Betrothed to the Barbarian

by Carol Townend

  ‘My permission?’

  She looked delightfully uncertain, the tremble in her mouth was pure temptation. When she moistened her lips, he knew she was remembering their time together in the silk-draped bed. He put her hand on his shoulders and captured her other hand. ‘With your permission, Princess?’

  She raised a brow. ‘I shall change your mind, you know. You only have one mother and you ought to speak to her.’

  But she was looking at his mouth and she was smiling.

  ‘With your permission, Princess?’

  Dark eyelashes lowered, she gave the tiniest nod. It was exactly the encouragement he was waiting for. Nikolaos shifted to lift her with him into the bath, gown and all, and with much giggling and laughter he went on to discover that when one had the permission of an Imperial princess, one could do almost anything, even join with her in one’s bath.

  ‘With your permission, Princess?’ Impatient with lacings and ties, he pulled her gown up over gently rounded hips. ‘With your permission?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Theodora woke with a smile in her heart. Unwilling to move from the great bed quite yet, she adjusted a mulberry-coloured pillow, content simply to gaze at her husband. He was yet to wake. He hadn’t said the words, but Theodora felt thoroughly, deeply loved. I belong with this man.

  His easy acceptance of Martina had taken her breath away. He was a good man, honourable, loyal, brusque at times...but a good man. If she had his love, she could, she realised with an unsettling lurch in her belly, be blissfully happy. Happiness was a blessing Theodora had never thought to look for in marriage. Contentment, yes, if she was lucky; happiness was another matter. Princesses were not taught to expect happiness; a princess learned early on to devote her life to the well-being of the Empire.

  If Nikolaos loved me, I might achieve happiness... It was a tantalising thought, undoubtedly born of weakness. As she studied him, she set it aside, happiness was not her right. Particularly in view of what she had done. She was not worthy of the title ‘Princess’.

  Theodora’s smile faded, and the old guilt welled up as she stared with painful longing at her husband. His hair was thick and lustrous, it was puzzling how much she longed to stroke it. Equally puzzling was the thought that she would never tire of staring at him. The curve of his eyelashes...that distinctive nose...the strong shoulders...even the shape of his hand as it lay relaxed in sleep on the pillow.

  She was blessed indeed that he had accepted Martina, it was clear he felt compassion for her. Nikolaos resented discovering that he was illegitimate, but that fact had enabled him to accept Martina, Theodora was sure of it. He thinks that he and Martina are in a similar situation.

  Which in a sense makes matters worse.

  What am I to do?

  Out in the Palace grounds, a peacock shrieked. Nikolaos stirred and relaxed back into the pillow and a lock of dark hair flopped over his eyes. Taking care not to wake him, Theodora smoothed it back. She had been wrong to think she could keep her secret from him. If they were to have any sort of a future together, she must be open with him.

  I love him. I must tell him everything.

  It was painful looking at the enormity of what she had done. After months of training herself not to look at it, it went very much against the grain. Many times, Theodora had found herself thinking quite irrationally—worrying that if she so much as thought about how selfish she had been, someone would see into her mind, they would drag the truth out of her and then...

  She sighed. Not facing her sin had become her habit. It was a habit she must break, and this was the moment to break it. It was time for the stark truth, for her secret to be revealed.

  Nikolaos is not my first husband. I was married to Peter in secret, and Martina is his daughter. Martina is the legitimate Princess of Rascia.

  In marrying Župan Peter early, Theodora had flouted convention, but in keeping Martina’s identity hidden from the world, she had done far worse. She had turned her back on years of training and committed a grievous sin against both the Empire and Rascia. She was, for her own selfish ends, keeping the Princess of Rascia from her people.

  Theodora bit her lip. Nikolaos had accepted Martina with such grace, and he had done so because he thought he and Martina were kindred spirits. When he learned that Martina was the legitimate Princess of Rascia, would he feel the same compassion?

  Would he, as Theodora feared, come to hate her for keeping so large a secret from him? Would he feel betrayed? Used? Her husband was the most loyal of generals. He was honourable. Scrupulous. He would find her motives incomprehensible. If she told him everything, would he find it in his heart to understand? Would he be able to forgive so large a transgression? Or would the knowledge drive a wedge between them? Her only hope was to make Nikolaos understand why she had kept Martina’s identity hidden.

