The Cross and the Dragon (34 page)

Hruodland nodded and smiled. “She will come. It is simply a matter of when.”

* * * * *

In the middle of the night, Hruodland woke up screaming again. He looked about in the light of the night candle and small fire in the hearth. He saw nothing but cots — no Ganelon, no knife, no wine. Although he shivered in the chill of late autumn, he was sweating. He felt his chest, which was heaving, and found the medal of Saint Peter, the wooden cross, and the scars.

I am still alive. Why do I keep having this dream of Ganelon?

Hruodland searched his memories. Ganelon would never have challenged him to a duel. He never fought any worthy opponent. On the battlefield, Ganelon always sought out the youth who was seeing his first battle and shaking so hard he could barely hold his sword. Off the battlefield, Ganelon always abused those who could not fight back.

“Alda,” Hruodland whispered.

A panic seized him. That was the meaning of the dream! Ganelon was going to fulfill his vow of vengeance on Alda while Hruodland was absent.

Hruodland had to leave. Now. While there was still time to travel home. He had to protect Alda.

He sat up, put his feet on the floor and clenched his fists.
Stand!
he commanded his body.
Stand!

He rose slowly, unsteadily, to his feet.
Walk! Walk!
He lifted one foot, wobbled, and then collapsed. He lay beside the cot, weeping. He could not protect Alda. He could not even take a step on his own. A husband was supposed to protect his wife, and he had failed.

“Alda, Alda,” he cried out. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Chapter 23

Alda felt the weight of her grief lighten a little as she settled into life at Drachenhaus. Like her mother, she often gave cakes to Werinbert. She liked the way his eyes lit at the mention of the treat. And he was curious, like all children who had seen three winters. Alda loved his curiosity. He wanted to know about everything.

“Why sun rise, Auntie?” he asked one morning as they walked to prime Mass.

“Because God makes it rise,” Alda answered.

“Why He make it rise?”

“Because it is His will.”

“Why it His will?”

Alda laughed and bent to kiss her nephew’s forehead. “Because it is. Come, child,” she said, holding his hand, “let us not tarry and be late for Mass.”

Even with Werinbert to distract her, a fear gnawed at a corner of Alda’s mind: Ganelon was coming to Drachenhaus.

* * * * *

Two weeks after Gundrada had left for Koblenz, Alda heard the call of the horn from the tower and felt a chill run through her body, despite her marten-fur-lined wool cloak.
He is here. Ganelon is here.
She pulled out her eating knife, sharpened just this morning, and sheathed it again.

Alda and Theodelinda entered the courtyard just as Ganelon and Gundrada came through the castle gates with their guards and a few servants. Alda noticed Ganelon’s guards were well fed but his servants were as thin as ever. The Drachenhaus nurse brought Werinbert and his foster brother to the courtyard.

“Mother!” Werinbert cried. He let go of his nurse’s hand and ran to her.

Gundrada cast a fearful look at Ganelon, dismounted, and bent to embrace her son. She tousled his hair and cooed, “My child, my sweet, sweet child. How I missed you!”

Ganelon glowered at them. Alda swallowed as her hand flew to her dragon.

“Welcome to Drachenhaus,” Theodelinda called.

Ganelon dismounted. His expression was now pleasant — so much of a change from a moment ago that Alda wondered if his look of anger had been her fancy. Holding her son’s hand, Gundrada followed Ganelon, her shoulders hunched and her eyes downcast, like a dog that had just been beaten.

“Countess,” Ganelon said, taking Theodelinda’s hand, “I thank you for your hospitality. Leave my wife’s things in the hall instead of the solar,” he told the servants. “If it is not too much trouble, Countess. Since we shall stay only three days, it would be easier on the servants.”

Alda was so surprised at his concern for the servants’ welfare that she barely noticed Gundrada look up at her husband before looking down again.

“It’s no trouble,” Theodelinda replied. “But where are your carts?”

“I sent the carts ahead and decided to use packhorses.” He looked at the cloudy sky. “Winter is fast approaching, and we must make haste. Unfortunately, our stay will be brief, and the carts would be nothing but a burden. We came with a few servants and guards and some clothes.”

“Well, the baths are ready,” Theodelinda said. “I told the servants to put extra logs on the fires in the warming rooms.”

“Lady Alda,” Ganelon said warmly, “what a pleasant surprise to see you again.”

Alda blinked back her astonishment. Was this the same Ganelon who had threatened to make her virtuous with his fists?

“It’s a pleasure to see you as well,” she stammered.

* * * * *

As the women undressed before a roaring fire in the warming room on their side of the bathhouse, Alda noticed Gundrada still had a plump figure but she had bruises on her thighs and arms.

“It’s nothing but a fall,” Gundrada snapped.

“Gundrada, I can send a message to your father to come to your aid,” Alda said, careful to keep her voice low. She heard Werinbert’s nurse laugh as he and his foster brother splashed in a tub in the room with the baths.

“I will not bring dishonor on my family,” she hissed. “Maybe you care nothing for causing a feud…”

“I caused no feud,” Alda cried. Lowering her voice, she added. “It existed before I was born. Gundrada, if he is beating you after but two weeks…”

“It is not your concern,” she insisted, stiffening.

Alda shook her head but held her tongue. Nothing she could say could convince Gundrada that no wife could placate this beast.

