The Other Side of Heaven (19 page)

Alberto dismounted and helped Gwen off his warhorse, then bowed to her quite formally. He was making a statement to his men, one of respect, but the love in his gaze shone through.

She smiled and bowed to him. “Thank you, my lord.”

His voice was low, for her alone. “I think you’ve been found out, my lady. There is no more need to act the man by bowing.”

Clearing his throat, Father Warinus peered intently at her face. “God answered our prayers. We are happy to see you both returned safely.”

“Thank you, Father,” Alberto said. His demeanor was all business as he turned to Barca. “What news? Any change at Castle Garda since dawn?” The two walked away, their heads close as they talked.

“Alberto?” Gwen started to follow, but Father Warinus took her elbow and coaxed her away.

“Come with me. His men have things to discuss with him,” he said, walking toward the place where he’d spread out their bedrolls. “We watched in horror as Berengar returned last night. I thank God you escaped. His men were all over the area of our old camp this morning. Lord Alberto was wise to have us move. Come, come, let me fix you something to eat. They have brought wine and plenty of fresh food. A good meal shall renew your strength.”

Over a hunk of cheese, some smoked pork, tasting like prosciutto, and thick slices of wheat bread, she listened to Father Warinus’s recounting of the past day. After a time, the wine loosened her tongue, and she answered his questions about Adelaide. He was devastated upon hearing of the queen’s treatment, concerned and generally astonished by Gwen’s bravery during her escape.

“I would never have found the courage you displayed,” Warinus said. “You are truly blessed of God with a bold heart.”

He fell silent, thoughtful for a moment as Gwen fought the desire to curl up on her bedroll.

“My child,” he finally continued, “did Berengar, uh, do anything you do not wish to divulge? If there is anything burdening your soul, you may speak to me. Rest assured it shall go no further.”

“No, Father. Believe me, Berengar tried, but beyond terrifying me, no,” Gwen replied. She studied the priest’s expression, filled with fatherly concern. She was touched he should feel so strongly.

Footsteps approached and a soldier interrupted them.

“I beg your pardon, Father Warinus,” the man said, “but Lord Alberto summons you to a council of war. Please come with me.”

Gwen and Warinus quickly got to their feet, but the soldier held out his hand. “Please, Brother, er, my lady. Women do not belong in a war council.”

Warinus patted Gwen’s hand. “You rest, my dear. You look exhausted. We shall take care of this.”

She stood rooted. Were they kidding? She fumed as the two men walked away, but wouldn’t let herself follow, because she knew she’d end up yelling at everyone. They would see that as womanly hysteria, reinforcing every notion they harbored about the supposedly weaker sex.

Gwen grabbed her things and stormed off, dragging them well away from the men’s blankets. She threw her bedroll on the ground and flopped down.

Damn Neanderthals – all of them!

She glared at the beautiful night sky, at the treetops silhouetted against the stars, but couldn’t relax. She had detailed information they needed to hear.

“Customs be damned,” she muttered. Gwen flung back her covers, got up, and headed for the meeting. As she approached, she stared down the guard and marched straight past him to the group of men sitting in a rough circle, drinking.

All eyes, perhaps fifteen pair, turned to gaze at her in surprise, Warinus and Alberto among them.

“Ah, Gwen, er, Lady Gwendolyn,” Alberto said as he stood.

She caught a glint of humor in his gaze.

“I’m glad you decided to join us, my lady.” Alberto turned to the others. “She has gleaned valuable information. Let her speak of what she has learned.”

Gwen stared at him in surprise, the barbed words she’d planned to use turning to dust. She smiled awkwardly and moved to his side, but before she could sit, Alberto raised his mug.

“A moment, Gwen,” he said. “Remain standing. We owe this woman a debt of gratitude, for she infiltrated the enemy’s stronghold for the love she bears our queen. Before she could leave the keep, she fought Berengar alone and laid him low.”

Murmurs of disbelief greeted this comment.

“But it is true. Berengar discovered she was no monk and tried to assault her,” Alberto paused for effect, “but she broke his nose for his efforts, his pants at his ankles, both his ego and his cock humiliated, and thoroughly deflated.”

There was a moment of silence, then the men roared with laughter and Gwen grinned, her cheeks hot with embarrassment despite the hilarity and shouts of approval.

Alberto thrust his mug toward the center of the gathering and everyone stood, doing the same.

“To the lady Gwendolyn,” he said, “for striking the first blow against our enemy.”

