A Royal Marriage (14 page)

“They were my father’s closest advisors and fought beside us at Bern the day my father died. Indeed, had Urias not pulled me injured from the battle, I may have fallen that day, as well.”

“I’m glad your life was spared that day. Yet I can’t help thinking Urias has been more than repaid by your extended patience.” She thought to say more but wasn’t sure whether her words would be welcome.

“What would your father do, given the circumstances?”

Gisela laughed. “My father would grant them both lofty but meaningless titles and put them in charge of some remote corner of his empire, where the local population would punish them daily with their whining.”

John laughed with her. “I fear Lydia has no corner distant enough for them.”

“Perhaps my father could provide a location for their exile,” Gisela corrected herself, “or, honored position, as it should be called.” She giggled. “Somewhere near Hilda’s homeland might be best. Urias and Hilda seem to enjoy one another’s company. It seems many of the times when she has been missing from my service, she has been in his company.”

“How are matters with your maid, then?”

“I gave her a lecture. She was most contrite. Given all I’ve put her through on this journey, I couldn’t be too stern with her. I told her that as long as she doesn’t neglect her duties, she’s free to spend time with Urias as she likes.”

“That sounds most generous. You’re not afraid she’ll take advantage?”

“Perhaps she will, but seeing as my father sent her as much to keep me in line as to meet my needs, I find I breathe more freely when she’s otherwise distracted. Besides, I’ve learned the importance of being allowed to spend time with those dear to our hearts. I may not have that freedom, but I won’t deny it to them.”

“You are a kind and gracious leader. When Warrick takes his father’s throne, you will make him a fine queen.”

* * *

John regretted his words when Gisela went silent. He studied her face and found she’d pressed her lovely lips together as though holding something back with great effort.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned...”

“Don’t be sorry. It is always in my thoughts regardless of reminder. I thank God daily for allowing me to meet you even if we cannot be together. Your friendship means more to me.” She pulled in a deep breath and shook her head. “I won’t dwell on it. There’s nothing to be gained. Come now, I see a bridge ahead. But surely no rivers run through this rocky peninsula?”

They neared the spot and John hastened to explain. “That is no river that runs below. The sea has cut through this finger of land. This bridge is all that joins us to the continent, and I fear the chasm widens with every storm. The bridge will need to be expanded if it is to serve for many more years.”

“So Castlehead isn’t on a peninsula at all. It’s really an island now.”

“I suppose it is.” John dismounted and helped her down, securing their horses to a nearby tree as Gisela crept closer to the rocky edge of the gorge.

“It’s not as steep as it looks from a distance. Shall we climb down?”

Surprised as he might have been by Gisela’s desire to scramble down the rocks, John hardly blinked at her request but extended his hand to hold her steady while she picked her way down the side of the ravine.

“These rocks look similar to the bedrock at Rome. Do you suppose it is the same all the way down?”

Since she’d reached the bottom by the time she spoke, and stood next to the very edge of the lapping waves, John couldn’t be sure what she meant. “All the way down, where?”

“Underground. We’d need solid rock for a sufficient depth to provide a solid barrier between the tunnel and the sea.”

“You’re thinking of burrowing a passageway through solid rock? All the way from Castlehead to Sardis?”

“It wouldn’t do any good to only dig halfway through,” she teased him. Then her expression grew serious. “The underbelly of Rome is crisscrossed with tunnels and catacombs. They precede my father’s rule by hundreds of years. Still, he appreciates them and their usefulness for providing alternate routes in and beyond the city, especially in times of war. And Castlehead needs an alternate route to Sardis. What other option is there?”

“You would burrow through solid rock?”

“If this is, indeed, the same type of bedrock that we have under the streets of Rome, you’ll find it’s actually quite soft to dig through, and it hardens when exposed to the air. It’s as though God created it expressly to be tunneled through! How can you turn your back on such a divine invitation?”

“But how?” John began, wondering if Gisela appreciated the many miles that lay between those two points, and the vast scale of the project she was proposing.

Gisela placed a hand on his arm. “My father could lend you his best overseers. They know precisely how. All you need to do is tell them where and how fast to dig.” She clapped her hands twice as though encouraging an invisible crew of workmen. Then she hoisted her skirts and started the climb up toward the horses.

John followed behind her, ready to steady her if she stumbled. She only took his hand once, and that was as she made the final steps onto the softer soil at the top of the ravine.

