The Cross and the Dragon (14 page)

“There is no blood on the sheet,” he hissed.

“That… that is impossible,” she stammered. “I have known no other man.”

“Then, why is there no blood?” he growled.

Alda lifted the top sheet and gasped. There was evidence they had lain together, but no blood, not one drop. She let it slip from her fingers. “I don’t know why there isn’t any blood,” she said, her voice shaking. “But I swear by the Mother of God that I was a virgin until I knew you last night.”

Will he repudiate me for unchastity?
she wondered.
What if I am with child? Will the baby grow up fatherless?

She felt a familiar trickle between her legs and cursed under her breath. “Hruodland, I must return to the solar,” she said abruptly. “I will join you in the chapel.”

She ran up the stairs without further explanation. In the solar, she confirmed what she already knew: her womanly courses had started. She laughed at the irony.
If I had but waited a day, there would have been more than enough blood
.

* * * * *

At Mass, Hruodland stole glances at his betrothed, standing beside him. All color had left her face. Wincing, she placed her hand over her belly, where a child would grow.

Questions kept repeating themselves in his mind. Why was there no blood? She had acted as he expected a virgin to act. She had felt as a virgin ought to feel.

Was she with child by another man? Hruodland frowned. He would not acknowledge a child who wasn’t his. But how could he be certain?

What do I do now?
If I go to Alfihar, he will know I lay with her before the nuptials. Was that her scheme all along? But then why would she tell me to save the sheet? Who is this woman I married?

More than anything else, he wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe he was the only man who would ever know her.
She did swear by the Mother of God, but how can I ignore the evidence?

He glanced at her again. She flinched like a soldier who had just been stabbed. His pity tempered his anger. How he wished she did not have this power over him. “Are you well?” he asked.

“It is my monthly courses,” she murmured, with a blush.

“Oh,” Hruodland said, looking down, relieved that any question of paternity was moot.

“I must rest for a couple of hours after Mass,” she said apologetically.

Hruodland nodded. He had no wish to discuss a woman’s monthly courses any further. He had overheard more than enough such conversations among women before.

* * * * *

“What have I done?” Alda cried out. Wearing only a shift and flux rags, she was curled on her bed.

“Do you want to me to fetch some wine?” Veronica asked, placing Alda’s clothes in the chest.

“Why didn’t I bleed last night?” Alda wailed.

“Alda, what are you speaking of?”

“I knew him last night.” Her throat tightened as panic overwhelmed her.

“Hruodland? You are betrothed.”

“But there wasn’t any blood on the sheets,” Alda whispered. Alda thrashed on the bed, anything to rid herself of the pain in her belly.
Why did Eve have to bite into the apple?

“It wasn’t the first time,” Veronica said.

Alda stopped her thrashing. “It was the first time,” she insisted.

“But how could there be no blood?”

“I don’t know. What shall I do?”

Veronica responded with a blank look. They heard footsteps on stairs leading up to the solar and immediately fell silent. Alda knew it was her mother and drew the sheet over her head.

“How do you fare, Daughter?” Theodelinda asked.

Alda moaned as another spasm of pain coursed through her belly. She heard her mother’s footsteps approach the bed and felt her mother pull back the sheet and stroke her hair.

“I remember feeling thus during my womanly courses when I was your age,” she said gently. “It will pass.”

Alda moaned again, wishing her mother would leave.

“I noticed you are wearing a new ring,” Theodelinda said. “Who gave it to you?”

“Hruodland,” Alda said, her voice barely audible.

“Is it a morning gift?” Theodelinda asked, her voice as sharp as a thorn.

Alda’s eyes opened wide. She hesitated, trying to decide whether to tell her mother the truth.

“It is a morning gift!” Theodelinda snapped.

Alda drew her knees to her chest. “Mother, I am in pain. Quarrel with me later.”

“An apt punishment for disobedience,” Theodelinda spat. “I hope God curses you with a child as willful as you are. Child, why?”

“I told you: he is my husband. At least now he is.”

“What do you mean, ‘at least now’? He is betrothed to you, and he has known you.”

“I fear he will repudiate me.”

“Why?” Theodelinda put her hands on her hips.

“I did not bleed,” Alda mumbled.

Theodelinda laughed harshly. Alda and Veronica gaped at her.

“Not all women bleed,” Theodelinda said, shaking her head. “And that will not excuse him from the betrothal. If he dares to make such a claim, he will answer to your brother — and Alfihar will challenge him to a duel, unlike that spineless fool who just left.”

“Mother, do not tell Alfihar,” Alda pleaded. “I could not bear to lose either of them.”

“Alfihar is not to know, not yet. He would only make this worse. But if Hruodland refuses the nuptials,” Theodelinda said gravely, “Alfihar will have no other choice.”

Alda burst into tears.