“Lady Gwendolyn!” the others replied.

Someone gave Gwen a mug and she sat, gratefully taking a long pull of wine before she spoke. Haltingly at first, then with more confidence, she told them everything she had learned at Garda Castle.

Once done, she cast a glance at Alberto as the others discussed all they’d heard. “You really didn’t need to give me such a grand introduction. I was angry. I came here to yell at you for not allowing me to be a part of this.”

“Normally women wouldn’t be a part of this, but you are different, aren’t you?” he replied with a disarming smile. “Besides, acts of bravery deserve to be acknowledged. As to your being angry, I don’t know why you should have been. Woman or no, I expected to see you here with Warinus. I was surprised when you didn’t come, but assumed you were in desperate need of sleep, else you would never have let us make plans without your taking part.”

She frowned. “Generally, I avoid going to places where I’m not wanted. The soldier said rather pointedly women don’t belong in a war council.”

“Then he offered his own, dangerously misguided opinion,” Alberto said, grinning broadly. “I know for a fact you frequently go where you’re not supposed to. Why didn’t you just break the soldier’s nose, as you did Berengar’s?”

“I would have,” Gwen said with a soft laugh. “Only I thought
you
were the one who gave the order. I came to break
your
nose.”

When Alberto laughed heartily at her words, several men glanced their way, and Gwen looked at the ground, hoping her feelings for Alberto weren’t obvious.

Talking picked up again, but even as Alberto turned away to speak with another, he pressed his knee against hers. It was a deliberate act, a signal, a secret conversation between the two of them.

Gwen pressed back, but kept her eyes forward, listening. The heat of his touch surged straight to her core.

Swinging around, his words almost a whisper, Alberto said, “It is a good thing you didn’t break my nose, for then you would think me too ugly to love.”

She realized he sounded a little drunk. How she wanted to kiss him, but they had to appear business-like, she reminded herself, absolutely serious.

Eyes closing, she felt her body sway and roll, but this time it wasn’t from desire. It was fatigue, and she felt as though she’d spent the day on a boat. “I’m exhausted,” she said, wishing he could share her bedroll, knowing he couldn’t. She lowered her voice, “I wish we could…”

Choking on his wine, Alberto got to his feet and bowed, his demeanor suddenly sober. With an air of formality, he helped her to stand. “Men, the lady Gwendolyn tells me she would retire, as should we all, soon enough. We have heard her report and must discuss our next move.”

She followed his cue and curtsied to him and the rest of the group. “Gentlemen, good evening.”

They rose as one, raised their mugs once more, and bid her goodnight.

*

After some searching, Alberto and Father Warinus found Gwen sound asleep. As the priest prepared his bedroll not far from hers, Alberto yawned, exhausted. He gazed at her face, so beautiful and innocent in sleep. He knelt beside her and pulled up the edge of the blanket to cover her shoulder, aching to hold her, protect her from the evils of this world.

She was a strange, exhilarating woman. He imagined her at his home, side by side with him, helping him run Canossa and all his domains. He knew she would not be one to stay by the hearth, and he smiled when he thought of the outlandish things she would teach his daughter.

Alberto’s vision blurred, his mind drifting toward fanciful dreams, and he shook his head. He would be patient. One day she would be his. One day. In the meantime, he needed sleep.

“She cares for you very deeply, my lord,” Warinus said quietly. He stood by his bedroll, already keeping watch, and Alberto was fully aware the priest would remain on guard until he left.

Alberto sighed and stood. He gazed on Gwendolyn’s star-lit countenance once more. “She means everything to me, Father. Keep her well.”

Then he turned and left to find his own bedroll among his men.

*

Gwen opened her eyes and looked at the stars. She had slept for hours, but sensed it was still well before dawn.

Alberto. Where was he? With a sense of urgency, she rose and glanced around. Father Warinus slept nearby, but it was dark and she wasn’t sure where Alberto lay.

She heard the slight crunch of leaves. Heart racing, she peered into the darkness.

“My lady?”

A question barely heard. A black shape stepped from the gloom, a sentry.

“Where is Lord Alberto?” she whispered.

He gestured to his right. “There. A sentry stands guard over him.”

She nodded and moved off, picking her way past sleeping men, seeing him at last. His sentry came forward, blocking her path, then bowed and moved to the side when he recognized her.

Gwen glanced from the sentry to Alberto’s sleeping form. What was she doing? She couldn’t go to him. Not here.

