Timestruck (34 page)

“Wake up,” she whispered. “Stay with me,
Dominick. Please, I need you.”

There was no response. Nevertheless, Gina
continued to speak to him. She had read somewhere that unconscious
patients who recovered had reported hearing all that was said in
their vicinity. She wasn’t going to let Dominick think he had been
abandoned. She held his hand and spoke softly into his ear until
she was interrupted by a man-at-arms.

“My lady, the king wishes to speak with you.
I am ordered to conduct you to him.”

She had been sitting on the stool for so long
that she stumbled when she tried to get up. The man-at-arms caught
her by the waist and stood her on her feet, then removed his hands
at once.

“I will stay with Dominick while you’re
gone.” Harulf, scrubbed and bandaged, stepped forward. “Lady Gina,
you and I know who must be behind that dastardly attack. Charles
needs to know, too. I trust you will not hesitate to speak the
queen’s name.”

“I will do whatever is necessary to protect
Dominick,” Gina said. “Don’t leave him alone for a moment. And keep
talking to him.”

Charles’s private audience chamber was by now
becoming familiar to Gina. She scowled with impatience as she
looked around the simply furnished room with its woven wall
hangings. When Charles appeared a few moments after she arrived and
invited her to sit, she refused the offer.

“I prefer to remain on my feet, thank you.”
She bit off the words, fighting against the righteous anger that
was beginning to flood over her.

“How is Dominick?” Charles asked.

“Brother Anselm has done his best, but no one
knows whether Dominick will live or die.” She couldn’t be polite;
she snapped her response at him, and Charles looked taken aback at
her rudeness.

“And Lady Adalhaid?” he asked after a moment
or two of uncomfortable silence. “How is she?”

“She appears to be recovering quickly from a
head wound. So is Deacon Fardulf recovering from his wounds, and
Harulf, and I. I don’t know how many of your men-at-arms, or of the
attackers, will recover, or how long it will be before any of your
men are well enough to go back on duty. Does that answer all your
questions?”

“I do regret this incident.” Charles spoke
rather mildly, considering Gina’s provocative attitude.

“Incident?” she repeated, flinging the word
back in his face. “It was a deliberate attack on a party that was
unarmed!”

“Has no one told you that the six men-at-arms
I sent to escort you and Dominick and Lady Adalhaid to me were set
upon and killed before they could reach you?” Charles asked.

“No,” Gina said, more politely. “I didn’t
know. We assumed that you believed Regensburg so safe that no armed
escort was necessary. That’s why only Harulf was with us. If it
weren’t for Deacon Fardulf, who saw the horsemen coming, we’d have
had no warning at all. The four of us would be dead, just like your
men-at-arms.”

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.” Gina paused, struck by
a sudden question. “Who would dare attack the king’s men? Don’t
tell me there are still traitors on the loose who weren’t rounded
up weeks ago?”

“The killers were guards attached to
Fastrada’s service. I assume the men who attacked you were also
Fastrada’s.”

Gina’s jaw dropped in amazement that Charles
would admit it. She stared at the man, at one of the greatest kings
in history, who couldn’t control his own wife.

“That’s lovely,” she said when she could
speak again. “Just lovely. Dominick told me he thought you were
setting a trap for Fastrada and using us as bait.”

Charles did not respond. He looked at her
with a sad expression on his face but not one bit of guilt or
regret that she could see.

“Your clever little scheme almost killed the
finest man I have ever known. How could you do such a thing?”
Gina’s anger and her fear for Dominick rose beyond her power to
control them. She didn’t care who Charles was, how great or how
famous in history. “Dominick is completely loyal to you, and you
knew that when you set him up. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!
Instead of endangering the lives of people who love and respect
you, why don’t you stop that conniving, vicious wife of yours?”

“I have done so,” Charles said. “I understand
your outrage, Gina, for I, too, love Dominick. He has been like a
son to me.”

It was on the tip of Gina’s tongue to tell
him that he hadn’t treated Dominick much like a son, when she
thought of Pepin. Charles wasn’t always kind to his sons.

