Chained To The Barbarian

Chapter Two

Head thumping, William woke with a start and grabbed for his sword. Then he remembered—his sword was lost, he was a slave. Mind fogged with pain, he heaved himself into a sitting position. Out of the tangle in his head one question emerged. Are the girls safe?

He had been put on a clean pallet in an airy room that was busy with activity. He caught a brief impression of a wide tiled floor; of a line of tall windows billowing with drapery of some kind; of women rushing to and fro, long skirts swishing as they skimmed over polished marble. There was so much marble, so much light and air, he could not imagine where he might be.

He could not see the children.

A feminine hand pushed him back against the pillows, it belonged to the woman from the slave market, the one with smoky grey eyes. He wondered who she was. The brown gown and veil were so plain, she might be a servant. Yet her companion’s clothing had been equally plain, and that had not prevented her from finding money for three slaves …

‘Paula?’ His voice was creaky. He struggled back onto an elbow. ‘Daphne?’

The woman settled on a cushion at his side, a glass goblet in hand. The goblet caught William’s eye—the glass looked Venetian, it must have cost a fortune to have shipped it here. A Venetian glass goblet?

Where am I?

The woman smiled. It occurred to William that she was observing him most carefully, and had been for some time. ‘I take it that Daphne and Paula are the girls in your … party,’ she said, pointing to the other end of the chamber. ‘They are being well cared for. See?’

And there, in the centre of a circle of women, were the girls. Paula, in a fresh tunic, was holding the hand of one of the women. She was smiling. William’s throat tightened, he could not recall the last time he had seen Paula smile. Daphne, closely wrapped in what looked like silk, was safely in the lap of a motherly-looking wet-nurse on a gilded stool.

A gilded stool? Lord.

What is this place?

Daphne was being fed. The wet-nurse glanced William’s way without embarrassment and nodded at him.

‘As you see, the children are safe.’

William swallowed, but his throat was so parched it was well nigh impossible. Grimacing, he massaged his throat.

The woman leaned towards him, offering the goblet. ‘Wine?’

Clumsily, for his hand did not seem to be obeying him the way it ought to, William grasped the goblet and sipped.

‘I hope it is to your taste, it is watered,’ she said, lowering her voice and leaning towards him. Beneath her veil, he caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair. ‘I thought perhaps, you have not taken … refreshment for some time.’

Giving a jerky nod, William drank. He drank deep. The wine might be watered, but the flavour was richer and smoother than any he had tasted in his entire life. When he had emptied the glass, he sank back against his pillows and peered in amazement at the few remaining drops. Excellent wine served in a Venetian glass, a pillow softer than thistledown, a chamber that is the size of a knight’s hall, huge windows fluttering with silk draperies …

He cleared his throat. ‘Where? Where am I?’ His voice sounded like an unoiled hinge.

She gave him another of those tentative smiles. ‘In Princess Theodora’s apartments in the Boukoleon Palace.’

‘The Palace! This is the Great Palace?’ His head throbbed, the glass wavered in his grasp. A rush of emotion ran through him, confusing in its intensity.

Here, almost a quarter of a century ago or thereabouts, his reclusive mother had met his father. His irresponsible, careless father, the unknown Norman lord who had refused to marry his mother and had never acknowledged William’s existence. Having spent most of his life outside the Empire, William had never thought to set foot in its capital Constantinople, never mind the Great Palace.

‘Yes, you are in the Great Palace.’

Bile stung the back of William’s throat. Holy Heaven, finally, he had come to his mother’s birthplace. As a slave. ‘And the other woman, the one who was with you in the … market—she is Princess Theodora?’

The woman gave a jerky nod and the precious goblet was plucked from his fingers.

William glanced down the length of the chamber, the girls looked happier than he had ever seen them. Paula was still smiling, Daphne still feeding. Relaxing into the pillows with a sigh, he closed his eyes and willed his head to stop throbbing. He needed to think, but not about his mother, not yet. First, he had to get out of the Palace.

‘You are hungry?’

He opened his eyes. Hungry? His stomach growled.

The smoky grey eyes were anxious. ‘I have ordered beef. Would you like some?’

