Time to Love Again

by Speer, Flora

  Nor did she have any better luck with Hugo.

  “You can’t do it,” Hugo said bluntly. “Not one of Theu’s men would help you, and rightly so. There would be no point in trying to disguise yourself, either, because then you would have to stay away from Theu to keep your identity hidden, and that would defeat your purpose. If Theu discovered you along the way, he would only send you back here to Agen, and that would mean wasting men who would have to ride with you to give you protection. Do as Theu wants. Stay here. Don’t risk his anger or your life. Not every man in the army is as good-hearted as those in our band who brought you here from Saxony. Charles keeps the army on a tight rein, so there is not as much rape or killing of women and children as you would find in other armies, but still, a woman alone is easy prey. Be sensible. Don’t do it.” He left her then to seek Danise’s company, leaving her with the impression that he was nearly as angry with her as Theu would have been if he had heard their conversation.

  India felt utterly defeated. She could not make anyone understand her warnings, and she would not be allowed to travel into Spain with Theu. But there was one thing she could still do for him before they parted. When he returned to her side, she approached him directly.

  “Take me to your tent tonight,” she said.

  “That would not be wise,” he began, but she cut him off. In this at least she would not be thwarted.

  “Wise or not, I will find my way into your bed tonight,” she said, adding with great daring, “unless, of course, you are too weak and weary after today’s activities?”

  “Never!” Fierce male pride blazed in his eyes at the implied insult to his virility. It was quickly followed by laughter and tenderness as he relented. “If you do not come to me, I think I will invade the women’s quarters and drag you off by your hair,” he said. He paused, looking around the room. “Nor do I imagine that anyone would notice your absence, for on this night all lovers will want to be together.”

  The evening ended early, with Charles and Hildegarde taking their children and retiring for an hour or two of family privacy before the little ones were sent to bed. Once they were gone and the rest of the company had begun to leave too, Bertille came to India and linked arms with her. India pulled away.

  “I will be sleeping elsewhere tonight,” she said, not certain what Bertille’s response would be. So far, there had been remarkably little condemnation of her publicly announced relationship with Theu. Sister Gertrude had made a few expected pungent remarks, but the other women, including Bertille’s mother, the strict Lady Remilda, seemed to feel that since India was a widow, it was her own business if she had a lover. Bertille accepted her statement with casual ease.

  “I’m not surprised,” Bertille said, kissing her. “I wish my mother would let me go to Marcion tonight.”

  “Your mother is wise to protect you.” India thought of unplanned pregnancies and men who did not return from war.

  “She says our time will come,” Bertille went on, “and that when it does, I will understand why the waiting was necessary.”

  They parted after a few more words, India silently wondering if Bertille and Marcion would ever know a time when they could be together as lovers. Then she saw Theu waiting for her by the door, and she forgot everyone and everything but him.

  Outside the town among the tents, the horses, the piled-up supplies, and the heavy wooden baggage carts, the campfires were ablaze, lighting the figures of men hastening to finish loading the carts or packing their saddlebags. For those who had completed their preparations and who did not have their own women at Agen, the camp followers were busily plying their trade.

  Amid all the bustle and the coming and going, Theu’s tent was a place of quiet. It was sparsely furnished, containing a table, a chair, and a bed, all of which could be easily folded up, and also a traveling clothes chest and a small box of sand to clean his armor.

  “We’ll make room for both of us,” he said, seeing her looking at the bed.

  “It’s such a small place to be your home for months at a time,” she remarked, touching the undyed wool wall of the tent.

  “It is often crowded, too. Marcion has his own tent that he brought with him from Lombardy, but when the weather is bad, I invite Hugo to share mine with me.”

  “What about those who are sick or injured?”

  “There is always a tent for the worst cases. We take along barber-surgeons, and several baggage carts filled with bandages and other medical supplies.”

  The ever-present knot in her chest tightened, and suddenly India did not want to hear another word on that subject.

  “Love me,” she whispered, believing that if she could hold him close enough she would be able to convince herself that he might return to her in spite of all her fears.

  “I intend to,” he said, reaching for her. “All night long, until the trumpet blows at dawn.”

  “Don’t talk of trumpets. Don’t talk of anything but love.” She put her arms around him and gave him her lips.

  “Knowing our time together is brief makes each moment all the sweeter,” he said. “Believe me, India, and listen well, lest I have no time to say it later. Until the last breath leaves my body, I will not stop thinking of you or wanting you. If I die in this campaign, I will die wanting you in my arms just once more, wanting your lips on mine for one last kiss.”

  “Don’t talk of dying, either,” she cried, clutching him as tightly as she could. “I can’t bear it.”

  “I promise I will do all I can to return to you, and I pray that when I see Agen again, you will still be here, waiting for me.”

  “I will be.” The words tumbled out, spurred by fear and love. “I’ll refuse to go with Hank. I’ll find a way. I will wait for you, Theu. I promise I’ll wait.”

  His mouth was on hers, urgent, demanding. They tore at each other’s clothes, and when they were naked, fell onto his cot for a wild and passionate coupling that rocked the inadequately sized bed until India thought it would collapse.

