Ermengarde? Who was Ermengarde?
“Of course. Ermengarde,” Dagobert said gruffly.
The guard laughed at Dagobert’s apparent jest and clapped him on the shoulder while Dagobert tried not to show his complete lack of understanding. His heart thundered so loudly in his ears that he was sure the other two must be able to hear it. The prospect of being imprisoned anew so much more unpalatable for this brief respite and he wanted only to flee from the palace with haste.
“For a moment I feared you forgot our agreement,” the guard said.
Another wager. Dagobert turned to Alienor, as if inviting her suggestion. In truth, he could not have answered himself.
“Perhaps they could meet after Mass,” she suggested. She glanced at Dagobert and he guessed the transaction that was being made.
“Nay, woman,” he corrected her. “Tis not a chat before your priest this man deserves.” He turned to the guard and lowered his voice slightly. “Meet me at the weaver’s stall near the Temple tomorrow after vespers. You shall share our nuptial meal.”
“And Ermengarde?”
Dagobert feigned a laugh. “My lady would not wed without her sister’s presence, would she?”
“’Twill be a merry moment to meet,” Alienor said with approval.
“Indeed, sir, you are most kind. I will be there!”
Dagobert barely kept from gasping aloud when Alienor dropped coins into the man’s hand, revealing that the jailer and guard were not obliged to share. He bit back his protest before it could leave his tongue, waving to the guard as he led Alienor out into the street.
“Before vespers,” he called by way of farewell, and the guard nodded.
The heavy door closed behind them and Dagobert stood hand-in-hand with Alienor in the quiet darkness of the street outside the palace. He exhaled and a weight slipped from his heart. He was free. He looked up, trying to discern the stars far overhead, a lump in his throat.
’Twas a miracle, a stroke of good fortune beyond compare.
“What do you know of a weaver’s stall near the Temple?” Alienor asked.
Dagobert smiled at the skepticism in her tone. “Naught,” he admitted, and grinned down at her. “But why should there not be one there?” She laughed and Dagobert dared to chuckle himself, feeling the wonder of his life before him once again. He was still amazed that the simple switch had worked as well as it had.
He had been given the opportunity he desired, against all expectation, and he would make it count.
“We must hasten.” Alienor tugged on his sleeve. She spoke aright, for they were as yet within the king’s own walls.
“Lead on, my lady.”
She pivoted and set a quick pace, obviously having an intended destination. They were far from clear and away, and that realization drove him onward. Fear gave Dagobert the will to match her pace. Alienor hurried him toward the bridge that they might cross from the Île de la Cité to the southern shore of the Seine. She raced through the deserted streets toward the perimeter of town. No shouts of discovery echoed behind them, much to his surprise, and his frantic heartbeat slowed as Alienor led them through a maze of twisted streets. He heartily doubted that anyone could have followed their path.
But where did she lead him? To the site of another betrayal? He had listened to Eustache for too long to easily trust the intent of any soul. His imagination conjured numerous outcomes to this escape as they walked, each more terrible than the last, but still he followed his wife’s footsteps.
He would trust Alienor.
She had been his loyal wife in every way, and Dagobert knew he owed her better than he had granted her thus far.
Their future began this very night.
Though it seemed an enormous amount of time had passed, the moon had not risen much higher in the sky when they approached a low-slung building near the southern wall of the city. Alienor’s agitated manner did naught to ease Dagobert’s fears and he silently drew Jordan’s knife.
A cloaked figure stepped from the shadows and he lunged forward with the blade, intent upon defending her. Alienor cried out at the same moment as a familiar whisper brought him up short.
“Imprisonment truly has addled your wits,” Iolande said in a whisper.
Dagobert fairly collapsed with relief. He embraced her, not resisting his mother’s examination when she drew back to examine his eyes and teeth as if he were some livestock she proposed to buy. She would never lose her practicality, and he would not have it otherwise.
“You have need of a bath,” she said.
“Aye.” He grinned.
“And you must be hungry.”
“Aye.” Dagobert nodded, feeling exhaustion sweep through him after their flight through the streets. Given how little he had eaten in the past month, he was surprised he had managed to keep up with Alienor as well as he had.
Iolande’s eyes narrowed and she gripped his chin, compelling him to meet her gaze. “Abused?” she demanded.
Dagobert shrugged. “No more than would be expected,” he conceded, turning to smile at the silent Alienor in an attempt to lighten the mood. “In truth, ’tis my own wife who has abused me most this night.”
Iolande snorted with laughter as the lady in question flushed.
“Had I known you would be so ungrateful, I would have left you there,” Alienor replied, but there was a twinkle in her eye.
Dagobert chuckled. “Perhaps you wished to be rid of me, after all,” he teased. “That flight through the streets nigh finished me.” Instead of smiling at his jest, Alienor inhaled sharply and turned away.
Dagobert would have pursued her and conferred with her, but his mother cleared her throat. “You must eat as we ride, for time is of the essence,” the older woman said, urging them both into the dark stables. “You might ride together should you so wish to argue.”