Briefly it crossed William’s mind that this might be a new torment his previous owner had devised for him. Beef. His mouth watered. He levered himself into a sitting position, almost choking on a sudden rush of saliva. Bruised muscles screamed in protest. Another pillow was thrust behind him and a bowl was handed over, smelling fragrantly of meat and herbs. When William reached for the spoon, he was shamed to see his hand was shaking, he was practically drooling.

She, bless her, pretended not to notice.

Beef. Lord. And bread.

William forced himself to eat slowly, but he did not pause until the bowl was empty, even going as far as to mop up the gravy with a chunk of bread.

She gave him a measure of privacy while he ate, flinging the odd remark to the other women in the chamber. ‘The baby feeds well, Sylvia?’

‘She is fine, my lady.’

My lady. She was no maidservant then, but why was she wearing such plain clothes? In the auction hall, Princess Theodora had been dressed equally simply. Had they been trying to conceal their status? But why should they want to do that? Were Imperial princesses forbidden to leave the Palace? Were they hedged about by rules? Certainly they had not gone to the slave market unaccompanied—dimly, William remembered a small escort. There had been that burly young man who might have been a bodyguard, as well as a couple of other men with a military look to them.

‘More beef?’

‘Please.’

The meat was tender and melted in his mouth, it was a struggle not to moan with delight.

Outside the tall windows, the mew of gulls told him that this part of the Great Palace was close to the sea. William racked his mind to recall what he knew of the Imperial Palace, but for the most part, his mind remained unhelpfully blank. His mother had not wished to speak about her time here and he suspected that what he had learned later in his life was closer to myth than reality.

The Norsemen had their own name for Constantinople—to them it was Miklagard. The greatest City in Christendom, the Imperial vaults—hidden somewhere beneath the Palace—were said to be crammed with the wealth of several hundred years of Imperial rule.

Smoky grey eyes were watching him.

Why was this woman, this lady, helping him? Why was she being so kind? It made no sense. She wants something from me.

‘Lady Anna?’ The wet-nurse spoke from across the room. She had finished feeding Daphne and was setting her down in a willow basket, cocooning her in wrappings.

William marked her name. Anna.

‘Yes, Sylvia?’

‘Do you wish me to remain in the apartment, my lady? Or shall I return to the servants’ quarters?’

Rising, Lady Anna left William’s side, moving with quiet grace across the marble floor. Lady Anna was tall and shapely, the brown veil fluttered with the sway of her hips. Joining the wet-nurse by the gilded stool, she smiled tenderly down at the sleeping baby. ‘The Princess would like you to remain here,’ she said. ‘Your duty is to care for these children.’

Sylvia wrinkled her brow. ‘Even though they are slaves?’

‘Yes, even so.’ Lady Anna’s voice was firm. ‘I do not believe they will be slaves for long.’

The wet-nurse’s jaw dropped. ‘The Princess is thinking to adopt them?’

Lady Anna’s gaze shifted and came to rest on a closed door, a slight frown formed on her brow. William wondered what lay behind that door, it seemed to unsettle her.

‘I believe so,’ she said. ‘When the Princess joins us, I am sure she will make her wishes plain.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘In the meantime, Sylvia, do your best for the children, you are in charge.’

Sylvia curtsied. ‘Yes, my lady. It is an honour to be serving the Princess. I shall not let her down.’

Giving the wet-nurse a look that William was unable to interpret, Lady Anna returned to stand by his pallet. Her expression was troubled, something in her exchange with the nurse had wiped the smile from her face. William could not imagine what might upset one of the Princess’s ladies, and he wasn’t going to dwell on it. The key point was that, finally, Daphne and Paula had come to a safe harbour. At last he could leave them, freedom was within his grasp.

William had a vague recollection of the Princess murmuring in his ear at the slave market, he was uncertain whether it had really happened. He might have dreamed it, but a chilling echo was sounding in his mind …

‘I have bought you for Lady Anna,’ the Princess had said. ‘It is she who owns you.’

Did he dream it? Did a mind fevered with exhaustion and ill treatment put words in Princess Theodora’s mouth? Did Lady Anna own him? He rubbed his temple. He was a knight—he should never have been enslaved in the first place! If only he could think straight …

‘Lady Anna?’