“An hour ago,” Charles said, “I dismissed all
Fastrada’s servants and guards, all her ladies-in-waiting. Every
person who is loyal to her has left the palace. I have sent every
man and woman of them home, except for a few who are on their way
to convents or monasteries. They will be replaced by people who are
responsible directly to me.”

“It’s a bit late for housecleaning,” Gina
said, unwilling to relent an inch, not when Dominick lay near death
because of Fastrada’s hatred. “While you’re mentioning people loyal
to Fastrada, where is Father Guntram? I haven’t seen him since
before the trial. I hope you haven’t sent him back to Prum, to rant
and rave at poor Pepin for the rest of his life.”

“No,” Charles responded with a bitter twist
to his mouth. “I deeply regret giving Pepin into the care of that
cold-hearted priest. Father Guntram is on his way to Rome, carrying
a message from me to the pope. One of the men-at-arms charged with
seeing to his safety also bears a message, in which I ask the Holy
Father to assign Father Guntram to a post beyond the borders of
Francia.

“Soon I will begin to travel around Francia
again,” Charles told her. “In recent years I have neglected the
first duty of a king, which is to listen to his people and make the
best decisions for them.”

“I am sure the common folk will be thrilled
to see you and Fastrada,” Gina retorted with all the sarcasm she
could muster.

“Fastrada will remain in Regensburg when I
leave,” Charles said. “Later, if she so wishes, I will grant her
permission to move to Worms when the new palace there is finished,
or to Mainz, if she prefers. But she will travel with me no more. I
no longer reside with Fastrada.”

“Are you planning to divorce her?” Gina found
it difficult to believe.

“I cannot. The Church has declared any
marriage that has been blessed by a priest to be indissoluble,”
Charles said. He took a breath before continuing, and Gina could
only guess how difficult his marital situation was for him.

“For the sake of the love I once bore
Fastrada, and because I love the two daughters she has given me, I
will not humiliate her in public,” Charles said. “From this hour
onward, I will not speak of what she has done.”

“You will need an explanation for why she
isn’t with you any longer,” Gina reminded him. “People are bound to
ask questions.”

“I will simply claim that she is too ill to
accompany me. Fastrada has always been in delicate health, and she
is known to dislike travel, so no other excuse will be
necessary.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I never intended for Dominick or you or Lady
Adalhaid to be hurt,” Charles said. “You deserved to know why I put
you in danger, and since Dominick is too sorely wounded to come to
me, I have chosen to tell you the truth. I swear you to secrecy,
Gina. Never reveal what I have said in this room.”

“I refuse to keep something so important from
Dominick,” she exclaimed.

“I expected that response from you.” Charles
smiled at her, his charming, bewitching smile that could almost
always convince strong men and brave-hearted women to do whatever
he asked of them. “When Dominick is well enough, you have my
permission to tell him, in strictest privacy, what I have just told
you. Is that acceptable to you?”

“It is,” she said, relenting just a little.
“
If
Dominick recovers, I will tell him, and only him.” She
saw Charles wince at the emphasis she put on the word
if
and
she understood that he did regret the harm done to all those who
had been caught up in his plan to trap Fastrada in one last,
vicious scheme that she would be unable to deny. Perhaps in the
future Charles would think twice before allowing a wife or lover to
run amok with too much unsupervised power.

The wound in Dominick’s side began to heal
with only a slight degree of infection. Brother Anselm adhered
scrupulously to Gina’s directions about using only boiled water to
wash the area, and he replaced the bandage with clean linen every
day.

A far more frightening problem than the wound
was the fact that Dominick did not regain consciousness. He lay
like a man already dead, his only sign of life the regular
expansion of his chest as he drew breath.

Gina began to appreciate the benefits of the
medical advances of her own century as she seldom had before.
Dominick was wasting away, and they were unable to get either food
or fluids into him. Brother Anselm warned her that if they tried,
Dominick could choke to death, for in his present condition he was
incapable of swallowing. Gina would gladly have given her right arm
for a nurse with intravenous equipment and the sterile fluids that
would keep Dominick alive until he could eat and drink again.

