Timestruck (22 page)

On silent feet she moved toward the rounded
chancel, and as she drew nearer she was able to hear what the men
were discussing in hushed tones.

“We’ll make it appear to be a brawl,” said
one man, “and stab him as if by accident. If we stick to our story
that we were all drunk, no one person can be blamed for striking
the fatal blow.”

“We will all be executed,” protested a second
man.

“Not if we are ruling Francia,” declared a
third man. “When we hold the power, no one will dare to accuse
us.”

“Are we agreed, then?” asked the first
man.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

One after another, all of them assented to
the notion of a false brawl.

“Well, then,” said the first speaker, who was
apparently in charge of the meeting, “when shall it be?”

“Tomorrow morning. Charles attends early
prayers each day, so we can depend on him to be here then. We will
strike just outside the church, before he sets a foot upon this
hallowed spot.”

“Aye, we’ve waited long enough.”

“I’ve been told that Pepin should reach
Regensburg by late tomorrow,” someone remarked.

“Just in time to be crowned,” said another,
and several men laughed in an ugly way that made Gina’s skin crawl
with apprehension.

“Be sure to make the brawl look real,” one
man cautioned. “We don’t want questions raised about it
afterward.”

“What questions?” scoffed another. “It will
be just a stupid fight among a few drunken men who bitterly regret
its accidental outcome. Afterward, we can each make a donation to
the Church in repentance. Of course, our story will appear all the
more realistic if one or two of us are actually wounded.”

“Aye. I’ll volunteer for a knife scratch on
the arm – the left arm, you understand.”

“Gerold, you may punch me in the nose,” said
another man. “Do it hard enough to make me bleed but not hard
enough to break the bone.”

“It will be a pleasure, my friend.”

The sly remark drew general laughter from
some of the other conspirators, as if they did not comprehend the
deadly seriousness of what they were doing. Nor, apparently, did
they see the hypocrisy of plotting in a church to murder their
king, while at the same time voicing religious scruples that led
them to do the actual killing outside, away from sacred ground.

By this time Gina was leaning against the
stone wall of the transept because she was trembling too much from
fear to stand up without support. She hadn’t identified Dominick
among the men at the altar, who all kept their hoods close around
their faces, as if trying to hide themselves. If Dominick was
present in the chancel, he was there as a spy, which meant his life
was in terrible danger.

She couldn’t recall enough history to know if
the conspirators were going to succeed or not. She did know that it
was her responsibility to get to the palace as quickly as possible
and warn Charles. Fastrada wouldn’t take kindly to Gina bursting
into the king’s private quarters in the middle of the night, but if
she could locate Alcuin, he would believe her, and he had Charles’s
confidence. Charles would listen to him.

If she could reach the transept door and slip
outside, she’d run all the way to the palace. She began to back
away from the spot where she had been standing. She had taken only
three steps when a large hand clamped down on her mouth and a
muscular arm wrapped itself around her waist, pinning her arms to
her sides so she couldn’t fight.

“Don’t make a sound,” came Dominick’s hushed
whisper in her ear, “or we are both dead.”

He didn’t wait for a response; he lifted her
off her feet, with his arm still around her and her back forced
hard against his chest, and carried her away into the darkness of
the nave. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t release her until they
were hidden next to the tall statue of a saint.

Gina was too limp with relief and fear to
struggle. She knew Dominick was right. If they were caught, they’d
both be killed, and then there would be no one to warn Charles.

The meeting of conspirators was breaking up.
Men were quietly walking toward the south transept door. One man
was carrying the lone candle, its flame wavering as he moved. In
another minute or two they’d all be gone, and she and Dominick
would be safe. Gina held her breath, waiting.

“What s this?” exclaimed a muffled voice.
“The door is open.”

“I told you to close it,” came another,
impatient, voice. “We’re lucky we weren’t discovered.”

“How do we know we weren’t? In this darkness,
anyone could be hidden, listening.”

“If there’s an eavesdropper here, we’ll find
him.”

