Betrothed to the Barbarian

by Carol Townend

  That must never happen to Martina.

  * * *

  By the time Theodora returned to the Palace, her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. As she and her ladies were walking towards the polo ground, she found herself jumping almost out of her skin every time anyone approached. It would not do. She knew why she was so anxious—she had to see Martina, and she had to see her today.

  Martina will surely be safe at the tournament. There will be guards everywhere...

  ‘Sophia?’ She caught her lady-in-waiting’s sleeve, murmuring, ‘Do you think Katerina is attending the tournament?’

  ‘I do not know, my lady. It’s possible. The Varangian Guard are fielding a team and I hear Commander Ashfirth is to be their captain.’

  Theodora blinked. ‘The Varangians are fielding a team? They are foot soldiers.’

  ‘Commander Ashfirth is a keen horseman—don’t you recall the stables at his house, my lady?’

  ‘I remember them being quite extensive. Send a message to Katerina, would you? Find out if she’s planning to come, I should like her to join my party. And tell her to bring the children. I am sure they will enjoy watching the horses.’

  Sophia raised a brow. ‘Are you sure? The children are very young, my lady.’

  ‘Sophia, that was not a suggestion.’

  ‘My lady, I know you are anxious to see Martina, but are you certain?’

  ‘Martina will be but one child among three. She will be quite safe with so many soldiers about. We have our escort—’ she jerked her head towards the ever-watchful Captain Markos ‘—and there will be Immortals and

  Varangians on the field.’

  ‘They will not be on guard, my lady. This is an entertainment.’

  ‘When the Emperor arrives, he will bring armed Varangian Guardsmen with him. Sophia, please...’

  ‘My apologies, my lady, I shall see to it at once.’

  Slaves, servants and noblewomen curtsied as Theodora led her women through the latticed gate. The crowd heading to the field by the sea wall parted respectfully to let their newly married princess through. Captain Markos and his men accompanied them, close as shadows.

  Several wooden stands had sprung up around the polo ground. ‘Goodness, impressive,’ Theodora said, pausing to take stock at the edge of the field.

  It was as though a sorcerer had been at work overnight. There were two raised platforms on either side of the field. Purple awnings and Imperial standards over the stand on the northern side marked it out as reserved for His Majesty’s relatives and favoured members of his household. There was no sign of the Imperial family yet, but it could not be long before the Emperor arrived.

  It was a relief to see dozens of armed Varangians already in place—their red uniforms formed a bright line in front of the Imperial stand. Others were posted at regular intervals around the ground. The Court was gathering. A faint drumroll floated across the grass from a band of musicians, she heard the fluting of a pipe.

  ‘Which stand shall we choose?’ Thetis asked. ‘Will you join the Imperial party?’

  ‘Mmm?’ Theodora only half-heard the question. Her attention had been drawn to the horses tethered behind a rope by the sea wall; she was searching the grooms and riders for a particularly tall, dark man in the white uniform of the Athanatoi. There he was, laughing with one of the grooms. Even at a distance, Nikolaos made a compelling figure. He stood head and shoulders above the others, wedding crown glinting in the afternoon light. Her chest ached. Theodora was surprised to see the crown, particularly after their disagreement yesterday evening. Surely he wasn’t planning on wearing it when he and his team rode onto the field?

  ‘Are you joining the Imperial party, my lady?’

  ‘Not today,’ Theodora spoke firmly. She was not ready to do anything that might put her in the position of having to lie to Emperor Alexios. If His Majesty engaged her in conversation...if questions were asked... ‘We shall watch the match from the southern stand, near the sea wall.’

  ‘What are those people doing near the ropes? Should they be so close to the horses?’ Thetis asked.

  ‘They are likely studying their form, deciding whether the Varangians or the Athanatoi are likely to win.’

