Timestruck (36 page)

“Of course, my lord,” she said, trying to
hide her hurt feelings from him. She left his bedside quickly,
before she could burst into tears.

Brother Anselm’s assistant, who was close
enough to overhear the conversation, stopped her headlong flight to
offer a sympathetic explanation. “Dominick’s impatience is simply
what Brother Anselm warned you would happen. It’s all part of his
recovery. However, I am concerned about your health,” said the
assistant. “You are pale and wan. Haven’t you been eating and
sleeping, as you should?”

“I’ve been too worried about Dominick to care
about eating or sleeping.”

“Are you ever light-headed?” The assistant’s
eyes were sharp as he regarded her.

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “I’m sure it’s
due simply to the stress and strain of recent weeks.”

“That could be the reason. However, I grew up
in a large family, with older sisters, and I do wonder…” The
assistant paused, as if considering how to phrase what he wanted to
say. “My lady, there are certain women’s problems that it would be
most improper of me to discuss with an unmarried lady. If you feel
ill, I would advise you to speak to Lady Adalhaid.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that.”

But she didn’t have a chance to speak with
her friend, for Dominick decided he wasn’t going to stay cooped up
in the infirmary any longer. One afternoon, without having
mentioned his plans to Gina or Lady Adalhaid, he bid Brother Anselm
and his assistants farewell and walked to his house, arm-in-arm
with Harulf and Eric.

By the time he reached his front door,
Dominick’s companions were practically carrying him, and there was
an untidy masculine scramble to get him undressed and into his bed
before he disgraced his manhood by fainting.

“I feel recovered already,” Dominick
announced, and he promptly lapsed into sleep.

“He does that a lot lately after he has
exerted himself,” Harulf said to Gina. “Brother Anselm assures us
he will grow stronger with regular exercise.”

“Thank you for that valuable bit of medical
information.” Gina’s response was so sharp that Harulf departed
from the bedchamber as fast as he decently could. Hands planted on
her hips, Gina glanced around the garment-strewn chamber, her gaze
coming to rest on Dominick’s sleeping form. “He does look
peaceful,” she said to Lady Adalhaid.

“Let him be,” Lady Adalhaid responded. “Let
him do as he wants, and don’t protest. He’s not a child you can
keep under your control. It’s time for Dominick to be about manly
business again.”

“Well, he won’t want me sleeping here until
he’s fully restored to health. Do you mind if I move in with you
for a while?”

“Of course not. It won’t be for long.”

The next morning Dominick began working out
with his sword. Every day thereafter he and Harulf and the other
men-at-arms gathered in the open yard behind the house to practice.
Each midday Dominick’s companions carried him to the bathhouse,
where they soaped and rinsed him, then dragged him to his room and
tossed him into bed to sleep until evening.

Following Lady Adalhaid’s advice, Gina bit
her tongue on the objections she longed to make about this harsh
regimen. She told herself that Dominick was eating well and
sleeping long hours. She could see his progress. The debilitated
muscles in his torso and arms were beginning to fill out again as
his body regained its taut, sleek contours. His cheeks were no
longer hollow.

There came a day when he bathed himself
without help after his workout and only needed to lean on Harulf’s
shoulder to get from bathhouse to bedchamber. Two days later, he
did it all on his own. His face and upper body were tanned, and his
blond hair was bleached in streaks from the long hours he spent in
the sun. Eric shaved off his beard for him and trimmed his
overgrown hair. By the end of his first week at home, Dominick was
beginning to look like the man Gina had met at Feldbruck. But he
still treated her as if she was of no importance to him.

Brother Anselm came to see him, and, after a
private examination to which Gina was not invited, he declared that
Dominick was almost fully recovered.

“And much sooner than I expected, too,”
Brother Anselm said to Gina after Dominick excused himself to go
horseback riding with Harulf and Eric. “But then, when he was
carried into the infirmary, I didn’t really expect him to live. I
have learned from you, Lady Gina. Hereafter I will follow the
methods of the physicians of your country and use only boiled water
and newly decanted wine to wash open wounds. I still intend to
include a great deal of prayer, of course.”

“Good idea. You want to cover all the bases,”
Gina said. As usual, her twentieth-century slang came out quite
differently in Frankish, and she and Brother Anselm both laughed,
though he couldn’t possibly know why her speech was occasionally so
odd.