The barely heard voices made the threat of
discovery even more terrifying to Gina. She heard the unmistakable
whisper of steel weapons being withdrawn from their sheaths. The
man with the candle began walking toward the nave. The others
spread out, drawn swords at the ready. They were like dark, hooded
ghosts prowling quietly through the church. The only sound was
their soft footsteps.

Dominick pushed her between the saint’s
statue and the wall and held her there, his dark-cloaked back
toward the searchers as if to confer invisibility on Gina and
himself. His hand was no longer over her mouth, but she was too
frightened to make a sound.

The quiet footsteps came closer. Suddenly,
without warning, a sword was thrust behind the statue, the blade
coming so close to Gina’s left side that she could almost feel the
coldness of the metal. She feared she’d faint from terror, until a
soft call from the chancel drew the swordsman’s attention
elsewhere.

“Here, behind the altar! Look what I’ve
found.”

“Well, there is no one down here in the
nave,” said the swordsman.

His voice was so close that Gina almost
screamed. She sank against Dominick, shaking, as the swordsman’s
footsteps moved back toward the chancel. The man holding the candle
followed his friend. Dominick relaxed his hold on Gina, and she
turned a little, so she could peek around the side of the statue
and see what was going on.

“Well, well. I was right about an
eavesdropper.” The candle was set down on the altar again while the
conspirators gathered to regard the little man in clerical robes
who stood quivering before them.

“What have we caught?” asked someone. “Is it
a priest?”

“No, no,” said the little man. “I am not
ordained. I’m only a deacon – Deacon Fardulf.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to light the candles for Matins,”
answered Deacon Fardulf.

“Did you? And how long have you been hiding
behind the altar?”

“Not long. Not long at all.”

“What did you hear, Deacon Fardulf?” The
anonymous voice held a threatening note that made Gina shrink back
against Dominick’s stalwart solidity.

“Hear? Oh, nothing, my lords. I am a bit
deaf, you see.” Fardulf made the mistake of crossing himself
several times.

“You’ve just told a lie inside a church,”
said one of the swordsmen, setting the tip of his blade under
Fardulf’’s chin. “That’s why you crossed yourself, isn’t it?”

Fardulf gave a terrified squawk, peering from
one hooded man to another as if trying to recognize them.

“Strip him,” commanded the leader of the
conspirators.

“Please don’t. Not here in the chancel,
before the altar,” Fardulf cried. “It wouldn’t be seemly.”

They paid him no heed but tore his dark robe
from him, leaving him shivering and trying to cover his nakedness
while they laughed at him.

“I say run him through,” someone
suggested.

“Not here,” said the leader. “Shedding blood
inside a holy church will surely damn us. Our plan would be
ruined.”

“Then let’s take him outside and kill him
there.”

“I have a better idea,” the leader said. “On
your knees before the altar, Fardulf.” He prodded the little man
with his sword until Fardulf did as ordered.

“Now,” said the leader, “swear by all the
holy saints, by the sacred relics in the altar cross, and by
everything you hold dear that you will never reveal what you’ve
heard here tonight.”

“I swear.” Fardulf clasped his shaking hands
together and bent his head. “Oh, I do swear most solemnly on all
the saints and on the relics, and on my dear mother’s grave, too. I
will say nothing, my lords. Not a word.”

“It’s not good enough,” protested one of the
conspirators.

“I think it is,” the leader responded.
“Fardulf is a deacon, so he knows better than most men what an oath
taken before an altar means. Don’t you, Fardulf?” The tip of his
sword poked at one of Fardulf s bare buttocks.

“I do know. I have sworn the firmest, most
solemn oath possible,” Fardulf responded in a quavering voice.

“Let him live.” The leader sheathed his
sword. “It’s time for us to be gone from here before anyone else
appears. Remember your oath, Fardulf.”

While the naked deacon crouched on his knees
at the altar, the conspirators left their candle behind and melted
into the darkness. Gina heard the south door close, and then the
church was silent, except for Fardulf’s sobs.

“Dominick, we have to get to Charles,” Gina
whispered.

“Wait a bit. One or two of those men may
decide to come back and finish the deacon after all, just to be
absolutely certain he doesn’t speak.”

