The Cross and the Dragon (15 page)

As she rushed toward the merchant, she tried to still the voice in the back of her mind, whispering that even the scabbard and chains might not be enough for the bride price.

* * * * *

After the meal, Hruodland, with Gerard in tow, spoke to the king in the hall. “Uncle, I need aid to purchase the bride price from the merchants,” he said.

“Why not ask your father to provide the bride price?” Charles asked irritably.

“It will take the remainder of the summer to return home,” Hruodland replied. “Then I must convince my father to forget Grandmother’s scheme to marry me to a Breton…”

“The Bretons understand a show of force better than matrimony,” Charles said.

“And if I tarry in paying the bride price, Alfihar might think I have broken my word. And I will have the enmity of another family and lose Alda’s dowry.”

In his mind, Hruodland went over the dowry: cattle and swine, six cups each of clay and gold, many clay bowls, plates and jugs, otter and marten furs, ten bolts of linen of white, blue, gold, and green, the same amount of wool, two bolts of silk, salt to last through winter, several tapestries, two chests laden with gold coins, and another chest full of jewels. Alda also would take Veronica and other servants, pallets, linens, clothing, her horse, many hunting dogs, a falcon, and a Bible with illuminations.

“Let us not lose that dowry or the family’s loyalty,” Charles said. “What is the bride price?”

Gerard unrolled the parchment and read: “A pair of breeding horses and incense to last a year.”

The king sent for Queen Hildegard, the guardian of his treasury, and they all ascended the stairs to the tower where Alfihar stored his most precious possessions. Two guards stood outside the thick, wooden door, but it was already open.

Alda’s voice floated to Hruodland’s ears. “Our potters are the best in all Francia and the cleverest. Look at how they shaped these pitchers like pigs. Their workmanship is flawless.”

Gerard touched Hruodland’s sleeve and whispered in Roman, “If you are bent on defying our father’s will, you would be hard pressed to find a better wife than Alda.”

A good wife who can negotiate with merchants and care for a house,
Hruodland thought.
A good wife who is eager for me. But perhaps not an honest one.

Hildegard gestured for the men to follow her inside. In the light from a single parchment-covered window, Hruodland made out the chests lining the walls and the shelves filled with pottery and jars of rare spices. Bolts of cloth and leather stood in the corner. Alda stopped midsentence, and she and her mother turned toward the newcomers.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Hruodland said. “I wish to buy wares from the merchant, enough for the bride price.”

At the mention of the bride price, Theodelinda’s look of vexation was replaced by a broad smile. “After my daughter’s betrothed has finished his trade, I would still be interested in your wares. Come, Alda. Let us leave the men to their business.”

“Good luck,” Alda mouthed, following her mother.

* * * * *

“Speak Roman?” Hruodland asked the merchant in Roman. He wanted Gerard to understand every word.

“Of course,” the merchant replied in Roman. “My trade takes me all over the world.”

The three of them stood in the stables, a shingle-roofed timber structure where the merchant had brought his horses. Tall and sleek, they were fine steeds, so fine that Hruodland could imagine himself astride one of them, charging into a hunt. He revealed the jeweled scabbard and asked about the animals’ price.

“You said you wish to purchase enough for a bride price?” the merchant asked. “I have never done such a thing, but I am pleased to aid in the union of two good families. Where did you say your home was?”

“The March of Brittany,” Gerard piped up. “Our father is the prefect.”

Hruodland glared at Gerard. The merchant’s prying irritated him. As far as Hruodland was concerned, where they were from was none of the merchant’s business.

“I have traded in the March of Brittany. You must be the sons of Milo,” the merchant said. “You must be Hruodland, and are you Gerard?”

“Yes,” Gerard said brightly.

Hruodland’s vexation deepened. He realized why Alfihar left the merchants to his mother and sister. All this was nothing but idle gossip.

“Let us return to the matter at hand,” Hruodland said abruptly. “Two horses for this scabbard.”

“One horse,” the merchant said.

“Two horses,” Hruodland countered.
I must keep my wits about me.

“But look at the jewels in the scabbard,” Gerard cut in. “It must be worth at least two horses and their saddles and bridles.”

“It is a well-made scabbard,” the merchant said. “I would give a colt for most of them, yet this sheath is a better quality. But look at this stallion. See how his coat gleams? He is healthy and ready to engender foals.”

Negotiations continued in this fashion. Hruodland could barely tolerate the tedium as the sun slipped toward the horizon. He would have left immediately if he did not wish to exchange vows with Alda soon and take her home. Shadows lengthened as Hruodland and the merchant returned to the hall and debated how many coins and how many of his gold and silver chains would buy incense. The last red gold rays of the sun found Hruodland without his chains and many of Charles’s coins, but he had the bride price.

* * * * *

The morning of the nuptials came seven days after the merchant boat left for the next county, shortly after the prefect of Koblenz and his family arrived with Alfihar’s betrothed, Gundrada. Alda wore her best dress, a deep blue gown embroidered with gold thread. She donned her favorite jewelry: the ruby and gold ring Hruodland had given her, a sapphire girdle, her cross and dragon, and several bracelets. Alda dabbed rose oil behind her ears. Its fragrance blended with the scent of violet and lavender water from the baths two days ago. Alda’s hair hung free in waves.

Theodelinda’s eyes welled up as she beheld her daughter. Veronica started weeping, and Alda could not contain herself. For a moment, the three women stood in the solar and could not stop crying.

Alfihar called from the foot of the stairs: “The guests are waiting.”