  Oddly, they made love only once more that night. It seemed more important to talk. She asked endless questions, wanting to know every detail of his life up to the moment of their meeting in Saxony.

  “Did you really think I was a boy and still want me?” she asked, amused by the idea of her passionate and intensely masculine lover caught in such an imaginary predicament. It was hard for her to think back to that time, when she had believed Theu was nothing but a bloodthirsty warrior.

  “My heart knew you at once for what you are,” he told her. “You are the one who has brought joy and love back into my life.”

  Toward dawn, all talking done and knowing there was not much time left to them, they came together again in a joining that was exquisitely sad, yet happy too, and above all, deeply reverent, as though they were sealing the bond that made their hearts one.

  “You are my wife as surely as if there were a marriage contract between us,” Theu said, kissing her tenderly, “or a priest blessing us when the contract has been read. Never think for a moment that anything we have done together is wrong. You and I were meant to love, and even time could not keep us apart.”

  Too soon came the moment when the trumpet blew to rouse the men.

  “I’ll help you arm,” she said, pulling on tier borrowed blue gown in some haste, in case someone should come to speak to him. She vowed that she would keep her rising terror under control, but her hands began to tremble.

  He had his tunic on when Osric appeared to help him with the heavy chain mail brunia, and India was glad for the intrusion, knowing she would have been of little use to Theu by then. But she did buckle on his sword belt and then picked up his metal helmet.

  “If I do not return,” he began, and caught her face, making her look at him when she winced at the thought and would have turned away to hide her tears. “No, India, listen to me. You are to go on as bravely as you have done since first you came to me. You are the bravest woman I have ever known. Who else could do what y
ou have done? Take pride in your courage.

  “If I do not return, I ask you not to forget me. Let my memorial be in your heart. But if I should return and you are not here, if Ahnk finds you and, despite your best efforts, you have not been able to wait for me, then in that far-distant place where I cannot follow you, remember that you are in my heart also. I will never forget you. Never. If it is possible to continue loving even after death, then I will love you through all eternity.”

  “Oh, Theu.” She could say no more. Tears poured down her cheeks.

  “I beg you not to cry,” he said. “If you do, I will not be able to leave you, and my weakness will dishonor me before my king and my men. You don’t want Hrulund to mock me, do you?”

  “Beware of Hrulund,” she said, wiping away the tears and trying to keep her voice steady while she warned him one last time. “His jealousy, his blind arrogance and thirst for glory—”

  “I care nothing for Hrulund.” He enfolded her in his arms. “Let him become a great hero, let poets sing of his deeds down all the ages. I hold in my arms now more joy and greater glory than he will ever know. I have your love.”

  His lips were firm and sure upon hers, and his embrace gave her the strength she needed. When his men came to fold up and remove the furniture for packing and to strike the tent, she stood calmly at his side, watching them work.

  Then it was time to bid farewell to Marcion, Hugo, Eudon, Osric, and all the others she had come to know as friends. In the confusion of leave-taking, Bertille suddenly appeared to throw herself into Marcion’s arms and beg him to return safely to her. An instant later Danise, having gotten free of Sister Gertrude’s surveillance, arrived to wish Hugo good fortune. Casting aside all maidenly modesty, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, to the cheers of Hugo’s friends.

  “Here,” Danise said, blushing prettily, “I brought this for you, so you won’t forget me.” She handed him her scarf of green silk woven with a pattern of gold threads.

  “I’ll take it gladly,” Hugo said, “though nothing will make me forget you.” With Danise’s help, he wrapped and tied the scarf around his right arm above the elbow.

  “To strengthen my sword arm,” he said, making bold to kiss her again.

  The trumpets sounded once more, warning that it was time to mount. Most of the tents had been taken down by now and the campfires extinguished. Hrulund’s levy was already mounted. They clattered by on their way to meet Charles.

  “You had best make haste, Firebrand,” Hrulund called to Theu. “If you and your men dally much longer with your women, by the time you reach Spain, there won’t be any Saracens left for you to kill.”

  “Good luck to you,” Theu called back, refusing to take offense.

  Beside Hrulund rode Bishop Turpin in chain mail and metal helmet, a metal-studded mace fastened to his belt in place of a sword.

  “A priest in armor?” exclaimed India. “Will he fight too?”

  “He’s a mighty warrior,” Theu told her, “but he won’t use a sword because clergymen shouldn’t shed blood. He does enough damage for two men with that mace.”

  All around Theu, his men were mounting. Osric brought Theu’s horse to him. Theu looked hard at India, as if he were memorizing her features, and she knew there was no time left to them.

  “Take Bertille and Danise back to the palace,” he said. “Keep them from weeping if you can. And do not weep yourself. I have no regrets. Have you?”

  “None at all.” That was not entirely true. She regretted that she could not stop his going, but he wanted her to be brave and she would not disgrace herself, or him, by crying in public, not even when he gave her a quick last kiss.

  “Fare you well, India.”

  “And you. I love you.”

  “I love you. For all eternity.” His hand touched her cheek lightly, and then he sprang onto his horse. He raised his right arm in a signal, and his men began to fall into position around him.