The very idea of holding Alienor so close lightened Dagobert’s step but he quickly saw that his wife was having none of that suggestion.
“’Twill slow our flight overmuch,” she said, with a practicality that Dagobert regretted he could not dispute.
“Where is Eustache?” he asked his mother and she shook her head.
“I will tell you as we ride.”
Alienor pulled herself into her saddle without his aid and urged her horse out of the stables, leaving Dagobert to ride alone. Now that they were away from the palace, she seemed to wish to put distance between them. Was it because of the babe? Or had his errors finally exceeded her patience? Dagobert could not say, though he yearned to know.
Iolande watched them without comment and he vowed to make amends with Alienor with all haste, so soon as he was able.
What if she had come to love Jordan? The notion was troubling.
Once they were all mounted, Dagobert spurred his own horse to a trot, knowing they would need a tale for the keeper of the city gates.
His wife had fared well without him, which only made Dagobert more keenly aware of how badly he had failed her. He had tried to balance his obligation to his lineage and his vow to his father with his responsibility to his wife. No longer. He sensed that his marriage was fragile as a result and was resolved to win Alienor’s trust, perhaps even her affection, no matter the cost. She had given him freedom and the opportunity to live beyond the next sunrise. He would ensure that she never regretted their match.
This lady deserved no less than his all.
Chapter 11
When had she come to love her lord husband?
Alienor did not know the moment, but the sight of him had removed any doubt that her heart was lost. And his kiss! It had fairly seared her soul and she had dared to hope that they were finally as one—but when she was reeling from her reaction, he was in sufficient possession of his wits to strike Jordan down. Had his kiss been only a possessive claim? Was she no better than his chattel—or was his relief about his son?
She could not evade his warning about Jordan’s motives, but dared not make overmuch of it.
Was he concerned for her or for his child?
Ah, but his hesitation in taking the other knight’s armor, despite Jordan’s deception, could only remind her of Dagobert’s respect of justice. Just as he had not struck down an unarmed villain, he had not been quick to avail himself of Jordan’s offer. She was glad that Jordan had awakened at the end, the better that man could convince her husband that the scheme was his own, but Dagobert’s nobility of purpose only made her admire him all the more.
Yet he jested that she would be rid of him! They could have been caught—they could still be captured—and they both would be executed then as a result of her rescue. Did he see no merit in the risk she had taken? Alienor blinked back her tears as she dug her heels into the horse’s sides once they had passed through the gates of the city, not trusting herself to speak.
She was seven kinds of fool to have fallen in love with her husband.
She was yet more a fool to hope that one day, he might return her affection.
What would happen to them now? Would his rescue be for naught? She knew he held his vows in high esteem and one made to his own father could not be readily abandoned. She suspected he had taken the opportunity to escape solely that he might pursue the battle another day, to muster his forces, create a new plan, and attempt to regain his birthright once more. As much as she admired his resolve, Alienor wished they might have lived their lives together.
She had violated the tenets of her faith for this man, and though she could not regret the child that grew in her womb, she did question her own wits.
Perhaps she should take the consolamentum vows after the child’s birth.
Perhaps she should leave her lord husband, her duty to him rendered by the birth of a child, and retreat from worldly life. Alienor already knew that she would never desire another, and she could not bear to stand beside him, suspecting that he did not desire her.
Another horse drew up alongside her own and Alienor did not need to look to know ’twas her spouse. She ignored him, staring straight ahead at the shadowy thread of the road. She doubted she could survive a casual conversation at this moment without her tears falling.
“Alienor?”
She pretended not to hear, surreptitiously touching her heel to her horse’s flanks to increase its speed.
To her dismay, Dagobert’s mount matched the pace of her own easily. Alienor watched as her husband’s gloved hand landed on the pommel of her saddle but did not slow the horse’s pace. Dagobert muttered a curse under his breath as he reached for her waist. Alienor tugged her horse’s reins hard to one side, abruptly putting a chasm between the two steeds.
Dagobert swore now with an eloquence that so astonished Alienor that she risked a glance toward him. She sensed that he was fighting for control of his temper when he glanced toward her. Even the helmet he wore did not disguise the silver flash of his eyes.
Instinctively, she recoiled, but she was not quick enough to evade him from laying claim to her horse’s reins. He pulled her destrier to a halt, his movements curt and sure as he murmured to the steed. Then he dismounted and lifted her down from her saddle with a gentleness unexpected.
Before Alienor could argue, Dagobert had carried her to his own saddle. She thought to jump down but he stayed her with a hot glance. He fastened her mount’s reins to the back of his saddle with an abrupt snap.
By the time Iolande had slowed her own horse and begun to canter back in their direction, Dagobert had swung up behind Alienor and pulled her against him, his arm locked around her waist. As when they had ridden from Montsalvat, she was seated sideways before him.
Alienor ignored Iolande’s smile and held herself stiffly before her husband, fighting the temptation to lean against him. Oh, she was a fool. The mere warmth of his presence could undermine her determination but she reminded herself that he meant only to assert his claim.
She was his wife. She carried his son. He would defend and honor her, he would pleasure her abed, but she knew better than to expect more. He would not confide in her, unless he believed he had no choice.
