But what did he want from her? Did he have
the right to ask anything at all of her? Or, as Savarec had once
suggested to him, did he have a family and friends somewhere else
who were even now wondering where he was and if he yet lived? There
was no way to answer any of those questions until his memory
returned.
He went back to the coins still spread out
upon his bed, seeking in them some information about himself. He
picked up one of the larger coins to examine it, turning it over,
frowning while a chill slid down his spine. He picked up another
coin, and then another, until he had looked closely at all of them.
Certain numbers on the coins were dates and all of them fell within
a twenty-year period. The dates represented an impossibility. But
they were accurate. He knew it in his heart as well as in his mind.
Furthermore, these were not ancient coins of the kind he was
accustomed to finding in his work. This was recently minted
money.
His work
?
How in heaven’s name did
he know about ancient coins
?
* * *
“Hold your arm so,” Redmond instructed.
“Slash like this. Auggh! Do you want to kill me? Gently, my friend,
gently, please.” He drew back, grinning at Michel. “You are not new
at this. You have used a sword before.”
“So it would seem. I regret that I cannot
recall the circumstances.”
“You will, soon enough. Just be patient for a
while longer.” Redmond lifted his broadsword again, ready to
continue this first lesson in the use of Frankish weapons.
Michel was not paying attention to his new
friend. Lowering his own blade, Michel looked around the practice
yard. Bounded on two sides by forest, this warriors’ territory
opened on its third side to the roped-off corral where the horses
were kept, and on its fourth side to meadow and river. Within the
practice yard several groups of men were testing their skill in
friendly combat. One of those men was strikingly tall and obviously
had the strength to match his height, for he was holding off a
cluster of young warriors, doing it easily and with much laughter
on both sides.
“Pay attention,” Redmond ordered, touching
Michel’s side with the point of his sword. “Were I an enemy, I
could have killed you just then. You must concentrate.”
“Like this?” Michel met Redmond’s blade with
a movement familiar to his hand and arm if not to his conscious
mind. At once Redmond countered the attack and the two of them
moved back and forth through a long series of blows and feints
until both were drenched with sweat and Redmond called a halt.
“Well done,” cried a cheerful voice. The tall
man whom Michel had noticed earlier came up to them, putting out a
huge fist to grip first Redmond’s offered hand and then Michel’s.
“I am Charles. You can only be the stranger I have heard so much
about. Welcome to Duren.”
“Thank you, sir.” Michel was taller than all
of the Frankish men he had met, but Charles was a good five inches
taller still. Like most of the men at weapons practice on this warm
May morning, Charles had stripped to the waist, exposing massive
arms and a broad chest covered with golden hair. His shrewd blue
eyes searched Michel’s face. Apparently approving of what he saw
there, Charles nodded, then swept out an arm to indicate the
encampment with its tents arranged in haphazard rows.
“Let our temporary home be your home, too,
Michel, for as long as you wish,” he said. Lifting his face and
drawing in a deep breath, Charles continued, “I smell our next meal
in the making. Join us at table, Michel. The hunting has been good
today, so we will be eating spitted game birds, my favorite dish. I
also smell newly baked bread, and onions and cabbage. Hildegarde
mentioned fresh greens. After the efforts of this last hour, I am
hungry. And hot,” he added.
“So am I.” Redmond grinned at his king with
easy familiarity. “And you, Michel? Has your appetite returned now
that you have had some exercise?” Redmond slung a friendly arm
across Michel’s shoulders.
“There is nothing like good food eaten in the
open air among friends,” Charles put in. “I much prefer such a meal
to a boring official banquet.”
They stood together, all three of them bare
chested, Michel and Redmond still holding their swords in their
hands. All of them looked with interest toward the open space
before the royal tents at the center of the meadow, where they
could see servants setting up trestle tables. The odors of roasting
birds and simmering vegetables and herbs drifted their way from the
fires where the cooks were hard at work preparing the meal. The
companionable moment among the three men was interrupted when one
of Charles’s servants came up to speak to him and, after a word to
excuse himself, the king turned aside from Michel and Redmond.