  “Bertille, Danise,” India called, “we are to go now. We can watch them leave from the palace, with the other ladies.”

  The field was muddy, the grass churned up by the feet of men and by horses’ hooves. All around them were companies mounting up. Men hurried to their horses, orders were shouted, and lines of foot soldiers formed. The baggage carts creaked and groaned and began to roll out to the road. As she and the girls approached the palace, India saw Charles emerge from the main entrance with Alcuin. An instant later, Charles vaulted to the back of his horse with the energy of a much younger man. Noticing India and her two companions, he waved to them before wheeling his horse to ride toward the campground.

  “The ladies are all gathered on the upper floor,” Alcuin said when they reached him. “You ought to join them, for there will be much noise and disturbance in the street when the army comes through.”

  They hurried into the palace and up the narrow staircase to the upper room where Hildegarde stood at the window, waiting to wave farewell to her husband. There, to India’s surprise, neither Bertille nor Danise was scolded for leaving the palace, nor did anyone say a word to India about her night-long absence.

  “Come here, child,” said Lady Remilda, and put her arm around Bertille’s shoulder, holding her daughter by her side in a comforting way.

  “If you stand here,” Sister Gertrude told Danise, moving her into position, “you will be able to see better.”

  “Thank you for not being harsh with her,” India said softly to the nun. “She’s close to tears.”

  “As are you,” Sister Gertrude replied crisply. “I am not completely heartless where either of you is concerned. I only wish Danise did not love that young man. Her life would be much less painful if she were content to remain at Chelles with me and the rest of our good sisters.”

  Having heard this, Lady Remilda murmured to India, “We all understand how important it is to hearten the men going off to war. Sister Gertrude may seem hard at times, but she knows it, too.”

  “Here they come,” cried Bertille, breaking away from her mother’s embrace to lean out of the window. All of the ladies pushed closer, some rising on tiptoe to see better.

  “India,” Danise called, “come and stand beside me at the other window, where there are not so many trying to look out.”

  With arms about each other, they watched the spectacular scene below. Charles came first, wearing his gold circlet on his pale hair instead of his helmet, his shoulders covered by a blue cloak. When he drew level with the window, he paused to wave and blow a kiss to Hildegarde, who blew one back to him. On Charles’s right hand rode Theu with Marcion, on his left Hrulund and Bishop Turpin. Immediately behind them came the other important men of the court, some of whom India had met during her time there. She saw the seneschal Eggihard, Anselm the Count of the Palace, and others.

  Theu looked up and waved, but she did not think he could see her among so many other women. She kept her eyes on him until he was so far down the road that she could distinguish nothing but the glimmer of sunlight on his polished helmet.

  “But where is Hugo?” cried Danise.

  “Theu’s levy hasn’t passed yet,” India said. “Hugo will be leading it.”

  “There! There he is. Hugo! Hugo!” Danise leaned so far over the windowsill that India grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from falling to the street below.

  Hugo heard her. He looked up, his broad face creased into a grin beneath his helmet, and lifted his right arm in salute to Danise, so that the ends of her green-and-gold scarf floated out like a happy banner in the spring breeze.

  Most of Theu’s troop were looking at the window now. Bending forward, India waved along with Danise, bidding a final farewell to the men with whom she had ridden and lived for weeks. When they were gone, other ladies pressed toward the window, wanting to bid their own men good-bye, and India drew Danise away to make room for them.

  “He looked so handsome,” Danise said, tears in her eyes. “So brave and handsome. I am so proud o
f him.”

  It took several hours for the army to pass below. The women came and went, depending on which company was departing at any particular moment, but through it all, Hildegarde remained in her place, waving to leaders and common soldiers alike, cheering them on their way, her only concession to her condition being her acceptance of a chair so that she could sit for a while. Food was brought and served, but India took only a little wine, as did the queen.

  When the last of the foot soldiers and the final groups of late stragglers had gone by, Hildegarde rose from her chair, took a few steps, and sank into a near faint.

  “My lady, you are exhausted,” cried Lady Remilda, catching her before she hit the floor. “Sister Gertrude, help me. Let us take her to her bed.” She called upon one or two of the older ladies to go with them, and together they bore the queen off to her own chamber, where she remained in bed for several days.

  Then began the long time of waiting, of days which stretched into weeks, then became a month, two months, three months, four. Once the novelty of living at a royal court had worn off, India became bored. To help pass the time, she attempted the delicate needlework with which many of the ladies employed themselves, but she was not good at it and soon gave up trying. She could not concentrate on anything for very long, not when she was constantly haunted by thoughts of Theu in danger.

  In the increasing summer heat, the queen was often unwell, which meant that picnics or other outdoor activities were curtailed. India was occasionally able to get permission to take Danise and Bertille riding, but on those excursions she never approached the hill where she and Theu had spent their last day together. It would have been too painful, and she had an irrational fear that if she went to the spot where they had made love, Hank might be able to reach her. She did not want to chance having to return to her own time, at least, not yet. She had to stay at Agen until the army returned, whether Theu came with them or not. She had promised him she would wait, and she would keep her promise.