They continued on their way to Sardis, where John was greatly encouraged by his meeting with Gregory, who’d been running drills with his men and had a cavalry training with horses. But as they lunched in the officer’s quarters, a flush-faced messenger arrived.

“Your Majesty.” Martin bowed low. “I was to take this message to you at Castlehead, but since you’re here—”

“You may deliver the message to me now.” John nodded to Martin to proceed.

But the messenger hesitated, looking from the king to the men who lined the table with increasing consternation. “Your Majesty?”

“Is it a private message?” John guessed.

Relief filled the youth’s features. “Yes, sire. I’m afraid so, sire. And important.”

John excused himself from the table and pulled Martin into an empty side room. “What is it then?”

“Rab the Raider has learnt of your brother’s presence in the borderlands. Rumors are swirling in Bern, and our sources tell us that Rab is hatching a plan to target your brother.”

“Then Luke must withdraw to the safety of Sardis. I’ll put someone else in charge. Luke is heir to the throne. His life cannot be placed in danger.”

“That’s just it, sire. Luke didn’t send me with this message. Renwick did. He’s argued with your brother. Luke fell back as far as Millbridge, but he won’t budge from there. Renwick can’t reason with him. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

John exhaled slowly and wished Martin’s words were true. Sadly, he doubted his stubborn brother would listen to reason—not even if it came as a direct command from the king.

John called Gregory and his top men into the side room to consult with him. John would have preferred to have Gisela at his right hand, but given the cramped quarters he found it quite reassuring that she stood directly across the table from him, so that he could watch her reaction as the messenger again relayed the news.

Captain Gregory growled when the youth finished. “Prince Luke’s life cannot be endangered.”

“He insists,” Martin explained.

John hastened to clarify his brother’s position. “Luke has regretted the loss of Bern since the day of my father’s death. He claims that, if he’d been present, we wouldn’t have lost the village.”

“I’ve made the same claim myself.” Gregory crossed his arms over his chest. “Nonetheless, neither he nor I was there. If we had been, you wouldn’t have been so grievously outnumbered. But all that means nothing in the face of the current threat. If we lose the prince, we’ll be more vulnerable than ever. With Prince Mark off on his journey and long overdue to return, we’d be left with only Elisabette to take the throne after you, Your Majesty. Long live you both, and all, but that’s a tight spot and risk we should try to avoid.”

“I agree.” John felt an inner quaking at the thought of his little sister on the throne. It was nothing against her gender. Gisela would make a fine leader, but little Elisabette had never known the pressures of leadership, nor did he ever wish to have her face them. John quizzed Martin, “Renwick’s tried talking reasonably with my brother?”

“He started with reason, sire. When that didn’t work, Renwick threatened to send for you himself. Your brother banished him to guard the far perimeter and said he won’t look at him or listen to anything he says until tomorrow.”

“Dare we remove Prince Luke from his post by force?” another of Gregory’s commanders asked.

Gisela shook her head. “His safety is secure only as long as his position remains concealed. The Raider may know Luke is in the area, but if he doesn’t realize already that Luke has fallen back to Millbridge, we can’t risk drawing any attention to his location. I fear any party large enough to compel him to withdraw would, by its very size, give away his position.”

Gregory let out a long, low whistle. “She’s right. It’s too risky.”

Martin spoke up. “Renwick said Luke would only listen to the king.”

“You can’t both be out there!” Gregory threw up his arms. “If Rab the Raider comes for Luke and finds the king as well, it’s the end of Lydia. Simple as that.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” John didn’t bother to note that Luke wasn’t likely to obey a direct order, even from the king. “Luke has taken this upon himself. He understands the risks as well as anyone.”

John had already discussed the state of the troops with Gregory, so he knew they’d been training, but were not yet prepared to launch an offensive attack—not one they could expect to win, anyway. “How soon will your cavalry be ready to face the Raider?”

“Given the size of the army he’s amassing? I wouldn’t want to face them for another week at least. The longer we have to train, the better the odds of success. I’m loath to send them out now. Not unless we have no other choice.”

“Our only other choice is to allow my brother to follow his own judgment and trust he understands the risks he’s undertaken.” John dismissed the men. “We’ll leave it at that and respond as we must.”

After the others filed from the room Gregory took King John to the side. “Your Majesty, I know it is not my place to advise you—”

“You’re a captain of my guard. I welcome your advice.”