“Why don’t we swim before we eat?” Michel
suggested. “We can wash the sweat away in the river.”
“You are cleaner than a woman.” Redmond
chuckled, slapping Michel on the back. “Let us swim, by all means.
If I am freshly bathed and sweet-smelling, perhaps Danise will like
me better. She spent too much time with Count Clodion last
evening.” Redmond’s smile turned into a scowl. “I do not like that
man, and not only because he and I are rivals for Danise’s
hand.”
“I met him only briefly yesterday when he
stopped at Savarec’s tent, but I don’t like him, either,” Michel
said. “There is something shifty about Count Clodion.”
“Shifty?” Redmond asked, puzzled by the
unfamiliar term. “Do you mean unfirm, like shifting sands on a
beach? Not to be depended upon? Untrustworthy?”
“All of those things,” Michel responded,
recalling with distaste and anger the way in which Clodion looked
at Danise.
“You have made an accurate assessment of
Clodion’s character for such a short acquaintance,” Redmond said.
“I have my own criticism of him. Clodion is known to be a miser,
and a lecher, too, in spite of his advanced age. I do not
understand why Savarec allows him to press his suit for Danise. I
fear if Clodion were to marry her, he would not treat Danise as she
ought to be treated.”
“And you would?” Michel could not keep the
edge out of his voice. Redmond gave him a curious glance before
answering.
“I would always treat Danise with respect and
affection. I would give the care of my estates into her keeping
while I am away at war and entrust the raising of our children to
her.”
“Do you love her?” The question was abrupt,
even rude, but Redmond, having sheathed his sword, was occupied in
gathering up his folded tunic and cloak from the bench where he had
left them and he did not seem to notice Michel’s sudden tension. He
responded with measured thoughtfulness.
“After a man and woman have been married for
years,” Redmond said, “after they have endured life’s trials
together and learned to know each other well, then comes a deep and
abiding affection. I saw this between my own parents and have noted
it in other long-married couples. If that is what you mean by love
then, yes, I expect to feel it for Danise, in time. Until then, I
find her desirable, and I do need to marry and get an heir. I like
Danise very much, and the bedding of a pretty and willing young
woman is always a pleasant business. Do you not find it so?”
Redmond said all of this in such a
matter-of-fact way that Michel could not take offense for Danise’s
sake. But neither could he stay where he was and listen to Redmond
talk of bedding Danise.
“Michel?” Redmond touched his shoulder. “Is
something wrong?”
“My head has begun to ache again,” Michel
lied. “I think it’s because of the bright sun and the heat. A swim
will help.”
They reached the river, where they discarded
their weapons and stripped off their clothes before plunging naked
into the cool water. Feeling the need of a few minutes alone,
Michel struck out toward deeper water, leaving Redmond behind.
He was determined not to quarrel with Redmond
over Danise. Damn it, the man was his friend! Improbably, over the
past few days and mostly out of the goodness of Redmond’s heart,
they had become friends. Redmond had introduced Michel to many of
the young nobles, who accepted him because of Redmond’s
sponsorship. Michel knew Savarec was pleased by the way he was
fitting into this group of young men, and he vowed he would repay
the debt of gratitude he owed to Savarec by not causing any trouble
for his host. No, he would start no arguments with Redmond.
Michel turned over on his back, floating with
the current, thinking about Danise. She seemed to have lost all
interest in him since he was up and about, and could communicate in
the Frankish language. Her nursing duties toward him completed, she
had turned him over to Redmond and then occupied herself so
completely with her attendance on the queen that for the last day
or so Michel had seldom seen her. And never alone. She was avoiding
him.
He missed her. He began to devise a plan to
convince her to spend at least a little time alone with him. If he
used that time well, other opportunities to be with her might
follow.
His musings were interrupted by a shout from
some distance away. Treading water now, Michel looked toward shore.
The current had carried him downstream until he had floated well
past the spot where he and Redmond had first entered the water.
Redmond stood hip-deep, waving to him to return. Standing beside
Redmond, Charles also beckoned, and Michel could sense their
concern for him. With a wave of one hand to show he understood,
Michel began to swim back to them.
