Love Beyond Time (2 page)

“Savarec would not want me to leave you
alone,” Clothilde protested.

“One of us must go, for we cannot leave him
by himself,” Danise pointed out. “And, Clothilde, be discreet.
Don’t talk to anyone but my father or Guntram. Be careful to avoid
Sister Gertrude. You know how she loves to make a fuss.”

“How am I to do that?” Clothilde demanded,
standing and planting her hands on her wide hips. “That nun has
eyes like an eagle.”

“You and I together have avoided her eagle
eye often enough,” Danise responded. “I know you can do it,
Clothilde. Just be quick. I fear he must be badly injured,or he
would have wakened by now.”

Left alone with the stranger, Danise took off
her light spring cloak and used it to cover him. Then she sat
beside him, gently stroking his hair.

“Why did you climb so high in the trees?” she
murmured to him. “Was it to look over the landscape and thus find
your way? Were you intending to come to Duren to meet with
Charles?”

Since the man remained unresponsive, Danise
settled herself more comfortably to await the arrival of help.
Despite Clothilde’s qualms, she was not the least bit frightened to
be alone in the forest. There could be no danger to her there, so
close to the Frankish encampment.

Charles, king of the Franks, had called the
Mayfìeld, the great spring assembly of Frankish nobles, to meet at
Duren on the River Rur, about two days’ journey east of Aachen. The
choice of place was deliberate, to demonstrate just how powerful
the Franks were to the ever-restless Saxon tribes who lived on the
eastern borders of Francia. Still, Duren and the forests
surrounding it were safe. If they were not, Charles would never
have allowed his beloved queen to accompany him there, for
Hildegarde was seven months gone with her sixth pregnancy in eight
years of marriage, and she was not at all well.

Nor, if Duren were unsafe, would Savarec have
summoned his daughter Danise to meet him at the royal court. Danise
had made the journey from the convent school at Chelles, near
Paris, to Duren in the company of her usual chaperon, Sister
Gertrude, her personal maidservant Clothilde, and two men-at-arms
whom her father had sent to protect her along the way. She had seen
her father only briefly on her arrival the previous night, before
retiring to the tent Savarec had provided for his womenfolk next to
his own tent.

Duren was but a small settlement, so the
Franks had established a town of tents on a broad space cleared
between river and forest. There they would live during the weeks of
Mayfield, feasting out-of-doors in the fine spring weather, and
enjoying the contests of skill in wrestling, weaponry, and riding
put on by the younger warriors. Meanwhile, in the huge royal tent
or on the open field, the nobles would meet with Charles to decide
whether another campaign was necessary against the Saxons. While
the men conferred, the women, too, would meet, renewing old
friendships and making new ones.

The annual assembly was also the time when
Frankish nobles traditionally arranged marriages for their
children, and Danise very much feared this was why Savarec had
called her to Duren. At nearly eighteen, she was almost too old to
be wed.

The man beside her moaned, diverting her
thoughts from herself to him. He raised one hand to his face, then
moaned again.

“It will be all right,” she told him,
catching his hand. ‘Help is coming soon. We will take good care of
you.”

He grew still at the sound of her voice, and
she thought he was trying to frown. It was hard to tell for sure,
since his face was so swollen, but his expression seemed to change
and he winced.

“Just lie still,” she advised.

He muttered a few words in a language she
could not understand, then said a word she did know.

“Angel?”

“
Ange
?” she repeated. “Oh, I
comprehend. You think you are dead and I am an angel? I’m afraid
not. I am far from being an angel.”

He grew still again – listening to her, she
was sure – and then he opened his eyes.

They were blue, the deepest, purest, most
heart-stopping blue she had ever seen. In his sorely damaged face,
swollen and bruised and streaked with dirt and scratches, and
smeared with blood from his injured nose, those eyes were like
torches in a dark forest. Not even the famous piercing blue gaze of
Charles, king of the Franks, had ever affected Danise the way this
unknown man’s eyes did.

“Who are you?” she whispered, caught and held
by light and color and unmistakable intelligence. When she saw the
puzzled expression invading the blue depths, she repeated her
question, speaking slowly and carefully, hoping he would understand
her.

