by Speer, Flora
“If you kill him,” came Sister Gertrude’s sharp voice, “how will you explain to Charles that you ignored his expressly stated desire to meet with Theuderic?”
That stopped Hrulund. He lowered his sword.
“For Charles’s sake only, I will let you live, Firebrand,” he said. “And I will pray that you regain your courage in time to prove yourself in battle in Spain.”
India let out the breath she had been holding, but when Hrulund spoke again, she was filled with dismay.
“Turpin, we cannot let Theuderic and these women go to Agen unescorted, and we will not be able to leave for another day or so. Let me send my man Autar with them.”
“While I feel certain that Count Theuderic and his men are capable of protecting the ladies,” Turpin replied, “still, Autar has served me well as a messenger in the past. With your kind permission, Hrulund, he will do so again, for I ought to write to Charles.”
“We will have to set out at once,” Theu objected.
“By the time your horses are ready and your men have mounted,” Turpin promised, “the letter will be written and Autar will join you. There will be no delay.” He left the hall, Autar following him.
“You,” Hrulund said to Theu, “will pay for your refusal to pledge yourself to Charles.”
“It is meaningless for a man to repeat an oath he has already taken,” Theu responded. “Charles heard my oath when he was elected king, and he knows I will keep it until I die.”
“God willing, that will be soon.” With a look at Theu that would have driven a lesser man to his knees in terror, Hrulund turned on his heel and motioned to his men to follow him out of the hall.
“Garnar,” said Theu, “will you ride to Agen with me?”
“I have other letters to be delivered in Paris and Noyon,” Garnar replied. “I am only grateful that Sister Gertrude heard me inquiring at the convent if any knew of your passage through Tours. Otherwise, our paths might have crossed without our knowledge.”
“Then we must thank Sister Gertrude,” said Theu, with a look at the nun that suggested he might want to thank her for more than delivery of a royal letter.
“Did they lock all of you in barren cells as they did me?” India asked. It was Hugo who answered her.
“Each of us was put into a cell with a guard, so we could not talk to each other or aid Theu if he needed us. It was Marcion who was clever enough to overpower the guard who brought his morning food. He knocked my guard unconscious, too, and together we released the other men. I am sorely disappointed in Count Hrulund, and in Bishop Turpin, over this affair.” Hugo added, “I think we ought to protest their ungracious treatment of us to Charles.”
“Charles has enough to occupy his thoughts just now without his nobles coming to him with their quarrels, like squabbling children to a parent,” Theu responded.
“You haven’t told us yet how Turpin and Hrulund treated you last night,” Marcion said to Theu.
“They fed me an inadequate dinner while trying to convince me to give up all my objections to the campaign,” Theu replied with a casualness that made India look hard at him and wonder exactly what had happened. She wanted to tell Theu about her own interview with Turpin, but she could not do it there in the hall. If she did, Theu might well decide to go in search of Turpin and Hrulund and begin a new fight with them.
“I am sorry I missed hearing Hrulund’s attempts to argue with reason,” Marcion said to Theu. He laughed at the idea. “Only that thickheaded ox would think to bully you into submission. The man is so single-minded he can talk of nothing but weapons and battle.”
“And how much he distrusts women,” India added. “Was he ever actually betrayed by a woman, or does he just fear it might happen?”
“Those around him would be a lot happier if Hrulund could love some other human being besides Charles,” Theu answered, giving India a strange, lingering look that left her breathless. “Hrulund is betrothed, but he pays no attention to the poor girl. He even convinced her brother to take her away from court to keep her safe from frivolous influences, though many think he only wanted to avoid her.”
“The gossips claim he has never lain with any woman,” Marcion told India, “and I half believe the tale.”
“He’s a hard man,” Hugo said, clearly still disturbed by the events of the day and night just passed. “A great warrior, but not a friend I would want.”
“No,” India said. “He’s a saintly man, a fanatic who can carry others along with him. When he knelt with that sword in his hands, I felt a stirring of battle fever myself, and I ought to be completely immune to that kind of thing. There is a terrifying purity about Hrulund that makes him dangerous.”
“From what I’ve seen of him,” Sister Gertrude put in, “I think India understands Hrulund well. Now, Count Theuderic, I would like to suggest to you that we depart from this hall before Hrulund changes his mind about letting us go. I have no taste for the bloodshed that will surely result if he tries to stop us.”
“You are right. Hugo, see to the lady Danise,” Theu ordered. “Marcion, give Sister Gertrude your arm. Eudon, Osric, see to the horses. The rest of you help them. India, come with me.”
No one made any attempt to prevent their going when Theu led them toward the courtyard. Just behind her, India overheard Marcion speaking to Sister Gertrude.
“Lady,” Marcion said, “like Theu, I thank you for your timely arrival. I could kiss you for your good sense.”
“I pray you will not,” said Sister Gertrude with all of her accustomed sharpness. “It was to escape the kisses of brutish men that I first entered a convent. I have no wish at my age to endure such embraces now.”
“Then I will confine myself to eternal, chaste devotion to you,” teased Marcion.
