The Cross and the Dragon (44 page)

Gerard told Hruodland to take the finest horse and handed him a sack full of coins. Hruodland planned to ride with five guards and some packhorses, changing horses instead of resting the animals. He did not know what had become of Alda, but his dreams of Ganelon had become more frequent.

Yet saying farewell to Sisters Elisabeth and Illuna was difficult.

“I must leave,” he said. “The saint is instructing me to find Alda and to do so with all haste. I have ordered one my best men to guard you on your journey.”

“Thank you for the protection. Illuna and I shall join pilgrims going to Rome. God be with you.”

“And also with you,” Hruodland replied. “And thank you for not forsaking me when I was in your care.” He gave her the medal of Saint Peter. “A token of my gratitude.”

Fidelis followed Hruodland as he mounted his horse. “Come along,” Hruodland said as if the wolfhound would do anything else.

The forest swallowed Hruodland and his party. The trees and underbrush dressed richly in full leaf. The days were warm and longer. At the cities and abbeys, Hruodland again assumed the name Sebastian and told his hosts he was a natural son of Milo. He had a feeling it was to his advantage to let the world think Hruodland of the March of Brittany was dead, just for a little while longer.

* * * * *

At Nonnenwerth, Plectrude again read the Rule of Saint Benedict to Alda during nones prayers. Alda understood more Latin words and phrases this time but not sentences.

Again, Plectrude posed a question to Alda in Latin. Alda, understanding only “Rule” and “fight,” answered, “Yes.”

“Very good,” Radegunde said. “Two weeks hence, you shall take the vow.”

“But Mother Radegunde,” Plectrude protested, “a novitiate should last a year, not several months. So says the Rule of Saint Benedict.”

“Alda is ready…” Radegunde’s words were cut off by a coughing fit. Alda and the other sisters waited in silence.

Radegunde has been coughing much lately
, Alda thought,
much as Hruodland’s father did before…
She bowed her head and made the sign of the cross.

When Radegunde caught her breath, she said, “I have had a vision from the Mother of God that Alda should take the vow in two weeks’ time.”

“I still think it is unwise,” Plectrude argued. “Saint Benedict had a reason to require novices to wait a year. He wants us to come to God of our own free will.”

Radegunde again started coughing. “You come to God of your own free will, do you not, Alda?” she asked between rattling breaths.

Alda nodded numbly.

“So Sister Prioress, you wish to defy the will of the Blessed Mother?”

“No,” Plectrude mumbled, her face turning crimson.

“Then, Alda will take the vow in two weeks,” Radegunde said.

As the abbess and the others filed out of the church, Alda lingered and knelt before the altar, gazing at Christ and His Mother in Their majesty. In her heart, Alda knew Plectrude should be the next abbess, but what support did the prioress have among the nobility? Plectrude’s mother was a commoner, and her father was dead. It would be better if Alda was abbess and could let Plectrude manage the abbey as she saw fit rather than have some stranger here who would do God only knew what.

Why did doubt still gnaw at her mind?
Mother of God, what shall I do?

“I think Mother Radegunde’s vision is of her own death,” Plectrude muttered, startling Alda. “She should not defy the rule of Saint Benedict.”

“I do not see how delaying the vow until late autumn would change anything.”

Plectrude said something in Latin. Alda looked at her quizzically.

“Just as I thought,” Plectrude said. “You have little idea of what I read to you at prayers.”

“You told me you were taught Latin since you were a child. It is unfair to rebuke me for not completely comprehending a language I have studied for only a few months.”

“I am not finding fault with you,” she said. “But you cannot fight under a Rule you do not understand. What I told you translates like this: ‘When she is to be received, she promises before all in the oratory stability, fidelity to the monastic life, and obedience. This promise she shall make before God and His saints, so that if she should ever act otherwise, she may know she will be condemned by Him whom she mocks.’”

“Oh,” Alda said, looking down.

“You should leave now. As a novice, you are free.”

Alda’s thoughts strayed to Drachenhaus. How she missed Werinbert and her mother and Veronica. She pressed her iron dragon close to her heart.
When I become the abbess, we will all be allowed a visit from family.
The thought strengthened her resolve, but still, she longed to be home.

“If I could,” Alda said, her voice barely audible, “but I have no place else to go. The outside world is dangerous for me, and if my enemy finds me, my nephew will be slain.”

“But once you take the vow, you cannot leave, even to see your nephew.”

“I know,” she murmured, “but if I am hidden and removed from the world, my enemy will let him be.”

Chapter 29

During the two-week journey, two heartrending questions followed Hruodland as he rode through rain and shine and green shadows. Had Alda married again? Was she in danger?

When he arrived at the village near Drachenhaus, he was dirty, damp, and unshaven. Hruodland remembered how he had come to Alda in this state a few years ago, yet she had wanted him anyway.

As Hruodland and his party rode on the muddy path that led toward the mountain, the villagers paused in their chores to stare at him. Hruodland recognized a dark-haired woman on the path before him. She made the sign of the cross when she saw him and trembled when he dismounted.

He called her by name: “Veronica!”

Veronica became pale. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“Fear not,” he said, laboring to keep his words clear, “I am no spirit. I mean you no harm.”

“You are alive?” Veronica whispered.

“Yes, alive.”

