Betrothed to the Barbarian

by Carol Townend

  Nikolaos had never made love to a virgin and it occurred to him that it was something of a responsibility. It wouldn’t do to alienate his wife. Her skin was olive in tone, smooth and flawless. Her hair was very dark. Currently it was confined in some extravagant arrangement, doubtless intended to set off the diadem. He wondered how long it would be when loose. At a guess it was wavy. His fingers ached to touch it, to find out for himself.

  Princess Theodora might have a nervous temperament, but in looks, at least, she pleased him greatly. It would be a pleasure to initiate her into the pleasures of the marriage bed. It was a pity she was so secretive. His mother’s face swam before him and his lips twisted. Secretiveness in a woman was not an admirable trait.

  On the surface, however, the Princess was utterly charming. He would, on the surface, allow himself to be charmed. Her shyness, that occasional inability to meet his gaze, was strangely arousing. Thank God she had lost some of her reserve and had agreed to their marriage, although he wouldn’t mind knowing who she thought she had seen among the attendants.

  In the meantime, perhaps this was the time to ask about Brother Leo. Cousin to Nikolaos, Brother Leo had been dispatched to Rascia at the same time as the Princess. He had been Princess Theodora’s confessor and Nikolaos understood he had also become confessor to Prince Peter. It had been some time since Nikolaos had had news from his cousin and he was concerned.

  ‘Princess, I have been meaning to ask you about Prince Peter’s—’ At once, the light went out of her. ‘I am sorry, my lady, I am too blunt. It is a soldier’s fault, I fear.’

  ‘No, no,’ she said, looking back the way they had come, an anxious frown between her brows. ‘It is all right, please continue.’

  ‘Did you love him?’ Nikolaos had not intended to ask, but since it had slipped out, he was curious to hear her answer.

  She gave him a direct look. ‘I...yes, yes, I did. Very much.’

  Nikolaos folded his arms across his chest. ‘You mourn him.’ He did not expect a response, but the Princess surprised him. She stepped up to him and laid her hand upon his sleeve.

  ‘All that is in the past—it is over a year since he died. You are my future.’

  He smiled and, taking her hand, a perfectly manicured, beringed hand, he pressed a kiss to a neat fingertip. He knew what was expected of him and the words emerged surprisingly easily. ‘Princess, you make me the happiest man in the Empire.’

  Her lips twitched into that bewitching almost-smile that he was learning to tease out of her. It was a so delicate, so evanescent. Nikolaos did not want to risk losing it by asking about Brother Leo just yet. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  In complete accord, they turned and promenaded in the grand manner back up the path through the trees. The entourage parted before them like the Red Sea, and together they endured stares and coy smiles as they led the way through the latticed gate and back into the courtyards.

  They parted at the steps of the Boukoleon. Their betrothal feast, set for the following week, would go ahead as planned.

  Chapter Five

  Theodora took refuge on the great mulberry bed, lying against the fringed cushions with her eyes closed, massaging her temples. The pearl and amethyst diadem was so beautiful it would not have been out of place in a fable, but it could not be worn for long. It was heavy and the padded velvet lining did nothing to lessen the weight. Every time she wore it, her head felt as though it had been in a vice.

  Theodora rubbed her brow, bitterly conscious that her headache had not been caused solely by the weight of the diadem. Her mind had been taken over by one thought—Prince Djuradj’s man, Boda, was in the Great Palace. His was the face she had seen in the crowd when she had been talking to Duke Nikolaos. What was she to do?

  She heard a soft clunk. Sophia was busy in the dressing-chamber, securing the diadem in a strongbox. The air shifted. Soft footsteps came up to the bed. Theodora opened an eye and hoped she did not look as desperate as she felt.

  ‘So, despoina...’ Sophia smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed ‘...you decided to marry him. I thought you would.’

  ‘Did you indeed?’

  Sophia’s smile became speculative, almost teasing. ‘Duke Nikolaos is...well...he is...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘He...he...’ Flushing, Sophia began playing with a gold tassel on the bed-hangings.