India saw Danise look at Hugo just then, with laughter in her eyes. At least Danise did not feel the same way about men that Sister Gertrude did, although, after meeting Hrulund, India could understand why a Frankish woman might prefer not to marry.
“You did not need to look so frightened back there,” Theu said to India, capturing her attention away from Hugo and Danise. “There was no real danger.”
“You might have been killed!” she exclaimed. “And I was terrified in that cell they put me into. I had no idea what would happen to me, or to you and your people. Didn’t you think about me and wonder if I was all right?”
“I had Turpin’s word that you would come to no harm,” he said with great reasonableness. “Do you not believe the promises made by the bishops in your own country? You were kept in that room to protect Hrulund’s men from you, lest you stir lustful thoughts in them. Hrulund does not allow his men to take women. He is right when he says it is best not to love women, for they do weaken a man’s purpose. It was foolish of me to let you come here. You should have stayed at the convent with Sister Gertrude and Danise, as I wanted you to do.”
“You don’t care about me at all, do you?” she cried, furious with him for being so unconcerned when she had been badly frightened – and angry with herself for loving him so much. He had warned her soon after they met that he would never love again. She ought to have believed him.
“I care whether or not you reach Agen safely, because Charles wants to see you,” he told her, giving her another peculiar look and sounding as if he was trying to convince himself. But she was too hurt and too angry with him to pay any attention to what he might be feeling.
“You could have been killed back there,” she said again as they emerged into the courtyard. “We all could have been killed.”
He stared at her, looking so disturbed and unhappy that she finally forgot her own rage long enough to wonder what was wrong with him.
“I cannot,” he said, as if arguing with himself. “I swore I would not, not ever again. I will not allow myself to feel this way.”
“Theu, what is it? What’s the matter?”
He did not answer her. He only shrugged his shoulders and headed toward his ho
rse, which Eudon was holding.
“Mount, all of you,” he called over his shoulder. He took care not to look in India’s direction. “Let us be gone from here.”
“Oh!” Renewed fury boiled up in India. She could not remember ever being so hurt and angry. She turned to address the nun standing beside Marcion. “Sister Gertrude, I think you are absolutely right. It is better for a woman to live in a convent than to subject herself to the whims and the indifference of a man.”
“I told you so,” said Sister Gertrude.
Chapter 14
They headed south from Tours, the weather growing steadily warmer as they traveled along a road that cut through yet more forest. In fact, most of Francia was wooded, though here and there farmland had been cleared and planted, and in the infrequent open meadows cattle grazed. These southern lands were lush and green with all the freshness of early spring. Showers were frequent but brief and caused no inconvenience. As soon as the sun came out again, their clothing dried, so there was no need to seek shelter from the rain.
India estimated that it was by now the end of March or early April, and probably close to four weeks since Eudon had been wounded by the boar. He claimed to be completely healed. Certainly he had borne up well during their travels and seemed to be less stiff each morning. India herself was growing used to riding all day, the exercise and fresh air combining to make her feel remarkably healthy. But physical well-being was not everything, and her heart was in turmoil.
Unable to deal with what she saw as his lack of concern for her feelings or her safety, she avoided Theu as much as possible and spent her days riding with Danise and Sister Gertrude, willingly sharing a room and frequently a bed with the two of them at night. It hurt her deeply that Theu did not seem to notice or care.
“Never rely on a man for your happiness,” Sister Gertrude said to her one evening while Theu sat with his men and their host. All of the men ignored the women when they left the great hall to seek the guest room. “Even Hugo does not spare a glance for Danise. Men think nothing of destroying a woman’s peace and contentment.”
Having seen Danise and India into bed, Sister Gertrude made them promise to remain there, then took herself off to the chapel, saying she had neglected her prayers of late. India and Danise lay beneath a feather-filled quilt, India trying not to weep. She wished she could put her head under the pillow and cry herself to sleep, but she had no privacy, and so she had to keep her feelings bottled up inside herself.
“Sister Gertrude does not like men,” came Danise’s soft voice out of the darkness.
“I had noticed,” India replied dryly.
“She will not speak of her youth at all,” Danise went on, “so I cannot say for certain, but I have heard gossip about her at Chelles that makes me believe she was disappointed in a man while she was just a girl. One story the students tell about her youth claims that a man she loved and hoped to marry was killed in battle. As a result, the story goes, Sister Gertrude hates everything to do with warfare and the use of weapons, and she refuses to trust any man. You have seen how carefully she guards me from Count Theuderic’s men.”
“To Hugo’s great sorrow,” India said, making Danise giggle.
“And now to Count Theuderic’s sorrow also,” Danise responded, still laughing a little, “since Sister Gertrude protects you from him.”
“Theuderic has his own sad past,” India replied. “It is no secret that he has sworn never to love again in order to avoid being hurt a second time as he was when his wife died.”
“While my mother was still alive,” Danise said, “my father looked at her as if his heart would melt at the very sight of her. Count Theuderic looks at you in the same way. I think you have touched his heart, whether he wanted it or not. He may be struggling against himself, but I think he will not long deny what he feels. From what I have seen of the warriors under my father’s command, I believe they seize the moments of happiness granted to them, for they above all men know how short life can be.”
