by Jill Hughey
“The fighting kind.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
Rochelle gripped the back of a chair to stay on her feet, the phrase control of Alda still ringing in her ears. “Would you two stop being so cryptic? What is going on?”
Theo turned to her with a sigh. “David must fight three challengers. Whoever defeats him marries you.”
“Three at once?” she squeaked.
“No, no. One at a time. And not to the death, just until one of them has the clear advantage and an obvious opportunity to strike a killing blow.”
Rochelle waved a hand to silence him. “But…but…are you telling me that Louis has now decided that four different men potentially have the right to Alda and me, and that the winner will be decided by a fight?”
“She is already betrothed,” Marian noted weakly.
“Betrothals can be undone,” Theo said sadly.
“Is this even legal? I have never heard of such a thing.” Marian asked, still working her fingers.
“They are technically calling it a judicial duel though they have twisted it around. It is an old custom used for determining guilt.”
David spoke again, his voice still low and dangerous. “Who are the three?”
“To be determined by application.”
“When is this tournament?”
“Well, if there is any good news in all this, that is it. Louis insists on Alda’s ownership being determined before winter. The tournament is scheduled for just three weeks from now, in Ribeauville. Presumably notices are being distributed throughout Francia and entrants will be determined quickly.”
David turned on his heel to stalk back out the door through which he’d just entered.
Rochelle took one step to follow, then stopped. She wanted to understand what was going to happen. “Theo, I cannot follow the maneuvers in politics. Why would the emperor allow the son who betrayed him to ask for anything?”
“For the same reason Louis exiled his son instead of killing him as a traitor. They do not spill each other’s blood, and so far they have never created a family rift that could not be mended. Louis will appease his son. And,” he continued cautiously, “it is possible there has been more outcry from the local nobility.”
“Louis is going back on his own pronouncement. Is he not afraid he will be seen as indecisive?”
Theo shrugged. “I think he is confident that David will win, so he risks very little while assuaging the anger of those in the empire who would like to see you married to someone from your own region. If they are given the opportunity but David proves to be the best man, then they must lick their wounds and allow Louis’s decision to stand.”
“So Louis gets to extend an olive branch to his son and the people of Francia, but keep the end result the same.”
“Precisely.”
“Is it dangerous? I mean, do they use weapons?”
“There will be injuries.” He shrugged. “Nothing permanent.”
Rochelle shook her head slowly. “I do not understand the ways of these royals.”
Theo laughed bitterly. “It is not for us to understand. It is for us to obey.” He turned to Marian. “Unfortunately, I must return to Ribeauville immediately to begin planning for this event. I will depart on the morrow.”
Rochelle started to walk to the stairs, then stopped, pivoting to face Theo again. “Who will the challengers be?”
“Hard to say,” he replied. “The short time allowed will almost limit it to Franks. Then there is the fact that few warriors of any skill will publicly challenge David.”
“Why?”
“Firstly, they will doubt they can win, and secondly, they will not want to lose him as an ally at next summer’s war.”
Rochelle nodded thoughtfully. Her gaze slid around the room, landing on Doeg’s clear blue eyes. He stared back at her. “Is the tournament limited to Franks?” he asked.
“Why? You wish to sign up for it?” Theo responded hotly.
Doeg allowed himself a light laugh, his eyes still lazily resting on Rochelle. “A public challenge of my own brother? I would not dream of it. Besides,” he continued, lifting his crippled arm, “I could never win.” He shifted his gaze to Theo. “I am merely curious. Is entry to the tournament limited?”
Theo sighed. “Only by the timing. It would be very difficult for anyone from another region to hear of the tournament in time to enter.”
“Yes, I see.” Doeg abruptly stood. “I, too, will leave in the morning. I believe my father should know of this abomination. I will return to Ribeauville as soon as possible.”
Rochelle went to her room, unable to digest what Theo had told them. As if being forced into a public betrothal by the emperor hadn’t been bad enough, now the same emperor was turning her marriage and her estate into a trophy to win through an ancient spectacle. Instead of David telling her to decide to marry him in a few days, she might be expected to take the best combatant in three weeks, and she might not even know him.
She thought for a long time about her conversation with David tonight, and the many conversations they’d had before about her stubborn reluctance to marry. She forced her thoughts to be rational. He was right. They’d been talking in circles for weeks. Now, when faced with the choice, she did not want him to leave Alda, and she certainly did not wish to exchange his companionship for some stranger’s. Just like that, she realized that David had successfully broken through the barriers she’d erected against him.
A smile cleared the worry from her face.
She sat in the chair, waiting and wondering what David would think of her change of heart. She heard Marian settle in her bed next door. Soon after, she heard David’s voice downstairs. She slipped onto the gallery hoping they might spend a few minutes on the steps together again.
He was talking to someone in the office, his voice strained with obvious aggravation. “I do not like being a pawn for Louis and Lothair’s games.”
Theo’s voice answered. “No help for it.”
