Time Enough for Love (14 page)

She took another deep breath, then exhaled, steadying herself. “I’m not from England, er, Great Britain, which is the name for Britannia in my day, over one thousand years from now. I’m from a country founded in the year 1776, the United States of America. It exists on a continent on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. European explorers haven’t found the continent yet, but they will. First, the Vikings, in about fifty years, then an Italian sailing for Spain in 1492.”

Gwen yanked off her veil and saw him flinch at the movement. “I come from the twenty-first century, and women wear their hair any way they want. I like mine short.”

“This is ludicrous,” he said.

He started to turn away, but Gwen grabbed the front of his tunic. “Alberto, it’s true, I swear.”

Towering over her, he knocked her hands aside. “Leave me.”

“No, just listen. I attended university and was working toward a master’s degree on poetry in archaic Italian languages – yours is considered archaic, dead by my time. And, and I had a car – it’s like a wagon – but it propelled itself by burning gas, er, oil, and it went much faster than the fastest horse. In my car, I could’ve traveled from Canossa to Reggio in less than an hour.”

He glowered. “Nonsensical tripe!”

“Alberto, please,” she said, refusing to give up, “I know this sounds unbelievable, but you need to understand. I flew through the skies, from my home to Italy, inside something called a
jet
… like a mechanical bird. It took a long time to get here by our standards – most of a day – but I traveled halfway around the world!”

He bunched his fists, his lips pursed in a hard line, and she was suddenly aware of how badly she was shaking.

“I, I used to have a
cell phone
, and I was going to call my parents,” Gwen felt a tear escape and swiped it away, “on the other side of the world, on the night of the earthquake, to speak with them, and reassure them everything was fine. But now, they think I’m dead and, in fact, to them I am – I’m dead!” She choked back a sob. “I’ve lost both my parents, my entire family, but they will never, ever get over the pain of losing me, will never be able to bury me, or even say goodbye, because I’m here… with you.”

Feeling dizzy, Gwen stopped talking and silently pleaded with Alberto through her tears, willing him to believe.

She held out her arm and clumsily unbuckled Stefano’s more elaborate watch. “Here,” she handed it to him, “look at it. The dial glows in the dark. I know you’ve never seen anything like this. It belonged to Stefano.”

“Stefano again?” His tone was low, baleful.

“Yes, he traveled through time, too. We were next to each other when it happened, but right away we got separated––”

“Enough!” Alberto yelled, shaking his fist at her. “By God, I will hear no more of this blasphemy. I can make no sense of your continual lies, and the devilry of these… these trinkets. Never again will I touch such poison, either you or your possessions.” He threw the watch onto the table and then, with a broad swipe of his arm, sent the goblets crashing against the wall, wine spraying in every direction. “Is this why Berengar had Stefano executed? Was this friend of yours also practicing witchcraft?”

“No! No, it was Willa!” Gwen protested. “She told me she called Stefano to her. She used – I don’t know – black magic or something… I have no idea. I wasn’t supposed to be here at all—”

“You speak of your time,” he interrupted, glaring at her. “Well, in my time, all who dabble in witchcraft must burn!”

“What? No!”

“Get you gone!” he raged.

Could he really stand by and watch her burn? A sob tore through her chest. Weeping, she blindly stumbled back, trying to get away from him, her hand behind her, fumbling, feeling for the door.

“Get you gone!” he shouted again. “The love I once bore you prevents me from acting against you, else you would perish at the stake!” He took a ragged breath, then another. “I will not tell anyone of this, but you shall not have contact with me or my daughter ever again.”

Through her tears, Gwen saw him turn his back on her and resume his stance at the window. What had she done? She had to find a way to undo this horror – but no, his terrible anger told her she could never erase what she’d revealed.

She wheeled about and opened the door, lurching through. The sound of the latch falling into place echoed in the empty hallway, resounding in her shattered heart.

The great hall danced with light, candles blazing everywhere. Otto sat beside Adelaide at the head table, striving to look formal and dignified, yet his eyes strayed often to the hand she placed beside him. Several times he covered hers with his own, and the blinding rush of passion nearly drove him mad.

Somehow, though, he managed to participate in the conversations flowing between Adelaide, Father Warinus, Brother Felix, Liutprand, and himself, all the while wondering why his companion-in-arms, Lord Alberto, seemed so glum. He had contributed nothing to the evening, sitting there in brooding silence. This only got worse when Otto asked the whereabouts of Lady Gwendolyn. Adelaide had immediately intervened, explaining she had received a note from Gwen, pleading head pains. Alberto had simply glowered and looked away.

Had he made an inappropriate advance and been rebuffed?
Poor devil
, Otto thought.

At last, musicians took their places. As sweet strains of music filled the hall and hushed the audience, Alberto abruptly excused himself, saying his leg hurt and he needed rest.

After he left, Otto exchanged a glance with Father Warinus, then turned to Adelaide. “My lady, would you deign to dance at last with a foreign-born barbarian?”

She looked up at him and smiled, tiny dimples at the corners of her mouth. “I would like nothing more, good sir.”

