by Jill Hughey
It galled her on occasions like this nonetheless.
She led Denes toward the cask building, relieved to find Bertrand rolling a barrel along the racks. He unbent with a smile, not appearing to be a monster, just tall wiry Bertrand with thinning hair and a slight paunch pushing out the front of his homespun tunic. When she looked closely, she could see the reddish eyes of too much wine and the slightly scabbed knuckles of a well-used fist.
Yes, it galled her indeed.
“Have you been able to repair the leaking casks?”
“Yes, my lady, all taken care of,” he said pleasantly.
“I am called away on some business. I could be gone for several weeks.”
His bloodshot eyes widened at the notion of his mistress disappearing during the harvest, but he nodded his head in understanding.
“I am confident in your ability to make the wine. I only wanted to warn you about the monks.”
“Yes, my lady, the monks,” he repeated.
“Their barrels were empty before August and the bishop will undoubtedly come to pester you to fill them. As you know, the wine is not ready,” she said pointedly, hoping he would understand the wine wasn’t ready for him either. “The bishop will try to make you feel guilty and sinful for denying him. You will bow and tell him I have forbidden you to dispense any of the vintage until my return.”
“No, my lady, I will not dispense any of the wine.”
“Good. You know I depend on you with the vineyard and the wine, Bertrand.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And you are very conscientious with your work,” she added.
“Thank you, my lady,” he blustered, delighted with the compliment.
She should have left it at that and kept her toes behind the imaginary line separating the concerns of Alda from Bertrand’s private life. But she could not swallow the angry lump in her throat.
“I wish you could be as careful with your son,” she said softly, knowing as his jaw clenched and his mortified eyes rose to meet hers that she had not just stuck a toe over the line. She had leaped foolishly across it with both booted feet.
And for what? Her comment would certainly not help Samuel nor further her standing as a woman doing a man’s job.
She nodded curtly to him as she left, not sorry. She still found it difficult to keep her tongue behind her teeth when vexed. She would have to work on that.
Chapter Three
“David, your prayers have been answered.”
David regarded Theophilus, his best friend and lord of the town of Ribeauville, with a critical brown eye. Theo dressed the part of a dandy when he wasn’t out killing the Carolingian emperor’s latest enemies. Theo wore the colors of a spring duckling today, tomorrow it might be a summer sky. His dark hair was perfectly trimmed and topped with a slouchy tasseled concoction of fabric you couldn’t even call a hat. David would doubt the man’s masculinity if he hadn’t seen him kill many a soldier with his bare hands.
Theo turned away to look across the large courtyard within the walls of palace, clasping his hands behind his back. They stood on the tall wooden gallery that ran the length of the palace and connected to the octagonal chapel opposite them. The ground below swarmed with the men who held power in the empire built by Charlemagne. Beyond the outer walls of the palace stood the city of Aix-la-Chapelle filled to bursting with the families and servants of noblemen here for a special royal convention. Important issues were discussed and decisions announced amidst days of drinking, eating and hunting.
David’s elder brother, Doeg, was here somewhere, though David had not had time to find him. Doeg represented their family now that their father could not travel. David had never attended such an event since he was neither important nor landed. He had no idea why Theo had asked him to come to Aix.
David knew Theo well enough to see the news he intended to share was troubling to him. It was time to get to it.
“Are you finally going to reveal why you summoned me to this pit of aristocratic vipers who dress nearly as badly as you?” David’s harassment about Theo’s outfit would normally lift obviously dampened spirits. Not today. What answered prayer of his own would set Theo so low? He placed his hand on a shoulder clad in cloth the shade of daffodils. “Theo. What is it?”
“Things are complicated in the empire, with Louis being deposed and just regaining his throne from his elder sons a few weeks ago. The emperor is tense. He feels vulnerable, though he would never admit it. There are few people he trusts, but I am one of them and he wants to place similarly loyal people in geographically strategic locations to protect Alamannia.” Theo gave David a halfhearted smile. “The emperor wishes to see you married.”
David could only blink for a few seconds. “The emperor has talked to you about me? About a marriage? Why?”
“Your intended wife comes with an estate in Francia, near the Alamannian border. He is concerned about holding Alamannia for his youngest son, Charles. Alamannia, you certainly know, was promised to one of the three sons borne by his first wife. None of them are taking this change to the succession plan lightly.”
“So, in exchange for this marriage, I am promising what?” David asked cautiously. At the word estate, his heart had begun to pump harder in his chest, but nothing in the empire came easily to a soldier, even a highly respected one.
“Marry her, take ownership of her estate, make your home there, defend Louis’s interests if the older sons make it necessary.” Theo recited these expectations flatly, nodding as though trying to make himself agree with his own words.
“That is it?”
“That is it.”
David grinned at his good fortune. “Theo, this is exactly what I have been hoping for, for a year or more! We have talked of it many times!” He paced in a circle, unable to curb his growing excitement. “Now my father’s estate will not need to be split in half again.” He clapped his hands together with one loud smack, causing several men below to stare up at him.
“Glad you are pleased.”
