Love Beyond Time (26 page)

“No, it wasn’t my imagination, or a dream,”
Danise cried. “Hugo was
there
, Master Alcuin! His form and
his face enveloped Michel. And I
knew
, not in my thoughts
but in my heart and – yes, it was so and still is – in my very soul
I knew that part of Hugo, the best and dearest part of him, lives
on in Michel.”

Alcuin’s eyes grew wide. He looked at Danise
for so long a time that she began to be afraid he would speak of
blasphemy or heresy. He did not, and when he spoke again his words
brought comfort to her troubled thoughts.

“So strange a mystery defies mere human
comprehension,” Alcuin said. “I do not doubt what you have told me,
Danise. It is well known that a deep and true love transcends time
and place. It can even conquer death.”

“When I first began to care for Michel, I
felt guilty,” she said. “I feared I was being disloyal to Hugo’s
memory. But no more. I will never forget Hugo. Some part of me will
always love the Hugo I once knew. But I love Michel now, and in
him, Hugo also.”

“Perhaps Hugo’s spirit drew Michel here to
Duren, to find you,” Alcuin suggested.

“A love beyond time,” Danise murmured, half
to herself. “It would be just like Hugo to want me to be happy
again. Michel said something like that soon after we met. But Hugo
would not arrange; he would never insist. Hugo would simply put
happiness in my path and let me stumble upon it in my own way.
Master Alcuin, is it wrong for me to think like this?”

“The ways of heaven are beyond the
understanding of any mortal,” Alcuin replied. “Who in this land
would dare to say why Michel so suddenly appeared at Duren? Or by
what means?”

When Danise looked sharply at him, he raised
a hand, silencing her before she could speak.

“Do not say anything more on this subject,
Danise. I have my suspicions, but I think it best if they are not
confirmed. If I were to learn something definite, I might then feel
obligated to take action. What you and I have said here, I will
never repeat. Tis better so.”

“I understand your scruples, Master Alcuin. I
will not burden you with a terrifying, an almost unbelievable,
truth. I will only tell you that Michel has information about our
friend, India. He says she is well and happy and has married a good
man.”

“I am glad to hear it. I will always remember
India with affection. And you, my dear.” His words and his tone of
voice startled her. It was almost as though Alcuin were saying a
final farewell to her. When he smiled at her, Danise shrugged off
this impression and returned to her original request.

“I have not spoken to Michel of what I saw on
that night. Do you think I should tell him? He did trust me with
his truth. I ought to reciprocate. Master Alcuin, you are older and
wiser than I, and you think more deeply than I could ever hope to
do. What advice will you give me about all of this?”

Alcuin rose, and so did Danise. He took both
of her hands in his and stood looking into her eyes.

“I do not find any wrongdoing in you, or in
Michel in regard to your love for each other. I cannot explain what
you saw or what you now believe about Hugo. As for telling Michel,
do what your heart urges you to do. I do not think I have been able
to help you much, Danise, and for that I am sorry.”

“Your willingness to listen has helped me
more than you know,” she said. “I will tell Michel, when the time
is right for him to hear what I have to say.”

They remained as they were, standing with
linked hands until Alcuin bent forward to kiss Danise upon both
cheeks. Once again she had the odd feeling that he was saying
farewell.

“Go in peace and be happy,” he said, and
released her.

After Alcuin left her to return to his work
for Charles, Danise wandered slowly back toward her tent, thinking
about their conversation until her meditations were suddenly
interrupted.

“Where have you been?” Michel caught her
around the waist, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around
and around until she shrieked with laughter and commanded him to
put her down. He obeyed, but only to kiss her.

“Have you heard about the betrothal?” he
asked, still with his arms around her waist.

“Do you mean ours?” she responded, laughing
at him. “Of course I have. I was there. Or have you forgotten my
presence so quickly?”

“How could I ever forget anything about you?”
His eyes crinkled in answer to her laughter. “I was talking about
the formal reading of the contract and the feast. It’s set for this
evening. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“I have not seen my father since the trial
this morning. Nor Sister Gertrude nor Clothilde, either. I was
talking to Alcuin, in private.” Noting his surprised expression,
she said, “I’ll tell you all about it soon. I promise I will. Now,
what is this about a formal ceremony?”