He rose and led her onto the dance floor, reveling in the touch of her hand, then in the nearness of her body as they moved together in courtly rhythm.

“My lady, Queen of my Heart, I love you,” Otto said.

“And I, you. From the very moment.”

“Yes. From the very moment.” Otto leaned in, whispering into her hair. “And my heart has been yours ever since. Please, Adelaide, say you will be my wife. Say that I will never again have to live without you.”

“Yes, Otto.” Adelaide smiled through her tears. “Yes, I will be your wife. Please, kiss me now, here, in front of everyone. I would not wait another minute for that which I have held in my heart for so long. Kiss me, please.”

Otto took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Most Gracious Queen, if you would, I have another request. Will you join me in the church right now? Father Warinus has agreed to lead us in our carnal vows. I see no reason why we cannot go before God this night. We can set the date for formal vows another time. Adelaide, we’ve waited long enough.”

“This… this eve?” The queen stared, astounded.

“Yes, tonight,
ma petite.
Do you agree?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Adelaide blushed deeply. “Tonight. I must get Gwen. She will stand with me. We shall meet you there.”

Exultant, Otto bowed. “I shall await you.”

*

How bright the candlelight suddenly seemed! How sweet the music!

Adelaide hardly noticed the great burst of conversation the moment she hurried away. Heart pounding, she raced down corridors until she came to her rooms.

When she opened the door, she could hear soft weeping coming from within, and rushed to Gwen’s side. Lying in bed, her friend’s eyes were puffy and red, her pillow stained from tears.

“Dearest soul, I’m so very sorry you have such terrible head pains.” Adelaide pressed her cool hand against Gwen’s brow, her skin feverish from crying. “Did you speak with Alberto?”

Gwen murmured something and then shook her head.

“No? I’m so sorry. No wonder he’s in such a state. Dear, I regret asking you to get up, but Otto has requested I marry him this night – and I have said yes! We shall make our vows of carnal union.” She felt the heat rise on her face. “They await us in the church. Please, please. I would have no other stand by me at this time. Please, my dear friend, say you are able to come.”

Gwen nodded, quickly got out of bed, and splashed water on her face. “I’ll be fine, Adelaide. Thank you for asking me. I am so honored. My head is much better, really.” Then she stopped. “Alberto… will he be there?”

“No, poor man. He said his leg was bothering him, so he left when the dancing started. I assume he is fast asleep by now.”

Adelaide took Gwen’s hand and together they rushed away. When they reached the Church of St. Nicholas, the king stood waiting at the foot of the altar, two large candles lighting the scene.

Adelaide gasped, seeing the warrior-king in all his masculine glory, her Otto – Saxon to his core – tall, blond, and fiercely handsome. She suddenly had a renewed sense of what her future held.

*

Gwen found herself approaching the altar in a daze, struggling to rise above her grief, trying to displace it with the gladness she knew she should feel for Adelaide. Instead, she felt the deadly twinge of jealousy and hated herself for it.
I will not envy my friend. I can’t. She deserves a wonderful life.

Father Warinus walked into view, wearing surplice and stole. Smiling, he nodded to the queen and Gwen, then indicated the place before the altar where Adelaide should stand beside King Otto.

Trembling, Adelaide squeezed Gwen’s hand. “I will always remember this moment,” she whispered. “It is what my heart has most desired, and least expected. God has brought completion to me this night.”

“Yes,” Gwen kissed her cheek, willing herself to give the semblance of a genuine smile. “If anyone is deserving of such happiness, it is you. Now go. The handsome king awaits his bride.”

Adelaide laughed sweetly and took her place. When the royal couple’s eyes met, Gwen caught the blaze of passion between them.

I’m happy for you, Adelaide. I am. I am
. Tears again. Gwen tried to stem the tide with the hem of her sleeve, joy supplanting heartache, at least for now.

Father Warinus made the sign of the cross over the king and queen. “Most worshipful friends, we are come here at this time in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost…”

*

Hours later, and after many dances, Adelaide left Otto, withdrawing from the great hall. Soon, Otto was ushered by Father Warinus, the steward, Ambrogio, and several Saxon officers, to the threshold of a bedchamber, newly provided for him and Adelaide. Otto’s serving man, Henry, waited there, holding a tray laden with steins.

The priest made the sign of the cross before the door, while Henry offered ale to the Saxons. Ambrogio, Father Warinus, and Henry left, heading back to the hall.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the officers broke with protocol and slapped Otto on the back.
“
Felix conjunctio!
”
his lieutenant said.

Despite his poor skills in Latin, Otto understood the choice phrase well enough – happy coupling! Chuckling, he raised his stein in a toast, then took a swig, his men following suit. After several loud belches, they finished the brew.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Otto gave his stein to the lieutenant. As the officers sauntered off, he tapped lightly on the door of the bedchamber. He waited a moment prior to entering. The room was softly lit with a few candles in brackets on the walls. Before him, the bed was turned down, empty.

Curious, Otto looked around. “Adelaide?”

In a dark corner, he saw movement, a shadowy shape. Adelaide rose from her prayer stool and faced him, her body draped in gauzy nightclothes, a loosely tied robe, and her veil. He swallowed, seeing the shape of her breasts, feeling the heat in his loins.

