The Cross and the Dragon (12 page)

“Mother, I…” she sputtered. “I did not intend…”

“I know, Daughter.”

Alda looked up and saw the men pulling Hruodland and Ganelon to their feet. Even with Beringar’s and the king’s strength, it took three men each to drag them away from each other — and keep them apart.

“Mother…” Alda wanted to say so much. That she would not marry Ganelon. That she wanted to marry Hruodland. But she did not know where or how to begin.

“Hush,” Theodelinda soothed. “If you wish for a man to listen to you, you cannot give yourself up to fits of humor.” She smiled grimly. “Not that it matters in this case. It is nearly impossible to keep those two from fighting. Their enmity runs long and deep.”

“Dung-eating son of a whore’s rat-tailed cur!” Hruodland yelled.

“Go revel in the muck with the other worms!”

“Is that the best you can think of, you…” Hruodland let out a stream of obscenities.

“Hruodland does not have to repeat himself,” Alda murmured to her mother, suppressing a giggle.

“Men,” Theodelinda muttered. “When they have become quiet, I need you to be a hostess.”

Alda nodded, puzzled by her mother’s manner but too weary to argue or question her further. She drew back the sleeve on the arm that Ganelon had first grabbed and beheld bruises left by his fingers. Theodelinda gasped, but anger revived Alda.

“Do you still favor a union between me and Ganelon?” she hissed. “He has no right to do this. If he does this to me now, think of what he will do to me if we are wed. I shall not marry him, Mother!”

“No, you will not,” Theodelinda said calmly, keeping her voice low.

“What?”

“Hush! I said I do not favor a union between you and Ganelon, not since Alfihar told me of Prince Hruodland’s interest in you.”

“You knew?” Alda stammered, closing her eyes, trying to absorb this information.

“That is what he wished to discuss with me yesterday immediately after he came home. Do you think there is any business in Drachenhaus that I would not know about?” she asked. “Do you think Alfihar or your uncles would know what we can offer as a dowry or what to request in a bride price? Do you think I would leave everything to them?”

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I intended to, but you seemed to charm Hruodland better when you thought you were destined for Ganelon. For once, your willfulness worked in this family’s favor.”

“Perhaps, we should tell Ganelon,” Alda mused.

“You will do no such thing,” Theodelinda said in her mother tone.

“What I tell him does not matter. I told him months ago that God will never join us, yet he is still seeking my hand. But Alfihar should tell him. It is not right to let Ganelon think he has hope of a union with me.”
And I wish to be rid of him.

“Have I taught you nothing of negotiations? If Hruodland thinks another suitor is seeking your hand, he will be more generous with his bride price.”

“But Hruodland and Alfihar are friends,” Alda protested.

“Nevertheless, marriage is a pact, not unlike trade with the merchants. One cannot be too eager, or all is lost.”

Alda looked at her bruises again. She was glad Ganelon had done this when Alfihar was watching. She clenched her teeth, more determined than ever to seduce Hruodland and carry his son in her belly.

* * * * *

When Hruodland and Ganelon finally tired of shouting, Alda and her mother returned to the group. Among the nobles and royal family, Alda saw Ganelon and Hruodland sitting as far apart as they could. Veronica was chatting with one of the king’s menservants. Despite herself, Alda smiled when she saw the bruise on Ganelon’s jaw. Ganelon looked up at her and the baneful expression in his icy eyes caused her to shudder. His look said he would beat her, kick her, stomp on her, make her beg for mercy, make her long for the days when she received only bruises.

She looked at Hruodland, who was talking with her brother. He smiled at her, and that smile beckoned her. As she passed Ganelon, he muttered, “You will pay for this.”

Alda swallowed to hold back the bile and the insults she wanted to throw at him. She wanted to scratch him, kick him, pummel him with her fists, and that desire made her despise him more. She looked at Hruodland again.
Better if he thinks I am meek,
she told herself as she walked toward him. She wondered how best to lure him to one of the pallets when darkness fell and make him think that lying with her was his idea.

Before Alda could think of a plan, one of the cooks ran into the hall and whispered something to the dowager countess. Theodelinda nodded and announced the servants would set the table and bring the first course.

* * * * *

Dinner was lively, but no more blows were exchanged. Theodelinda had seated Hruodland and Ganelon as far from each other as possible.

After dinner, the guests again took seats by the hearth. Ganelon sat beside Alda. She jumped up and walked away, not caring how it appeared. She was never going to be that close to Ganelon again.

Ganelon shifted in his seat as if he was about to pursue her. But then he looked at Alfihar. Alfihar glared at him, and Ganelon settled back on the bench.

Hruodland approached Alda and put his arm around her shoulders. As much as she longed for the feel of his hand, Alda stepped away from him. He looked hurt.

“Hruodland, I don’t want there to be another fight,” Alda pleaded.

“I’m not afraid of Ganelon,” Hruodland said, stepping closer to her. “If he ever lays a hand on you again, I will break his arm. No man will treat my wife in such a manner, I promise. I would fight a dragon and walk through fire before any harm came to you.”

While the musicians and the singer recounted the revenge of Siegfried’s widow, sunlight stretched the shadows, then darkness crept into the hall. With everyone else distracted, Alda’s body tingled with desire as she tried to think of a way to get Hruodland to one of the pallets in the shadows. Her reverie was shattered when her mother called her name. Never before had Theodelinda’s voice sounded so shrill to Alda’s ears.

