The Cross and the Dragon (16 page)

Before they descended the mountain path, Alda looked over her shoulder one last time. Alfihar had his arm around their mother’s shoulders. Alda waved and faced forward so that she would not start weeping again. At the foot of the mountain, soldiers, servants, the warriors’ doxies, and carts drawn by packhorses, mules, and oxen followed the nobility.

Sunlight peeked though the canopy of beech, maple, and oak leaves. Alda laid her hand on her dragon amulet and cross and realized how much she had come to love this forest and its smell of pine and spruce. She saw squirrels chase each other on a beech tree and listened to the birdsong.

“What troubles you?” Hruodland asked Alda.

“This is my home.” Alda managed a smile. “This forest is familiar to me.”

“We have forests in the March of Brittany. They, too, are fine grounds for hunting. Why, the boar I slew there was twice, no three times, the size of this stallion.” He patted the horse he was riding.

Alda giggled. “You must have had pork for a week. What are the woods in the March of Brittany like?”

“Those woods are dense with beech and oak and full of boars and bears. I have heard more wolves howl at night there, but we have fine wolfhounds to keep us safe.”

They passed through the village of stick and mud houses with thatched roofs that could be washed away if the river so chose. Now, the river rested quietly between the mountains and cliffs, content to lie between patchwork quilts of green, run the mill, and carry the boats on its broad back, bringing trade and prosperity. The peasants of the Drachenhaus village stood to watch the procession leave.

I know these people
, Alda thought.
Among them, I am a ruler, the green-eyed lady of the dragon’s blood. And now, what lies before me? What will I become?

As the travelers entered the forest, King Charles pointed to Drachenfels across the river. “See that mountain yonder,” he said to his wife and sons. “That is where Siegfried slew the dragon.”

“Was it a big dragon?” asked Prince Pepin.

“Gigantic.” Hruodland grinned. “With teeth as long and sharp as daggers and venom so poisonous, a single drop would kill even the strongest of warriors.”

“But the dragon is long dead,” interjected Pepin’s nurse from the cart behind them. “He cannot harm anyone now, so there is nothing to fear.”

“Why would I be afraid?” the boy said, squaring his shoulders as much as his spine would allow. “Why, I would take my sword.” He pulled out the wooden sword that sat at his hip. “And thrust it through the dragon’s heart, just like Siegfried.”

Poor child
, Alda thought
, he never will be a warrior.

The road cut a thin, ragged ribbon through the forest, as if the trees begrudged even that space. The pines and oaks created their own light and shade. Some grew so tall that Alda could not see the tops, so wide that she could not wrap her arms around them. Beeches drank the drops of sunlight under the oaks. Willows on the riverbank let their branches droop into the water. Sparrows flitted among the branches.

They traveled until the sky was a violet blue and then made camp for the night among the roots of the trees alongside the road. The travelers stood while the king’s archchaplain led the vespers Mass.

Men chopped saplings and pushed rotting logs away so they could pitch tents and lay blankets on the ground. The forest canopy blotted out the stars and moon. As the wolves howled, frogs and insects called, and mosquitoes bit despite the pennyroyal oil, Alda told herself not to be afraid of ghosts or demons. Several fires burned, and men kept watch. She held her amulet and remembered the protection of the dragon’s blood.

After they ate an evening meal of bread and salted pork, Hruodland stroked Alda’s thigh. “Shall we retire?” he asked with a wink.

Alda nodded enthusiastically. They shared a pallet in a tent but did not sleep.

* * * * *

After two days on the road, the travelers reached the town of Bonn in the late afternoon, and the homecoming scene from Drachenhaus repeated itself. Hugs, kisses, laughter, and tears as families were reunited, wails from those who were not. Bishop Leonhard offered his hospitality, baths, and another feast.

Leonhard and Beringar settled into their homes, and the king’s army spent three days replenishing their supplies before leaving for Cologne. After three days’ journey by foot, ox cart, and horse, they reached the vast, crowded city, one of only a few places with a bridge across the Rhine. Cologne was also the end of their journey as a large group. Counts took their men home to cities to the north, west, and east. Hruodland and Alda traveled west with Charles and his retinue to Aachen.

“You will like Aachen, Lady Alda,” Queen Hildegard said. “Its baths are pools fed by hot springs.”

“And it has the finest hunting grounds,” Hruodland added.

When Alda entered the courtyard four days later, the villa did not disappoint. The roses and small trees were vibrant against the manor’s stone walls, solid as any castle. As Alda dismounted and stared at her surroundings, she overheard the king tell Hruodland, “Once the Saxons are pacified, I will make this place magnificent.”

It already is magnificent
, Alda thought, walking arm-in-arm with Hruodland toward the entrance to the hall. A woman among the nobles who came to greet them caught Alda’s attention. She appeared to be in her twenties and wore a bright blue veil and a matching, close-fitting gown that flattered her plump figure. And she was watching Hruodland intently.

“Who is she?” Alda asked.

Hruodland blinked as if he was startled. “Did you say something, dearling?”

“That woman across the way, watching you, who is she?”

The woman in blue smiled at Hruodland and beckoned him.

He waved to her with his free hand. “Judith of Bordeaux.”

“Why is she watching you so?” Alda asked. “Did you meet with her?”

“My sins are not your concern,” Hruodland snapped, letting go of Alda’s arm. They stopped walking while everyone else passed by.