“It’s not a strictly military matter, sire, but it is one of national importance. I know you said after your wife died that you wouldn’t marry another, but given Mark’s long absence and Luke’s reckless choices, I beg you to reconsider for the sake of the future of Lydia. You’ve been a good king to us, but your legacy is only as strong as your heir.”

John looked into the man’s earnest brown eyes. Gregory had served the kingdom well, both under his father, and even under his grandfather. The man was wise in ways John could only begin to appreciate. He understood the importance of the royal line. And he’d risked a royal reprimand to speak out for the good of Lydia.

“Thank you, Gregory. I have given much thought of late to my previous vow.” John glanced through the open doorway. Gisela waited for him at the far end of the next room, watching him patiently. “And I would consider doing something about it, if I could.”

Gregory’s brow bunched. “If you could? You’re the king.”

“There are some rules even a king must follow.” John decided it was past time to end the discussion and clapped the captain on the arm. “Keep me informed of every development at the border. Have your men ready to ride should the need arise but pray for peace.”

“Always, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Twelve

G
isela left King John to his thoughts as they traveled back to Castlehead. She knew he carried a heavy burden. The situation at the border troubled her, as well. If she’d had a solution, she’d have offered it to him, but the only hope she could see was for Lydia to hold off the Illyrians until her father responded to her message. She wished she’d told Boden to ask the emperor for an army, but that hadn’t seemed necessary two weeks before.

And it was far too late to amend the message. If Boden had found favorable winds and avoided the blades of the Saracens, he’d be in port at Rome already.

“We’ll be back in time for the evening meal,” Gisela noted as the Lydian royal castle fell into view at the horizon.

“Yes.” John sighed. “I’m sorry you’ve become entangled in Lydia’s problems.”

“Me? I arrived uninvited, and I’ve been nothing but a burden to you.”

“A burden? Far from it!”

“This trouble stems from my arrival. If Boden had sailed us straight to the Dometians, Lydia would not be on the brink of war.”

“You’d be dead,” John stated flatly. “Lydia might have been granted a meager extension of peace, but without your marriage to Warrick to unite east and west, the church might someday be split and Lydia would become a battleground between two empires. Captain Gregory noted something at the end of our meeting.” John fell silent, musing.

“What did he note?” Gisela prompted as they neared the castle gates.

“It was a reference to the long-term leadership of Lydia. His words gave me reason to look beyond our immediate concerns, to the future. The current situation at our borders, important as it may seem, is not nearly as critical as the long-term survival of the church.”

John didn’t explain further, and Gisela didn’t ask him to. Their proximity to the castle made it possible for their conversation to be overheard by anyone on the wall. Besides that, John didn’t seem to have quite made up his mind about whatever was troubling him. She trusted that he’d share with her any decision he made that might influence her.

* * *

John felt grateful to Gisela for choosing to chat with Elisabette over dinner, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He’d nearly made up his mind earlier and now could see no way around it. Gisela would have to be sent to Warrick now, ahead of any response from her father. The instability along the border demanded it.

With chagrin, he realized the only reason he’d allowed her to stay so long was because he wanted her near. That, and he’d trusted her insistence on staying until her father had a chance to reply to her message. In light of the feelings she’d confessed having for him, he now suspected her decision to stay in Lydia might have more to do with her interest in him personally than in any objective political goals.

It wasn’t that he doubted her sincerity in maneuvering to see Rab the Raider punished. Rather, he doubted anyone as prominent as the Emperor Charlemagne would go out of his way to punish a man whose crime four years before made so little difference to the security of the Holy Roman Empire. Surely Charlemagne had far more pressing issues to attend to. If he bothered to intervene at all, it would likely only be to fetch Gisela and deliver her to Warrick himself, with only a chastisement to Lydia for their role in her delay.

John would have to send Gisela away.

She wouldn’t like it.
He
didn’t like it. But she was a reasonable woman who loved the church. She’d already agreed not to act on the love between them. He’d heard from her own lips that the peace of the church was far more important than her personal happiness.

And it wasn’t as though there was anything to be gained by letting her remain in Lydia any longer. It only increased his affection for her and made it that much harder for him to imagine sending her away. She had to leave as soon as possible.

He would tell her tonight.

* * *

Gisela reached for the gold cup just as John’s hand moved toward it.

“After you.” He ceded the cup to her.

