The Cross and the Dragon (43 page)

“Your Eminence,” the clerk said, “we are expected at prayers.”

“Tell them I am indisposed. And have the servants draw a bath and find some clothes worthy of a count.”

“Ask them to draw baths for women as well,” Hruodland added. “I have been traveling with Sister Elisabeth and Sister Illuna.”

The bells rang. Hruodland and Guillaume bowed their heads and mouthed the Pater Noster.

As the ringing subsided, Hruodland asked, “Where did Alda go?”

“She went back to the Rhineland shortly after she heard of your…”

“Death,” Hruodland finished for him. “I cannot believe she left.”

“What did you expect? She failed to bear you children.”

“You could have encouraged her to stay.” Hruodland scowled.

“And let her tempt Gerard as well?”

“Tempt Gerard into what?”

“Into sin. The night she was told that you had fallen at Roncevaux that faithless woman was kissing your brother. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Alda would not do that.”

“She did,” the bishop insisted. “How can you be so blind to her?”

“She was — is — a good wife.” Hruodland started pacing. “After I woke up from my long sleep, the only thing that pulled me through was the thought of coming back to Alda. If Gerard had not lied, she would still be here. Have you heard any word of her? Is she well? Has she married again?”

“What concern is it of mine?”

“I must find out what happened to her.” Hruodland stopped pacing and stared out the window at the darkening sky.

“Why do you care? She never produced any children for you. You should be glad to be rid of her.”

“What if she is in danger?”

“She left.” Guillaume threw up his hands. “She is no longer your responsibility, and you are free to marry a fruitful woman.”

“Alda is my wife. Do you expect me to abandon her, without knowing if she is alive or dead or married to another?”

“I expect you to serve your kinsmen and your king.”

“And I shall,” Hruodland said, “after I learn what happened to Alda.”

“I do not understand why you would go through so much trouble for a barren woman.”

“Alda was not barren,” Hruodland retorted.

“Alda was a bad wife,” Guillaume continued. “She was untrue to you. She was barren. She was disobedient. You should have repudiated her years ago. You no longer need to fear the wrath of her brother. You have another chance.”

“I will hear no more of this nonsense.”

Still, a trickle of doubt ran through his mind. Maybe, Guillaume spoke the truth — that Alda was barren. Perhaps he should forget about his love for his wife and marry a lady who could produce heirs. He was called away from his thoughts when a servant told his uncle the baths were ready.

As he and Guillaume walked to the men’s bathhouse, Guillaume asked, “What happened at Roncevaux?”

“I don’t know,” Hruodland replied. “All I remember is climbing up a narrow path in the Pyrenees and then awakening in the hospital where Gerard had left me.”

“Gerard. That liar. I will…”

“Peace, Uncle. Justice is mine.”

“W-what will you do?” Guillaume stammered.

“I shall not harm him, if that is what you fear. He is still my brother. But he will account for his sin.”

“Do not be too harsh. He has begotten an heir.”

“Gerard is married?”

“Yes, he was married this winter. His wife is with child,” Guillaume said, “and he has engendered a child in his concubine.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hruodland muttered.

During their baths, Guillaume told Hruodland other news about the March of Brittany, but Hruodland only half listened. His mind was too full of worry for Alda. After the baths, Hruodland could not savor the fresh clothes smelling of wormwood. He could not enjoy the texture of the fine linen tunic and silk leggings or the feel of a smooth chin after his beard was shaved off. He wanted his wife.

Chapter 28

Hruodland did not tarry in Nantes. He wanted to pray to the relics of Saint Melaine and talk to his brother. Gerard would know what had happened to Alda.

He and the sisters reached Rennes a week later, after a rainy, two-day journey through thick forest. The sun shone as they rode through the streets. Seeing more people make the sign of the cross, Hruodland wondered if a public announcement that he survived would have been better. He had decided to let the world think he was dead for a little while longer.

“I will meet you and Sister Illuna at the church,” Hruodland told Elisabeth.

“Whither shall you go?” she asked.

“The count’s manor. I have a matter to settle with my brother.”

“Have mercy on him,” Elisabeth pleaded. “He was distraught when he thought you were dying.”

“He is just as much a part of this lie as Judith,” Hruodland snapped. “And he will be punished. This is between me and him.”

Hruodland marched into the count’s manor. Fidelis followed at his heels. The guard, too terrified not to comply, let Hruodland into the castle and then ran away. As Hruodland entered the hall, a maidservant screamed, fell to her knees, and begged for mercy.

“Where is Gerard?” Hruodland said slowly, steadying his words.

“In the garden.”

“Is he alone?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

Hruodland strode past her to the garden, where the late spring sun shone on plants in full leaf and flower. Gerard stood next to a rose bush laden with buds ready to burst into bloom.

“Gerard!” Hruodland bellowed.

The color left Gerard’s face as he turned. “W-what t-troubles your soul?” he stammered.

“Why did you try to seduce my wife?” Hruodland roared.

“You are haunting me over a kiss?”

“I am alive!” he slurred.