Gina was surprised to learn there was no
charge for all the time Brother Anselm and his assistants had spent
caring for Dominick, nor for the use of his bed in the
infirmary.

“Secular physicians and barber-surgeons
charge fees,” Brother Anselm explained. “Ours is charitable work,
for the glory of God.”

“But surely you deserve something in return,”
Gina protested.

“Will you feel less indebted if I tell you
that Count Dominick has made an extremely generous donation to the
infirmary, which is to be used for food and supplies to treat the
poor souls who come to us?”

“Yes, it would help. Thank you for telling
me.” Dominick hadn’t told her. In fact, he seldom bothered to speak
to her. He didn’t have time, for his every waking hour was taken up
with masculine pursuits. He was hunting again, often riding into
the forest with Charles and his nobles.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Gina said
tartly to Lady Adalhaid. “Now he doesn’t need me any longer.
Perhaps he’s tired of me. There’s no mystery left.”

“Oh, you foolish girl! You and Dominick are
about to embark upon the greatest of all mysteries.” Lady Adalhaid
burst into laughter. “Haven’t you guessed why Dominick has been
working so hard? It’s because he wants to come to you a whole,
strong man. His pride won’t allow him to offer his weakling self to
you.”

“Is that so?” Gina stabbed her needle through
the seam she was mending. There was always so much sewing to be
done. Clothes were seldom thrown out; they were repaired or remade
and worn again until the cloth in them was reduced to rags, which
were then used for cleaning. “So, Dominick imagines I prefer brute
muscles and sunburned skin to – to—”

“To a man who is pale and weak from long
illness,” Lady Adalhaid finished for her. “Just so, my dear. It’s
the way men think. You will never change a man s opinion on the
subject of physical strength, so don’t try.”

“Is that motherly advice you’re giving
me?”

“Take it as you will. I suppose Dominick did
tell you that Charles wants to see us tomorrow morning?”

“Count Dominick hasn’t said a word to me
since he wished me a good day early this morning.”

“I was afraid of that. Wear the red silk
dress tomorrow. I’ll lend you some of my jewelry.”

“Oh, my lady!” exclaimed Ella, rushing into
Lady Adalhaid’s chamber and plopping down on a stool. “Wait till
you hear the latest gossip. Everyone in the marketplace is talking
about it.”

“Now what?” asked Gina. She noticed Lady
Adalhaid’s disapproving glance at Ella, but Gina was weary of
sewing, and she didn’t want to discuss Dominick any longer.

“Well,” said Ella, obviously bursting with
the news, “you know that Queen Fastrada hasn’t been seen in public
since the day of Hiltrude’s wedding. Now everyone is saying that
she has taken to her bed. That’s why she sent so many of her
attendants away. It’s because she has stopped participating in
court functions, so she doesn’t need as many ladies around
her.”

“Very sensible,” said Lady Adalhaid in a tone
that made Gina look hard at her. Nothing in Lady Adalhaid’s
expression betrayed any knowledge of the truth of Fastrada’s
situation, except for the twinkle in Lady Adalhaid’s eyes.

“And now,” Ella continued, “Charles intends
to depart from Regensburg two days hence. He is to make a grand
royal progress throughout Francia. And Fastrada won’t be
going!”

“Really?” said Gina, keeping her eyes fixed
on her sewing.

“Don’t you see what it all means?” cried
Ella. When neither woman responded, she said, “The rumor is that
Fastrada is with child again. That’s why she stays in bed. She’s
sick every morning. It’s clear she’s hoping for a son this time,
and she won’t jeopardize the baby by traveling.”

Again, neither woman said a word.

“I’m going to tell Imma and the cook,” Ella
said, sounding offended by the lack of interest in her gossip.

“Do you think it’s true?” Gina asked as soon
as Ella was gone.

“With Fastrada, almost anything is possible,
but frankly, I doubt it,” said Lady Adalhaid. “My friend, Lady
Madelgarde, knows all the court news. During that night I spent
with her, she recounted everything that has happened since Fastrada
banished me from the palace. Madelgarde claims that Charles has
been living a celibate life ever since the plot to dethrone him was
discovered.”