‘Yes?’ As she stood over him, the breeze from the windows pressed her gown against her body, briefly presenting him with a glimpse of a remarkably alluring body. Outside the seagulls screamed like lost souls.

William asked the important question, the only question. ‘My lady, am I a free man?’

Lady Anna nudged a cushion closer and, sinking on to it, folded her hands in her lap. ‘Are you a free man? It is true that the Princess bought you at my behest, but—’

‘Why?’ Months of suppressed fury made his voice curt. ‘Why did you ask her to buy me?’

She caught her breath and startled grey eyes looked warily at him. ‘Why? Because … because …’

‘What do you want of me?’ It was not this woman’s fault that he had been enslaved. She was not his enemy, indeed, she appeared to be helping him. Yet she had insisted that the Princess should buy him. Why? He gestured at the maidservants, the marble tables, the silken hangings. ‘You are not short of slaves here. What do you want of me?’

She recoiled. ‘I have not decided.’

Her back was straight as a poker and her eyes had lost their warmth. William hadn’t really noticed that warmth earlier, but now that it was gone … His heart clenched. The contrast with the confiding way she had taken her place at his side and this cold grey gaze could not be more marked. However, he had to know—Lady Anna must want something from him. Why waste money on a slave, if all she was going to do was free him? ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Do? At present you do not have to do anything … except recover. I do not intend to keep you, if that is what you mean. Of course, I cannot free you officially until the Princess has signed the document of ownership over to me. You will have to wait for that. I may have a simple task or two for you, but as I said, I am undecided as to whether you are … suitable. However, as soon as I can, I shall give you your document of manumission.’

‘You expect me to believe that you are going to free me?’ It was hard to keep the scorn from his voice. In William’s experience, people who offered favours always expected a sizeable return. Always. The price for a favour as large as this—his freedom!—was bound to be high. Not that he intended to be around to pay it. He was curious though, about what use a gently bred court lady might have for a Frankish slave.

She shrugged. ‘As you rightly observe, I have no need of you in the long term. I shall free you once the Princess has signed you over to me.’ She frowned in the direction of the closed door. ‘You must bear in mind that she must sign your documents before you may be freed.’

Lady Anna’s expression was earnest, she sounded convincing. It was tempting to believe her, tempting to think that he had at last met someone who was capable of putting others before herself. He shook his head. Much as he might wish it, life had taught him that only a saint would behave in such a way. ‘Slaves are generally bought for the long term. This simple task you have in mind must be of some importance.’

She flushed, her lips pursed. It was obvious she was not prepared to divulge the nature of the task she had in mind. It might be dangerous. And though Lady Anna did not strike him as anything but law abiding, it might be against the law.

Grey eyes searched his and after a moment she reached forwards, cool fingers feathered across his forehead. ‘Are you feeling stronger?’

William nodded, he took no notice of the pounding in his head.

‘Your skin was burning earlier, thankfully you seem cooler. Would you care for more wine?’

‘Please.’

Recognising the change of subject as meaning he would get nothing more from her, William sipped fine wine from the Venetian goblet and willed his anger away. For the moment he was content simply to watch her. His brain didn’t seem to be working for much else and watching her was preferable to snapping at her.

This woman was not his enemy. He must direct his anger at his real enemy, at whoever arranged for his capture in Apulia. Lady Anna had nothing to do with that. She may well want something from him, but she was going to be disappointed—he was going home to search out his enemy and take his revenge. In the meantime …

Watching Lady Anna was as pleasant a way of passing the time as any. William couldn’t say what it was about her, but she intrigued him. The simplicity of the dull brown gown and veil suggested someone whose rank was unremarkable, yet she was, apparently, lady-in-waiting to Princess Theodora.

And her Imperial mistress, as he recalled from what he had seen at the slave market, had worn equally unremarkable clothes. Why? And why had the Princess ventured outside the Palace with only a handful of men as her escort? Surely an Imperial princess should have a great entourage? The customs of the Great Palace were as much a mystery to William as the subtleties of female attire, but one thing he had learned from what had happened to his mother—there was a rigid hierarchy in the Imperial Palace.