“You are remarkably wise for so young a girl,” India said.
“Perhaps not so wise as you think,” Danise responded. “I am nearly seventeen and should have been married years ago except that my father could not bear to lose me after my mother died.”
India began to think about what Danise had said about the way Theu looked at her. She thought, too, about her anger toward him. She was still not sure exactly what had happened to him at Tours during the time when she was locked in her cold, unfurnished cell, nor why Theu had treated her with such marked indifference since that day. It was possible that Danise was right and Theu was struggling with emotions he did not want to have. One thing was certain – he would soon go to Spain, where he would be in terrible danger. Whenever she thought about what could happen to him there, fear clutched at her heart. It was fear that kept her from hearing Danise’s next remarks, until the girl repeated her question.
“Would you help me?” Danise asked. “I want so much to speak privately with Hugo, but Sister Gertrude would never allow it.”
“I shouldn’t allow it, either,” India said, unwilling to be drawn into whatever romantic plot Danise might be formulating. “Sister Gertrude would have my head if she discovered I had let you meet Hugo.”
“But you are a widow, which makes you an acceptable guardian for me. I only want you to stand a little aside so you can’t hear what we say. It would only be for a few moments, just so I can let him know I will think of him often while he is in Spain. Once we arrive at Agen, I may not have another chance to tell him what is in my heart before he goes away.”
“To Spain.” India said the word as if it were a curse. “Always Spain. Yes, I’ll help you.”
Sister Gertrude returned just then, heralded by the light of the oil lamp she carried, and the two younger women broke off their talk. India moved over to make room in the bed for the nun. Soon Sister Gertrude began to snore, while on India’s other side Danise’s quieter breathing indicated that she, too, was asleep. But India lay awake thinking about Hugo and Danise, and then about Theu and what Danise had said of the way he looked at her.
At mid-morning of the following day India reined in her horse beside Hugo.
“Do you know where we are to stay tonight?” she asked.
“There is a manor house, where the lord will have left for Agen by now, but his lady will give us a meal and a bed.” Puzzled, Hugo gave her a searching look. “Why didn’t you ask Theu?”
“Have you been to the house before?”
“Once or twice.” Again he sent a questioning look her way.
“Is there any place where a young girl and a man might have a private conversation? Nothing too secluded, you understand, in case they are discovered. We don’t want a scandal, do we?” Seeing the smile that had begun to spread across his face, she quickly put out a hand to touch his arm. “No, don’t look at her. You don’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicion. If you can think of a good place now, or if you find one after we arrive, speak to me, not to Danise. And, Hugo” – here her hand tightened on his arm – “I will be there, too, to protect her reputation. I don’t want unpleasant gossip attached to her name.”
“Nor do I,” said Hugo. “But, if she will allow it, may I kiss her on the cheek? It might be my only chance.”
“If you ask her,” India said, “she may feel obligated to say no.”
“Then I’ll be a thief and steal the kiss I want.” He laughed aloud at the prospect, then sobered almost immediately. “I’m going to ride with Eudon for a while, because that cursed Autar is watching us. Marcion and I believe the message he carries is just an excuse, and he was really sent to spy on all of us, which means I’ll have to think of a way to keep him well occupied this evening.”
The manor house in which they rested that night was small, and at first India thought there would be no opportunity for Danise and Hugo to meet. But the lady of the manor was a pious woman of about Sister Gertrude’s age, a famous needlewoman who was
currently engaged in embroidering an altar-cloth for the local church, and soon the lady, the nun, and the servant Clothilde decided to retire to the lady’s chamber to spread the cloth out upon the bed in order to examine it more thoroughly away from the hall and the possibility of spotting from food or wine.
“Be sure you and Danise stay together,” Sister Gertrude said to India. “I leave her in your care.”
“I’ll see that she comes to no harm,” India promised.
When the older women had gone, she looked around the hall, but could not find Hugo.
“Where is he?” Danise whispered nervously. “Perhaps he has changed his mind. India, did he speak to you at all?”
“What he said,” Marcion remarked, passing behind India on his way to where Theu and Autar were talking, “was that Lombards like me are skilled at intrigue and therefore I am to whisper to you of the beauty of the herb garden at twilight. For myself, I would much prefer a candlelit room, but the Franks have their own peculiar customs.” With a teasing smile for both of them, Marcion moved on.
“But where would the herb garden be?” India asked.
“I can find it.” Her pretty face alight with expectation, Danise headed for a door at one end of the hall.
“Wait, not so fast. We don’t want to be noticed,” India told her, following as rapidly as she dared. “You aren’t going anywhere without me. I promised Sister Gertrude.”
The herb garden was long and narrow, set within stone walls, with a path down the length of it and an old apple tree at the far end. There were only a few delicate new shoots on the plants and no flowers in bloom yet, but India recognized savory, rue, and sage, a patch of mint peeking up in a sheltered corner, a rosebush that would in early summer produce five-petaled, single flowers. Some green leaves that looked like lilies were pushing their way up out of the damp soil. Hugo stood next to a sundial at the halfway point on the path, waiting for them.