  ‘They will place bets?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  Theodora knew which horse—he was more of a pony, really, the animal was no battle-scarred heavyweight—belonged to Nikolaos and she recognised the groom holding the reins. The horse’s mane and tail were decorated with ribbons in the regimental colours—white, silver, gold. He stamped his foot, as though impatient for the match to begin. Other horses nearby were also bearing the colours of the Immortals. It was possible they, too, belonged to Nikolaos—a change of horses mid-game was not uncommon. Theodora ran a knowledgeable eye over them. The horse the groom was holding was brown and sturdily built, the more muscular of the three. There was a more slightly built black pony with a white hock and a dappled pony with a plaited mane. Strength and speed, she thought.

  A woman stepped out of the huddle of people by the rope and waved. ‘Nikolaos!’ The woman’s voice carried clearly to where Theodora was standing at the edge of the field. The dappled pony tossed its head and several grooms jumped to shift the rope and allow the woman through.

  ‘Who is that?’ Thetis asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’ Theodora stared unashamedly at the woman, wishing they were nearer, so she could see more clearly. She was not a young woman—her neatly coiled hair was streaked with grey. Her clothing signalled her noble status; the breeze was playing with the tassels of an apricot-coloured shawl, rippling them in the way that only silk could ripple, and she was wearing heavy court damask and an impressive gold bracelet that looked as though it had come straight from the Imperial Treasury.

  Theodora found herself holding her breath, waiting for Nikolaos to notice the woman. The moment he did, his laughter stopped and he went very still. The grey-haired woman made as if to embrace him and he drew his head sharply back. Giving the woman a brusque nod, he turned back to the groom.

  Theodora narrowed her gaze. There was no doubt that Nikolaos did not wish to speak to the woman, who held out her hand, as though pleading, but since he had turned his back on her, he could not see. The woman’s mouth moved, she was definitely speaking to him. Nikolaos made no sign that he heard, but there was an awkwardness in his bearing that had not been there before. Theodora realised he was conscious, painfully conscious, of the woman behind him.

  Squaring her shoulders, the noblewoman turned back to the rope and signalled to a servant to let her pass. Slowly and with great dignity, she moved away from the horses.

  A gull mewed as it flew over the sea wall and Theodora realised who the woman was. That is his mother, Lady

  Verina. And Nikolaos has rebuffed her in public.

  She felt sympathy—poor woman! She felt curiosity—what had come between them? ‘Thetis, we shall be taking our place on the stand in front of the sea wall. Please see to it that my husband’s mother is invited to join us.’

  ‘That is Lady Verina, despoina?’

  ‘I believe so. And when you have done that, find rugs for when the children arrive. There’s plenty of room for them and their nursemaids to sit on the grass at the side of the stand.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Theodora allowed herself to be helped on to the stand. She chose a seat at the end of the front row, from where it would be easy to watch both the polo match and her daughter. When the Emperor and Empress arrived, they would take the stand on the other side of the ground.

  Boards creaked as her ladies joined her, skirts hushed across wooden planking. Captain Markos and the rest of her husband’s watchdogs clattered into position—they had not let her out of their sight for a moment. She gritted her teeth. She understood that Nikolaos was doing his duty as he saw it, but having half the Athanatoi breathing down her neck rankled somewhat.

  Lady Verina was approaching with Thetis. As s
he drew near, Theodora struggled to set her anger with Nikolaos aside. Nikolaos knew she had not been frank with him. Given his position as Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s army, he had little choice but to take precautions. He can take no risks where the security of the Empire is concerned.

  ‘Princess?’ Lady Verina sank into a deep curtsy. Deliberately unclenching her jaw, Theodora held out both hands in welcome and smiled. ‘Lady Verina, I am happy to meet you. I am honoured.’

  ‘The honour is mine, Princess.’

  ‘I hear that illness has kept you from Court, Lady

  Verina. I hope you are fully recovered?’

  ‘I thank you, yes.’

  Hazel eyes searched hers, red-rimmed hazel eyes. With a painful twisting in her chest, Theodora saw that Lady

  Verina had been crying. It was immediately clear that Nikolaos had inherited his strong features from his mother. That Roman nose was most distinctive, as were the high cheekbones, the clear brow... However, there the resemblance ended. Nikolaos was tall, his mother was short; Nikolaos was all hard muscle, his mother was plump and curvy; Nikolaos had dark, dark eyes...

  And Nikolaos had made the poor woman cry—the man had a heart of stone.