’Twas clear that Dagobert was not in the mood for discussion at this moment. When Iolande matched her horse’s pace to that of his and rode alongside, he did not even initiate a conversation with his mother.
But then, he had to be exhausted. And hungry. Alienor’s resolve faded before her compassion for what he had endured.
“There is bread and cheese in your pack,” Iolande said finally. The road narrowed ahead and she took the lead, leaving Dagobert and Alienor behind.
Silence hung heavily between them, long moments dragging by before Alienor sighed and reached around her husband. She fetched the food from the satchel hanging behind his saddle. ’Twas too easy to see the tightening of Dagobert’s flesh over his bones. There was little point in saving him if he were to subsequently starve.
When she was settled before him again, he removed his helmet. The way he shook his head as if loosening his hair drew Alienor’s attention to the sacrifice of his hair. He noted her inquiring expression and smiled ruefully.
The change in his expression made her heart leap.
“How does it look?”
Alienor could not help but respond to his teasing smile. She tilted her head to consider his appearance. There was already new stubble casting a faint shadow over the skin.
“’Tis not so bad,” she said. “I did like your hair long.”
“Then I shall grow it again.”
“In truth, I think your beard grows faster,” she noted.
Dagobert chuckled, running a hand over the growth on his chin.
“I am relieved that you do not find the sight of me offensive, my lady.” He spoke in a low voice, his gaze slipping to hers, such warmth in his expression that Alienor did not know what to think. He accepted a chunk of bread from her, closing his eyes briefly with pleasure as he chewed. That alone made her wish she had better fare to offer him.
Alienor took the opportunity to survey him, studying the square strength of his jaw, the noble line of his cheekbones and nose. Even without his hair, Dagobert had a regal bearing and a graceful assurance in his every move that she found most attractive.
“You do mean to grow it back?” she asked.
Dagobert opened his eyes again, startling her with his bright gaze. “Unless you object.”
“’Twas of great length before.”
“I let it grow for fifteen summers,” he admitted.
Alienor frowned. “Fifteen? Is it not that many years since you took your vow to your father?”
He nodded in agreement. “Aye.” He plucked a piece of cheese from her fingers. “Do you think that was coincidence?”
The insinuation that she was dim-witted sparked Alienor’s temper anew.
“You need not speak to me as though I were a simple child,” she snapped. “I cannot know all the tales of your family, when they are mingled with truth and rumor, and you do not speak to me.”
He halted mid-bite. “I meant no offense,” he began in a conciliatory tone but Alienor cut him short.
“You meant no offense?” she echoed angrily. “Just as you meant no offense earlier this night when you accused me of failing to understand Jordan’s motives? It would be a foolish woman who was deceived by a man who had tried to rape her in her own chamber. Trust, I would think, would be hard won in such circumstance and might be more reliable for that.”
“But...”
“Of course, you meant no offense when you suggested that I was aiding your escape only to lead you into a trap or to have you hunted anew? What sort of trap could I devise that would be worse than your execution at dawn?”
Dagobert regarded her with astonishment, but Alienor had already unleashed her frustration and she could not halt now. She had been silent too long. At least this once, she would have her say and let the consequences be as they would be.
“Always do you think the worst of me,” she accused.
“Not always,” he protested.
“Did you trust me with the truth of your nature, the truth that all others at Montsalvat knew? Did you speak to me when I asked that of you, or confide in me as I always understood a man should do with his wife?”
Dagobert looked discomfited. “I had made a pledge...”
“Aye, to your father and that is of greater import than your pledge to me. I understand that well, sir.” She took a breath. “But I have never done any deed to dishonor you or your name. I was a maiden when I came to your bed and even now no other man has been between my thighs but you, but you seem to assume otherwise.” She rapped a finger on his chest. “I have done what I must and made what wagers I had to make, sir, in the hope of ensuring your survival. ’Twas you who deceived me, my lord; ’twas you who told the tale that left the goat dead; ’twas you who took this pledge, which will only ensure that you and all your heirs die too young.”
“Alienor,” Dagobert murmured in an attempt to soothe her, but she would not fall silent now.
“What dishonor have I given you by believing the lies you told me? What fault have I committed by bearing your child despite my faith, that you might have the heir you desire above all else? I risked my life and that of our child this night to save your hide yet you have not a word of gratitude for me. Your sole comment is that I must wish to be rid of you! Had I the desire to be rid of you, my lord, I would simply have left you to die!”
“Alienor,” he tried again.
“’Tis clear that you have no trust of me, though there is precious little basis for your fears. No match can endure without trust and I would have yours, my lord, if I am to remain by your side.”
“What do you mean?” Dagobert demanded.
“I will bear your child four months hence,” she reminded him. “Should you find yourself unable to offer your trust by that time, I will leave Montsalvat and you forever.”
Dagobert froze for a moment and he was so still that Alienor wondered if he yet breathed, then he shook his head.
“You cannot mean this,” he said with impatience. “Where would you go? Guibert sold the house in Perpignan and is sworn to my service.”
Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 23