Chained To The Barbarian

Chapter Three

The strapping on his shoulder wasn’t tight, William flexed his arm for her and opened and closed his fingers. She followed the movement. With a jolt, William saw bright colour flood her cheeks as she observed the play of the muscles in his biceps. He repeated the movement, conscious of a pleasant tightening in his belly as she jerked her gaze away.

Keeping his face straight, for this prim lady-in-waiting amused him, he cleared his throat. ‘I do feel a little weak yet, I shall have to follow an exercise regime to build up my muscles.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice was faint. Crimson-cheeked, she stared fixedly at a brazier at the other end of the room. ‘Strengthening exercises.’

To draw her gaze, he touched her sleeve and instantly her eyes locked with his—the contact had startled her. I may not touch her, I am yet a slave in her mind. Carefully, William removed his fingers from her sleeve, but the urge to tease remained.

‘My lady, I have …’ he ran his hand over his cheeks and grimaced ‘… a favour to ask.’ With effort, he kept his face straight, fully aware that what he was about to ask bordered on insolence. She was so prim, though, he simply could not help himself.

‘Yes?’

‘I need to shave. I must look like a wild man.’

Her eyes widened, she examined him closely and, Lord, now it was he whose cheeks were burning. Not that she would be able to see, his beard would hide it. Thankfully.

‘You want to shave?’

‘If you do not …’ William groped for the right word ‘… trust me with a knife you could shave me.’

She drew her head back, the movement expressed outrage.

William waited. Laughter was a breath away, he could see, he could actually see her struggle to decide whether to chastise him for being deliberately insolent or whether to let it pass because he might really want to shave. In her eyes his motives would likely be mysterious, he was a Frank, a barbarian from beyond the boundaries of the Empire.

It was when she nibbled her bottom lip, that full bottom lip, and William could not take his eyes off it, that he realised that somehow the boot had got on to the wrong foot. Suddenly, most inappropriately, he was aching to feel those gentle fingers on his cheeks, he wanted them caressing him under the guise of rubbing soap into his skin.

In a heartbeat, the idea of being shaved by Lady Anna had transformed. It was no longer a suggestion designed to wring an interesting reaction from her, it was a suggestion that had sent the hot blood rushing to his loins. Lord. Shifting on his pallet, William watched and waited to see whether she was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

She swallowed. ‘It is customary for Frankish men to shave off their beards?’

For a second time, William was forced to clear his throat. ‘It is customary. I feel unkempt.’

‘How long have you been in our Empire, William?’

‘Not long.’ In truth, William could not give her a full answer. What with the drugs the slavers had given him and the subsequent beatings, he had no clear idea how long it had been since he had been taken from Apulia.

‘Here in our Empire, men …’ careful emphasis was placed on the last word, those tantalising lips pursed ‘… wear beards. You will look like a eunuch.’

‘A eunuch!’ God have mercy! William had forgotten that here in the Imperial Palace eunuchs were commonplace. They were chosen for high office because it was thought that men who were unable to found a dynasty were more likely to be loyal. ‘Do I look like a eunuch?’

And then he saw it. A tiny smile trembled at the corners of her mouth. Little witch! She had realised he was teasing her and was repaying him in kind.

Repressing an impulse to take her hand, William ran his fingers round several days of stubble. ‘My lady, local customs notwithstanding, I feel unkempt.’

Nodding, she gestured for one of the girls. ‘Juliana?’

‘My lady?’

‘We require a bowl of hot water, some soap and a razor.’

The maidservant gave William a dark glance. ‘A razor, my lady? Are you certain?’

‘Please.’

Curtsying, Juliana went to find water.

William rubbed his chin. ‘Thank you, my lady. I feel like a brigand with a beard.’ He lay back and fixed her with a look. ‘Mind that when it is done, there are to be no remarks about eunuchs.’

A carefully plucked brow arched. ‘You are not yet free—you are in no position to make such pronouncements.’

The Frank is exhausted, Anna thought, when he made no response to her comment. Instead, he closed his eyes and seemed to drop straight into sleep. And no wonder. When did he last have a proper night’s rest?

