Bound to the Barbarian
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He was puzzling it out when those long lashes swept down. She had darkened her eyelashes, too, they appeared thicker and longer than when she had spoken to him through the convent grille. It was baffling how the cosmetics defined her eyes and drew his gaze, while at the same time they seemed to hide her. She looked mysterious and other worldly. Earlier, he had been conversing with a pretty young woman. Did she usually face the world from behind a painted mask?
Shame. I prefered the pretty woman.
But this, Ashfirth must remember, was the Princess, his opinion of her was irrelevant.
For her departure from St Mary’s, the rest of Princess Theodora’s face was almost entirely swathed in her veil. Her body was lost beneath the folds of a green silk cloak. She was slender, as far as he could judge, tiny and delicate. Gold glittered at her throat, in the threads of her veil, at her fingers and wrists.
‘Princess Theodora?’ Aware that he had been staring, Ashfirth bowed. Behind him, he could hear the men saluting, their coats of mail clinking.
‘Commander.’
He held out his hand. She would not like what he had to say. Ashfirth might have set aside his mailcoat, but he was painfully aware that he was no courtier to win her over with clever words. He would simply have to do his best.
Slim fingers lightly touched his. When he attempted to lead her away from her ladies, she pointedly withdrew her hand from his. It was not quite a snub, but it was close.
‘Despoina, will you walk this way? There are matters I would discuss with you.’
She gestured haughtily at one of the women. ‘Lady Anna, please attend me.’
Ashfirth cleared his throat. ‘My apologies, my lady, but what I have to say is for your ears alone.’
An arched brow lifted, the brown eyes searched his.
Ash found himself holding his breath. He was praying that she was not going to prove troublesome. He had his orders and he had hoped to execute them with courtesy—she was a princess—but after receiving a disturbing report in Dyrrachion this morning, he realised he might no longer have that luxury. If Princess Theodora became awkward, he might have to resort to force.
When she nodded, Ash breathed again.
‘Very well, Commander.’
She allowed him to lead her to one of the apple trees at the edge of the orchard. Her ladies remained by the convent gates, their silk veils fluttering in the breeze: pink, green, bronze. Bright as butterflies. One of the goats must have got into the convent again, Ashfirth could hear it bleating from over the wall. It sounded rather like a baby crying. The Princess must have heard it, too, because for a moment her attention wandered from him.
She sighed and then those dark, outlined eyes were looking expectantly at him. ‘Commander?’
‘Despoina, if you will forgive me, I must be blunt.’
‘Please, say what you must.’
Be courteous, she is a princess. Be tactful. Do not question her about her failure to respond to the Emperor’s letters.
‘When we arrived in Dyrrachion,’ Ash kept his voice low, confidential, ‘one of my troopers overheard a conversation in Norman French.’ He paused; she must be aware there had been Frankish incursions into Imperial territory in Apulia. She had been out of the Empire for some years, but surely even in Rascia word must have reached her about losses in Apulia?
She frowned, eyes bright and alert. Clever. She had heard. ‘You think they are spies, that the Normans have designs on Dyrrachion? How many were there?’
‘My men saw only two, my lady. We do not know what they are planning, but their presence here does concern me. Several Frankish ships have been sighted in these waters. It is vital we leave without fanfare, and because our Varangian galleys are so distinctive, I have reserved a Venetian merchantman for your use.’
Rings flashing, she waved at her entourage, at the pile of trunks and travelling chests that had been deposited next to her ladies-in-waiting. Brand was in their midst. Ash had asked him to discover which of the trunks belonged to the Princess so that they might be extracted from the rest, the baggage mules were waiting.
‘As you see, we are ready, Commander,’ she said, voice aloof.
Ashfirth cleared his throat and resisted the desire to shift the weight from his healing leg. ‘I am sorry to say this, my lady, but with your uncle’s enemies nearby, it is vital we leave as unobtrusively as possible.’
An immaculately plucked eyebrow rose.
‘It would not do—’ Ash pressed doggedly on ‘—for word to reach the Normans that the Emperor’s niece was seen boarding a ship bound for the capital.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Your entourage is too large. So many ladies are bound to attract attention.’
‘Commander, my ladies-in-waiting accompany me everywhere. Surely you are not telling me I cannot take my ladies…that…that I must travel alone with you?’ Her voice was high, incredulous.
Spoilt, of course. Used to getting her own way. A pang of something that felt surprisingly like disappointment shot through him. Spoilt. Ash held down a sigh and reminded himself that he was dealing with a member of the Imperial family. This woman had spent much of her life in a foreign court where a Greek princess was bound to have been seen as a rare treasure. Her every whim would have been granted. It had probably been years since she had been denied anything.
And Ash did not like the tone in which she had asked if she must travel alone with him—as though he were some kind of monster.