  All my life I have felt like so much merchandise, being shipped hither and yon for the benefit of the Empire. I did not want this for Martina. I will not have it for Martina.

  Theodora was passionate about this. In order to keep her daughter at her side, she had been prepared to accept the stigma of a fallen woman. In order to ensure Martina was never sent away, she had been prepared to deny Martina her rights as the legitimate Princess of Rascia. Never mind that the Prince of Zeta was an ever-present danger; never mind that Martina was a helpless babe-in-arms and the Rascian Court was so chaotic it could never offer her protection.

  What she had done was unforgivable—no emperor would condone her actions. There was simply no excuse.

  I am a wicked, selfish woman to have deceived the world in such a way. It is time for the truth. My sin has consequences and I must face them, I must tell Nikolaos what I have done.

  Theodora sank back against her pillow and stared up at the mulberry-coloured bed-hangings. Her heart twisted. She felt at home with Nikolaos and after so many years of exile, she felt as though she had finally come to a safe harbour. It was ironic that finally, finally, she felt as though she belonged and she must put her newfound peace in jeopardy by telling him the truth.

  He is a good man, he deserves no less.

  Outside the peacock shrieked and this time she watched Nikolaos come fully awake.

  * * *

  Soft brown eyes smiled into his. Pulling his wife towards him, Nikolaos kissed her. Theodora’s response was warm enough to have desire thrumming in his veins, yet he sensed some reserve in her. Sliding a hand round the curve of her buttock, he eased her closer. He wanted her to know he was hot for her and wondered what it might take to make her set aside her reserve.

  ‘How early is it?’ He nibbled her ear and inhaled the subtle scent of violets. ‘Do we have time?’

  She drew back, still smiling, and shook her head. ‘We overslept. Sophia will be in any moment.’

  Nikolaos grimaced and scrubbed his face, even as he heard the familiar knocking on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ he called, reaching for a long, silken strand of hair. Coiling it round his finger, he used it to bring Theodora back to him. ‘The bathhouse,’ he murmured. ‘In an hour?’

  Under cover of the bedclothes, a small hand stroked his flank. ‘That is a good idea. There is something important I need to discuss with you.’

  ‘My lady? My lord?’ Sophia came up to the bed. ‘Excuse me, but you must know the Emperor has summoned the Princess to meet him in the small throne room. At once.’

  ‘His Majesty wants to see me?’

  Theodora’s face emptied of colour. She had emerged from their kiss flushed and relaxed. Sophia’s announcement had her eyes filling with shadows. That old hunted look was back, the one he thought he had chased away...

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Sophia hurried to the dressing chamber, as she went under the arch her voice became muffled. ‘May I recommend the beaded violet gown with the amethyst diadem?’

  Theodora sat next to him in the bed, sheets clutched to her chin. She looked as though she had turned to stone. Her throat worked. She
is terrified. If she had looked on the Medusa, she could not have looked more frightened.

  With a sense of foreboding, Nikolaos covered her hand with his. ‘What is it? Theodora?’ It seemed incredible that the thought of meeting the Emperor should so distress her. It occurred to him that this was not the first time his wife had been reluctant to speak to the Emperor. At the polo match she had avoided the Imperial box, though as cousin to the Empress she would have been within her rights to join the Imperial party. He had assumed she had been keeping her distance because of the shame of bearing a child out of wedlock. It could not be more. It was up to him to demonstrate her husband would be her ally. ‘Theodora?’

  She turned her head, the look in her eyes chilled him to the bone. ‘Why does he want to see me?’

  Nikolaos kept his voice light. Easy. ‘It is likely he saw something of what happened yesterday at the polo match...you screaming...Boda...the fire...’

  ‘He wants to question me about Martina.’

  Nikolaos shrugged. ‘It would seem so.’ He squeezed her hand in a gesture of reassurance. ‘It’s a wonder he did not summon us before—’ he grinned ‘—though I have to say I am thankful for his forbearance.’

