Time to Love Again Read online

  There was some good-natured grumbling about the delay, several of the men complaining to Eudon that his injury was keeping them from the arms of their sweethearts. Marcion, who was as usual sitting beside India, gave vent to a long sigh.

  “How I miss my little Bertille,” he said. “It will be weeks yet before I see her again, and then her strict mother and the queen will take care that we do nothing more than kiss or hold hands. I will have to wait until summer ends before I can claim the prize I have desired since the moment I met her.”

  “It’s a fortunate man who loves the wife chosen for him by his king,” said Hugo, on Marcion’s other side.

  “Have you a wife, Hugo?” asked India, leaning forward to see him better.

  “I have so little land that no woman would want me, and no parents would agree to give their daughter to me,” Hugo replied. “You see, it is our Frankish custom to divide a parent’s lands among all the children, including the daughters, so they will have dowries. Generations ago, my family held vast lands, but by the time I was born, my father had only a small estate to bequeath to me, and I owe part of it to my sister when she’s old enough to marry. But I hope to earn a grant of land by my sword. Charles is generous to the men who fight for him. For now, being poor, I have only a widowed mother and a ten-year-old sister for female companionship.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Osric called to India. “Hugo has plenty of women.” This claim was greeted with laughter and a few raunchy comments about Hugo’s successes with the ladies.

  “If I had a good wife,” Hugo said, his big, honest face sad, “I’d be faithful to her forever, and I’d do my best to make her happy.”

  “He would, too,” Theuderic said, seating himself beside India. “Most of us know what a great treasure a good and gentle woman can be. Like Hugo, I’d protect such a lady with my very life and gladly give all I have into her keeping. But that is not to be my fate. Not now. It’s too late for that.”

  “Then you have no wife, either?” Her heart lightened at the realization. It would be appalling to learn that the man who filled her thoughts through every waking hour was another woman’s husband. If Theuderic was unwed, if he loved no other woman, then – then what? She had known him for a little more than three days. How could she feel anything more for him than an overheated interest in his physical attractions? She watched him stare into the fire for a while before he spoke again.

  “I was married for a year,” he said. “She died giving birth to my son.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you love her?” She had not intended to say that, but the question was in her mind and it slipped out without conscious thought on her part. He did not take offense at her prying.

  “Not at first,” he said. “We met but once before the wedding, and she was ten years younger than I, only fourteen when we married. But she was sweet and kind-hearted, and she tried so hard to please me that soon I did love her. When she died, I thought my heart would break from the pain of my loss. I swore then that I would never again allow myself to love a woman, for to love again would mean risking a second and similar loss, and that would drive me mad or kill me.”

  “You do not appear to me to be the kind of man who will live an entirely chaste life,” she said, angry with him and with herself because she was so hurt by his words.

  “Few soldiers are entirely chaste,” he said. “Knowing that, for her gentle sake, I do not allow my men to rape following a battle, nor to harm our female captives.”

  “But you told me they would harm me!” India exclaimed. Only when Theuderic turned his head to regard her with a quizzical look did she realize what she had revealed.

  “True enough,” he drawled, “but a boy, traveling alone, is something different from a virtuous woman, is he not?”

  “It is just possible,” India declared hotly, “that such a boy would need the same protection a woman would.”

  “That is so,” said Theuderic, very quietly, “which is why I have given you my protection. Boy or maid, I’d not see innocence ruined without trying to help.”

  “Theu.” Marcion, who had been conversing with Hugo and Osric, now broke into his leader’s speech. “If you prefer, India may share my shelter with me tonight. I sleep more soundly than you and would scarcely notice his presence.”

  Theuderic gave him a long, level look, during which it seemed to India that the two men shared an unspoken understanding.

  “Thank you for your concern about my rest,” Theuderic said dryly, “but the boy is my responsibility. He stays with me.”

  “As you wish.” Marcion acceded with a graceful movement of his expressive hands. “Though you should know, Theu, that after the care he gave to Eudon, all of us consider India to be a member of this band and therefore our joint responsibility.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Theuderic said, adding, to India’s consternation, “If I am killed, see that India is safely delivered to Charles.”

  “Killed?” India cried. “Do you anticipate having to fight before we reach Aachen?”

  “I do not. But, as you saw in Eudon’s case, unexpected events happen.” His big, square hand rested on hers for the briefest of moments. “I want you kept safe. If I am not available, Charles will care for you.”

  Later, with her wrist bound to him for a third night, after both of them had lain stiffly for hours beneath his cloak, each trying not to touch the other, Theuderic turned to her with a muffled oath and took her into his arms, to hold her close so they could sleep at last.

  When she wakened, he was gone – hunting, Eudon told her – and he did not return until the day was almost over. Eudon spent the better part of the day moving about the camp and exercising his right leg in preparation for the long ride to come.

  “Riding will be painful for you,” India warned. “It will be a while before that wound is fully healed.”

  “Theu has given me more time to recover than any other leader would have,” Eudon returned. “I won’t delay him any longer.”

  Theuderic took the first watch that night, so India retired alone to the lean-to they usually shared. She was glad of his absence, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the way she felt about him. He had given her his cloak, saying he would be warm enough until he joined her later, but in the morning he was not in their lean-to. She found him stretched beside the dying fire.

