him.”

  Stefano. Gwen’s heart pounded. “And?”

  “Well, I offered to take him, take all of him, you see, and toss him in the lake so his flesh would be utterly destroyed, gone from this Earth.”

  Gwen sucked in her breath, stunned by the admission. “Why, in God’s name, did you do such a thing?”

  “Please, my lady, let me finish,” Memmo replied, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “I thought the idea might appeal to her, which it did. So, I was shown where the body was buried, and given the head, and although there was little but bones left of any of it, I was able to take it all away in a sack, reassuring her the deed would be done immediately. She even gave me a goat as a reward.”

  Still holding her breath, Gwen could feel a scream welling up inside her, was hardly able to bear what she was hearing. She wanted to bolt into the woods, escape from this ceaseless nightmare, any way she could. What was he saying?

  “So, he is with me.”

  “What?”

  “He is buried on my property, in hopes that when peace returns, we might seek you out so you could take him home. We did the best we could. My wife bound him in a linen shroud and sewed a fine deerskin about him. We gave him a simple ceremony before commending him to the earth and entrusting him to the Mercy of God.”

  Gwen choked back tears of gratitude and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Memmo. Thank you. That is the best news!”

  “My lady, we have heard many things about him; that he saved the queen, not once, but twice. Many sing his praises now. He is a hero among us.”

  Gwen stood back and smiled tenderly, patting his shoulder. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Well, if the queen should wish to give him a finer burial, many of us from the village would be pleased to bring him wherever she may deem. Mayhap in the springtime, when the ground thaws, when only his bones remain.”

  For once, Gwen’s tears sprang from a joyful heart. “Oh, Memmo, I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. Yes, I shall tell the queen, and I am certain she will agree, yes, oh, Memmo…”

  Words failed as Gwen clasped the fisherman to her once again.

  *

  Gwen accepted the hospitality of Memmo and his wife, dining with them and spending the night under their roof. Snug beneath her blanket, she watched the cabin’s glowing hearth
and thought of Stefano, pondering the strangeness of his fate.

  Rozala Susanna. The name swirled in Gwen’s mind. Stefano will have a daughter who will take after him, not Willa, a girl who will care, who will help her people. Through her, this trait will be passed on, then sorted and sifted through a thousand years of begetting. And when Stefano is born in the twentieth century, he will inherit her empathy, her spirit. Everyone else in his lineage will contribute the rest: his good looks, his charm, his passion, a million ancestors mixing, remaking him, the circle complete.

  The fire was low when the last log buckled, falling onto the bed of coals, sending sparks into the air. Gwen watched the flickering fragments, realizing the wood, like all spent life, was dissolving to ash, to dust, the once-living bits to be reclaimed by nature.

  Stefano. She wished she could tell him, let him know something good would come from all this horror and death.

  A new life. A daughter. You will have a beautiful daughter named Rozala.

  Chapter 15

  Several weeks after the trial, Gwen and the royal party rode into Pavia. It was a beautiful autumn day, the air crisp and breezy, fragrant with traces of wood smoke. Citizens lined the route, greeting Queen Adelaide and King Otto with wild cheers and applause.

  Riding through the city gates, a gust of wind buffeted Gwen, and she clutched at the hood of her new camlet cloak, imported from faraway Cyprus. It was one of many recent gifts from Adelaide, the camel’s hair fabric woven fine as silk, yet possessing remarkable durability and warmth. Snuggling into its cozy depths, Gwen was momentarily reminded of her old, itchy cowl, glad it was long gone. Her mind strayed, overtaken by recurrent doubts about finding a way to contact her mother and dad. She quashed the urge to drown in her misery, trusting she’d find the answer, if not today, then soon, very soon.

  With a sigh, Gwen watched the crowd; everyone seemed in high spirits now that Berengar was in exile and their rightful queen had returned in triumph. To her surprise, she found herself smiling with them, swept up in the celebration.

  The royal palace came into view, the queen’s colors rising just as they entered the courtyard. Several ladies stood on the front steps of the palace, each wearing fur-trimmed cloaks, which matched the falling leaves: gold, fawn, and a range of reds.

  One woman moved forward, a delicate, green-eyed beauty, as gorgeous as any movie star. She was dressed in a maroon cape and matching gown.

  “Agnes, I thought you were still in Burgundy!” The queen beamed as Otto assisted her from her mount.

  Agnes curtsied.

  Otto nodded to her, then joined the men, while Adelaide moved to embrace her. “Mon Dieu,” the queen exclaimed. “I have missed you so.”

  Gwen dismounted, handing her reins off to a stable boy. She turned just in time to notice Agnes taking the queen’s hands and pressing the palms together, as if in prayer.

  “Thanks be to God, for duty and hope have joined at last.” Agnes smiled, her gaze settling on Otto.

  Gwen saw Adelaide blush.

  “Oui,” the queen replied, looking at the king with open adoration.

  “My queen,” Agnes’s voice lowered, “Adelaide dearest, I am so very happy for you. He is truly the blond lion they sing about, non?”

  Flush deepening, Adelaide turned to Gwen and smiled self-consciously. “Gwendolyn, I would have you meet my oldest friend, Lady Agnes de Beaulieu. Agnes, this is Gwendolyn Godwyn.”

  Agnes’s smile was warm and genuine. “Ah, Mademoiselle.” She bobbed. “You are as beautiful as they say. It is an honor to meet you.”

  Gwen curtsied back. “The honor is mine, Lady Agnes.”

  “We have all heard how you played the part of a man to save our good queen. I envy you.” She winked. “We have need of warrior heroines amidst our preening knights, non?”