She hesitated to take it. “Your deference exceeds my worthiness.”

“Hardly.” The king shook his head, his disposition as morose as she had ever seen it.

She understood there was much of late to trouble him, but his disposition still bothered her. “Would you like to discuss what has you so sullen tonight?”

“We do need to talk. They’re about to serve dessert. Shall we leave now or after?”

Gisela glanced down the table. None of the courtiers appeared to require their presence, and she doubted they’d be offended if they snuck away so late in the meal. “Now.”

John grabbed the recently filled glass and led her out the back door of the great hall. As they stepped past a server bearing tarts toward the hall, John handed Gisela the cup and snagged two raspberry-filled desserts. Then he led her up the stairs to the tallest tower where Fledge and her new mate had been roosting.

Beady eyes sparkled down at them through the near darkness.

“It’s only me,” John announced to the birds. “Take no heed.”

A red glimmer of sunlight reflected off the most western strip of the sea. Save for that, night had fallen. Already the first stars appeared in the east.

Gisela shivered as the cool autumn air cut through the thin silk sleeves of her gown.

John wrapped one arm around her as he delivered one of the tarts into her hands. “Are you cold?”

“Not anymore.” She thanked him for the pastry and nibbled at the corner. “You pamper me.”

“Hardly. You’re the emperor’s daughter. Many would assume a princess is used to being pampered.”

“I believe princesses are born to serve. That’s how I was raised. You must know I’m not used to all this attention, sitting at the head of the table and drinking from a gold cup.” She took a sip before finishing her thoughts. “In Rome as in Aachen, I am one of many princesses, and a lesser one at that. But you treat me as though...” Her words trailed off as she fought to find the words that could describe the way John made her feel.

John finished off his tart with one last bite and swallowed before speaking. “Do you feel as though I place your well-being ahead of my own?”

“Yes.” She realized with a guilty pang that the king had been placing her needs above his own from the moment her ship had set anchor off the Lydian shore.

“Good. I must make a request of you. Please know that, while it may pain you, I make it for your own well-being and the continued safety of all you hold dear.”

Gisela heard the heavy sorrow that John so often suppressed now rising to the forefront. She wished to ease his grief, but no matter how many times she’d made him laugh, it was always present in the depths of his heart. She’d do anything to rid him of its plague forever. “Please tell me your thoughts.”

“I hardly know where to begin.”

Having been curious about what Gregory had told John since the moment she’d observed them speaking together and having her curiosity further piqued by John’s later reference to their conversation, Gisela asked, “What did Captain Gregory say to you after our meeting?”

Something akin to apology or regret simmered in his eyes. “That I should father an heir.”

“Oh, no. Did he?” The words twisted her already-hurting heart.

John’s shoulder rose behind her as he sighed. “Two weeks ago I would have told him he’d overstepped his bounds. But you’ve helped me to realize my allegiances lie on this side of the grave. My duties as king lie to the future, not the past.”

Gisela felt her heart thumping desperately inside her. She wished he’d get on with what he was trying to say, but at the same time, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear it.

“I realized,” John continued, “I’ve been selfish. From a purely strategic standpoint, given the current political situation—” he heaved a sigh “—and the likelihood of war...”

Gisela turned in his arms until she could just make out his features in the dying light. Deep sorrow etched its way across his furrowed brow.

“Oh, John.” She reached up and traced his cheek with her palm, then laced her fingers back through his loose dark hair.

He bowed his head until his nose touched her forehead. “You oughtn’t run your fingers through my hair like that.”

“Isn’t it proper?” She pulled her hand back.

“No, it isn’t fair. I want to undo your braids and let your golden hair fly free. I want to bury my face in it and kiss each silken strand.”

“I’d let you.” The words leaped from her mouth almost before she realized she’d thought of them.

“Prince Warrick would never approve.”

“He’s not here. Does it really matter?”

“It’s all that matters.” John heaved a long sigh, and the light that had sparkled briefly in his eyes as she’d touched his face now dimmed to solemn darkness. “That’s why I must ask you to go to him now.”

“To Warrick?” A sob rose through her and nearly choked off the words. “But my father hasn’t—”

“It’s an excuse. We both know it’s an excuse. If you go to your betrothed, there is some chance you may convince him to discipline Rab the Raider. Every minute we wait for your father, my brother’s life is in danger. And not just his. All of Lydia.”