  “Why did you sleep on the bare ground when you might have had shelter with me?” she demanded.

  “It doesn’t matter.” His abrupt manner suggested to her that he, too, was having trouble concealing his feelings. “Eat quickly. I want to leave at once.”

  By now, the bread the men carried with them was so stale and hard that it could only be eaten by soaking it in their ale first. It made a singularly unappetizing mess, but India did not complain. It was not long before she was mounted in front of Theuderic once more and they were back on the almost invisible track through the forest, traveling more slowly than before, to accommodate Eudon.

  They reached the Rhine in mid-afternoon. Flowing smoothly along its course through dense forest and a few low hills, it was not as exciting a sight as India had expected. All the wild, romantic cliffs and rapids she had read about and seen pictures of lay upstream, to the south, and most of the famous castles that in her own time were the signatures of that great river, would not be built for several centuries.

  On the western bank, across the sparkling clean, blue and silver water, lay the town the Romans had originally named Colonia Agrippina, though the Franks referred to it simply as Köln. By squinting against the bright sun, India could make out a recently restored Roman wall around the town and what looked to her like a Romanesque church surrounded by smaller buildings.

  Of more immediate interest to their party, on the eastern side of the river a few houses stood near the water, making the tiniest of villages. The flat barge that served as a ferry was tied to a wooden wharf. Set apart from the houses was also a large Roman building, its stone faded
over the centuries into a warm, golden hue. Innumerable additions had been added to this edifice, its sprawling walls now housing the Frankish garrison kept there to guard the ferry crossing.

  Theuderic led his men through the open gates, past a series of sentries, all of whom snapped to attention when Osric called out their identity, each syllable rolling off his tongue in a way that suggested this was his usual job and one he relished.

  “He just called you count,” India said. She was not especially surprised. She knew Theuderic had a large estate near Metz, for he had told her so himself, adding that his son, now three years old, lived there under Theuderic’s mother’s care. No man who wore chain mail and led a well-disciplined warband could be less than a nobleman. Still, she was impressed. In the realm of Charles the Great, only a few dukes and Charles himself ranked higher than a count.

  “My grandfather fought the Saracens at Tours with Charles Martel,” Theuderic responded to her comment with quiet pride. “My father was a close friend to King Pepin, and I am Charles’s man. It was he who made me a count.”

  They were by now inside the courtyard of the garrison, and India could see that it was crowded with busy men and with horses. Apparently, the king of the Franks believed the Saxons were a danger serious enough to make him keep this outpost well staffed.

  “Now for some decent food,” said Hugo, smiling when he saw a portly man in a green tunic and jeweled sword belt coming toward them. “Savarec keeps a fine table. India, lad, we have returned to civilization at last.”

  Behind India, Theuderic moved, dismounting, and then he and Marcion, now on foot too, went forward to greet the garrison commander.

  “My dear Count Theuderic, Lord Marcion, welcome, welcome.” Savarec’s ruddy face shone with pleasure. “I am pleased to see you return in good health and with your men uninjured. You must give us the news of your battles with the Saxons. Have you a report from Paderborn? Perhaps some news directed especially to me? With so many men stationed here, I would welcome the chance to let them work off their extra energy in a small battle.” Still talking in a way that allowed no interruptions or even answers to his numerous questions, Savarec swept Theuderic and Marcion with him through the door of what appeared to be the main section of the garrison building.

  “Enthusiastic, isn’t he?” Hugo grinned at India, who still sat upon Theuderic’s horse. He tilted his chin toward the doorway through which Theuderic and Marcion had vanished. “You’d better dismount, lad. I see a servant coming toward you with a look that suggests Theu was finally able to get a word in to tell Savarec we’ve a king’s messenger among us.”

  “But I’m not,” India protested.

  “Don’t tell Savarec that,” Hugo advised kindly. “He’ll treat you better if he thinks you are. He’s a good man, and a brave one, but a bit too much in awe of rank and title.”

  Once on the ground, India faced a swarthy fellow who sported both a lush beard and a sweeping mustache.

  “If you will be so good,” the man said, almost stumbling over the words in his eagerness, “please come with me. Savarec regrets that he was not aware of your presence. This way, please, good sir.” With what was apparently intended to be a bow, the man indicated that India should precede him into the building.

  “Go on,” said Hugo, his big face perfectly serious. “Don’t worry about the rest of us. I’ll see the men well billetted, and then I’ll join you.” By now India’s guide was some distance ahead of her, and after a quick glance in the man’s direction, Hugo gave her a long, slow wink. “Enjoy your exalted state, lad.”

  She knew as she entered the building that she was probably in serious danger of having her disguise penetrated in that place, but suddenly she felt like laughing. Hugo had looked so comical, and the other men had been openly grinning their encouragement. She followed Savarec’s man with a jaunty step.

  “My dear young man,” exclaimed Savarec when she had been shown into the great hall, “I assure you, I intended no slight when I neglected to greet you as well as Count Theuderic and Lord Marcion. Come in, please, and join us.”