  She made no response, simply watched Sophia emerge from the dressing chamber with a long violet gown. ‘His Majesty summoned me, Niko, just me.’ Her voice was flat, her natural vitality seemed to have left her and she was staring at the violet gown as though she loathed it. ‘Not that one, Sophia! Not violet.’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘I cannot wear that to meet the Emperor. Bring me the green damask with the pearl collar.’

  ‘As you wish, my lady.’

  Nikolaos took Theodora’s chin and forced her to meet his eyes. ‘You are not going alone. I can see you are anxious, but I want you to know that you need feel no shame about Martina. You need fear nothing. I am coming with you and I shall support you. Hear this: I will permit no one, not even His Majesty, to chastise you. Martina became my daughter the day we married; she will bear no stigma because you bore her out of wedlock, and neither will you.’

  Her eyes filled. Her fingers gripped his. ‘Niko—’

  To his consternation, she burst noisily into tears. Nikolaos drew her into his arms and over her head his eyes met Lady Sophia’s. ‘Lady Sophia?’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘I shall be accompanying the Princess to meet the Emperor.’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’

  * * *

  With Sophia’s assistance, Theodora dressed swiftly. All too soon, she had her hand on her husband’s arm and was walking down the marble staircase towards the small throne room. She nodded absently at some ladies as they passed them. What does the Emperor know?

  ‘Good morning, Princess.’

  ‘Good morning, ladies.’

  The corridor leading to the throne room appeared empty, save for the statues lining the walls like guards. They hurried on. They were passing a statue of the first Emperor Constantine, when Lady Verina stepped into their path and swept into a deep curtsy.

  ‘Lady Verina, good morning.’ Theodora smiled and pushed her anxiety to the back of her mind.

  ‘Good morning, Princess.’ Rising from her curtsy, Lady Verina gazed up at her son, eyes taking in his wedding crown. Her mouth trembled. ‘Nikolaos.’

  ‘Mother.’ Giving Lady Verina a cold nod, Nikolaos walked on.

  Hearing a stifled sob, Theodora’s heart twisted in sympathy and she dug in her heels. ‘You must excuse us, Lady Verina, the Emperor has summoned us.’ As Lady Verina fled down the corridor, Theodora lowered her voice. ‘That was inexcusable, my lord. Your mother deserves your respect.’

  ‘If my mother wanted my respect, she should have thought twice before she broke faith with my father.’

  There was no time for more, the Varangians flanking the gilded doors of the throne room were within earshot. The Emperor’s Guard saluted as Theodora and Nikolaos passed through. Two more Varangians stood either side of the canopied throne, their presence a clear indication that the Emperor would arrive at any moment. The purple canopy seemed to dwarf the room; the double-headed eagle on the Imperial standard seemed to glower.

  The corridor rang with quick footsteps. The guards stood stiffly to attention and Theodora was taken by the desire to pick up her skirts and run for her life. The strain of standing her ground was such that she began to tremble.

  Nikolaos threaded his fingers through hers. ‘It is all right, my princess. There will be no recriminations.’

  ‘I can’t do this! I am not fit to be a princess.’

  ‘That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Of course you are.’

  ‘Niko, you don’t understand—’

  ‘Theodora, calm yourself. Try and remember, you are not alone.’

  Her throat closed and Niko’s dark features were lost behind a rush of tears. Outside, she heard the chink of arms as the Guard saluted their Emperor. ‘Nikolaos, I haven’t told you everything.’

  Dark eyes gazed steadily at her. ‘Oh?’

  ‘I was going to tell you this morning, before the summons came.’ Would the guards detain her if she took to her heels? When a laugh escaped her, Theodora recognised that hysteria was a heartbeat away. ‘What is the penalty for deceiving an Emperor?’

  Nikolaos went very still. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  She swallowed. ‘Niko, I must speak to you—get me out of here.’

  Nikolaos tightened his lips and shook his head. ‘It is best to face fears head-on. There will be no more evasions. We face this together, and we face it now.’