Gisela’s arms tightened around John’s waist. His words fell like shackles, clasping her tight and stealing her freedom. A surging sob rose up through her and she pressed her face against his leather tunic to bury the sound.

“I wouldn’t ask you to go,” he whispered close to her ear, “but it’s where you were bound before you met me. You’d have been there by now if I hadn’t held you back.” He caressed her back gently. “I hate to cause you pain but I can see no other route. If you stay in Lydia and the Illyrians attack, you might be accidentally killed. If I saw any other option—”

“No, I agree.” She moaned softly. “You’re right. The pain I feel is only that which I have brought upon myself. My decision to send Boden away without me was a hasty one and a selfish one. I see now that, in spite of the justice I claimed to seek, truly I sought to put off the time of my own leaving, to extend my time with you. If I’d have gone, I would never have known the depth of heartache I now feel. This is the penance I must pay for my selfishness.”

“No, the guilt is all mine,” John protested. “I could have easily called Boden back. It would have been nothing for me to send you with him. But I didn’t want to send you away. I knew you weren’t mine, yet I sought to keep you.” His arms clasped her tighter. “I seek to keep you still. How will I ever find the strength to send you away?”

Hardly had the question left his lips than the distant sound of pounding hooves clattered toward them, and a cry came up from a watchtower. “A rider approaches!”

“Friend or foe?” another voice called out.

“Friend!” The answer carried from the rider. “Renwick, with a message for the king!”

“Martin left Renwick with Prince Luke at Millbridge this morning.” John turned and pulled Gisela behind him as he leaped for the stairs.

“How did he reach us so quickly?” She trailed him as he made his rapid descent.

“If he ran at a full gallop the whole way and caught a fresh horse in Sardis, he could make the journey in under three hours.” John paused at the base of the stairs before leaping down the right-hand hall. “He made just such a ride to carry the news of my father’s death at Bern.”

Gisela followed, wondering what message would have prompted Renwick to make such a hard ride. They reached the gate just as Renwick slid trembling from his froth-covered horse.

“Catch your breath, Renwick,” King John encouraged him.

“Prince Luke, sire.” Renwick sucked in gasping breaths as he spoke. “He was taken. Wounded. Along with all of Millbridge. The Illyrians, sire.” He shook his head. “They outnumbered us three to one.”

* * *

John felt his face quickly lose its color. He couldn’t let the men and gathering courtiers see his response, or they’d become distraught, and a courtyard full of distraught courtiers would only slow him down.

He quickly quizzed Renwick for details. “Is my brother
alive?
Where have they taken them?”

“Your brother was alive when I left to carry the message. I’m sorry if I fled, Your Majesty, but if I hadn’t they’d have only captured me, too, and then it might have been days before you knew.”

“You made the right choice.” John felt his anger with the Illyrians rising. “Was Rab the Raider among them?”

“I can only assume he was. I didn’t get a close look, I’m afraid. Prince Luke had sent me to the most distant guard.” He shook his head with regret.

“I heard about that,” John assured him. “I apologize for my brother’s rash decision, but it may have been God’s good providence that spared you to bring us word.”

“They circled around by way of the bridge and struck in silence. By the time I heard the commotion there was nothing I could do.”

“Did they leave many dead?”

“I cannot say. I didn’t linger. The moment I saw that your brother was being carried off—” His voice broke.

“You did well to carry the news swiftly, Renwick.” John clapped the guard on the shoulder. “I must gather a band and ride. If we make haste, we’ll reach Millbridge before morning.”

“But they aren’t there anymore,” Renwick protested.

Gisela took John’s side. “It doesn’t matter. If we’ve any hope of reclaiming them, they’ll have to be intercepted on the road. If they reach a proper Illyrian village, worse yet, if they’re taken to a fortress...” She let the implied threat in her words go unspoken.

John felt grateful that she understood his plans so readily. But he also needed to make perfectly clear that he had no intention of letting her accompany him. He thought quickly, dismissing Renwick to rest before instructing the men who’d gathered to muster the troops.

Once he’d provided the officers with their initial instructions, he took Gisela’s hand, speaking quickly as he hurried back to his suite for his armor. He might have sent a servant for it, but it gave him an excuse to speak to Gisela alone. “I’d like to leave you in charge of Castlehead while I’m away.”

“Why? I have no authority here, and your courtiers know it. You’ll need every sword you can get if you’re going to rescue your brother.”