  ‘Please sit, my lady.’ Theodora indicated the seat next to her.

  ‘My thanks.’ Deftly arranging her skirts, Lady Verina folded her hands on her lap and stared straight ahead of her. ‘I shall be frank, I wasn’t sure that you would want to acknowledge me. I am so glad my concern was unfounded.’

  ‘You have had a disagreement with your son.’

  ‘I am afraid so.’ Lady Verina’s voice wavered, but she maintained her poise, staring straight ahead of her. ‘It concerns something that happened years ago. I have been trying to explain the full circumstances to Nikolaos, but he has only heard the half of it and refuses to hear the rest.’

  ‘That I can well believe. I have not known your son long, my lady, and whilst I already hold him in high regard, it has become clear he has a...stubborn streak.’

  ‘That is true.’

  In unison, Theodora and Lady Verina turned to look at Nikolaos. He was dragging a bleached leather gambeson over his white tunic. The Immortals would not be wearing their heavy armour here and Theodora was glad to see the gambeson; it would offer some protection—polo was fast and dangerous. A battle in all but name, especially when played by cavalry officers, polo could be brutal. And a helmet? Please, Nikolaos, wear a helmet. Men had been killed playing polo.

  When the groom handed Nikolaos a helmet, she gave a slight nod. God be praised. Despite their disagreement and her resentment at his attempt to confine her to the apartment, she did not wish him ill. He was simply doing his duty, as he saw it. Already I am fond of him. Lady

  Verina’s smile as Nikolaos strapped on his helmet was proof that his mother was equally concerned for his well-being.

  ‘I should like to help you reconcile with him, if I can,’ Theodora said. ‘Could you not tell me what has come between you?’

  Lady Verina met her gaze. ‘You are very kind, my dear, but I fear I cannot do that. My son feels I have let him down. Badly. Sometimes I fear he will never forgive me.’

  ‘You must be mistaken.’ What could this gentle woman have done to so offend her son? Whatever it was, Theodora felt sure Nikolaos could not be so cruel as to keep his mother at arm’s length for long.

  Her gaze travelled back to the horses, then pulled back to the imposing figure of her husband. They had only known each other for a few weeks—could she hope to understand him in so short a time? Nikolaos fascinated her and it was more than the fascination a bride felt when coming to know her new husband. He was running his hand over his horse’s flanks, checking the girth. How gentle those hands could be when he wanted, his touch had made their joining easy. No, not easy, wondrous.

  Theodora frowned, the direction of her thoughts—so carnal—made her feel like a stranger, a stranger who would like nothing better than to sit in this box and admire the astonishingly athletic figure of her husband. How could this be? She was angry with him for storming out of their apartment; she resented his setting his men over her like watchdogs; she deeply regretted the way he treated his mother and yet...even with his mother at her side she found herself admiring his form. And what a form it was. The memory of that perfect masculine body moving against hers in the silk-draped bed was ever in her mind. It was a torment, it was a delight. As she watched Nikolaos checking his horse’s harness, it was easy to recall the strength she had felt in those wide shoulders and in the rippling muscles of the torso now hidden beneath white linen and padded leather...

  She swallowed. It was somewhat galling to learn that one could lust after someone when there was so much unresolved between them.

  With a start, Theodora realised Lady Verina was speaking.

  ‘Perhaps I might enlist your help in a small way, Princess?’

  ‘Of course.’ Nikolaos is fortunate to have a mother—he must be made to appreciate her.

  ‘If I wrote another letter to my son, could you undertake to see that it reaches him and that he reads it?’

  ‘You have written to him recently?’

  ‘Many times. I suspect he has destroyed the letters.’

  ‘I will ensure he reads your new one.’ Theodora touched Lady Verina’s sleeve. ‘Will you not confide in me?’

  ‘When he is ready, Nikolaos will tell you himself, I am sure. I hope for both your sake’s that time is not far off.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Lady Verina’s smile was sad. ‘It means, my dear, that I should like my son’s marriage to be happy, as mine was. There should be no secrets between man and wife.’