  Theodora pushed herself a little higher on her cushions and stared at her lady-in-waiting. Sophia was never coy. Sophia never seemed to take much notice of men and, if she did, she never mentioned it. It was one of the reasons Theodora favoured Sophia, she disliked it when her ladies giggled and gossiped in corners. The women in her entourage who did so were, with good reason, deliberately kept at a distance. ‘Sophia, you have gone bright red.’

  ‘Well, he is handsome, my lady, you cannot deny it. I ought not to say this...’ Sophia trailed off, shaking her head.

  ‘Sophia, finish what you were saying, if you please.’

  ‘He...the Duke is as well formed as Apollo.’

  Theodora snorted. ‘He is far too dark for Apollo.’ Privately, Theodora was beginning to agree with Sophia—the Duke’s looks and form were striking—but she was not going to admit it. Particularly when she could barely see past the pounding in her temples. ‘Lord, my head.’ She touched Sophia’s hand. ‘Sophia, I need your full attention, if you please.’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘Boda is in the Palace.’

  Sophia’s jaw dropped. ‘Prince Djuradj’s man? No! Where did you see him? When?’

  ‘He was among the attendants when Duke Nikolaos and I were walking in the grounds.’

  ‘Among the attendants? That is not possible. Princess, are you sure you weren’t mistaken? If Boda had been in the entourage, I am sure I would have seen him.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. He’s cunning; Župan Djuradj would not have despatched him if he were not.’

  ‘It couldn’t have been Boda, I am sure I would have seen him.’ Sophia repeated.

  The throbbing in Theodora’s head was merciless. Lifting a hand, she resumed her careful massage of her temples. ‘Sophia, I am almost certain it was Boda. He will know you from Rascia, it’s likely he has made it his business to recognise my closest ladies. He will have made a point of keeping out of your line of sight.’

  ‘Why, then, should he let you see him? Why hide from me and not you?’

  ‘I don’t know. He might have been afraid you might raise the alarm. He knew I could do little whilst talking to the Duke. Boda wants to intimidate me.’ She bit her knuckle. ‘I have to say, he is succeeding.’

  ‘Princess, you are surely not thinking that one of your ladies will have betrayed you? We have been so careful. Everyone has been discreet. Only your ladies know the truth of Martina’s parentage.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She sighed. ‘I cannot shake the thought that, somehow, Župan Djuradj has found me out.’

  Sophia glanced at the door. ‘I pray you are mistaken, Princess. I also think you are mistaken about Boda.’

  ‘Sophia, I saw him!’

  ‘If he is in the Palace, he will not get past your guards. To set your mind at rest, we could move Martina and her cradle in here. I cannot think Boda would hurt a baby, but...’

  Theodora shook her head, flinching as the pounding intensified. ‘Much as I would like it, we cannot bring Martina into my bedchamber. I risk enough raising of eyebrows if word is put out that I am adopting the child of a slave—imagine what would be said if the Court learned a child’s cradle was set up next to my bed...’

  Sophia grimaced. ‘That’s a point, not many princesses would permit a baby to wake them in the middle of the night, unless—’

  ‘Sophia, it would ease my mind if you slept in the nursery tonight.’ Theodora wanted to appear calm, she could not be certain it had been Boda she had seen among the courtiers, but the mere possibility that he had followed her to the City—worse, to the Palace itself—struck fear into
her heart. If Boda and his master, Prince Djuradj of Zeta, knew about Martina’s parentage, they might decide they had good reason to harm her. They might kill her! ‘At all costs, Martina must be safe.’

  ‘Very well, my lady, I shall sleep in the nursery, alongside Jelena.’

  ‘Thank you, Sophia.’ Closing her eyes, Theodora held down a groan. ‘Draw the curtains, if you please. I need to think.’

  The mattress lifted. Long skirts whispered as they skimmed the marble floor, curtain rings rattled.

  ‘Princess?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  The mattress dipped. A cool hand touched her forehead. ‘I see why you changed your mind about Duke Nikolaos, despoina. Your fears for Martina led you to accept him.’

  ‘The Duke is strong and honourable,’ Theodora murmured. She felt instinctively that Duke Nikolaos was worthy of the honour of caring for Martina. She could not confess all to him yet—the Duke would have no idea what he was taking on when he married her—but that could not be helped. Despite this, she was certain he would do his duty. If some accident befalls me, Martina will need a strong and honourable protector. When the truth emerges, Duke Nikolaos will do his duty by Martina, even though he had no idea what he was taking on on our marriage day. His honour will not allow him to do otherwise.