“I was so close tonight, Theo. Rochelle was almost ready to agree to marry me. If I had just pressed my advantage and bedded her, all this would be moot. It would be decided.”
“Bedded her!” Theo nearly shouted.
“Yes, dammit. I could have had her, but instead I listened to her nonsense about thinking for herself. If I had just taken her, she would be mine and Alda would be mine and I could tell Louis what to do with his tournament.”
Rochelle leaned heavily on the rail of the gallery, feeling as if she’d just been punched in the stomach. Theo and David continued to speak below her, but their voices buzzed in her ears as the words she’d just heard ricocheted in her head. …her nonsense about thinking for herself?! …pressed my advantage and bedded her? She would be mine and Alda would be mine….
Hurt and disappointment quickly blazed to burning anger. He had been playing a part. He had been seducing her in order to consummate the relationship so she would be forced to marry him. How was he any better than Sewell?
He had no intention of letting her make her own decisions after they married. He had as much as said so. He was only telling her what she wanted to hear until the day they married, and then, she was sure, he would change, expecting to control every aspect of Alda no matter what her wishes.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She shook her head hard against them. She strode back into her room to pace in the dark.
Her initial upswell of hope at Theo’s announcement of the tournament had been a good instinct. A genuine opportunity to alter her future had been presented. She must find a way to use it. Quickly.
Chapter Eighteen
She perched on the chair in her room again, a bag of money she’d dug from the bottom of her clothing chest clutched in her lap. She waited. Her room was dark, but she’d left her door open a slit so she could watch for the light to fade and hear the muffled sounds of David and Theo’s conversation end. Doubt occasionally flared in her mind. Each t
ime she tamped it down by recalling David’s calculating words that ripped at her heart. She clung to them like a log in a raging river.
When all had been dark and silent for a half hour, she tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen, stopping at Gilbert’s tiny sleeping alcove. He always moved here from the men’s sleeping room when they had guests because he liked his privacy and could not bear the uncouth bodily functions of visitors.
She watched him sleep for a moment, hesitating. If she chose this path, there would be no turning from it. He looked old laying there, his hair thin on his pillow, and his body nearly skeletal under the blankets. His mouth hung open, with light wheezing breaths passing through it.
Perhaps he was too old to withstand the trip.
But if he couldn’t do it, she had no one else to ask.
She knelt down by his pallet and reached out a tentative hand, pulled it back, then reached again, finally shaking his shoulder.
His rheumy eyes opened, darting about, the only part of him that moved. They fixed on Rochelle, then widened with alarm. “What is it, my lady? Is something on fire? Did someone die?”
“No, Gilbert. I have a task for you.”
He struggled to sit up in bed.
“This must be our secret, Gilbert.”
His expression became immediately guarded. “You have never given me a secret task in the middle of the night, my lady.”
“No, I have not, but time is of the essence. I will need you to leave first thing in the morning.”
“To go where?”
Rochelle took a deep breath, wondering how to explain. Once she told him her plan, there would be no turning back.
“My lady?” Gilbert asked again.
“You have no doubt heard about the tournament.”
“Yes,” he said slowly.
“You know I do not wish to give up control of Alda.”
“Yes.”
“I want you to find a warrior who can beat David.”
Gilbert’s white eyebrows sailed high. “My lady!”
She rushed on, wanting to get it all out now that she’d started. “Give him this money,” she said as she let the bag chink down beside him. “If the warrior you find wins, I will marry him but he will not have any of the rights of a husband. None. His job will be to protect Alda and Alamannia as the emperor wishes. My job will be to manage Alda. I will not interfere with him and he will not interfere with me. And I will pay him well.”
Gilbert stared at her as if she’d gone mad.
“You must leave in the morning. The tournament is in just three weeks.”
“But, my lady!” he protested. “No man will agree to those conditions.”
Rochelle scoffed, sounding more confident than she was. “Oh, I am sure there is some lazy soldier around who would love to lay about while I do all the work.”
“Maybe so, but he is not likely to beat David then, is he?” Gilbert said sagely.
Rochelle closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold her temper and her resolve. “My father knew people, Gilbert, and so did you. A few questions asked of the right person will lead you to a good man who will fulfill Louis’s requirements but leave me alone!”
“I do not know, my lady.” Gilbert said, shaking his head in doubt. “Have you talked to your mother about this?”
“Of course not! She thinks David is wonderful.”
“He does not seem like such a monster to me either.”
“He has tricked all of us, Gilbert. I will not be someone’s property. I will not give up my role at Alda, for anyone!”
“I do not think he would expect you to –”
Rochelle’s temper snapped. “Stop defending him, Gilbert! I know what I know! You work for me and I am telling you this is what I want you to do! Do you understand?” Rochelle had never spoken to the clerk in such a tone. She hated the anger and desperation in her voice.
He looked surprised, then his face closed down. “I understand, my lady.”
“You will find a man who will agree to my conditions. He will be well paid, but he must never breath a word of this to anyone and he will never act in any way as my husband or owner of Alda.”