David slapped his friend on the back. “Pleased? I am ecstatic, you popinjay!” Again his teasing elicited no reaction. A frisson of unease tempered David’s excitement . “What is wrong, Theo?” He waited for an answer that after a full minute still hadn’t come. “Is it a poor estate?” Nothing. “Indefensible? You and I can think through that!” Nothing. “The lady then. Is she ugly? Lazy? Pockmarked?” David laughed almost giddily. “I had hoped my wife would be pretty. In fact, I imagined picking her myself, but if the emperor wants to hand a fat estate and a lazy bride to me, so be it.” He suddenly sobered. “She is not old, is she? Old and dried up and past breeding?“
Theo turned on him. “You bastard. She is young and pleasing to the eye. She has grace and poise and gold to match. Her estate is rich with grapes and grain and happy fat peasants who work the land for one of her smiles. Or so I have been told.”
David scoffed. “Such a woman does not exist.”
Theo harrumphed as he faced the courtyard again. David considered the unexpected reaction as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. His eyebrows lifted slightly. “You know this woman,” he stated. His excited heart dropped into his belly. “You wanted her for yourself.”
His friend’s sigh told him everything. David had no wish to steal a woman from his best friend. In fact, the idea appalled him. “Did you tell the emperor? You deserve any estate you wish to have! You can certainly defend it as well as me!”
“He wants a man from another region. A new man. A strong, loyal, fighting man.” Theo pressed his fist in his hand. “The only thing he wanted from me was a suggestion, the name of that man.”
“And you named me.”
“I did.”
“You gave away the woman you love without even asking for her?”
Theo whirled, the flash of anger in his eye at odds with the orange tassels dangling from his hat onto his forehead. “I do not love her! I have not seen her in years! If you must know, I did ask him for
her. Bah! I thought her a logical, intriguing match. Her late father was a friend and she has grown into a rather marriageable lady. I asked for her, but the emperor is too embroiled in his own schemes to give much weight to what his vassals might want.” He poked his finger at David’s nose. “She needs a protector. So I had a choice to make. Give her away, as you say, to someone I know. Or let the emperor choose some drunken stranger who might beat her, or waste her money, or kick her mother out of the house.”
David crossed his arms across his chest. “Does she know of your interest in her?” The answer meant everything to him, and relief surged through him when his friend’s head shook in the negative.
“She has not laid eyes on me since burying her father three years ago.”
“No secret letters? No messengers?”
“Do not be ridiculous. Since when have I had any secrets from you?”
His own estate! It was within his reach. Still, the idea of this woman having a history with his friend didn’t sit well. “I do not know, Theo.”
Theo threw his hands up. “What do you not know, David? I have just spelled out the next several years of your life. Marry pretty girl, live on pretty estate, kill your fellow countrymen in cold blood when Louis tells you to. Which part do you not understand?”
“The part where I marry the pretty girl you want to marry. What kind of man does that make me?”
“An imperial subject, David, like the rest of us.” He sighed. “This is not a choice. Louis is already set on this course. His advisers spoke most highly of you once I mentioned your name.”
David bridled. “Of course there is a choice. I can say no, she can say no.”
“Then you will expose yourself and her to dire consequences. Louis is settled on you, and is not in a mood to tolerate resistance. Rochelle needs a protector. The emperor has taken notice of her little bit of land. She has no living male relative and a mother with a less than impeccable bloodline. By God and by our ruler, Rochelle and her estate are being handed over to someone on a platter. I would consider it a great personal favor if you would take her hand in marriage so some fat rutting pig does not get hold of it.”
David studied his friend. “Her name is Rochelle?”
Theo nodded. “Rochelle of Alda. The estate lies near the Ill River, just 13 leagues south of Ribeauville. We would practically be neighbors.” He put his hand on David’s shoulder. “You must make this marriage. You will be lord of your own estate and have a fine wife. You are an honorable friend, but do not worry about me. I have no claim on her at all, most certainly not one of the heart. In fact, I have my heart set on a woman who can sew. I would save a fortune.” His face cracked into a genuine smile.
David grinned back. “My wife’s name will be Rochelle,” he said, full of wonder at the idea. “I never imagined I would learn that bit of information this morning. When can I meet her?”
“In a few days. My men are escorting her and her mother to Aix as we speak.”
Chapter Four
David stood in front of a weathered wood door, oblivious to the bustle of Aix-la-Chappelle around him. Behind the door, inside what appeared to be a rather shabby rented house, waited his future wife. Theo had been unexpectedly detained at the palace, so David would have to manage alone what could be an awkward introduction. However, Theo had reassured him that the letter to Rochelle’s mother had been explicit in the reason for their being summoned to Aix. There should be no surprises. He would collect Rochelle and her mother, escort them to the palace, and become betrothed. That was the plan for today. He adjusted the scabbard hanging from his thick leather belt, then banged forcefully on the door.
No one answered.
He raised his hand to knock again when he heard faint shuffling. The door grated open ever so slowly to reveal a man older than the earth, a wool cap pulled down tight over his head. Sharp blue eyes peered up at David.
Motion deeper in the room caught David’s attention. It was a woman rising from a tipsy bench. “Ye are not Theophilus,” she stated.