  ‘My lady,’ Sophia broke into her thoughts. ‘I don’t think you need worry so. Župan Djuradj has an evil reputation, but—’

  Theodora’s eyes snapped open. ‘An evil reputation? He is a murdering swine!’

  ‘I know, my lady, I know.’ Sophia spoke in so soothing a tone that Theodora found herself gritting her teeth. ‘However, we are a long way from Zeta and I cannot see why you are so certain he would harm Martina...’

  Theodora didn’t answer. What could she say? Sophia thinks I am in the grip of hysteria, but Sophia does not know everything, she does not know my deepest, most sinful secret. It did not seem possible that Prince Djuradj should have found that out. Theodora and Peter had been so careful. But if Prince Djuradj had found out...

  She fought down a sense of rising panic. In a sense, it mattered little whether the Prince of Zeta knew her deep secret or not—either way, Martina was in danger.

  ‘You want Duke Nikolaos to protect you.’ Sophia’s tone brightened. ‘It is a good thought, my lady. And I have just had another one.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You could appeal to Emperor Alexios for help. He will not permit Prince Djuradj’s bullies near you.’

  ‘Sophia, Boda is in the Palace!’ She moderated her tone. ‘He will have come here in the guise of an envoy.’

  ‘If you spoke to His Majesty, I am sure he would deploy extra guards in the women’s quarters. The Prince of Zeta is no match for Emperor Alexios.’

  ‘Sophia, Župan Djuradj is one of the most cold and devious men to have walked the earth; he will do anything to achieve his ends. He murdered Peter and a monk in Holy Orders. He is utterly ruthless. If he has realised that Martina is Peter’s daughter, God knows what he may do.’

  ‘I understand your fears, my lady.’ Sophia bit her lip. ‘And, naturally, you do not want His Majesty to learn you have an illegitimate daughter. What will you do?’

  ‘I have told you, Sophia, I shall marry the Duke.’ Struck by a new thought, Theodora bolted upright and gripped Sophia’s arm. ‘Sophia?’

  ‘Despoina?’

  ‘Do you think Duke Nikolaos would agree to bring our marriage forward?’

  ‘He might.’ Sophia’s brow creased. ‘My lady, I truly hope you are wrong about Boda being in the Palace.’

  ‘He’s here all right, I only caught a glimpse of him, but I am certain it was he.’

  ‘I am thankful that you have agreed to marry the Duke. I think that you already trust him, you feel safe with him.’

  Theodora pushed away the image of dark, dancing eyes and shrugged. ‘Up to a point.’ I can’t tell him everything.

  Sophia leaned earnestly towards her. ‘Did it set your mind at rest to speak to the Duke, or are you still concerned about his reaction should he learn that Martina is yours?’

  ‘That remains a concern.’

  ‘Rather that rushing on with the marriage, my lady, wouldn’t it be best to get to know Duke Nikolaos a little better first, to allow a...a fondness to grow between you? Then when...if he realises you are not a...not a...’

  ‘Virgin is the word you are groping for,’ Theodora said, drily.

  ‘Despoina, do I have your permission to speak bluntly?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Do you trust the Duke enough to allow him to consummate the marriage? My lady, if you bring your wedding forward, tradition will allow him to consummate your union eight days after the wedding. Are you ready for that?’

  Theodora stared at Sophia, though in truth she was looking right through her. She was seeing a pair of intense dark eyes set in an angular, masculine face. ‘I think,’ she said, on a startling flash of insight, ‘that however he reacts, I would feel safer with Duke Nikolaos as my husband.’

  ‘Safer than in here?’ Sophia’s wave included the entire apartment. ‘Here you have guards, day and night. No man may enter without passing them.’

  ‘I can trust the Duke,’ Theodora said softly. It would be hard to explain to Sophia the sense of confidence she had in him. They had so short an acquaintance, she barely understood it herself. ‘His Majesty trusts him, I am sure I may do the same. And whether or not Boda gets into this apartment, my instincts tell me that Martina and I will be safer under the Duke’s protection. The sooner I marry him, the better.’