  India did as she was bidden, looking around with great interest at this first Frankish interior she had seen. The hall had a high roof and a long pit down the center of its stone floor, wherein burned several separate and rather smoky fires. Two rows of tables were arranged on either side of the firepit, confirming India’s assumption that this was where the garrison assembled for meals. Theuderic, Marcion and their host stood together near the door. The only other people in the room were servants who were setting the tables with wooden plates and cups. From behind the door at the end of the hall wafted the smell of cooking meat and vegetables, particularly cabbage, which overlaid the even less pleasant indoor odors of damp wool and unwashed bodies.

  Savarec himself looked reasonably clean, his graying hair and mustache carefully combed, his clothing fresh and unspotted. He personally poured a cup of wine and gave it to India, his manner revealing no sign that he saw the woman beneath the boyish exterior. Offering up silent thanks to heaven for Savarec’s acceptance of her, India took the cup from him with a polite bow of her head.

  “Drink it slowly,” warned Theuderic. “After the last few days, wine will be new to you.”

  On impulse, she lifted her cup, toasting him for an instant before she drank. She saw his eyes widen in surprise. At once, he returned the gesture with his own cup. The wine was slightly fizzy, and a little too sweet for her taste, but it was doubtless the safest liquid she could drink in that land.

  “Excellent,” she said to Savarec, as if she were a connoisseur. Savarec looked pleased.

  “I hope you will find the evening meal to your liking also,” he said, beaming at her. “I am curious to know more about your land of Chess-veeck, which Count Theuderic has been describing to me. Will you be good enough to tell me about it tonight?”

  “Describing it? Theuderic?” India stared at that gentleman, but all she got in return was a bland, innocent look.

  “We will talk more tonight,” Savarec promised. “For now, let this servant escort you to your room while I oversee the details of our feast. I regret that we are so overcrowded that there is but one guest room available, and most of your men will have to sleep in the barracks. Until later, Count Theuderic, Lord Marcion, Lord India.”

  India nearly choked at that bestowal of an unearned title upon her, but went with her companions to the guest room that had been prepared for them on the second floor of the garrison building.

  It was not large, and half the space was taken up by the bed that sat in one corner. This piece of furniture had railings at the head, foot, and one long side. It looked remarkably like a twentieth-century daybed. The similarity was increased when Marcion lifted the undyed woolen coverlet to pull out a trundle bed tucked underneath.

  “Hugo and I can sleep on this,” Marcion remarked, pushing the trundle back under the bed until it should be needed. “There will be plenty of room for all of us.”

  “What about Eudon?” India asked, more than a little shaken by Marcion’s apparent assumption that she and Theuderic would be sleeping together in the larger bed.

  “Eudon really ought to have a comfortable place to stretch out his right leg tonight, or he’ll be too stiff to ride tomorrow.”

  “I’ll see to Eudon’s comfort.” Marcion’s boyish grin was filled with pure mischief as a servant appeared with twin pitchers of steaming water, a second man following with a wooden basin, a bowl of soap, and a linen towel. “I’ll check on the horses, too. My absence will give you both more room to move around while you wash. Hugo and I can take the second turn at the water, after you’ve finished.”

  There was a single window in the room, with a wooden table beneath it. The servants set the water pitchers and other supplies down on the table and withdrew. Marcion followed them, leaving Theuderic and India alone.

  “Are we all really expected to sleep in here, together?” India asked nervously.

  “Wh
y not?” Folding his arms across his chest, Theuderic stood watching her as if to judge her every reaction and each word she spoke. “We have slept as closely together every night since you joined us.”

  “It’s not the same. That was in the open. Here there are walls, a floor, a ceiling.”

  “It will certainly be more pleasant than the damp forest,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving her face.

  “And presumably safer,” she added, believing it would not be safe at all to spend an entire night in the same bed with this man. “Will you still bind my wrist and tie me to you tonight?”

  “If I thought you would fly out the window while I slept, I might well tie you again.” He moved suddenly, the action surprising her. He stood so close to her that they were almost touching. “You would leave if you could,” he accused her, his voice soft.

  It was true. If Hank were to give her any indication that he had found a way to take her home again, she would go without a backward glance. Or would she? Looking at Theuderic’s hard face, into his sharp grey eyes, she wondered if she had been driven mad by what had happened to her, because the thought of never seeing him again stabbed her like a knife in the heart.

  “I don’t know how to answer you,” she whispered.

  “It wasn’t a question. But I’ll show you how much I’ve grown to trust you. I’ll leave you alone here for a while, to wash in private. There is a covered slop pot under the table if you need it.” He paused with one hand on the door latch. “Of course, Hugo or Marcion might walk in at any time.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For granting the privacy, or for warning that others may intrude upon it? Surely you understand by now that it can be difficult to be alone for more than a moment or two.”

  The familiar quirk of his mouth suggested to her that he was teasing. She felt absolutely certain that he had penetrated her disguise days before, yet most of the time he gave no indication that he knew the truth about her. Only occasionally, when no one else was present, did he let the barriers between them slip even a little. As he did now. Something remarkably close to a smile touched his lips, and his cool eyes turned gentle.