‘Here is the water, my lady,’ Juliana said, setting a large ewer down on a wall table. She had several linen cloths over her arm. ‘Will you wake him?’

A light snore reached her. How strange. I know that his request for me to shave him was made largely to goad me into some reaction, but I feel a distinct pang that I am unable to do so. How ridiculous! Surely I am not looking for an excuse to touch him? How unladylike. And how inappropriate, this man is a slave, a Frankish slave.

And yet, here I am, sitting at his side, unable to stop studying that strong, bristled jaw. Wondering what it might be like to touch him. I like his face, I like his form. And his mouth—how can so beautiful a mouth be so uncompromisingly male?

In truth, I wonder what it would be like to be married to such a man?

This is a wild idea. This is a burst of folly that does not belong in a sensible, practical mind. I know nothing about this man, nothing. There must be other solutions. When I see Father tomorrow—

‘My lady?’

Anna started. ‘My pardon, Juliana. What did you say?’

‘Do you wish me to wake him?’

‘Oh! N … no. It is likely he needs rest far more than he needs to shave.’

The look in Juliana’s eyes was knowing. She had observed Anna’s reaction to the Frank and had drawn her own conclusions. Anna’s face burned.

This will not do. I am lady-in-waiting to the Princess Theodora, I should not be entertaining feelings of any kind for this man. He is a stranger, a barbarian slave. It would be much better if I resolved matters with my father without him.

I wonder, was he born a slave? That cannot be, he has the look of a warrior about him, a warrior who, despite appalling maltreatment, has honour enough to care for two small children. And the way he addresses one, there is little subservience in his tone. Why is he a slave?

This man is no slave.

‘Let him sleep,’ Anna said.

Thankfully, the door to the Princess’s bedchamber opened and Juliana turned that knowing gaze on Katerina. Anna’s mouth twisted. In Juliana’s mind, the scandal of what Princess Theodora Doukaina had been doing in her chamber with Commander Ashfirth clearly outweighed Lady Anna’s paltry fascination with the Frank she had found in the slave market.

Rising, Anna shook out her skirts. ‘Princess Theodora has expressed a desire to visit the bathhouse,’ she said. ‘I shall be attending her.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Juliana, should the Frank waken while we are elsewhere, you may offer to shave him.’

When Juliana’s eyes went hard, Anna saw that she was in for an argument. Juliana was a servant, not a slave, and she thought the task beneath her.

‘Must I, Lady Anna?’

Anna gave her a straight look. ‘That was an order, Juliana, not a request.’

Juliana lowered her head. ‘Yes, my lady, my apologies.’

And when Katerina and I have finished in the bathhouse, I shall have decided what to do with him.

William woke to the smell of loaves, fresh from the oven. Bright slashes of light poured through the windows and lay on the marble floor tiles, like stripes on a shield. No sooner was he sitting up than a serving girl approached.

‘You would eat?’ she asked, offering him a basket filled to the brim with bread, cheese and dried figs.

‘My thanks.’ Balancing the basket on his lap, William picked up the bread. Warm. Since this might be the last food he was given for some time, he was going to make the most of it.

Across the chamber, it was heartening to see Daphne and Paula being cared for by Sylvia and Juliana. Lady Anna was near a brazier at the far end, breaking her fast at one of the side tables with the Princess. She had put away the dowdy brown gown. Today, Lady Anna was wearing blue silk and was every inch the noblewoman—the beautiful noblewoman.

Lady Anna and her princess looked abstracted—William received the impression that they were in a hurry. Lady Anna’s attention was certainly taken up with Princess Theodora, she didn’t glance his way though she must be aware he had woken.

William squashed a twinge of disappointment, it was best this way. He would be gone from the Palace this morning, at the first opportunity—there would be no regrets. During the night, he had come to a decision. The thought of staying in the Great Palace while he gleaned more about his mother’s past was tempting, but too much was at stake, he had to get back to Apulia. He had his future to consider and he wanted justice—the man who had wronged him must not go unpunished.

And once that had been accomplished … Lady Felisa might have rejected him, but perhaps some other lady might consider his suit. It was likely such a lady would be less well-endowed than Lady Felisa Venafro, he had been aiming too high with her. Yes, a less well-endowed lady might consider him. Or … an older one. Some older ladies took young knights to husband and William knew he was not considered ill-favoured. If his lack of lands worked against him, perhaps his looks might work for him.