  * * *

  Emperor Alexios strode into the throne room, the heels of his riding boots clicking sharply on the floor. Theodora struggled not to flinch with his every footstep. Gems glittered on a magnificent belt. Other than the belt, the Emperor was dressed informally. A short black tunic concealed the hair shirt he was rumoured to be wearing until his forty days of penance was over. Theodora knew Alexios Komnenos to be about the same age as her husband, but knowledge that he was Emperor had made her envisage an older man. He was dark and bearded, much younger than her imagination had painted him. His youthfulness did nothing to relieve her—he was still the Emperor. He was holding a document which looked like a letter.

  This is the Emperor. I cannot lie to an Emperor. But I am ashamed to tell him the truth. I am a disgrace.

  She gave the Emperor her best curtsy. He made an impatient sound. ‘Enough of that. At last I meet my wife’s cousin. Princess, it has not escaped notice that you have been somewhat elusive since returning to Court.’ The Emperor frowned at the document. ‘Doubtless you have been hoping to avoid chastisement.’

  Theodora’s heart lurched, she kept her gaze down. Her heart gave a few more desperate heartbeats and, when the Emperor said nothing more, it became painfully obvious that he required a response. She lifted her head and looked imploringly at him. ‘Your Majesty, it...I...’ What did that document contain? In a sense it no longer mattered. The time for secrets was over and Theodora knew that as far as the Emperor was concerned there would be no excuse what she had done. She swallowed. ‘I did great wrong.’

  ‘Yes, Princess, you did.’ The Emperor tossed the letter on to the throne and looked dispassionately at her. ‘You should not have married him so soon.’

  Nikolaos stirred. ‘So soon, Your Majesty? Forgive me, but you gave your permission for us to bring the marriage forward.’

  Emperor Alexios shook his head. ‘I was not referring to your marriage to the Princess, General, but to Princess Theodora’s first marriage.’

  The mosaic walls seemed to close in on her.

  Nikolaos gave her a startled frown. ‘Her first marriage?’

  Theodora could not bring herself to look at her husband. She gazed at the Emperor’s riding boots—they were dyed Imperial purple—and wished she could sink through the floor. I should have warned Nikolaos, I should have warned him...

  ‘Her first marriage? E
xcuse me, Your Majesty.’ Taking Theodora by the arms, Nikolaos placed himself directly in front of her and searched her face. It was unsettling to be the subject of such an intense scrutiny. ‘You were married to Prince Peter?’

  ‘I...I...yes.’ As his fingers bit into her, a thousand questions jostled for precedence in Theodora’s mind. How has the Emperor found out? Who wrote that letter? Lady

  Verina’s words echoed like a death knell at the back of her mind. My son is a straightforward man...he hates deception of any kind. One thought clarified and took precedence over the rest. Nikolaos must hate me, he will feel I have betrayed him.

  Her belly tightened. Her husband’s face was closed, implacable; his dark eyes were hard as jet—Nikolaos would look like this when pronouncing sentence on a soldier who needed disciplining. He has judged me and found me wanting.

  ‘Niko—’

  Abruptly, he released her and stalked to the throne. He reached for the letter. ‘May I, Your Majesty?’

  ‘Assuredly—it was written by your cousin.’

  Theodora held her breath while Nikolaos began to read.

  With a face as inscrutable as that of the Sphinx, he glanced coldly at her. ‘As His Majesty has just said, Leo wrote this.’

  The Emperor rested a hand on his hip. ‘It was sent to my predecessor. In the chaos after my...accession...it was mislaid. After what I saw yesterday at the polo tournament, I ordered a search. It came to light this morning.’

  Nikolaos allowed the letter to curl back into a scroll, dropped it on a tasselled cushion and stepped towards her. ‘My cousin writes to explain why he sanctioned your marriage, your first marriage. He was concerned for your welfare should something happen to Prince Peter. He saw the affection between the two of you and was concerned lest you should have a child. Theodora, you owe His Majesty, and me, an explanation.’

  Theodora swallowed down the knot in her throat. ‘Peter and I...we were afraid.’ She sent an apologetic glance the Emperor’s way. ‘As you have realised, we married in the reign of your predecessor. Emperor Nikephoros was known to be...changeable—Imperial policy towards the vassal states was in a constant state of flux. Župan Peter wanted to confirm our alliance, and I—’