The current was not particularly strong, and
he was an accomplished swimmer. His long, measured strokes soon
took him close to the place where Redmond and Charles were waiting
for him. Charles swam out to meet him.
“I have never seen anyone swim like that,”
said the king of the Franks with great admiration. “How is it
done?”
“You are using the breast stroke,” Michel
replied, “while I was doing the crawl. Like this.” He demonstrated,
while Charles watched.
“I must learn this,” Charles said. “It is
faster.”
“I just assumed that everyone knew how.”
Michel slopped, wondering about that.
“Perhaps everyone in your land swims that
way,” Charles said. “When your memory returns, I believe there will
be much for us to learn from you.”
“If it ever does return.” Michel headed for
shore, leading the king and Redmond out of the water.
* * *
By the time the midday meal was over Michel’s
head was in truth aching again and he was seething with
frustration. Flashes of memory tormented him, moments when he felt
completely disoriented, knowing with absolute certainty that he
should not be where he was, yet not at all sure where he did
belong. His cordial hosts accepted him as a nobleman, but Michel
believed in his heart that he was no such thing.
As far as surface appearances were concerned,
he experienced no difficulty. After several days of intense
practice he could converse in the Frankish tongue without any great
effort, and in the relaxed royal court, protocol and table manners
were simple. He did find it odd to sit down to a meal eaten with
fingers, knife and spoon. It seemed to him that some important
implement was absent, but since he could not think what the missing
object might be, he soon adapted.
On this bright afternoon, like the other
young men among whom he was sitting, he began to tear apart with
his hands the small roasted fowl that was served to him. He found
the bird’s legs particularly tasty and gnawed the meat off right
down to the bone. He was about to begin on the breast meat when he
saw Danise talking to Clodion.
Michel told himself there could be no harm in
such a conversation, not in the open air with so many other people
nearby, not with Charles and Hildegarde, Savarec and Sister
Gertrude all sitting close enough to observe what was happening.
Clodion was one of Danise’s acknowledged suitors. And yet Michel
found something sinister in the way Clodion clutched at Danise with
his long, clawlike fingers. Michel thought he saw his own
apprehension reflected in Danise’s face.
He knew he ought to express his concern to
Redmond rather than take matters into his own hands. Redmond was,
after all, Danise’s second official suitor. But Redmond was engaged
in a boisterous discussion with two other young men. Interrupting
them would require an explanation that might result in
embarrassment for Danise if Redmond decided to make an angry
protest about the way Clodion had just put his arm around Danise’s
waist and attempted to kiss her. A more subtle diversion than
Redmond’s anger was required, some clever means of separating
Danise from her lecherous suitor.
Michel knew just how to do it. It was time to
put into effect the plan he had concocted earlier while swimming.
Rising from his seat he began to wend his way among the laughing,
talking Franks, who thought nothing of moving from table to table
carrying their meat and their flagons of wine or beer with them as
they conversed with their friends. Michel paid little attention to
the men and women he passed. His eyes were on Danise.
“Surely you would not deny me a kiss,”
Clodion said to Danise. “Yesterday I saw you kiss Count Redmond on
the cheek.”
“It was purely out of gratitude,” Danise
replied. “Redmond has been so kind to Michel.”
“Ah, yes, your mysterious guest. Does he also
claim your kisses, while you deny me?” Clodion’s lip curled
scornfully, revealing a glimpse of his discolored teeth. His arm
slipped around her waist and he bent his face to hers.
“I kiss no man as a lover,” Danise cried,
trying to pull away from him. Where was her father when she needed
him? Where was Sister Gertrude? Did they imagine this odious man
could not seriously harass her in the midst of a crowd? She saw her
father talking with the scholar Alcuin and one of his clerks,
noticed Sister Gertrude with Hildegarde. Both were too far away for
her to attract the attention of either without causing a scene. She
did not like Clodion and had quickly decided she could never marry
him, but he was too important a noble to offend in public. With a
sinking heart Danise realized she alone would have to find a way to
free herself from Clodion’s attentions and his clutching hands. She
began by trying to reason with him. “Let me go, sir. I wish to
return to my chaperon’s side.”