slapping
India on the back so hard she almost fell to the floor.
“Aye, lad, that she does. A bad name indeed.”
He went off to tell the other men what India had said.
The caretaker brought food for them, a stew
of salted fish, turnips, and cabbage, tasty dark brown bread,
cheese and apples, and a jug of ale. All of this was placed on a
trestle table at one end of the hall. India noticed that Eudon was
not eating much.
“He looks feverish to me,” she said to
Theuderic.
“The best thing we can do for him,” Theuderic
replied, “is get him to Aachen and let him rest there until he has
completely recovered.”
With the meal over, India left the hall in
search of the latrine, which the caretaker had told her was on the
far side of the guesthouse compound. She was glad of the snow, for
it outlined buildings and well-trodden paths with white, making it
possible for her to find the hut she sought. Inside, it was
foul-smelling, and the wick burning in the dish of oil that the
caretaker had given her provided little light.
When she came out again, she noticed a series
of footprints around the hut that she had not seen before.
Apparently someone else had come into the night after her, but had
not returned to the hall. She started back along the path, pausing
when a skinny figure appeared out of the gloom.
“Hello, boy,” said an unfamiliar voice. “You
know me, don’t you? Lady Danise’s groom. I followed you here to
speak with you alone.”
“Is something wrong?” India asked. “Does Lady
Danise need help?”
“No, but I do,” the groom said. “There’s a
part of me that’s burning for your help. Come into the stable with
me, boy.”
“I cannot. Count Theuderic expects me.”
Uneasy now, and fearing the groom had realized she was not a boy at
all, India began to walk toward the hall again. The groom stepped
in front of her, barring her way, his sharp features illuminated by
the oil lamp she still held.
“I’ve seen you cuddling up to him,” the groom
said, adding with a sneer, “I know what you are, boy, and I want
some for myself.”
“Some what?”
Her question was answered when the groom made
a grab for her crotch. With a cry of dismay, she struck his hand
aside. She dropped the oil lamp, the flame quickly sizzling out in
the snow, leaving her with no light except that reflected off the
thin layer of snow on the ground. The groom stood between her and
the hall, and the door was closed. No one would hear if she called
for help.
“Let me pass,” she demanded, trying to sound
brave, though she was shaking.
“Not till you come into the stable with me,”
the groom said, reaching for her again. India stepped backward. He
followed her, beginning to whine as he spoke. “Come on, it’ll only
take a little while. I won’t hurt you, boy, but I have to have it
now. Count Theuderic will never know.”
“He already knows.”
The groom spun around, as startled by
Theuderic’s appearance as India was. But not for long.
“This boy accosted me,” the groom declared,
having recovered his earlier boldness.
“He wanted to stick his thing up my arse and
got mad when I told him no.”
“Get back to the stable where you belong,”
Theuderic said, “and count yourself lucky if I do not report this
incident to Sister Gertrude.”
“You do, and I’ll tell her the boy belongs to
you,” warned the groom defiantly.
“Get out of my sight!” Theuderic’s hand
rested on his sword hilt. The groom needed no further convincing,
but faded into the night.
“Are you hurt?” Theuderic asked India.
“I’m fine.” She was surprised to hear how
frightened she sounded. “It didn’t happen the way he said.”
“I know.” He laid his palm against her cheek
and she reveled in his touch. She leaned toward him, giving in to
the irresistible attraction that drew her.
“India.” She loved the way he said her
name.
“He is still there, in the shadows, watching
us,” Theuderic said, so softly she
India on the back so hard she almost fell to the floor.
“Aye, lad, that she does. A bad name indeed.”
He went off to tell the other men what India had said.
The caretaker brought food for them, a stew
of salted fish, turnips, and cabbage, tasty dark brown bread,
cheese and apples, and a jug of ale. All of this was placed on a
trestle table at one end of the hall. India noticed that Eudon was
not eating much.
“He looks feverish to me,” she said to
Theuderic.
“The best thing we can do for him,” Theuderic
replied, “is get him to Aachen and let him rest there until he has
completely recovered.”
With the meal over, India left the hall in
search of the latrine, which the caretaker had told her was on the
far side of the guesthouse compound. She was glad of the snow, for
it outlined buildings and well-trodden paths with white, making it
possible for her to find the hut she sought. Inside, it was
foul-smelling, and the wick burning in the dish of oil that the
caretaker had given her provided little light.
When she came out again, she noticed a series
of footprints around the hut that she had not seen before.
Apparently someone else had come into the night after her, but had
not returned to the hall. She started back along the path, pausing
when a skinny figure appeared out of the gloom.
“Hello, boy,” said an unfamiliar voice. “You
know me, don’t you? Lady Danise’s groom. I followed you here to
speak with you alone.”
“Is something wrong?” India asked. “Does Lady
Danise need help?”
“No, but I do,” the groom said. “There’s a
part of me that’s burning for your help. Come into the stable with
me, boy.”
“I cannot. Count Theuderic expects me.”
Uneasy now, and fearing the groom had realized she was not a boy at
all, India began to walk toward the hall again. The groom stepped
in front of her, barring her way, his sharp features illuminated by
the oil lamp she still held.
“I’ve seen you cuddling up to him,” the groom
said, adding with a sneer, “I know what you are, boy, and I want
some for myself.”
“Some what?”
Her question was answered when the groom made
a grab for her crotch. With a cry of dismay, she struck his hand
aside. She dropped the oil lamp, the flame quickly sizzling out in
the snow, leaving her with no light except that reflected off the
thin layer of snow on the ground. The groom stood between her and
the hall, and the door was closed. No one would hear if she called
for help.
“Let me pass,” she demanded, trying to sound
brave, though she was shaking.
“Not till you come into the stable with me,”
the groom said, reaching for her again. India stepped backward. He
followed her, beginning to whine as he spoke. “Come on, it’ll only
take a little while. I won’t hurt you, boy, but I have to have it
now. Count Theuderic will never know.”
“He already knows.”
The groom spun around, as startled by
Theuderic’s appearance as India was. But not for long.
“This boy accosted me,” the groom declared,
having recovered his earlier boldness.
“He wanted to stick his thing up my arse and
got mad when I told him no.”
“Get back to the stable where you belong,”
Theuderic said, “and count yourself lucky if I do not report this
incident to Sister Gertrude.”
“You do, and I’ll tell her the boy belongs to
you,” warned the groom defiantly.
“Get out of my sight!” Theuderic’s hand
rested on his sword hilt. The groom needed no further convincing,
but faded into the night.
“Are you hurt?” Theuderic asked India.
“I’m fine.” She was surprised to hear how
frightened she sounded. “It didn’t happen the way he said.”
“I know.” He laid his palm against her cheek
and she reveled in his touch. She leaned toward him, giving in to
the irresistible attraction that drew her.
“India.” She loved the way he said her
name.
“He is still there, in the shadows, watching
us,” Theuderic said, so softly she
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