Chapter 11

As soon as the Mass had ended, worshipers emptied the chapel, but Hruodland stood with his arms crossed in prayer and wondered what to do about Alda. He did not move even while the village priest put away the Host and the cup. Finished, the priest waved to the only two people inside: Hruodland and his brother.

“Hruodland, the Mass has finished,” Gerard said in Roman.

Hruodland nodded but did not look up.

“What troubles you?” Gerard asked.

“I knew her last night, but she did not bleed,” he said as if he were someplace else.

“You lay with Alda?”

Hruodland nodded.

“And you are concerned because there is no blood on the sheets, even though her family did not want you to meet with her before the nuptials.”

“How did you know?” Hruodland asked, detecting a note of sarcasm in Gerard’s voice.

“If they wanted you to meet with her, they would not have sent her to the solar and you to the hall. So she did not bleed.” Gerard shrugged. “Did you expect a woman to be true?”

“I expected
her
to be true. She told me she had known no other man.”

“In the eyes of the Church, she still belongs to her family. In the eyes of the Church, her sins are not your concern.”

“She is my wife,” Hruodland growled. “She is mine. I thought I married a virgin.”

“Is she trying to pass off a bastard as yours?”

“She said her womanly courses started this morning.”

“There is no bastard to worry about. Why does this trouble you? Is she cold?”

“She was eager for my touch, quite eager. She came to me.” Hruodland smiled at the memory of her sighs and moans of pleasure.

“That is worth more than her virginity. Hruodland, women are incapable of virtue. God created them so frail.” He gestured to the mural of the serpent tempting Eve with the apple. “The first woman ever created was thus.

“Alda is a good wife, as good as a woman is capable of being. If I had such a bride…” Gerard paused for a moment. “You know, I should be encouraging you to repudiate her and follow our father’s plan for you.”

“I shall do no such thing. That Breton is a savage. Alda is a good woman, and...”

The single call of a horn interrupted their conversation.

* * * * *

Propped on pillows in her bed, Alda was sipping wine, desperately hoping it would dull the pain, when she heard the call of the horn.
Merchants
, Alda thought as she set aside the cup and threw back the sheet. Alda tried to ignore the pain in her belly, which was as easy as ignoring a knife twisting there.

“Alda, are you well?” Veronica asked.

“Merchants,” Alda said, as if it were a chant in a spell, an incantation to help her ignore the stabbing in her womb. “Help me dress. I must speak to Hruodland.”

Raising her eyebrows, Veronica obeyed.

Alda looked out the window and saw guards and servants leading packhorses toward the river. She rushed downstairs with Veronica at her heels. She had to find Hruodland. Under her breath, she prayed, “
Ave Maria, gratia plena
,” hoping the Latin words would please the Mother of God enough to make Hruodland listen to her.

After asking several servants, she found Hruodland and Gerard on the steps of the chapel, where the nuptials would be.
If there are nuptials
.
Mother of God, please let there be nuptials. Please don’t let there be a duel.
She ran up the steps. “One note,” she said, panting. “Merchants.”

“Merchants?”

“The bride price,” Alda said, searching his face. “You can buy the goods for the bride price, if it is your will. Is it your will?” She held her breath for his answer.

“We are betrothed,” he said. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

Alda wept.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mother of God.

Hruodland wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She clung to him.

Gerard cleared his throat. “I will get the document of the bride price.”

“I will need my jeweled scabbard, too,” Hruodland said.

Gerard strolled toward the manor. Hruodland led Alda down the steps.

“Why would Gerard have the document in his possession?” Alda asked. She saw her mother walk into the courtyard.

“He can read well,” Hruodland replied. “Hold these chains.” He took off the gold and silver he wore around his neck.

“Why?” Alda asked, holding out her hand.

“I need something to trade with the merchants.”

“Is that why you asked your brother to fetch the jeweled scabbard?”

Hruodland nodded. He had taken off all the gold and silver chains except for the gold chain upon which his cross hung.

“How will you protect your sword?” Alda asked.

“I have a leather scabbard,” he said, with a shrug. “Once we return home, I can buy a fine scabbard for Durendal.”

His sword
, Alda reminded herself.
Why do men always name their swords?

Gerard returned with a rolled parchment and the scabbard. He said something to Hruodland in Roman. Hruodland replied in the same language.

Alda bit her lip to stop herself from rebuking them for speaking in a foreign tongue as if she was an interloper. She felt fortunate that Hruodland would exchange vows with her despite the lack of evidence of her virginity. She ran her hand over the emeralds and rubies in the gold scabbard.

“I should not tell you this — it is your bride price — but do not settle for anything less than a breeding horse and a colt for that scabbard,” she said. “It is worth at least that much.”

“How you know bride price include breeding horses?” Gerard asked in stilted Frankish.

“My family is always seeking horses.”

Alda guessed the merchant and his slaves were ascending the mountain now, with the merchant’s horses and the laden packhorses from Drachenhaus.

“The merchant will not wish to trade now,” Alda said. “Mother no doubt will invite him to the table. I must go greet them.”