  As the words left her lips Theodora felt as though a weight had lifted from her—she and Martina would be safe under the Duke’s protection. She shifted to the edge of the great bed and stood.

  ‘Tomorrow morning I shall speak to the Duke and see what might be arranged.’

  * * *

  The evening after his betrothal ceremony, Duke Nikolaos paused by the wall outside his mistress’s house. Above the City, stars whirled across a midnight sky; a row of glowing lanterns lined the street. Conscious of the need for discretion now he and the Princess were in agreement, Nikolaos had chosen to walk rather than ride. A nobleman on horseback drew more attention than a man on foot. Nikolaos had taken off his finery and was dressed unobtrusively; his cloak was as dark as the night.

  The house he had bought for Cleo stood well away from the Palace on the other side of the Hippodrome. The street was one of the quieter ones that ran parallel to the Mese. Tonight, a woman’s singing floated over the wall of her house; it was a plaintive song, of lost love and lost lives. A song that was fitting for the night’s work.

  Nikolaos had never deluded himself that he was in love with Cleo; nevertheless, he was fond of her. He had been content with her; it had been an easy relationship on his part, with no messy emotions to muddy the waters. Cleo had needed a protector and he had needed a woman. He had paid for his pleasure.

  Nikolaos felt faintly uncomfortable. Cleo was not going to like what he had to say, she had told him she loved him, more than once. Whether or not this was true, he had no idea; he suspected her love had been engendered by thankfulness at the life he had saved her from. Cleo had been the ideal mistress, never demanding more from him than he had been able to give, and for that he was grateful. At times, and particularly since his mother’s recent revelation, Nikolaos wondered if love was ever unencumbered by need or ambition. He doubted it.

  Sighing, Nikolaos found his key, unlocked the door in the wall and strode across the starlit courtyard. His footsteps echoed into the dark. He knocked on the main door. It opened so swiftly she must have been waiting for him.

  Warm hands reached out and pulled him inside. ‘Niko! It’s been too long. I missed you.’

  He was wrapped in a jasmine-scented hug, soft lips pressed briefly against his.

  Reaching on her toes to unfasten his cloak clasp, Cleo took it from him and draped it over her arm. Heeled sandals clicked on the tiled
floor as she tugged him across the entrance hall. Her hair was, as ever, carefully oiled and curled; it hung down her back in dark waves.

  ‘I hoped you would come,’ she said. ‘Your favourite spiced lamb is simmering in the kitchen, we have Cretan wine and...’

  Chattering non-stop, she handed his cloak to a servant and headed for the dining room. The oil lamps were lit and the low table was set for an intimate supper—bread, olives, glasses. The air was heavy with the mouth-watering smell of spiced lamb and rosemary...

  He felt a twinge of guilt. Had she waited for him like this every night since his return to the City?

  ‘Niko, do remove your sword—surely you are not going to eat wearing your sword?’

  ‘Cleo.’ Closing the door softly behind them, Nikolaos took her by the shoulders. Best get this over with quickly. ‘Cleo, I have not come to eat.’

  She looked up at him for a moment. Her eyes filled and she pulled swiftly away. ‘Niko, you are tired, let me pour you your wine.’

  She reached for a flagon and Niko caught her hand, gently, but firmly. ‘No. Cleo, I am sorry.’

  A tear gleamed on the end of her lashes and she took another backward step. When she disengaged her hand, he let her go. Head high, she gave him a long look and shook her head. Eyes brimming, she gripped her hands together. ‘I knew this day would come, of course.’

  A slight sob had him closing the distance between them.

  She warded him off. ‘No, Niko, it is all right. I understand. It is true that I have been dreading this day, but I have known it was inevitable from the beginning. I hoped we would have longer together, but once I heard about Princess Theodora, I knew our time was almost done.’

  ‘It is a matter of politics, Cleo, I cannot afford to offend the Doukas family.’

  ‘You belittle yourself, Niko. Don’t. You are not a man to marry and maintain a mistress behind your wife’s back. The hourglass has run dry for us, my love.’

  ‘Cleo, I am sorry. I shall miss you. I shall not forget you.’

  Her smile was sad. ‘Liar. The love between us was always one-sided,’ she murmured.