Here, rank meant everything. As in any great palace, courtiers must fight and jostle for power. Reputation and prestige would be guarded most jealously. So the quiet foray that Lady Anna and her princess had made to the slave market had been unorthodox, to say the least of it.

It was on the tip of William’s tongue to inform her that he was no slave, that he was a knight from the Duchy of Apulia and Calabria, but the old instincts were strong. Until he knew more about the Palace, until he knew more about this woman and what she wanted him to do, he would tread warily. Life had taught him not to give his trust too easily, it was a lesson which was hard to set aside.

Her gaze was downcast, giving him leisure to study her. Her eyelashes were long and dark, and her eyes had been lightly outlined with some cosmetic. Other than that her face was clear of paint. His mouth went up at a corner. No whore of Babylon here. Her nose was straight and beneath her veil her hair looked to be wavy, dark tendrils were curling about her forehead. Her complexion was clear, her skin was a golden olive in tone.

Why should a lady-in-waiting be nursing a slave? It made no sense, unless she was studying him to see if he was fit for this secret purpose of hers.

That hazy memory stirred and he was back at the slave market with the Princess murmuring in his ear. ‘I have bought you for Lady Anna, it is she who owns you.’

What can Lady Anna want of me?

Draining the goblet, he handed it back. ‘My thanks.’

Mon Dieu, he was weary, from head to foot everything ached. Yawning, William let his eyelids droop.

With the children safe, there was nothing more to delay him. He would rest awhile … and then, whether or not Lady Anna freed him, he would take his leave of this place. He must find the man who betrayed him in Apulia—he would have justice!

William dragged up the covers and found himself at the receiving end of a gentle smile. The warmth was back in her eyes, Lady Anna had forgiven him his curtness. He had responded with a smile of his own before he had time to check it. Whatever she might want of him, she seemed to be a good woman, she was certainly a beautiful one. But it would take more than a gentle smile to make him put his faith in anyone but himself.

‘Before you rest, please … what is your name?’

‘William.’

‘William of …? Where are you from? You were born outside the Empire, I think.’

Her voice was quietly persistent. It was likely she was trying to lull him into lowering his guard and believing he could trust her. She would not succeed. And even though William would be leaving shortly, he was reluctant to confess that he was in truth a knight. His pride was not ready for the public admission that he, Sir William Bradfer, had been enslaved.

‘The slave master said that you were a Frank,’ she added.

William grunted. Her presence at his side was oddly comforting, which proved nothing except that his months as a slave had weakened him. Hunching his shoulder on her, William closed his eyes. Now that the children were safe, he must give his body a chance to regain its strength.

And then, regardless of Lady Anna’s intentions, he would make his escape. Apulia, and revenge on his unknown enemy, awaited.

Anna stood frowning outside the Princess’s bedchamber. She exchanged glances with the guard at the door, a new recruit called Kari.

What is going on? Katerina and the Commander have been in there for an age! Surely they are not … are not …?

With a click, the bedchamber door swung open and the Commander came out, buckling on his belt.

He is buckling on his belt? No!

Jaw agape, Anna watched him leave the apartment. She hurtled into the bedchamber, slamming the door behind her.

‘Princess!’ she cried, remembering even in her dismay, to use the title that Katerina had assumed. ‘Are you mad?’

She could scarcely believe what she was seeing. Katerina is naked under that sheet! Naked. ‘What in heaven is going on?’

Katerina shrugged. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘The Commander and you …?’

‘Yes, Anna, the Commander and I.’

This was terrible. Everything was going wrong. In her role as Princess Theodora, Katerina had returned to the Palace only yesterday, everyone believed she was preparing to meet her betrothed. As Anna bent to retrieve Katerina’s gown and veil from the floor, her thoughts whirled. When Princess Theodora, the real Princess Theodora, had asked for Anna’s help in this masquerade, Anna had feared it was doomed from the start. It was true that Katerina bore a striking resemblance to Princess Theodora, it was also true that the Princess had not returned to the Palace for at least ten years, so few here would recognise her, but the pitfalls were many. Anna had known there would be … difficulties. But never once did she suspect that Katerina might put the entire scheme at risk by bedding the Commander …!