“I’ll stay here,” she whispered and leaned against the nearest tree as the sentry resumed his position. For the moment, she was content to watch Alberto, but could not easily reconcile her contentment with the stark realities of this place and time. Destiny had surely brought them together to save Queen Adelaide.

Gwen still missed her world, her family, and would miss them until the day she died, but Alberto had changed everything. If it hadn’t been for traveling through time, she would never have met him. They were meant to be together. He was the only man for her.

She smiled, then turned and imagined she could see past the forest to a dark cliff, to looming evil. Love would sustain them in the coming struggle. Yes. She knew that now.

The power of their love would prevail.

*

Queen Adelaide sat in her cell, mulling over what had happened the day before. When Brother Godwyn hugged her, she’d felt breasts. Her heart had been too troubled to react, but she had not imagined it.

She prayed silently.
This monk who is not a monk saved my daughter. This monk who is not a monk is here to rescue me as well. I know that to be true. Thank you, O Lord.

“Forgive me for doubting You in my darkest hour,” she whispered. “My faith shall never waver again.”

Her heart filled with joy, an abiding love for her Lord, her Savior.

Adelaide got down on her knees and clasped her hands, gazing up, the darkness of her cell no longer a barrier to a vision of heaven’s golden clouds, to hopefulness.

How long had been the night, how very long, but now there was light.

Victory was at hand.

Authors’ Note

The life story of Adelaide of Burgundy, Queen of Northern Italy and Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, is little known beyond her former realms, but it deserves a wider audience, replete as it is with all the passion and high drama found in more famous sagas. Who can resist the tale of a young and beautiful queen, kidnapped by the evil schemers responsible for her husband’s murder, and then taken to a dark and nefarious castle-keep? The story is grounded in actual historical events, recorded for posterity by Adelaide’s contemporaries and friends.

St. Odilo of Cluny knew her well and wrote a full accounting of her life, while other tenth century works shed light on her relationship with King Otto. These include the
Historia Ottonis
by Liutprand of Cremora (our Liutprand of Pavia, who became bishop of Cremora several years after our tale ends), and the
Gesta Ottonis
, a history of the Ottonian houses from 919 to 965, written by the nun Hroswitha of Gandersheim, a celebrated dramatist and poet and one of medieval Europe’s most prolific female writers. While it is unusual to have so many contemporary chronicles available from such a distant and tumultuous age, Adelaide was considered the most important woman of her time and therefore was written about extensively.

Even so, not every aspect of her life is known. We have found it necessary to mingle the well documented incidences and old folktales with our own dramatic inventions. Historians agree Berengar of Ivrea probably poisoned King Lothaire. Berengar did indeed capture the widowed Adelaide with the intention of marrying her to his son, Adalbert, thereby guaranteeing his family’s hold on power in Italy. In our novel, Berengar’s wife Willa of Tuscany is his partner-in-crime, although in reality she probably had little to do with the king’s murder. While a historical figure, Willa’s role as witch and instigator of our time travel mayhem is of course purely fictional, although Liutprand and others tell of her mistreatment of Queen Adelaide. Additionally, Willa and Berengar had more children besides Adalbert, but we have ignored them for our story’s sake and ask the reader’s forbearance in this regard.

Many additional incidences in our novel, passed down from generation to generation in the places where they occurred, also bear the ring of truth and so have been woven into our tale. On the way to Berengar’s castle-keep on Lake Garda, Queen Adelaide is said to have escaped, only to be recaptured by Berengar’s soldiers in a wheat field, the men thrusting their spears into the standing wheat as they searched. Once at Garda, the queen did spurn Adalbert, an act which resulted in the cutting of her hair, probably at Willa’s instigation.

It is here our Italian noble, Alberto Uzzo (also known as Adalberto Azzo), enters history. Alberto was the scion of a family of Italian upstarts, who gained nobility and land because of an audacious and talented ancestor. He was an ally of King Lothaire and therefore bound to protect Queen Adelaide. Alberto actually had a wife named Hildegarde and a daughter called Prangilda (or Prangarda), and several sons, but we have chosen to ignore the sons for the purposes of our story.

Meanwhile, at Queen Adelaide’s behest, the aforementioned Liutprand did set out to find King Otto. The sequel to
The Other Side of Heaven
,
titled
Time Enough for Love
,
continues this true story, as well as that of our fictional heroine, Gwendolyn Godwyn, as she strives to find her place in this memorable era.