They stood hidden behind the statue for what
seemed to Gina to be hours, until Dominick finally released her and
stepped into the nave.

“You were a fool to come here,” he said,
sounding angry.

“So were you,” she countered. “If those men
had seen you, they wouldn’t have been as kind to you as they were
to that poor, harmless little deacon.”

“What do you imagine they’d have done to
you?” he demanded, his voice growing louder.

“Who’s there?” cried Fardulf, cringing
against the altar.

“We’re friends.” Gina started forward. “Don’t
worry, we won’t hurt you.”

“A woman!” Fardulf tried in vain to cover
himself. “Don’t look at me. Oh, what shame!”

“You are not to blame for what happened,”
Gina said as firmly as she could manage, given her own recent
terror. Stooping, she plucked Fardulf s robe from the chancel floor
and draped it over his thin shoulders. “This is torn all the way
down the front, but I think there’s enough cloth for you to cover
yourself. Would you like my sash to fasten it?”

“Thank you, no. My cincture must be here
somewhere.” Fardulf began to look around the chancel.

“Here it is.” Dominick handed him the thick,
knotted cord that clerics wore as a belt. Fardulf seized it and
wrapped it around his narrow waist, thus securing the remnants of
his robe.

“Are you all right?” Gina asked.

“How could I be?” cried Fardulf. “I have just
been forced to swear a wicked oath. Oh, what shall I do?”

“There is a way for you to erase the shame of
what has happened here,” Dominick responded. “I once heard a bishop
argue that an oath sworn under duress is no oath at all.”

“What do you mean?” Fardulf stared at him as
if seeing a faint glimmer of hope through his terror.

“Those men gave you two choices,” Dominick
said. “You could swear as they demanded, or refuse and forfeit your
life.”

“I did as they wanted. I am a wretched
coward.”

“Far from it. You made the wiser choice. I am
assuming you did hear everything the conspirators said?”

Fardulf regarded Dominick fearfully and did
not respond.

“I need you to bear witness to what happened
here,” Dominick explained.

“Witness?” Fardulf squeaked.

“We heard everything, too,” Gina said,
speaking gently to encourage him to forget his very legitimate
fears. “The three of us, together, can convince Charles that our
story of the plot is true.”

“Charles? You expect me to speak to the
king?” Fardulf cried.

“You don’t want him to be murdered, do you?”
asked Dominick.

“Never. He is a good Christian ruler and
always generous to the Church. But I will have to find another robe
before I can go to the palace.”

“I want Charles to see you as you are now,”
Dominick said. “Let him know how roughly that band of traitors has
treated an honest deacon.”

“Charles will call you a, hero,” Gina
added.

“Do you think so?” Fardulf stood a little
straighter, throwing back his shoulders and lifting his chin. “In
that case, let us be on our way.”

“Don’t you have to light the candles for
Matins?” Gina asked.

“Oh, yes. I’d almost forgotten.” Fardulf took
the taper the conspirators had left, and, using both hands to
steady his arm, he began to light the thick candles that stood on
either side of the altar and at the foot of the chancel. “I
wouldn’t want anyone to say I’ve been derelict in my duties.”

“No one could possibly claim that,” Gina
assured him. Then, to Dominick, she added, “As I told Fardulf, I am
also going to Charles. I can back up the story you tell.”

“It will be better if no one knows of your
involvement in this matter,” Dominick objected.

“Do you actually expect me to find my way
back to your house alone in the dark?”

“Why not? You found your way here alone in
the dark.”

“I had you to follow,” she said sweetly, and
she saw in the candlelight the look of admiration he tried to hide
from her.

“We will go out by a different door from the
one the conspirators used,” Dominick said to Fardulf. “They may
have left a guard, in case anyone else was hiding in the church to
overhear their plans.”

At this Fardulf began to look frightened
again. He pulled himself together when Gina smiled at him and
touched his arm in a friendly way.

“We are depending on you,” she said.

“It will have to be the north transept door,
then,” Fardulf said to her. “It leads to an enclosed courtyard, and
from there it’s only a few steps to the street.”