“You are alive?” Gerard gasped, stumbling forward a step. “And there is the dog who protected you at Roncevaux!”

“I want an answer, Gerard. Why did you try to seduce my wife?”

“You are alive! I take your lands, and you are angry over a little kiss.” Gerard laughed uncontrollably.

“I do not find this amusing.”

“Very well. Here is your answer. When I kissed Alda, I was drunk, and I thought you were in the grave. When we left you at the abbey, I thought you had but one or two days left in this world.” His eyes fell to the medal of Saint Peter on Hruodland’s chest. “That is why I gave you the medal. If you could have but seen yourself… and we were trying to protect Alda.”

“So you could seduce her?”

“As soon as I kissed her, she started weeping that I was not you.”

Hruodland blinked and smiled. How could he have doubted her? His smile faded. “How were you protecting Alda by lying to her?” he asked sharply.

“She would have traveled all the way to the abbey, regardless of the danger. She would have risked rape, murder, or both — for what? A dead man? She could have prayed for your soul here in the March of Brittany. I thought you would want us to keep her safe.”

Hruodland remembered his fight with the bandits and the old woman who had died. He shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to Alda during such an encounter.

“I have a feeling she is in danger,” Hruodland said.

“Have you tidings of her?” Gerard asked eagerly.

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

“She safely returned to Drachenhaus — my guards made sure of that. But the merchants say she left again. I don’t know anything else.” He shook his head. “If I could have but persuaded her to remain here. She would not heed me.” Gerard stared at his hands and looked up at Hruodland again. “You say she is in danger?”

“It’s a foreboding that follows me like a shadow. Perhaps her new husband is not so kind.”

“Why do you allow your jealousy to lead you?”

“Do you not question your wife’s fidelity?”

“My wife is too pious to be unfaithful,” Gerard muttered.

“Too pious?” Hruodland arched a brow. “How can a woman be too pious?”

“When she uses Church teachings to refuse me. I might as well be married to a nun. She takes no pleasure in coupling with me, despite my best efforts.” He shrugged. “At least, she is dutiful. My concubine is less virtuous than my wife, but she enjoys lying with me.”

“No wonder you took a concubine.”

“But it’s difficult to keep two women happy. They are both demanding, especially now that they are both with child.”

“They both know you are anxious for your unborn children and are acting accordingly.” Hruodland chuckled. “They know you will do whatever you can to please them. For a man who claims to know the ways of women, you can be naïve.”

“As can you,” Gerard retorted. “As for Alda, I doubt she married again. She said I am the only one she would have consented to wed.” His eyes widened as soon as he uttered the words.

“What?” Hruodland spat.

“When I told her you were dead, I thought I was speaking the truth. And if circumstances were different, I would have asked for her hand. She would have made a good wife.”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“So will you claim the March of Brittany and pretend the past year has not happened?” Gerard asked.

“I don’t know what I shall do. I am torn between my duty to my family and my wife. I am going to the church to pray for guidance.”

“If you need anything for a journey, say the word, and I will provide it, regardless of the expense. I owe you a great debt.”

“That you do,” Hruodland said bitterly.

“I thought I spoke the truth when I said you were dead. Why did I not get a message that you were alive?”

“Abbess Judith did not send any message despite my frequent requests. She lied to me as well, Gerard. Lies beget lies.”

* * * * *

Hruodland hurried to the church. It was a work of art at the center of the city, towering over the stench of the streets and shells of huts, reaching toward heaven. Beggars crowded the steps where the carved Last Judgment loomed overhead. Although they trembled, the beggars still asked for alms. Hruodland grabbed a fistful of coins, threw them into the crowd, and entered the church.

He strode toward the altar, kissed the slab marking Saint Melaine’s tomb, and knelt before him. Hruodland looked for his companions. To his right, Illuna was deep in prayer. Beside her, Elisabeth wept, her hand on the slab.

Hruodland closed his eyes and bowed his head.
What shall I do?
he asked the saint.
Did God spare my life so I could return home and serve the king? Maybe He let this happen so Alda would leave and I would be free to marry a woman who will give me heirs.

He was ashamed of that last sentiment.
But why else would one get married?

He felt a longing for Alda. Hruodland looked to his left and stared at the mural of the Crucifixion scene. The sorrow of the women watching from afar caught his eye.

Look at this,
a voice told him.
Look at the women. The women never forsake Christ. Remember their love for their Lord, Hruodland. Such has been my fidelity for you. May Saint Melaine strike me down if my words are not true!

“Alda,” Hruodland whispered. He could see her again, her emerald eyes blazing with a fire from within, her chest heaving, as if at any moment she would transform into a dragon and start breathing fire.

And Hruodland knew what the saint was telling him: Alda was his true bride, and he was to spare nothing in finding her.

* * * * *

When Hruodland told his brother of his intent to travel to Drachenhaus, Gerard was more than true to his word. He gave Hruodland their father’s sword and seax. Hruodland unsheathed the sword and beheld the blade bequeathed to him by his father. A better weapon than the one from the abbey, the hilt felt as if it had been made for his hand.