He said something and started to shake his
head. The movement elicited a groan of pain. The blue eyes closed
and he slipped away from her, back into unconsciousness. Only then
did Danise realize she was still holding his hand, clutching it in
both of hers, pressing it against her bosom. She let it go, laying
it upon his chest and stroking the limp and dirty fingers with her
own white ones.

“Don’t die,” she whispered. “Please don’t
die. I want to know you. I want to hear you speak again in that
strange language.”

It seemed a long time before Clothilde
returned, leading Savarec, his man-at-arms Guntram, and a third man
whom Danise did not know. The black-bearded Guntram carried a
rolled-up litter made of two wooden poles thrust through the hems
of a length of strong fabric.

“Clothilde has explained what happened.”
Savarec knelt beside his daughter. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes, he’s breathing, and now and then he
moans.” Danise met her father’s level gaze. “He opened his eyes for
a moment or two, and he tried to speak, but I could not understand
him.”

“If he wakened, it’s a good sign.” It was the
third man who spoke, a golden-haired fellow with a pleasant face.
He went to his knees and put out a hand, feeling the unconscious
man’s head and apparently coming to the same conclusion as Danise.
“He has a lump here, beneath his hair. From the blood on this rock
beside him, I’d guess he hit his head on it when he fell.”

“Danise,” said Savarec, noting his daughter’s
questioning look, “this is Count Redmond. I had planned for you to
meet him under more agreeable circumstances, but this moment must
do.”

“On the contrary, Savarec,” said Count
Redmond, “these
are
agreeable circumstances, for your
daughter has shown herself to be both intelligent and discreet.
Another maiden might have run into the camp crying to anyone she
met that a strange man had been found in the forest, thus leading
everyone gathered at Mayfìeld to imagine we faced a Saxon
attack.”

“This man is no Saxon,” Danise said,
certainty in her voice. “I have seen Saxon prisoners and heard them
speak. He is unlike any of them. His speech, his clothing, his
hair, his clean-shaven face -”

“As I said, Savarec,” Redmond interrupted,
“an intelligent young woman.”

“Father, he will need good care,” Danise
said. “Will you have him taken to your tent? Clothilde and I can
nurse him, and if you think it’s necessary, you can easily set a
guard there to watch him.”

“Yes,” said Savarec, “that’s what we’ll do.
We’ll keep your cloak over him, Danise, to hide his strange
clothing, and if anyone asks who we are carrying on the litter, we
can say he’s one of my men-at-arms who met with an accident. That
way, we’ll cause no alarm. But I will tell Charles in private what
has happened, in case he wants to post more guards around the
camp.”

Guntram unrolled the litter, and he, Savarec,
and Redmond lifted the unconscious man onto it. With Savarec and
Danise leading the way and Clothilde walking beside the litter,
Redmond and Guntram carried it out of the forest and into the
Frankish camp. They were not stopped. Savarec was well-known, and
his story of an injured man-at-arms was at once accepted.

Inside Savarec’s tent, a folding camp bed was
quickly set up and the stranger laid on it. Danise sent Clothilde
for hot water and cloths so they could bathe the man, and while she
was gone, Danise began to undress him. She was not so involved with
her patient, however, that she did not hear her father and Count
Redmond talking just outside the tent.

“A lovely maiden,” Redmond said. “Your
daughter is all you claimed her to be, Savarec.”

“I knew you would be pleased,” Savarec
said.

“We will talk again soon, my friend.”

“You understand,” Savarec said, “she must
agree.”

“I would not agree myself if Danise did not,”
Count Redmond responded.

A moment later, Savarec entered his tent and
stood behind Danise, watching while she worked.

“Where is Sister Gertrude?” Savarec asked.
“Why is she not with you?”

“She has gone to the queen,” Danise
responded. “Sister Gertrude was of help to Hildegarde during her
last pregnancy, while we were in Agen, so Hildegarde asked to see
her as soon as we arrived in Duren.”

“Which is why you took the opportunity to go
off by yourself into the forest?” demanded Savarec.

“I was not alone. Clothilde was with me. I
thought it would be peaceful amongst the trees.”