“It’s true.” Clothilde came around the corner
of the tent. “Danise, do you mean no one told you about your own
betrothal ceremony? For shame, Michel!” But the maidservant’s eyes
were sparkling with mischief.

“Who told you, Clothilde?” Michel teased her.
“Guntram, perhaps?”

“Did everyone at Duren know except me?” cried
Danise, feigning annoyance.

“How could we tell you what Charles has
decided if you were off somewhere with Master Alcuin, discussing
philosophy or the motions of the wandering stars?” Clothilde
demanded. “I have unpacked your best gown and it is airing now.
I’ll help you with your hair. Michel, do go away and let her get
ready. I believe Redmond has a silk tunic for you to borrow for the
ceremony.”

“Clothilde,” said Michel, “you have been
taking lessons from Sister Gertrude in how to order people around.”
After stealing another kiss from Danise, he went off to find
Redmond.

“I am so happy for both of you,” Clothilde
said. “And, have you heard? Charles has given land to Guntram,
too.”

“I was there when he announced it,” Danise
reminded her.

While the two women were inside their tent
preparing Danise for the ceremony, Sister Gertrude appeared. With
pursed lips and a sour expression she surveyed Danise’s deep green
silk gown and the gold jewelry that had once belonged to Danise’s
mother. As custom required for this ceremony, Danise’s hair was
left loose. Clothilde brushed it until it flowed in a pale
silver-gold river over her shoulders and down her back almost to
her knees. Danise’s eyes were wide, and whether from excitement or
from the reflection of her gown, they appeared more green than
gray.

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” cried Clothilde.
“Oh, I must hurry and put on my own best dress.”

“Hummph,” said Sister Gertrude, frowning.

“Can’t you be glad for me?” Danise begged.
“You are still my friend and teacher. I do not love you less
because I will marry Michel.”

“Under the circumstances, it is probably best
that you do wed him,” Sister Gertrude conceded. “I only hope your
decision does not prove to be a mistake.”

“I am sure it is not,” Ðanise said. “Dear
Sister Gertrude, travel to Deutz with us.”

“Of course I will,” the nun responded. “It is
my duty to stay with you until you are married. After that, you
won’t need me anymore.”

“I will always need your friendship, and your
love,” Danise said.

“If ever you come to grief, if you need a
refuge, you know you will find it at Chelles as you did once
before. You will always be welcome there.”

A chill touched Danise’s heart, making her
fearful for a moment. She recovered quickly, telling herself it was
only a memory from the previous unhappy year. Her grief was over
now, and only happiness lay ahead.

“Thank you for your kind words,” she said,
daring to hug Sister Gertrude. “Certainly, I will visit you at
Chelles, but it will be a time of joy, not of sorrow. Michel and I
will carry each of our children to Chelles for your blessing.
Clothilde, are you ready? I hear my father talking to Guntram.
Hurry now, don’t make me late for my own betrothal.”

* * *

The late afternoon light was gold and green,
the tree leaves glowing in clear, rain-washed air and bright
sunshine. Beside the Frankish encampment the Rur flowed deep blue
on its way to join the River Maas and then the Rhine.

Hand-in-hand with her father, with Clothilde
and Sister Gertrude behind her, Danise walked from Savarec’s tents
to the dais that had been used earlier in the day for a less joyful
purpose. As she stepped upon the dais she was met by Hildegarde and
her ladies. Charles already stood upon the dais with his special
chaplain and Alcuin. Just as Danise arrived, Michel also appeared.
Redmond and Guntram were his companions.

Danise caught her breath at the sight of the
man she loved. The tunic lent to him by Redmond was of blue silk
almost as brilliant as his eyes. She recognized the gilded leather
belt he wore. It belonged to Savarec. She cared not that he came to
her in borrowed finery. Michel had proven himself, he was a noble
of Francia now, a friend of Charles and of many other nobles. Soon
he would have his own tunics and belts and a sword forged for him
alone.