“You did meet with her,” Alda said sharply.

“Hold your tongue,” he barked. “As long as I do my duty as a husband, anything I do outside our marriage is not your concern.”

“A duty?” Alda said, anger and jealousy making her voice shrill. “Is that all I am to you, a duty? You have been more than a duty to me! Don’t you know how much I care about you? Perhaps, too much. It pains me that another woman has known you as I have known you.”

Hruodland placed his finger under her chin and raised it. His eyes met hers. “Wife, you may not ask me about other women. That is between me and my confessor.”

“Very well,” Alda said coldly. “I will remember. Then, my sins, too, are not your concern.”

“What?” Hruodland raised his hand and drew it back.

Her body tensing, Alda clutched her dragon.
Mother of God, he’s going to beat me!

But Hruodland’s eyes widened a little, and he let his hand fall to his side. “I am your lord. You took a vow to obey and serve me.”

“And you took a vow to honor me — and forsake all others,” Alda retorted.

“But it is different for women. When you carry a baby in your belly, I must be certain that it is my child.”

They stared at each other. Alda’s hands rested on her hips. Hruodland’s arms were crossed. After a moment, his scowl disappeared, and he started laughing.

“What amuses you so?” Alda asked. It sounded like an accusation.

“We are quarreling about a woman I would tell you to avoid, a woman who means nothing to me.”

“Nothing?”

“You are my wife. You are the one I chose to join with before God. You are the one I want to be the mother of my children. You are the one I would walk through fire for. Do you think I would walk through fire for her?”

To Alda, his words were like the wind blowing away a storm cloud and letting the sun shine. Hruodland’s past — whatever it was — dissolved.

Hruodland took Alda’s arm again and led her to the hall. “Before we go inside,” he said, “there is something you should know.”

“What?”
Is there a bastard child he has not told me about?

“My grandmother, the marriage to the Breton was her idea, and she may be angry that her plan will not come to pass.”

“Oh,” Alda sighed. “You already told me that.”

“You see,” Hruodland said, “she doted on me when I was a child. My nurse told me that my father carried out his duties after my mother died. But he seemed hollow, as if his heart had died with her.”

“When we were in Geneva you told me that your grandmother had sent for you.”

“My nurse called it a happy coincidence,” Hruodland said. “Of course, the message had Grandfather’s seal.”

King Pepin,
Alda reminded herself.

“But everyone knew it was Grandmother who dictated it,” Hruodland continued.

Queen Mother Bertrada
, Alda translated in her own mind.

“My nurse was right. It was a happy coincidence,” he said. “I knew without my nurse telling me that my father had little interest in me.”

Alda gasped. “How could he not care for you? You are his firstborn son.”

“When I heard your mother say that your father doted on you and Alfihar, I envied you both.”

“Oh,” she said looking down, feeling almost guilty for her father’s devotion.

“You should rejoice in your father’s affection.” He squeezed her hand. “Do not be unhappy on my account.”

“What is your father like?” she asked tentatively.

“I have little memory of my early years,” he said, “except that he was distant even when he visited me during the spring assemblies. When my father remarried, Grandmother Bertrada sent me back to the March of Brittany. I shall never forget that day. Grandmother had tears in her eyes while I wailed and kicked. I think I screamed for two days. My poor nurse. I was not princely at all.”

“In Geneva, you told me you had seen but four or five winters,” Alda said. “Why did the queen mother send you to Rennes?”

“It was the right thing to do. She wanted to remind my father of his firstborn, especially if he begat other sons.”

“So you would have your rightful place with Gerard,” Alda concluded.

“And she wanted me to learn the language and customs of the land I would inherit. Grandmother has always had my best interests at heart. She thought marriage to the Breton was in my best interest.”

Alda nodded.

“And so,” he said, “I need you to use your best manners with my grandmother. She will be sorely disappointed.”

“Of course, I will use my best manners,” Alda chided. “I am not a child.”

As they entered the hall, Alda watched the queen mother embrace King Charles. She took Karl in her arms, kissed him, and cooed about how much he had grown. Prince Pepin sulked. Setting Karl down, Bertrada tousled Pepin’s hair.

“Mother,” Charles said, “in a few months, you will have another grandchild.”

“Praise God and His Merciful Mother!” Bertrada cried, taking both of Hildegard’s hands.

Hruodland and Alda approached the queen mother. Bertrada kissed Hruodland on the cheek and embraced him. “We must get you into a bath,” she said.

Her gaze turned to Alda. The queen mother smiled, leaned toward Alda, and took her hand. Alda returned the smile.

“And you, young lady, I have seen you before,” Bertrada said. “What is your name?”

“Alda of Drachenhaus,” Hruodland answered, trying to sound casual. “She is my wife, Grandmother.”

Bertrada drew herself up to her full height, and her smile disappeared. Composing herself, she let go of Alda’s hand. “Welcome to Aachen. Charles,” she said sharply, “I thought we had agreed that Hruodland would marry the daughter of the Breton duke.”

“Now, Mother,” the king said calmly, “you and Milo agreed to that. I never gave it my blessing. With those foreigners, the sword is better than nuptials. The Lombards understand might, so do the Bretons.”

Alda watched helplessly as mother and son continued their discussion. The queen mother’s voice shook with anger, but the king patiently listened and argued without raising his voice that a marriage to a woman with a generous dowry was better for Hruodland and for Francia than another disastrous union with a foreigner.