* * * * *

To Alda’s surprise, the next three days were pleasant. Although his wife and servants seemed to fear him, Ganelon was such a gracious guest that Alda barely recognized him.

But on the first night, one thing disturbed Alda. After Werinbert was sent to the solar, Ganelon took his wife’s hand, and they withdrew to the darkness of the hall. Alda guessed they were going to lie on a couple of pallets. Alda’s conversation with her mother was interrupted by the sound of a hard slap.

“You care more for Alfihar’s son than your husband,” Ganelon snarled.

“My lord, he is my son,” Gundrada whimpered.

“You are my wife. I will show you who is important.”

“My lord, no,” Gundrada pleaded, “you are hurting me.”

Then, Gundrada was too quiet. She said nothing, no moans, no sighs. Alda grimaced as she heard Ganelon grunt.

“This is not our concern,” Theodelinda whispered. “Let us retire.”

As the women climbed the stairs to the solar, Alda could not help but pity Gundrada.

* * * * *

On the night before Ganelon and Gundrada were to depart, Theodelinda, Alda, and Veronica retired to the solar as usual, where Werinbert already slept. As usual, Gundrada remained in the hall below with her husband.

Alda and Veronica undressed and climbed into the new bed, where they would use each other’s warmth to ward off the chill of the near-winter air. The flame of a thick night candle cast a flickering light on the maids sleeping in the solar. Alda grasped the edge of the bed curtains and watched her mother climb into the bed where Werinbert slept.

Alda closed her own bed curtains and sank in the warm darkness of the wool blankets and rabbit pelts. Tomorrow, Ganelon would leave, and she would no longer have to trouble herself about him. Although Veronica squirmed restlessly beside her, Alda laid her hand on her cross and dragon and fell asleep.

Alda awoke to a draft of freezing air. Lying on her back, her eyes still closed, she groped at Veronica’s side of the bed. Empty. It was unlike Veronica to be careless and leave the bed curtains open. More asleep than awake, Alda moved to close the curtains.

A hand clamped over her mouth. Alda opened her eyes as her arms and legs flailed. Her scream choked in her throat.
Ganelon!

He bent over her like a spider drinking blood from a moth. Raising her hands again, she felt something cold and hard and moist against her throat.

“Be still,” Ganelon hissed. “Utter one word or make one move, and I will slit your throat.”

Alda’s arms fell to her side. As Ganelon withdrew his hand from her mouth, she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.
What has he done to Werinbert? To Mother? To Veronica?

“I am your lord now,” he taunted, his face close to hers.

Alda tried to still her trembling hands.
Show no fear
, she told herself. She looked straight into Ganelon’s cold, cold eyes, icy and full of malice, like a fiend’s.

“Push back the blankets slowly, very slowly,” he said, his voice low. “Any false move, and you will share the fate of the guard at the foot of the stairs.”

Alda fought back a wave of nausea. If she could but scream, a host of servants and guards would come to her aid. She could not even call to the maids who were sleeping nearby. She could do nothing, nothing, except obey his command, his hateful, hateful command. Still, she hesitated, trying to find some way to avoid…

“Do as I tell you,” Ganelon growled, pressing the knife closer to her throat.

Alda pushed back the blankets and furs and stopped when they reached her waist.

“Push them down all the way,” Ganelon commanded. “I want to see all of you. You are going to do my will now, just like you should have when we first met.”

Alda looked for a weapon.
My knife!
It was on a small table just out of reach.

“What are you looking at?” Ganelon’s eyes narrowed like a snake ready to strike.

“Nothing,” Alda whimpered.

But Ganelon’s eyes followed her gaze and fell on the knife. He chuckled. “You think you could stop me with that?” he sneered.

Never taking his eyes off Alda, he reached with his free hand and silently moved the knife into the shadows. “Now do my bidding,” he barked. “Remove the blankets.”

With the edge of his knife against her throat, Alda pushed the blankets aside.
Mother of God, help me!

With his free hand, Ganelon tore off her cross and dragon and threw them. Alda closed her eyes as she heard them thunk against the floor. Now she had nothing, nothing to protect her.

“Where is the other who shares this bed?” he asked.

“No one shares this bed,” Alda said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Despite herself, tears filled Alda’s eyes. Ganelon’s lips curved into a smile.

“This is a sin, Ganelon,” she gasped.

“Silence,” he snarled. “Or your next words will be your last. God has granted me an opportunity for vengeance, and I am taking what is rightfully mine.”

Blood drained from Alda’s face as Ganelon shifted his weight to his free hand and climbed on top of her, his knife still close to her throat. Feeling his bare thighs straddle her hips, she flinched. His weight smothered her.

“I will fill you with my seed,” he jeered, “and you will bear Drachenhaus’s true heir.”

The spider now had the moth exactly where he wanted her. The moth was paralyzed and trapped, and all the spider had to do now was drink his fill.

Suddenly, several men’s hands grabbed Ganelon, and Alda felt his weight jerked from her body. She sat up, grabbing a blanket to cover herself, and blinked back the blur of tears. Guards surrounded Ganelon, their weapons drawn. Theodelinda, wrapped in a bear pelt, stood in the guards’ midst.

“Take him to a cell,” Theodelinda commanded the guards. “He will be punished at dawn and pay dearly. I want all to see what happens to those who betray Drachenhaus.” Theodelinda growled in Ganelon’s ear, “You will be deprived of your manhood, your lying tongue, and your eyes.”