Alda wiped her eyes and swallowed. The women descended the stairs.

Alfihar, dressed in his best tunic and silk leggings, met Alda at the foot of the stairs, kissed her on the forehead, and took her arm, giving her strength to be steady through the ceremony.

In his free hand, Alfihar held a rolled parchment, which listed Alda’s dowry. He led her to the steps outside the chapel, where Hruodland waited. The peasants, soldiers, servants, the royal family, Gerard, Beringar, the family from Koblenz, all gathered outside. Bishop Leonhard stood at the top of the steps.

Hruodland gave Alfihar the rolled parchment that listed the bride price. Alfihar handed Alda to Hruodland along with the parchment that listed Alda’s dowry. Hruodland passed the document to Gerard, then Alda placed her hands in Hruodland’s.

“The bride price and dowry have been exchanged,” Leonhard said. “Now let the bridegroom and bride make their vows.”

Hruodland squeezed her hands. “I, Hruodland of the March of Brittany, swear by God and His Merciful Mother, that I shall have you, Alda of Drachenhaus, to be my wedded wife, that I shall honor you and protect you and keep you in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only unto you, so long as we both shall live.”

Alda smiled and spoke the words that Leonhard told her to say, an oath that would forever bind her to her betrothed: “I, Alda of Drachenhaus, swear by God and His Merciful Mother that I shall have you, Hruodland of the March of Brittany, as my wedded husband, that I shall obey you and serve you, honor you and keep you in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only unto you, so long as we both shall live.”

“May God bless this marriage,” Leonhard said. He raised his arms and prayed in Latin.

After Leonhard’s benediction, the king ordered his servants to give beer and rye bread to the commoners as a form of alms on behalf of the bride and groom. Alfihar led the nobles back to the hall for a wedding feast.

Alda leaned against Hruodland’s shoulder, not quite believing this all was happening. She thought she overheard Alfihar say to Gundrada, “Our nuptials will be just as joyous.”

As they entered the hall, musicians started by playing Psalms. A cupbearer fetched wine, and the nobles took their seats. Servants paraded in with the first course of soups, stews, roasted pigs and geese, bread, and vegetables. By the time the evening sun slanted through the windows, the songs had become bawdy, the nobles emptied dozens of cups, the meat was nothing more than bones, and the candles melted to nubs.

Hruodland nudged Alda and whispered in her ear. Alda smiled and nodded, and Hruodland helped her to her feet. The other nobles followed the newlyweds up the stairs to the solar. Hruodland and Alda undressed while the nobles watched, clapping and cheering.

“Good thing that sword didn’t get any lower,” one drunken man slurred.

“You wish you had as many scars.”

“Alfihar, don’t you feed her?” the drunk continued.

Alda’s cheeks burned as she dove between the sheets of the bed. She tempered the urge to shout, “We have already seen each other naked.” She wished the lot of them would go away.

“I did not get a good look at her so I could warn Hruodland. Look, she is blushing,” the drunk said, laughing.

Hruodland joined his wife in the bed and stroked her back. “My eyes are fine,” Hruodland retorted, “and I got a good look at her. Of course, you have had so much wine tonight, you cannot please a woman if you wanted.”

Nobles laughed and slapped their thighs. Alda gave a pleading look to her uncle.

“That is enough,” Leonhard said. “We have all had a chance to see the bride and bridegroom. Do they accept each other?”

“Yes,” Hruodland and Alda said together.

The crowd watched as Leonhard blessed the couple, then all of them left the newlyweds alone and went back downstairs to continue their merrymaking.

Hruodland touched Alda’s bare shoulder. “We are one in the eyes of God now,” he said, pulling her into an embrace.

“Yes,” Alda sighed, savoring his touch.

As Alda and Hruodland lay with each other again, she was glad the merrymaking downstairs was too loud for the guests to hear her shrieks of delight.

Afterward, Hruodland gazed at Alda’s right hand, which rested on his chest.

“You are still wearing my morning gift,” he said dreamily.

“I always wear it,” Alda purred.

“Good,” Hruodland said. “Never take it off.”

Alda fell asleep in Hruodland’s arms, glad that no one would care now if they were found together in the morning. She woke as lauds bells rang. In the light of a night candle, she again beheld his body, a warrior’s body, muscular, scarred. She lightly ran her finger on a scar on his shoulder.
How many battles has he seen?

She looked at his face. His eyes were still closed, but they seemed to follow something. He awoke with a gasp. He gazed around him. His face had a look of terror.

“Hruodland?” Alda asked. “What troubles you?”

Hruodland’s features relaxed when he heard Alda’s voice. “It is nothing. Only a dream,” he murmured. His eyes rested on hers, and he smiled. He kissed her. “Make me forget.”

“Yes,” she whispered, wrapping her arms and legs around him, satisfying their hunger and forgetting about the journey that lay ahead.

Chapter 12

The farewells at Drachenhaus a week later were tearful. Even Alfihar could barely keep his composure. Servants had packed and loaded into ox carts the linens Alda had sewn since childhood, the chest with her clothes and sheets, her chest of jewels, and some pallets along with her dowry. It was as if every trace of her existence was being removed from Drachenhaus. She did not know when she would see her home, her mother, or her brother again. Tears blurred her vision.

The royal family led the procession, trailed by the aristocracy of counts and bishops — including Hruodland, Alda, Alda’s uncles, and Gerard — all mounted on horses. Alda rode alongside Hruodland, astride his stallion. Veronica rode pillion with a huntsman.