  “In truth, I hid beneath a monk’s cowl.” Gwen smiled as King Otto and Father Warinus strode by, the priest clucking his tongue at her. “The queen is the heroine, Lady Agnes. You should have seen her when––”

  “Come, come.” Adelaide rolled her eyes. “Enough of that. My head will swell and then I shall not be able to wear my crown.”

  They laughed, and Adelaide took Gwen’s arm and presented her to the other ladies-in-waiting: Christine, Sibille, Alessandra, Ursula, Gertrude, Helaine, Lucrezia.

  Gwen’s mind whirled. So many names.

  The women wept as Adelaide kissed and hugged them in turn. Some declared how difficult it had been to follow her orders and leave Pavia when the queen sought Holy Sanctuary. Others told her how desperate they felt upon hearing of her capture.

  “My dear,” one of them exclaimed, “I begged the Lord to send help.”

  Adelaide nodded. “And your prayers were answered, for I was blessed with several brave souls, sent by God to rescue me.”

  Lady Agnes giggled. “Forget not that our queen’s personal prayers were also answered!” She inclined her head toward the king, now striding toward the palace doors.

  “Merciful heaven.” A young lady sighed. “He is so generously proportioned!”

  Gwen laughed out loud, and Agnes snorted with delight, but the one named Alessandra frowned. “Ladies, please, mind your tongues.”

  Adelaide smiled sweetly and followed Otto inside.

  Gwen exchanged an amused glance with Agnes, who grinned as they set off for the main hall.

  The royal couple chatted with many in the crowd, the king towering over everyone. Gwen and the others followed at a discreet distance, until the queen excused herself and asked Agnes and Helaine to help her change from her travel attire. Otto took the opportunity and set off as well, with the ever-present Henry at his side.

  Waiting, Gwen looked at the dais, where two thrones stood side by side, the seats cushioned in red velvet. A ceremony of Formal Introduction was about to commence, to properly present King Otto to the court.

  Gwen found herself gazing at the queen’s twittering ladies, wondering if the dynamics would now change between her and Adelaide. The women seemed friendly enough, especially Agnes, but she was, after all, the new girl on the block. Would that be a problem? What role would she play at the royal court? What would the future hold?

  Gwen’s mood grew poignant as she touched her heart. Alberto’s handkerchief was still there, always there, and she thought about how different everything would be, if only…

  “Our Most Gracious King and Queen approach!” Liutprand’s voice boomed out.

  He stood a few paces inside the doorway, a beautiful, golden staff in hand. Behind him, Otto and Adelaide appeared, attired in robes of yellow silk and wearing their crowns, gold belts, and jewels. Liutprand thumped his staff on the floor, then led the couple to the dais.

  The king and queen slowly mounted the steps and turned to face their audience. A rustling of silks, linens, and satins greeted Gwen’s ears, as all made obeisance to the sovereigns.

  Bowing, Father Warinus stepped forward, just as Adelaide took her seat. Otto stood by her side, his expression inscrutable as the priest raised a scroll and waited for silence.

  “My lady,” Liutprand said in a solemn tone, “Father Warinus has received a message from the Holy Father.”

  Otto had a smile on his lips, but Adelaide seemed not to notice, for her eyes had rounded at Liutprand’s words, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  Gwen’s breath caught as Otto knelt before Adelaide and took her hands, saying, “There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

  “Mama!”

  “Emma!”

  Otto got out of the way as Adelaide sprang up and the crowd erupted with joy. Berta stood in the middle of the hall, Emma squirming in her arms, giggling, smiling.

  Adelaide threw her arms wide and went down on her knees. “Oh, Emma,” she cried as her child rushed in. “I’ve missed you so, worried so much, every moment.”

  “Ma petite,” Otto placed a hand on Adelaide’s shoulder, “as long as I draw breath, you and your daughter shall have nothing to fear. I
am your sworn protector.”

  “Otto, meet my Emma,” Adelaide said through tears of happiness, pulling on his sleeve and drawing him down beside her. “Come meet your new daughter.”

  Their eyes met over Emma’s tousled hair, and together they enveloped her in their arms.

  Chapter 16

  25 December, 951, Pavia, Italy

  The days before Christmas bustled with celebrations, which Gwen had studiously avoided, because Alberto, like most of the nobility, had been invited to attend the formal royal wedding. Over time, her pain had become manageable when he was far away in Canossa, but his presence in Pavia hurt, a knife to her soul.

  Thankfully, most of the events were informal and she was not required to attend, thereby avoiding a chance encounter. The revelries consisted mostly of Italian folk ceremonies and old pagan rituals blended with Christian rites, but several were boisterously Saxon. One, the so-called “bride ale” was a rowdy feast of loud German singing, the tables groaning with platters of bread, meat, and beer. Men and women alike participated, their steins brimming, foaming over, the toasts to Otto and Adelaide lengthy and ribald. The queen and her ladies pretended shock, but Gwen knew from their comments afterward they’d had a grand time.

  Now, however, the mood had changed, grown soft, tender, yet for Gwen unbearable because of Alberto. With a determined smile, she turned her thoughts away from him, to Adelaide.

  December twenty-fifth. It was late, an evening wedding, the scene glowing with candlelight and hope, the air redolent with sweet incense, the future for the royal couple beckoning and so very bright.

  In St. Peter’s Church of the Golden Ceiling, King Otto and Queen Adelaide were participating in the velatio, an ancient ritual where the bride and groom knelt beneath the nuptial veil and received God’s blessing. Pope Agapetus II stood over them, hands raised in prayer. All looked resplendent, Otto and Adelaide in silken robes of Imperial Purple, the Holy Father’s brocaded vestments crimson and trimmed with ermine.

  Gwen kept her eyes on the king and queen, but she could feel Alberto’s presence, feel his eyes upon her.