William’s gaze had drifted back to Lady Anna, she was lifting a goblet to her lips, grace and elegance in her every movement. Her quiet beauty was most appealing. And far too distracting.

Reminding himself that an army marched on its stomach and that he must stay focused on his escape, he turned his attention back to his food. The cheese was soft and white and as fresh as the bread. He chewed thoughtfully.

He would make his escape at the first chance. Lady Anna had said that she would free him, but he could not wait on the pleasure of a titled lady. He would go today, while their guard was lowered. No one expected him to make a move—they believed him to be recovering. He would have to take care where the Varangians were concerned, though. He would need arms, clothing …

A draught lifted William from his plans in time for him to see a flash of blue silk and the shimmer of a blue veil shot through with silver threads. Lady Anna was gliding past him, the Princess at her side. They left the apartment. He stared after them, stirred by an uncomfortable emotion he was unable to interpret. It was as though that brief moment of shared amusement the evening before had never happened. With a grimace, he rubbed his chin. He was in even more of a need of a shave this morning than he had been when she had teased him about resembling a eunuch.

‘Excuse me?’ The maidservant Juliana cleared her throat. ‘Do you care for shaving water?’

William had opened his mouth to accept when it struck him that shaving might not be the best idea. If Lady Anna was to be believed, most men in the City wore beards, like Saxons. If he shaved, he would draw attention to himself and a runaway slave ought not to be drawing attention to himself.

‘I would appreciate water to wash in,’ he said, ‘but I shall wait until I am stronger before I shave.’

The maid clapped her hands. ‘Kari! Kari!’

The main doors of the apartment opened and a guard appeared. It was the Varangian he had noted earlier. Absently, William picked a dried fig and sank his teeth into it. The guard was a Varangian to be sure, but he looked very young.

How much experience can a boy like that have?

‘Kari,’ the maidservant said, ‘when this man has finished breaking his fast, would you be so good as to direct him to the bathhouse on the ground floor?’

The maid was asking the guard to show him to a bathhouse? William could hardly believe his ears. His heart thudded. His moment had come—freedom was within his grasp.

William gave the maid one of his best smiles. ‘Thank you, I confess I would appreciate a visit to the bathhouse after I have eaten.’

Daphne and Paula were safe—he could leave with an easy conscience. He would allow enough time for Lady Anna and the Princess to get well clear of the Boukoleon, and then … freedom!

When Katerina—in her guise as the Princess—had expressed a desire to escape the Palace for a while, Anna understood exactly how she felt. If Anna found it unnerving pretending to be serving the Princess when in truth she was serving an impostor, it must be even more unnerving for Katerina.

If we are caught, what will happen to us? Will it be enough to say we have been following Princess Theodora’s orders?

The real Princess had insisted that Anna and Katerina carry letters that stated they were acting on her instructions, but Katerina was starting to show a distressing tendency to go her own way. It did not bode well.

They passed through the door of the Boukoleon Palace and into the first of the courtyards. A light rain was falling. By rights they ought not to leave the Palace unescorted, but Anna sensed that Katerina wanted to talk and they could scarcely talk openly with the Emperor’s personal guard breathing down their necks.

Anna drew up her hood and led the way along paths that glistened with wet. As they left one courtyard and entered another on their way to the Chalke Gate, the hairs rose on Anna’s neck. Where was everyone? The grounds were eerily empty of people.

It is far too quiet.

Through an arch, a lone peacock trailed across one of the lawns, its brilliant glory lost and bedraggled. When its shriek broke the silence, Anna almost leaped out of her skin. A slave was hurrying along the paths by one of the smaller palaces, but she could see no one else. Of course, with everyone absent, who would notice them wandering about without an escort? Her skin prickled. It felt unnatural—she had never seen the Palace so deserted.

Where is everyone? Can the rumours be true?

Anna had only been back in the capital for a couple of days, but disturbing news had reached her. The army had acclaimed General Alexios as Emperor, raising him on their shields in the traditional Roman manner.