She drew a sharp breath, and her eyes opened wide. Then, a smile spread on her face. “Saints be praised. But how…?”

“I have come for Alda,” Hruodland said.

“You have come for Alda,” Veronica echoed. “You… have come… for Alda.”

“Is she at Drachenhaus?”

Veronica shook her head, looking dazed.

“Has she married again?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then where is she?”

“She… she is on Nonnenwerth.”

“Take me there at once.”

“If I could, my lord. But there is a river between us and Nonnenwerth. We need a boat, and the countess can provide you with one. She will be so glad. Come with me to the castle.” She tugged at his hands.

They started to ascend the mountain trail. Hruodland led his horse as Veronica walked beside him. Fidelis and Hruodland’s men followed. The trees on either side of them formed a green thicket so dense that Hruodland half-expected them to close behind him, the way the wall of fire closed behind Siegfried when he went to Brunhilde’s castle and awakened her. For a few moments, the only sound was the horses’ hooves hitting the ground.

“I have no idea how I shall tell the dowager countess that you are alive,” Veronica said half to herself.

“Allow me to do so.”

“I have no wish to frighten my lady,” Veronica said.

At the gate, Veronica explained to the guard that Hruodland and his men were friends. “Wait here,” she told Hruodland. “I will not tarry.”

“It will be a shock, no matter who tells her,” he said. He handed his horse’s reins to one of his men and followed Veronica.

When they entered the hall, Theodelinda was ordering the servants to clean the hearth. Turning toward the sound at the door, she screamed, “Lord help us!”

Hruodland drew his sword and looked behind him for the intruder as Veronica ran toward Theodelinda.

“Countess, he is not a ghost,” she cried. “He is alive.”

Hruodland sheathed his sword. Theodelinda was gasping for air.

“I did not mean to frighten you, Mother,” he said. He grabbed a servant’s arm. “Have the cupbearer fetch some wine.”

Theodelinda leaned on Veronica and staggered to a seat near the fire. “Welcome to the House of the Dragon,” she mumbled. She stared at Hruodland as if she were awakening from a dream.

“Countess,” Veronica whispered, “our prayers have been answered.”

“More than answered,” Theodelinda murmured, still staring at Hruodland.

The cupbearer came with a full cup, took a sip, then handed it to Theodelinda. Theodelinda swallowed a gulp of wine, watching Hruodland over the rim of the cup.

“I need a boat to take me to Nonnenwerth,” Hruodland said, sitting across from Theodelinda.

“I shall have a fisherman take you there after prime prayers tomorrow, but only if you promise to take Alda home with you.” Color was returning to Theodelinda’s face.

“Of course, I will take Alda home with me. Why else would I go?”

“What happened to you?” Theodelinda asked. “We were told you and Alfihar fell at Roncevaux. Leonhard sent me Alfihar’s amulet.”

Hruodland looked down at the mention of Alfihar’s name. He felt a pang in his heart. How he wished he could tell Theodelinda what had happened at that pass in the Pyrenees.

“I have no memory of the battle,” he said. “I awoke in a hospital, barely able to move or speak. The sisters healed my body, but my tongue is still slow.”

“Why didn’t you send a message to Alda?” Theodelinda asked bitterly. “Or did you no longer want to give her your protection?”

“Lies kept me from my wife. I will fetch Alda from Nonnenwerth at this moment, if you would but lend me a boat.”

“If I had one available now, you could use it, but the fishermen are all out on the river.” She looked Hruodland up and down. “And you need a bath unless you wish to present yourself to your wife as a slovenly beggar.”

“You are right, Mother.” Hruodland laughed. “I should look like a prince, not a ruffian. What tidings do you have of Alda?”

“I saw her at Epiphany, and…” Theodelinda paused. “She was thin. The prioress handed me a message from her. She was asking for all the grain I could spare. So I sent wheat.”

“Have you gotten any other message from her?”

“The message last winter was the only one,” Veronica said.

“But,” Theodelinda interjected, “the merchants told me they saw bread on the tables at Nonnenwerth. One of them talked about a novice who drew her veil over her face as soon as he entered the abbess’s reception room. He said the novice flattered him and engaged him in bargaining. Then, the abbess rebuked her for enjoying the worldliness of trade.”

“That’s Alda,” Hruodland said with a smile. “Why would she hide her face?”

“If it were not for…” Theodelinda and Veronica exchanged a look.

“For what?” Hruodland asked. What were they not telling him? Had she become disfigured from smallpox?

“It is for Alda to tell you,” Theodelinda said. “Once she knows she has your protection again, she will leave that hateful island.”

* * * * *

Alda donned the clothes from her old life. Today was the day: she was going to take the vow.

She thought of the ring and the dragon amulet she had hidden under her pillow. She had given her property to the monastery, even her girdles, necklaces, bracelets, circlets, and rings. After today, she would give up control of her own body. She remembered how Radegunde had translated Saint Benedict’s words: “Reserving nothing at all for herself.”
But my ring and amulet are not worth much
, Alda reasoned.
The Church can have them after my death.

She had dreamt of Hruodland two nights ago. She dreamt she was making love to him.
Is this the right path?
she had asked the Blessed Virgin yesterday as she knelt in the church before the image of Christ and Mary in heaven. There must be some reason God had not taken her when He took Hruodland. There must be some reason she remained in this world.