Rochelle crept out of her bedroom early the next morning. Her sleep had been practically nonexistent. She was already consumed with guilt for sending Gilbert on such a mission at his age. In her heart, she doubted her own judgment. All night she closed her ears to the voice of her conscience. Or had tried. She had not been very effective. Even now her stomach ached.
As she descended the steps, she was surprised to again hear voices in the office. Determined to avoid David, she aimed straight for the kitchen, but her mother called to her from the doorway.
“Rochelle, we are needing to speak to ye.”
Rochelle’s heart hammered in her chest. Her mother was not an early riser. Was it possible they’d gotten wind of her plan? Could Gilbert be so opposed to it he’d gone to Marian? She reluctantly changed her course to go to the office.
The two tall oil lamps were lit against the early morning darkness. David leaned casually on the wall opposite the door, his arms crossed over his chest. The flame of the lamps flickered in his dark eyes. Lord, but he was handsome. Yet, outward beauty hid his ugly cunning, just like his noxious brother. She hardened her heart against him. Here was a man who thought she was full of nonsense. Here was a man who wished he had bedded her in a stable so she would be forced to marry him. If he knew of her plan, then he would know the full power of her disdain for him and she would be glad of it.
Theo sat behind her father’s desk, wearing a sappy, hopeful expression. Marian wrung her hands again. They all stood in uncomfortable silence.
“Well?” Rochelle finally asked.
“Oh, yes,” Marian said with a start. “Ye see, girlie, Theo had an idea about preventing the tournament. It seems he and David were talking about the problem last night.”
“Yes, I imagine they were talking quite a bit,” Rochelle interrupted, looking at David with slightly raised brows.
He frowned.
Marian continued. “I could not sleep even the tiniest wink so I came down awhile ago. Theo asked me what I thought and I think they have a fair plan.”
The room filled with silence again as Marian continued to wring her hands, obviously trying to conjure the best words. “It occurred to Theo that if ye and David were already married there could be no tournament.”
“But we are not,” Rochelle answered calmly. And I have my own plan for seeing we never are.
“Yes, we know ye have not been to the priest yet,” Marian said with a nervous laugh, “but Louis does not.”
“The priest does,” Rochelle countered. “Are you expecting him to lie?”
Marian sputtered. “A priest would not lie.”
“What, then, is this great scheme the three of you have devised?”
Marian’s face reddened to nearly match the hair escaping her soft green veil. “Well, dear, nature does have a way of taking its course with many betrothed couples.”
Rochelle felt anger rising to match last night’s. “Ah,” she said calmly as her fingernails dug into her palms. She turned the heat of her gaze on David. He watched her, his face blank. “So your plan is to send a message back to Louis that he is just a little too late because the intended bride has already been violated?”
Theo cleared his throat, “Violated is a strong word. We would find a better way to phrase it than that!”
Rochelle continued to stare at David. “I am quite sure you would. I am certain you would find a beautiful and persuasive way to tell your lie.”
David’s brow furrowed at her sarcasm.
Marian squeaked. “It is just a wee lie.”
“A matter of timing,” Theo added.
“Well, then, by all means,” Rochelle said, no longer able to keep the shaking anger from her voice. She addressed David hotly. “Let us go upstairs and be done with it. In a few minutes this whole situation can be rectified. You can e
ven wave the sheet about as evidence of your new ownership of my body and this estate. And at almost no effort on your part. The convenience to everyone except me is most convincing, indeed.”
David pushed off the wall, stunned by the venom in her voice.
“Rochelle!” Marian cried. “What has gotten into ye?”
“Disillusionment, Mother. All three of you have at various times preached to me about my duty to the emperor. Now all three of you want me to agree to an outright lie to him. Why should I? If what really matters is protecting Louis’s interests, if my happiness in life has no bearing on my marriage from anyone’s point of view — which it obviously does not — then maybe there should be a brawl to decide to whom I will be shackled. If the most important thing is that Alda has the best warrior, then let him fight,” she said, indicating David with a dismissive wave of her hand. She blinked hard against tears that threatened again. “Let him fight,” she repeated on a whisper.
The three of them stared at her, mouths gaping, as she whirled and ran from the room. She realized that David had never spoken a word.
The day had begun in an uproar and hadn’t improved. Rochelle had strode around in an internal turmoil, refusing to answer her mother’s unusually insistent queries about why Gilbert was leaving, barely acknowledging Theo and Doeg as they departed in different directions, and trying vainly to ignore David who stood back and watched her stalk about in a sullen temper. She did not ride that day because she could not bear to spend a moment alone with him. She took her meals in the office and went to bed early.
The next morning she tried to escape without David, but he followed her to the stables. They rode silently in a bone-chilling wind as Rochelle attended to a variety of tasks, then stopped for lunch in the middle of the afternoon. She hadn’t had the heart to go to the river, so they were in a tiny copse of trees south of the vineyards. A few dead leaves rattled overhead, forlorn and alone, while their brothers and sisters rested in a communal blanket far below.
“You are angry that your fate is again out of your hands,” David observed.