“Peaceful?” To Danise’s surprise, considering
Savarec’s overly protective attitude toward her, her father
chuckled. “On occasion I have myself wanted to escape to some
peaceful place far from Sister Gertrude’s sharp tongue. But she
does mean well, Danise, and she has your welfare always at
heart.”

“I know. It’s why I am so patient with her.
Father, look at this. I found it tucked into a pouch inside his
tunic. What could it be?” Danise held up a flat, square object
contained in a parchment-like cover.

“I have no idea what it might be. I’ve never
seen anything like this before.” Savarec took the floppy disk,
looked at it in perplexity, then handed it back. “Keep it with his
other belongings until he is well enough to tell us what it
is.”

“And this? What could this be?” Danise held
up a leather object. Again, Savarec took it to examine.

“It appears to be a folding purse of some
kind. These green and white parchments have lettering and numbers
on them. Perhaps this man is carrying a message. Now, that is a
very strange way to fasten breeches.”

Savarec bent to help Danise, who was
struggling with the unfamiliar fastenings, and soon their patient
lay naked. At once Savarec pulled a quilt over the man’s exposed
torso and then together they examined his arms, legs, ribs, skull,
cheekbones and jaw, noting the many bruises and scrapes he had
sustained.

“He appears to have no broken bones and no
serious injuries other than the blow to his head,” Savarec said.
“His body beneath the clothing is surprisingly clean, which
suggests you were right to assume he is a nobleman. Here is
Clothilde with the water. Bathe his injuries and cover him quickly
so he doesn’t catch a chill. I am going now to report to Charles
what has happened.” Savarec paused at the tent flap. “I have posted
Guntram just outside. Call him if our guest gives you any trouble.
If he wakens, have Guntram send someone to me at once.”

The two women worked quickly as Savarec had
bidden them, but not so quickly that Danise did not have time to
note how well made the stranger was. He was not as heavily muscled
as most Frankish warriors, but there could be no discounting the
potential strength in his long legs, or in his shoulders and arms.
His hands were long, with tapered fingers, and his nails were well
shaped, though several had been broken as a result of his fall from
the tree.

Clothilde, after an exclamation of annoyance
that a young man should be lying almost naked to her mistress’s
view, made a point of covering his manly parts with a cloth, but
not before Danise had rested fascinated eyes on him. She had lived
a protected life since her mother’s death a few years ago, but her
earliest youth had been spent in a freer way, so the sight of
unclothed male babies or little boys had been common. She had also,
on several occasions, helped wounded men. This unknown man’s body
should have been no different from any other. But it was. Danise
glanced at the cloth over his groin and blushed.

“Be particularly careful when you wash his
face,” Clothilde advised. “Those scratches must be painful. I
wonder if his nose is broken?”

“My father thinks not, but we won’t know for
certain until the swelling subsides.” Gently Danise wiped dirt and
pieces of leaves off the man’s hair, taking special care around the
lump on the left side of his head. Then, after rinsing the cloth
first in warm water, she began to work on his face. He muttered a
string of unintelligible words and groaned, but did not rouse from
his stupor. When he lay clean and well-covered, Danise turned to
Clothilde.

“You will have to ask Guntram to find clothes
for him,” she said. “He cannot go about in his own clothing. He
will attract too much unwanted attention.”

“I will see what I can do,” Clothilde
replied, “but from the look of him, don’t expect him to waken soon,
if ever. I think Savarec ought to have the physicians look at him,
and then the priest.”

“We will leave those decisions to my
father.”

Danise pulled up a stool and sat down beside
the bed. She smoothed back the man’s damp hair, sighing at the
condition of his face, which was turning blue and purple where the
bruises were darkening. He was not a pleasant sight, yet in his
very strangeness, in his battered form and his helplessness lay a
peculiar attraction, while the mystery of his presence alone and
unattended in the forest intrigued her.

“You cannot be a Frank,” she murmured. “You
are from a land far away. When you can speak again, will you tell
me about your home?”

“He may never speak again,” Clothilde warned.
“I’ll get rid of this dirty water and wash out the cloths we used
on him.”