“Dearest… husband… I love you.”

He took her in his arms. “
Ma petite, ma femme, je t’aime.
”

Smiling, he sought to remove her veil.

Her face twisted with horror and she pushed away, clutching at the thing. “No, Otto. No! They… no. Please leave it. I would not have you see my shame.”

“Adelaide, fear not. I am aware of what they did, and we shall leave your veil in place, as you wish. You must know my love for you extends far beyond your hair. Let’s not speak of it anymore,” he said, drawing her to him. “Our enemies will not be brought into this room on this night.”

Resting his chin on the top of her head, they were quiet for a moment, but Otto could tell by the tension in her body she was still distressed. “Adelaide, look at me.”

She raised her eyes, the depths of them reaching out to his soul.

“Your hair was beautiful, true. And now it is gone, also true. Will it grow back? Of course. And through it all, my love for you will never fail.”

Gazing at him, she blinked back tears and smiled.

“Now, let me drink you in, as you are.” Otto lifted the robe away from her shoulders and let it fall.

Her eyes closed, and her hand trembled at the front of her shift.

His desire resurged. “Allow me to know my greatest love.”

He untied her gown and pushed it off her shoulders. Adelaide’s soft skin, her gentle curves, glowed amber, and he sucked in his breath at the sight of her.

Opening her eyes, her breathing shallow and rapid, Adelaide worked at his clothing with trembling fingers. Then, when he was naked, she passed her hands over his chest, then lower, to the muscles of his stomach. He heard her moan as he took her in his arms.

“Otto, kiss me. Kiss me!”

He leaned over and kissed her passionately, for the first time. Her lips were tender, yearning, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her bare skin against his. Picking her up with ease, he carried her to the bed and gently set her down.

Just as he moved to cover her, she raised her hand and hesitated for a bare instant, then pulled the veil away, letting it drop to the floor.

Her short, golden hair gleamed against the pillow, looking lovely, but he was barely aware as passion overwhelmed, as he touched his lips to hers once again.

*

I am reborn,
Adelaide thought, kissing her husband deeply.

Her body was warm, tingling, the sensations new, so new, and yet natural and familiar, as if they had ever been hers.

Her breath came in gasps as she clung to him, as he held himself still, poised above her.

The sweetness of this moment, just before, just before…

His lips gently brushed hers, and then he whispered, “Now, at last, we are one.”

*

A knock sounded on the door just as Father Warinus knelt by his bed for prayer. His arm ached and he was tired, more tired than he had felt in years. Closing his eyes, he clasped his hands together, hoping whoever it was would go away.

Another rap. “Warinus, open up, damn you!” came the muffled shout.

He frowned. Lord Alberto? The voice was barely recognizable, such was the man’s low timbre and surprising lack of deference.

The priest struggled to his feet, then drew on his robe. Placing his hand on the door, he hesitated, recalling Gwen’s tearstained features at the ceremony. He had thought them mere womanly emotion, but…?

Uneasy, he opened the door. The nobleman stood there, eyelids half closed, clearly drunk. He held a flask with one hand, a small leather satchel in the other.

Alberto shoved past Warinus, dropping the sack on the table as he flopped onto the bed.

“My son!”

“I do not answer to you,” Alberto slurred. He narrowed his eyes at Warinus. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, but… what is the matter?”

“That is not your concern!” Alberto sat up, wobbly, and pointed to the sack. “Do not open it. Swear! You must not look inside!”

The priest’s eyes widened. “Dear Lord, what is this about?”

“Swear it, Father! Swear to God!”

Things seen, minor things of seemingly little consequence, filled Warinus’s mind. Gwen’s trembling fingers wiping tears as Otto and Adelaide repeated their vows. The pale cast of her skin as they declared their love until death’s parting. Her voice, barely audible – she of the loud, headstrong manner – as she begged off attending the evening dance. Something was grievously wrong.

“Yes, my son, before God, I swear.” The priest crossed himself. “What would you have me do with it?”

“Take it to her.”

Warinus already knew the answer, but he asked nonetheless, “Who?”

Alberto closed his eyes as though in pain. “The she-monk.”

The priest gaped at him. “My lord… Alberto, please, pray with me. Tell me what happened between you. I would counsel––”

“No, damn you!” Alberto shook his head. “No,” he repeated flatly. “I cannot say, not ever.”

Warinus watched Alberto clutch the flask to his chest, rise with difficulty, and stagger out. As the door slammed shut, he peered at the sack. What could it hold? He reached for the drawstring, momentarily tempted by its mystery. No, he’d sworn an oath to God he would not.

He glanced at the door. Gwen. She needed him. He was certain of that.

But he could not visit her bedchamber now. It would not be proper. The morning. Yes, he would go to her then.

Kneeling down at his bedside, he asked the Lord for strength and wisdom in helping two lost souls find their way back, each to the other.

*

The drapes over the window were closed tight, the room was dark, dreary, but Gwen could tell it was past sunrise, for a little ribbon of light escaped from the place where the curtains met.