“Correct,” he answered, guessing this was all the invitation he was going to get as he stepped inside. He scanned the meager low-ceiling room, finding a few poor pieces of furniture the only other occupants besides the woman and the old man who now struggled to force the door shut. A narrow set of stairs climbed to a closed door at one end, presumably to a single sleeping room above. “I am David. From Bavaria. Theo —Theophilus — asked me to escort you to the palace.”
The woman was short. The top of her head would barely reach his armpits, and blindingly red hair burst from beneath her veil. Her piercing green eyes were small, rimmed with bright red lashes and eyebrows against a pale, freckly complexion. She held her hands in a gentle clasp. His warrior’s eyes could see the tension she tried to hide. A quick guess at her age suggested she was the mother. And just as he studied her, she studied him. He wondered if she was disappointed to see a man plainly dressed, with simple brown hair, instead of a duplicate of Theo’s carefully tailored clothes and trimmed hair.
She nodded slightly to herself, then glanced at the skeletal old man still waiting by the door. “Go to the kitchen, Gilbert.”
David swore he heard creaking in the man’s joints as he wobbled toward a crooked door at the back of the room.
The woman sank to her seat. She weakly waved to the chair across from her. “I am thinking ye are the one.”
David remained standing. “I am. And you are?”
“I am Rochelle’s mother. Marian is my name.” Her accent distracted him. The dialect of Francia was familiar enough, partly because of his history with Theo, and partly because most of Louis’s subjects spoke one derivative or another of the old Roman language. Yes, he understood her easily, yet there was a lilt to her speech he couldn’t geographically place, perhaps related to the sketchy ancestry Theo had mentioned.
“You know of the emperor’s request?” David asked.
“I know of his plans for Rochelle.” She picked at the fine wool of her tunic. “Theophilus has been a blessing to me. I have never been to court and he has helped us so much in the last week. I think the emperor must have forgotten what I am in his need for loyal subjects in Francia.”
“What you are?” A noise from upstairs caught his attention. He swiveled to glance at the steps along the far wall and the single door at their apex.
“No time for that now,” Marian whispered urgently. “Rochelle will be down! Oh, I wish Theophilus had come. Ye must get her to the emperor. Ye must make her agree to his demand.”
David looked at her in confusion. “Are you saying Rochelle is resisting Louis’s decision?”
Marian avoided his eyes. “She may yet be a bit unclear on the specifics.”
David disliked her evasive manner. She skirted around the truth for her own reasons, about which he cared not a whit. “You have not told her Louis intends to see her betrothed today?”
The woman shifted as her hands fluttered together into a clasp again. “Oh dear. Not in so many words, no.”
David did not remember his own mother and had had very little interaction with any one else’s, but even his nearly nonexistent experience did not allow for such maternal neglect. “Why on earth would you do this to her?”
“If I had told her the truth, I would never have gotten her here.”
Well, that put a different color to it. “Your daughter is willful enough to ignore the summons of her emperor?”
“Willful is a strong word,” Marian said, smiling at him unconvincingly. His stony stare quickly broke her feigned cheerfulness. She looked down to study her clutched fingers. “She is not spoiled, if that is where yer thoughts be heading. It is just that…Rochelle has not been exposed to the outside world much. Her father and I failed her, I fear. In hindsight, at least, it seems we chose a path that was easier for us.” The wooden latch on the upstairs door began to rattle. “But made her own way in life harder.” She rose slowly, her hands gripped in a white-knuckled clench. “
Perhaps. But she is a good lass. You will see.” She nodded vigorously.
David turned his head as the noise from the door escalated, unsure what he expected to enter his life. Given her mother’s shocking hair, he didn’t hold his hopes too high for the girl’s appearance, no matter what Theo said. The need for deception to even get her to Aix did not indicate a particularly biddable personality. Based on the increasingly violent rattling from the latch, she couldn’t even open doors for herself.
He was about to climb the steps to offer assistance when the door finally wrenched open, releasing a storm of muttering about city workmanship and rotten carpentry carried in a whirlwind of deep blue linen. She all but flung herself onto the narrow staircase. Not exactly light of foot nor entirely graceful, she rushed down the stairs, noticing his presence in time to abruptly stop on the bottom step.
She stared at him.
From across the room he could feel the chill of cold caution. Even so, his concern about her looks evaporated. She stood taller than her mother, clear skinned, with eyes of a soft green. The gold circlet on her head held her veil neatly in place, covering what it was intended to cover. An unexpected desire to see the color of her hair shot through him. He could only approximate it from her eyebrows: not quite brown, but certainly not red either. And her female attributes remained a mystery to him as well, hidden under layers of varying shades of blue, though a heavy gold girdle studded with aquamarines suggested narrow hips.
“Mother?” she queried.
David reluctantly turned to Marian, who, it appeared, had been watching him stare at her daughter. A small smile quirked her lips. Her tightly clasped hands now lay on her chest as if in prayer. She did not find her voice until David cleared his throat expectantly.
“Rochelle!” she said too loudly. “Theophilus, the gentleman who has helped us so much, sent this burly young man to escort ye to yer audience with the emperor. He is called David. A Bavarian, no less!”