“But he wasn’t celibate before that time, and
Fastrada was very demonstrative toward him in public. I’m thinking
of the night when you and I first met.” Gina frowned. “Wouldn’t it
be just like Fastrada to produce a son and use the baby to worm her
way back into Charles’s good graces?”

“I consider it highly unlikely that she is
with child. Despite Charles’s constant attentions during the first
ten years of their marriage, Fastrada was able to conceive only two
daughters. Ella has made a great deal out of a few rumors. I don’t
think we need to worry about Fastrada any longer.” Lady Adalhaid
suddenly stopped talking, looking guilty. Then she broke into a
naughty grin. “Besides, I would never dream of uttering a single
word on so delicate a topic. Neither should you. Such gossip is for
servants.”

“Right,” Gina said, and they both went back
to their sewing.

* * *

Once again Gina, Dominick, and Lady Adalhaid
stood in Charles’s private audience chamber. He kept them waiting,
and when he finally appeared, Alcuin was with him.

“Dominick, I am glad to see you looking so
well,” Charles said in a jovial way, as if he hadn’t seen Dominick
on the previous day, when they went hunting together. “Lady
Adalhaid, I understand you are planning to return to Trier.”

“As soon as I take my leave of you, my lord,”
she said. “I have only stayed so long to help nurse Dominick back
to health.”

“And a fine job you did. Perhaps too fine.”
Charles looked from Lady Adalhaid to Dominick to Gina, and on her
his gaze rested. “Lady Adalhaid, if you depart from Regensburg,
there will be a scandal.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lady Adalhaid looked as
if she was about to burst into laughter.

“How can you leave a lovely young woman and
such a handsome, vigorous young man to live alone in the same
house?” Charles asked, his gaze still on Gina. “Lady Adalhaid, you
know as well as I do what everyone in Regensburg will say about
that arrangement. No, it will not be seemly for you to leave. Lady
Gina requires a chaperone.”

“I do not!” Gina exclaimed, annoyed that they
were talking about her as if she weren’t present. “I’ve never had a
chaperone in my life.”

“But you have,” said Alcuin. “That is what
Lady Adalhaid has been to you since shortly after you came to
Regensburg.”

“She’s my friend,” Gina said.

“All the better,” Charles told her. “Since
she is your friend, surely you cannot want to prevent her from
returning to the home she so loves?”

“What’s going on here?” Gina demanded.
“Dominick, do you know what these people are up to?”

“No, I do not,” he said, frowning, “but I
suspect we are about to learn. Lady Adalhaid, never tell me you
intend to take Gina to Trier with you? I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?” Gina turned on him.
“I’ll go wherever I please. You, who won’t give me the time of day
lately, have no right to tell me what to do.”

“I haven’t invited Gina to Trier,” Lady
Adalhaid said. “Nor will I.”

“I thought you were my friend!” Gina cried in
complete confusion.

“There is only one solution.” Charles’s voice
rose above the others’, who were all talking at once. “It is my
duty to protect maidens from the depredations of men.”

Gina was going to tell Charles that she
wasn’t a maiden and that if he didn’t know it he was blind and
deaf, but something in his blue gaze made her keep her mouth shut
and listen to his next words.

“Count Dominick,” Charles said, speaking very
formally, “I hereby command you to marry Lady Gina. The ceremony
will take place early tomorrow morning. Father Theodulf has agreed
to bless the union during morning prayers. I regret to say I cannot
provide a wedding feast here at the palace, as I will be leaving
Regensburg directly after morning prayers end. Lady Adalhaid, you
will then be free to leave also, though I trust you will rejoin my
court before too long.”

“Of course I will. Thank you for
everything.”

The way Lady Adalhaid made her thanks
convinced Gina that she and Charles, together, had planned the
interview and, for reasons of their own, had decided that Gina and
Dominick must marry.

She was going to refuse. It wasn’t right to
go through a marriage ceremony pretending that all was well, when
she wasn’t sure Dominick really cared about her and, furthermore,
she didn’t know how long she could stay in the eighth century. With
a chill in her heart and a sudden, queasy rolling of her stomach,
she recalled the way the ceiling of Dominick’s room at Feldbruck
had opened, and the way she had almost been sucked into that long,
dark tunnel. She was certain the same thing would happen again,
and, when it did, she might not be able to escape.