“If he revives,” said Brother Anselm, “it
will be weeks before he is fully recovered. All too often patients
who remain unconscious for so long never entirely regain their
wits. I wish there were more that I could do for him. Beyond
keeping him clean and comfortable, all I can suggest is
prayer.”

Gina wanted to scream out her fear and
frustration. She restrained herself, because she knew Brother
Anselm was treating Dominick as best he could. He was a kindly man,
wise in the medicine of his own time and place, but his learning
wasn’t adequate to Dominick’s injuries.

During those days of constant fear, if the
infirmary ceiling had opened up to show Gina a way to return to New
York, she would have seized Dominick in her arms and tried to carry
him into the twentieth century with her. Once there, she’d have
taken him to the nearest hospital and demanded that he be treated,
no matter what the expense. She’d sell her body or her soul, if
necessary, to pay for Dominick’s recovery.

But the ceiling never opened. Dominick
remained in his stuporous condition, and Gina began to lose
hope.

She and Harulf and Lady Adalhaid took turns
sitting with him. Both Harulf and Lady Adalhaid insisted that Gina
must return to Dominick’s house each day for at least a few hours,
to bathe and sleep and change her clothes, so she could return to
her nursing duties refreshed.

“When Dominick wakens,” Lady Adalhaid said
one afternoon, “he won’t be cheered to see you looking haggard and
starving. Attend to your clothes and your hair, Gina. Keep up your
appearance for Dominick’s sake.”

They were in the hall at Dominick’s house,
and Gina had just shoved her plate of food aside. Lady Adalhaid
pushed the full plate back to Gina, who regarded it with distaste
and a growing sense of incipient nausea.

“Keep up my sagging spirits, you mean,” Gina
said, swallowing hard.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Lady
Adalhaid. “It’s what I forced myself to do for all those sad years
when Hiltrude was living at Chelles and dared not leave there. My
faith and hope were rewarded. So will yours be.”

“Dominick’s condition is different from
Hiltrude’s.”

“She was in danger for her life. So is
Dominick. Eat, Gina.” It was said with the firm resolve of a
determined mother.

“I am so glad you postponed returning to
Trier,” Gina said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lady Adalhaid s hand closed over hers, and
suddenly Gina couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She began to
sob uncontrollably. Lady Adalhaid put her arms around Gina, pulled
the younger woman’s head onto her shoulder, and sat there holding
her, letting Gina cry until she was too drained to continue.

“I think you needed that,” Lady Adalhaid
said, releasing her. “Now, eat a little, drink some wine, and then
take a nap. I am going to the infirmary to relieve Harulf, but Ella
and Imma will be here if you need anything. I am sure you will be
more cheerful when you see Dominick later this evening.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

“It’s I who owe a debt to you.” Lady Adalhaid
caught Gina s face between her hands and kissed her forehead. Then
she stepped back and wagged a finger at Gina. “Now, go to
sleep.”

“Yes, Mama.” As soon as she realized what
she’d said, Gina caught her breath, uncertain how Lady Adalhaid
would react.

Lady Adalhaid chuckled. “I always did want
another daughter,” she said. “You’ll do nicely, provided you
develop a habit of following my instructions.”

The sun was setting when Gina reached the
infirmary. She had slept well and had eaten again before leaving
the house, and, to her surprise, she was feeling more hopeful.

But the moment she walked into the infirmary,
her heart sank. Lady Adalhaid was helping Brother Anselm wring out
a wet sheet, which they then spread out over Dominick’s exposed
body.

“What’s wrong now?” Gina cried, hurrying to
the bedside.

“Count Dominick has developed a severe
fever,” Brother Anselm explained. “We are attempting to lower it by
cooling him. This is the accepted treatment, my lady. Please do not
tell me a fever is treated differently in your country.”

“I won’t,” Gina said. “Is there any ice
available?”

“Earlier in the season there would have been.
We keep blocks of ice stacked in the buttery. Unfortunately, the
weather has been so warm of late that all the ice has melted. There
is none left at the palace, either. I have asked.”