  A lump of ice formed where Theodora’s heart should be. No secrets. What would Lady Verina say if she knew what I was keeping from Nikolaos? I may never be able to tell him the whole truth. A happy marriage for us is likely to remain an impossible dream.

  ‘Nikolaos hates secrets, he hates deception of any kind,’ Lady Verina added, unknowingly rubbing salt into the wound. ‘He has always been the same, so he will tell you all in due course, I am sure. I misled him, that was my mistake. My son is a straightforward man, if at time a little uncompromising—’

  ‘He should not have dismissed you so rudely.’

  ‘He believes he has reason.’

  ‘Because you misled him?’ The lump of ice in her chest seemed to shift—Theodora was finding it hard to breathe. If this is how Nikolaos treated his mother, a mother who gave every appearance of loving and caring for him, how would he react when he learned about Martina?

  He must never know Martina is mine. And as to my deep secret, that must never come to light.

  ‘Nikolaos will confide in you, I am sure, and when he does, I pray that you, too, will see your way to forgiving me.’

  This last remark was so startling that Theodora could only stare. ‘I cannot think you have done anything that will require my forgiveness.’

  Theodora had an instinctive liking for Lady Verina, it upset her to see Nikolaos treating her so harshly. He does not realise how fortunate he is to still have his mother! He should cherish her and try to understand her. He should certainly not walk away from her when she is trying to speak to him.

  Aloud she said, ‘I wonder where His Majesty is.’

  ‘I do not think he will be long. Look, there’s Lord Basil...’

  The conversation turned to lighter matters, to the nature of the refreshments that had been arranged for later in the tournament and, after Theodora had admired Lady Verina’s gown, to the quality of the latest damasks and twills coming out of the Palace workshops.

  A small flurry to the side of the stands announced the arrival of Katerina with a bevy of maidservants. Jelena was holding Martina close to her breast.

  Theodora greeted Katerina and watched her daughter hungrily out of the corner of her eye. Martina was wrapped in a wine-coloured shawl, and was deep asleep. Jelena settled with her on the nearby rug, am
id the other nursemaids and the children Katerina had adopted. Theodora longed to go and pick her daughter up, but today that was impossible; she would have to be content with looking at her from a distance. Martina’s cheeks were plump, slightly pink from teething, but she was clearly thriving.

  Sophia and Katerina entered the stand and the other ladies made room for them.

  Theodora hoped her interest in the children on the rug and her daughter in particular was not too obvious, but Lady Verina must have followed the direction of her gaze for she said, ‘You have a fondness for children, Princess?’

  Flushing, Theodora tore her gaze from her sleeping daughter. ‘Very much.’

  Trumpets sounded. Around them conversation faded—Emperor Alexios and Empress Irene had arrived.

  ‘Not long now,’ Lady Verina murmured, as His Majesty’s entourage disposed themselves about the Imperial box. Catching Theodora’s hand, she pointed at the sky over the Imperial standard. ‘Look, the swifts have returned, that is a good omen. The Immortals will win.’

  Sure enough, there were the swifts, darting back and forth around a thin curl of smoke from a bakehouse. ‘I hope that they do,’ Theodora murmured.

  The players were ready, Immortals in white, Varangians in red. Nikolaos vaulted gracefully into the saddle, his team mates and opponents did the same.

  A man was walking between the horses’ enclosure and the sea wall. He looked out of place, furtive. Theodora’s gaze homed in on him. He was wearing a helmet and riding boots, but his tunic was grey, he was not in regimental colours. He passed behind the ropes and the grooms to where some spare horses were tethered.

  Theodora shivered and touched Lady Verina’s arm. ‘What do you suppose that man is doing by the sea wall?’

  Lady Verina shrugged. ‘Perhaps he is in reserve.’

  ‘I do not believe reserves are allowed today.’

  A chill of foreboding ran through her. Dimly, Theodora was aware that a peacock had wandered on to the field, she heard hooting and laughter. A groom hastened to shoo the peacock away, she only had eyes for the man in the helmet. She saw him untie a grey horse, mount it and begin riding round the back of the horses. It came to her that he was waiting for something. And he definitely did not want to be noticed, his helmet had a broad nose-guard which masked his features.