The happiness radiating from Danise on that
afternoon did not depend upon promises of rich garments or
accoutrements, nor upon rewards expected in the future. Her joy was
born of love. She saw her own happiness reflected in Michel’s face.
He took her hand and held it while Alcuin read out the betrothal
contract. He held it still when Charles’s chaplain blessed their
betrothal and urged them to keep themselves pure until they were
properly wed.

Since the contract Michel and Savarec had
made was brief, the entire ceremony took only a few moments. Then
Charles swept her into his bear hug of an embrace to wish her
happiness and long life. Her father was next to kiss her, followed
by Sister Gertrude, Clothilde, Redmond, and Guntram. A host of
others crowded about Danise.

“Am I never to be allowed to kiss her?” asked
Michel, himself the recipient of many embraces, especially from the
ladies.

“Time enough for that, later,” Charles
laughed, slapping him on the back. “You heard the chaplain, my
friend.”

But Michel took Danise by the shoulders and
bestowed such a lengthy kiss on her ready lips that their friends
began to laugh at them. The newly betrothed couple sat together at
the feast that followed, secretly holding hands beneath the
table.

“It was a bit like a wedding ceremony,”
Michel said, giving Danise a passionate look that made her grow so
warm she feared she must be blushing. “The only thing I didn’t like
was that line about keeping ourselves pure. After the other night,
you and I are going to be together again as soon as possible.”

“I wish it could be so, but do not imagine
for a moment that Sister Gertrude or even Clothilde will allow me
to be with you without a chaperon until we are truly and finally
wed,” she informed him. “Nor my father, either.”

The final feast at Duren was scarcely over
before Michel’s friends led him away to a tent shared by several
unmarried men, where they planned to continue their private
celebrations. Even Savarec and Guntram went with them.

“You see,” noted Sister Gertrude, openly
annoved, “this is the wav of men. At heart they care little for
women.”

“Not true,” cried Hildegarde. “They are but
saying farewell to each other in their own way. Charles will join
them in a little while. Let Michel go, Danise, and don’t be jealous
of the friends he has made. Michel will not see most of them again
until next Mayfield, and soon he will be entirely yours.”

By the look on Sister Gertrude’s face, Danise
knew she was not pacified by the queen’s comments. However, there
was little time left for discussion of the matter. Charles had
announced that he intended to be gone from Duren at dawn, which
meant the women would have to make haste to say their own
farewells. Danise embraced Hildegarde with some misgiving. The
queen did not look well enough to make even the short journey to
Aachen, but she would not admit to ill health. For Hildegarde, her
place must always be at her husband’s side, and she would not
complain that Charles wanted her there.

“Charles has decided that after the autumn
hunting season is over we will move to Worms for the winter,”
Hildegarde said to Danise. “Savarec has been summoned to the winter
council meeting there. If you and Michel would like to travel with
him, you would be most welcome among my ladies. And, Sister
Gertrude, I am always glad to see you.”

“Poor lady,” Sister Gertrude muttered to
Danise as they returned to their own tents. “You see what happens
when a man loves his wife too well and will not keep himself from
her bed. Hildegarde will not cease to have children until Charles’s
devotion kills her. Do not allow the same thing to happen to you,
Danise.”

While not unaware of the dangers inherent in
childbearing, Danise privately thought it would be wonderful to
give Michel several children. And the getting of them would be a
joy. She spent a busy hour helping Clothilde and Sister Gertrude
pack clothes and other belongings into the wooden chests in which
they would be transported to Deutz, but though her fingers were
nimble in her task and she answered the questions and comments of
the two other women, her thoughts were all on Michel and the life
they were going to have together.

Danise was not looking forward to the journey
from Duren to Deutz. Not only would she have to part from
Hildegarde, Charles, Alcuin, Redmond, and a host of other friends
on the morning after her betrothal, she would be separated from
Michel, too, and that was worse than all the other losses put
together.

“I will be at Deutz in a little more than
three weeks,” Michel promised her. “I have told Savarec I want to
marry you the day after I arrive there.”