The Promise (27 page)

“Not today,
bella donna,”
Robert sighed, smiling at her. “Another time, perhaps.”

She dipped a curtsy and turned back toward the inn, where the pleasant, yeasty smell of baking bread had begun to drift from the kitchen’s ovens. Robert watched her swaying hips until she went around the side of the building to the back entrance.

“Ah, the sacrifice,” he murmured in French, then turned to Günter and saluted him smartly. “Reporting as ordered,” he said with a grin.

Günter allowed himself a slight smile. “I am sorry about this, but I cannot leave Alonsa to face the journey home by herself. She will need a protector, someone I can trust.”

Deadly serious now, he leaned against the short stone wall surrounding the inn and squinted at Robert. “You
are
someone I can trust, aren’t you?”

Robert held up his hands. “I am nothing if not honorable. Though the temptation to steal a kiss from the lady might be strong,” at this he winked, “I would say my debt to you is stronger. However, it will be fully repaid with this act, yes?”

Günter nodded. “Yes, and then some. You are sure sailing with her will not put you in any serious trouble?”

Robert lifted a shoulder. “I have no obligations other than my promise to serve my forty days of fealty, and that I have already done. I am now in a position to come and go as I please.” He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Besides, what is one more horse and knight to the king—ah, that is, I believe I will not be missed so sorely as all that.”

Günter hid a smile behind his hand at Robert’s near admission of his service to the king of France. Günter preferred it this way. What he didn’t know, he wouldn’t have to explain to his captain should the necessity arise.

Robert clapped his gloved hand over his heart and bowed, an extraordinary gesture from a noble to a base mercenary such as himself, but not so extraordinary from one friend to another.

“I have promised I will see your wife safely home,” he continued, “and so I shall. I swear by my family name—”

“Whatever that may be,” Günter interjected with dry humor.

“Yes. Well. I swear she will return to the bosom of her family in one piece, or my name is not Robert. I have many long and pretentious names besides,” he said, forestalling any questions Günter might have had, “but that is what my avenged brother called me, and it is by this name I swear.”

Günter stood and placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I know she will be safe with you.”

Robert nodded, and glanced up at the brightening sky. “You had best make haste, I think.” He tilted his head in the direction of the inn, where Alonsa still slept. “Long goodbyes can be so troubling, can they not?”

Günter glanced back at the gleaming whitewashed inn, staring for a moment at the squat bottle-glassed window beneath which he knew Alonsa still slept. A fierce loneliness pulled at his heart, squeezed it within his chest. He swallowed hard.

His words came out gruff. “They can.” He turned to Robert and held out his hand. “Thank you.”

Robert clasped it, and waved him off with a smile.

“Go, go. I will guard her as I would my own sister.”

Günter turned to Fritz and Inés. “Ready?” he asked in German.

Inés spoke up. “Yes, we said our goodbyes to the
Señora
last night, though she did not suspect it was so.”

Fritz gestured to their few belongings tied to the animals’ saddles. “I packed provisions for the trip back.”

“Good,” Günter answered. He turned to Inés. “You understand we will be pushing hard?”

She nodded.

“Are you sure about this? It will not be as easy a trip back as it was here.”

She hitched up her skirts and arched a brow at him. “I am no pampered mistress. I have traveled hard before. I can do it again.”

Günter nearly laughed. “Pampered is the last thing I would ever call you, Inés.” He glanced over at Fritz, who only had eyes for her as he slipped a proud arm about her waist. “Though I think that might be about to change.”

Inés flushed prettily and slid a contented look at Fritz.

They mounted their animals, and with a final wave at Robert, the traveling party, with one less member, headed back to Pavia.

After reinspecting her belongings below decks in the prow of
The Isabella
—the three-masted bark ship carrying her home to Spain—Alonsa joined Robert above decks near the main sail. Beefy sailors hoisted cargo, pulled rigging, and tightened jibs in a whirlwind of activity Alonsa was certain only they understood.

The Isabella
would set sail with the high tide, less than one week after Alonsa’s traveling party had arrived in Genoa and Günter had left her behind. Her sojourn in Genoa would end in a matter of hours. Her dreams of a life filled with love and hope had ended long before.

The handsome dark-haired noble who was to be her companion for the journey observed the activity on deck while occasionally nodding to the stiff-backed manservant who whispered in his ear. The manservant had not been pleased about the enforced detour from their plans. He stared at Alonsa with suspicious disapproval and did his best not to speak to the “Spanish woman” unless required by his duties to the knight. He melted away at her approach.

Robert turned to her. “Everything is as it should be?”

She nodded her head.
“Oui.”

Her French lacked the distinction of her German; they’d managed only stilted conversation in the time since Günter had returned to Pavia.

She tried not to think of Günter now and, instead, focused on the journey ahead. She offered a silent prayer that God would protect him in his future battles as he had always done. She would like to have wished Günter farewell the morning of his departure, but acknowledged that perhaps his way had been the better one. Why prolong the inevitable?

More difficult to accept had been the idea that Robert would be her companion on the voyage. She liked him, but he would serve as a constant reminder to her of the man she had left behind. She had been unable to persuade Robert to leave her, however. He’d promised Günter to escort her, and escort her he would.

Inside her mind, she shook her head. Men and their promises.

“How long?” she asked Robert as she pointed to the sun above.

“Soon.” Robert gestured to the windward side of the ship. “The captain thinks the weather will hold for a few more days. The winds are fine—the journey to Marseilles should take but a day or two, a few hours more for the trip through the Straits.”