“It is time for sleep,” her mother said.

Alda looked to her brother, already nodding off. “Yes, Alda,” Alfihar murmured. “It’s late.”

“But I am not sleepy,” Alda protested.

Theodelinda frowned at her daughter. Alda pouted. Her desire to lie with Hruodland was overwhelming, but she sighed and obeyed her mother.
He must not think me willful
, she thought. Other women, including the queen and Veronica, took their leave and retired for the night.

Alda glanced over her shoulder one last time. She admired Hruodland’s muscular form in the firelight.
Tomorrow is another night
.
I will know you. I will have your child.

* * * * *

Two weeks passed as Alfihar and Hruodland negotiated bride price and dowry. Alda wished more than ever that Alfihar would tell Ganelon that she would never be his bride. Ganelon’s stares were becoming more hateful by the day.

Alda and Hruodland talked each night by the hearth, but she could never manage to be alone with him. Just when the opportunity might present itself, Veronica suddenly had a question that needed to be answered, or her mother said it was time to retire to the solar.

One morning, Ganelon came into the kitchen, where Theodelinda and Alda were planning dinner.

“The king has given me leave to return to Dormagen,” he said, “but I have unfinished business here.”

No, you don’t
, Alda wanted to say. But she held her tongue and looked at her mother.

“I am merely the count’s mother.” Theodelinda shrugged. “You must speak with him. He is master of the house.”

“It seems as if your son is avoiding me,” Ganelon said. “He is always speaking with Hruodland and his kin — in low voices.”

“Ganelon, are you blind?” Alda blurted.

“Child, hold your tongue,” Theodelinda said in her mother tone.

“What does she mean?” Ganelon asked Theodelinda.

“She means you should speak to the master of the house, don’t you, child?”

“I am not a child,” Alda yelled, stamping her foot. “I have seen fifteen winters, I shall be married soon, and I do not need you to speak for me.”

“Act like a grown woman, and I will treat you as such,” Theodelinda retorted.

“I marvel at how you can suffer such insolence, Countess,” Ganelon interjected.

“Insolence?” Theodelinda snapped. “You are calling my daughter insolent? I will tell you what I will not suffer — a union between my daughter and the likes of you. As we speak, my son and Prince Hruodland are negotiating the bride price and dowry.”

“What? But she is promised to me!” Ganelon shouted, stepping closer to Theodelinda.

Alda whispered to Veronica, “Fetch Alfihar. Ganelon will not notice you.”
Sweet Mary, do not let Ganelon hurt my mother,
Alda prayed, clutching her dragon.

As Veronica slipped out the door, Theodelinda picked up the nearest object, a large, bloody knife on the butcher block and gestured with it.

“Is there a bride price? Is there a dowry?” she asked sarcastically. “And when did you and my daughter exchange vows?”

Ganelon stared at the knife and would not take his eyes off it even as Alda called to him.

“I told you I would never consent to a union with you,” she said sharply.
Please, Alfihar, hurry!

“You
will
consent,” he growled, his right hand twitching.

“Nothing will make me consent,” Alda cried, trying to distract him from her mother.

“Nothing?” Ganelon asked. “Not a beating? Not starvation?”

“No one treats
my
daughter in such a manner,” Theodelinda snarled. “No one.”

“It is my right as…”

Suddenly, Alfihar burst through the kitchen door, with Hruodland and their kin at his heels.

“Ganelon, if any harm befalls my mother or my sister, you will answer to me,” Alfihar roared.

“And me,” Hruodland added.

“Is it true?” Ganelon asked Alfihar, still watching the knife Theodelinda held. “Have you been negotiating a marriage pact between your family and his?”

“Step outside the kitchen,” Alfihar barked, grabbing Ganelon by the collar. “Leave our womenfolk in peace.”

As Alfihar dragged Ganelon out, Veronica slipped in. The door closed. Theodelinda looked at the knife and dropped it back on the butcher block. For a moment, the three women clung to each other.

“We should see how my brother fares,” Alda whispered.

Theodelinda nodded and waved for them to come to the window and watch what the men were doing.

* * * * *

“You have not answered my question,” Ganelon snapped. He pulled himself out of Alfihar’s grasp.

“Yes,” Alfihar said, “we have been negotiating. Alda and Hruodland have been betrothed since my clerk wrote the pact for the bride price and dowry this morning.”

At the kitchen window, Alda put her hand to her mouth and wept. Veronica looked at her, astonished by the news. Theodelinda put her arm around Alda’s shoulders and pulled her daughter toward her.

“Betrothed?” Ganelon sputtered. “Betrothed? But she is mine.”

“I made no promise,” Alfihar said, his chin raised, his back straight. “We were simply negotiating. Hruodland made a better offer.”

Ganelon gave Hruodland a murderous stare. “You are just like your father,” he spat. “Stealing what does not belong to you.”

“I stole nothing,” Hruodland shot back. “She is my wife by right. If the idea of theft will not leave your head willingly, I can break your skull and let it out.”

Ganelon looked at the men who surrounded him — Hruodland, Alfihar, Gerard, Alfihar’s uncles. “I will take my cause to the king.”

“Ganelon,” Hruodland called, “settle this here. With me. Now. If you truly believe yourself ill used, challenge me to a duel, or are you man enough?”