He brushed back a lock of his hair that fluttered in the sea breeze. The unusual steel-gray color of his eyes struck her once more. The French noble was handsome; yet, when she looked at him, she could not help comparing those eyes to the warm emerald green of another’s.

“Once we reach Seville,” he continued, “you can join the merchant caravans taking the overland route north.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, his stance wide as he adjusted to the sway of the ship.

Alonsa sighed. “I wish the journey already complete.” She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “The movement of this ship does not agree with me.”

He smiled. “Stay above decks until you grow accustomed to it. You will find the sea air does wonders for a rolling belly.”

His gray gaze flicked over her for a moment. Though he was cordial to her, he had been careful to maintain his distance, and always the manservant chaperoned them. Alonsa smiled to herself. She could only imagine the sorts of promises Günter had wrung from him in this regard.

At the thought of her husband, a sharp pang of loneliness throbbed through her. Would she never see him again? He would have returned to his men by now. Had he already forgotten her? Perhaps some other woman in the baggage train had already caught his eye, even as Alonsa had caught it not so long ago.

She tried to resist the jealousy threatening to overwhelm her at the thought. Though they had married, she had no real hold over him. A man could choose whomever he wished, whenever he wished. It was expected. She, however, would always remain faithful to him. She knew at her core she would never find another to satisfy the need Günter had created in her for his touch. Though he may not love her, she would always love him. For that, there would be no cure.

A commotion alongside the ship drew her out of her reverie. A man attempted to ride his horse down onto the docks, and several travelers dodged out of his way. The man shouted at them, whipping the lathered horse into a frenzy as he rode straight for
The Isabella,
his muddied cloak whirling out behind him in a crazed dance.

“What is that madman doing?” Robert murmured while he raised a hand to block out the gleaming sunlight coming over the horizon.

Alonsa moved closer to the quarter rails in order to see. Something about the rider struck her as familiar … the way he moved? The flaxen color of his hair?

Dios mío.
Could it be? She was already running.

“Fritz!” She called out over the shouts and clatter of horse’s hooves against the wooden dock. “Fritz!”

He looked up and saw her.

“Señora!”
he shouted over the heads of several men staring openmouthed at him while he urged his horse through the throng. “Please, you must come at once.
Señora!”

What could have happened to cause Fritz to return, and in such a state? A chill ran up Alonsa’s spine. She rushed toward the gangplank, pushing her way through the sailors on deck, desperate to reach him now.

A few of the sailors tried to dislodge Fritz from his seat when he attempted to ride up the very gangplank of their ship. He struck wildly at them with the reins, the intensity and despair on his face a testament to the urgency of his errand.

Robert followed her, his surprise evident. He shoved hard at two of the shipmates who tried to manhandle Fritz off the horse. One fell over into the oily harbor water below, sputtering curses as he came up.

Robert stood at Fritz’s side, placed his hand on his sword hilt, and faced the sailors.

“Leave this man be, “he
commanded in a voice of authority. “He is my servant and bears important news.” The sailors stared uncertainly at him, but backed a small distance away.

One look at Fritz’s face gave the truth to Robert’s hasty fabrication. Robert pulled Fritz off the horse and held him up when his knees would have buckled beneath him. Fritz and the horse panted hard, both pushed to their physical limitations.

“Fritz, what is it? What has happened?” Alonsa demanded, her hands grasping his wind-burned face.

“Señora,
you must come at once …” Fritz mumbled, then collapsed against Robert in a dead faint.

“Mon Dieu!”
Robert looked over his shoulder for his manservant, who materialized behind him. “Get my wineskin and bread,” he ordered. “Quickly! Bring it to the lady’s cabin. And see to this horse.”

The manservant, eyes wide, nodded and grasped the horse’s reins, murmuring quiet words to the exhausted beast as he pulled it away. Robert lifted Fritz as though he were no more than a child in his arms and carried him onboard.

The first mate stopped him. “Is he to be a paying passenger, then? No stowaways.”

“Mind your business, man, and fetch the captain,” Robert ordered grimly. The first mate hurried off to find him.

Alonsa led the men to the small cabin the captain had appointed her, and Robert laid Fritz on the bunk. She filled a basin with cold water, dipped a cloth in it, and pressed it to Fritz’s face.

He revived slowly, his blue eyes blinking in confusion. Spying her, he sat up, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head again at the sudden movement.

Robert placed a hand on Fritz’s shoulder and gently eased him back. “Careful. You will collapse again. Now tell us, what is so important you have nearly killed yourself and a good horse to get here?”

Fritz’s gaze found Alonsa’s, and the look in his eyes filled her with terror.

“It is Günter.” She did not ask—she knew already. “Is he—?”

She could not bring herself to say the word.
Dead.
At the moment she thought it, a vision of the vast world without him in it intruded upon her soul, and she felt the horrible grayness of it, the never-ending blackness of despair. She feared for her sanity, for her very life.

How could she bear to live in a world that did not have Günter in it?

“Nay,
Señora,”
Fritz said, and she nearly sagged with relief until she heard his next words.

“Not yet.”

“Not … yet?” she asked.

Fritz nodded, never taking his eyes off her.

“He is to be tried for mutiny, according to the military articles of justice. He is guilty, my lady. He will die.”

Alonsa flung out a hand in alarm as the cabin walls began to waver and her vision grew gray at the edges. Her knees would not support her, and she felt the ship tilt. The next thing she knew, Robert had seized her and deposited her on the bunk next to Fritz with a gruff admonition to him to make room.

“What do you mean to do,” he snapped at the younger man, pushing Alonsa’s head between her knees, “shock her senseless? You might have delivered your news in a gentler manner.”