‘I am not saying that your ladies may not travel to Constantinople, despoina. All I am saying is that they may not travel on your ship. I would suggest that they follow us in the Varangian galley in a couple of days’ time. My captain, Brand, will accompany them. You need not concern yourself about their safety—Brand is my best man.’
Her chin inched up and her veil slipped to reveal a pretty mouth; it was set in a very determined line. ‘It is not their safety that concerns me.’
In the face of such arrogance, Ash could only stare. ‘My lady—’
‘I do not travel alone.’
The veil slipped a little further, and she drew it back over her face. It was then that he noticed her hand was trembling.
The Princess was nervous? When she glanced sideways at his men, Ash realised he was right—Princess Theodora was nervous.
He looked down at her dispassionately. Did his men frighten her? The Varangian Guard were famed the world over for being ruthless warriors, but she must know they would never harm her.
Hell, we came for her in full battle regalia. He had had no choice. To do otherwise, when Normans were hanging around the nearby port, would have been foolhardy in the extreme.
Ash became conscious of an unsettled feeling in his core and realised he was weakening towards her. It was likely that this woman never took a step without her ladies. Was he asking too much?
It was also becoming painfully clear that he was not as well equipped for executing this commission as he had hoped. His experience in dealing with princesses was non-existent. This was the first time he had addressed one face-to-face—if face-to-face was the right way to describe a conversation with someone so heavily veiled that most of her features were hidden. Be that as it may, he clearly could not expect her to travel alone with him. ‘You may choose one lady-in-waiting to come with you on the merchantman, ‘ he said.
Relief sprang into her eyes, the darkened lashes lowered. There was a pause, then.
‘Thank you.’
Then her lashes lifted and Ash felt a distinct jolt. He was taken by a most inappropriate urge to examine that pretty, determined mouth; it was a struggle to keep his eyes politely on hers.
‘And you say you plan to accompany me in the merchantman, Commander?’
‘Yes.’
‘As for my other ladies—can you assure me that they will follow in the Varangian galley?’
‘Indeed.’ Ash smiled, and offered her his arm. It was a relief when she laid her fingers on his sleeve. ‘From now on, we shall have to be careful how we address you.’
‘Oh?’
‘It is important that no one realises who you are.’
For some reason her eyes widened and she bit her lip. ‘I see.’
‘So with your permission, my lady, from this moment I shall refer to you simply as Lady Theodora. Will that be agreeable?’
‘I…yes.’
‘Which of your ladies will you choose to take with you?’
‘Lady Anna, I should like Lady Anna to accompany me.’
Ashfirth nodded and looked her up and down. ‘My lady, there is another matter I feel we should discuss before we leave. Your clothing.’
‘My clothing?’ A small hand stroked down her silken skirt. ‘What is wrong with my clothing?’
‘Can you ride in that gown? In that veil? Are they not too fine?’
Her doe eyes went wide. ‘Ride?’ She swallowed. ‘Commander, I. I do not ride.’
Ashfirth went stock-still. Behind that veil she had definitely lost colour. She cannot ride? Whoever heard of a princess who could not ride? Was she afraid of horses? And why the devil had no one thought fit to inform him of that fact? ‘You don’t ride?’
She glanced briefly towards her ladies, as though searching for help. Her chin inched up. ‘No, Commander, I do not.’
Swallowing a curse, Ash fought to keep his expression neutral and his tone polite. ‘I see. And what about Lady Anna—does Lady Anna ride?’
‘Yes, she has her own horse.’
‘But you do not.’
‘No.’
‘My lady, I do not wish to cause you undue alarm, but we ought to set out as soon as possible. And since the path down to the bridge is too precipitate to accommodate a cart or wagon, you will have to ride with me.’
She lifted her fingers from his arm, gold bracelets flashed. ‘You brought no litter?’
‘No. My lady, I do apologise, but you will have to ride with me.’
Chapter Three
The beginning of the ride to the port was a nightmare. She was practically in his lap, shaking from head to toe. Has he noticed?
Commander Ashfirth had said the path to the bridge was steep and he had not lied—on one side the land fell sharply to the sea. Spiky rocks were poking up through the water like the claws of some titanic monster fighting free of Poseidon’s net. And Katerina was sitting precariously on a horse. A horse. Her pulse raced.
Horses terrified her and from the outset her mind only had room for fear. Ever since Katerina had been a child, horses had worried her, and her fear had been compounded by her experiences on the slave-ship. For much of that most terrible of voyages she had been chained close to the slavers’ horses. There had been a storm and.
She did not like to remember. For years she had kept her memories locked away. But now, for the first time in her life, here she was on a horse herself.
On a horse in the arms of Commander Ashfirth, to be precise. The horse was black, like his hair. A stallion. She had heard him call it Caesar. It was huge. Unfortunately, being forced to ride this great black beast had brought back memories she would rather forget.
Darkness. Flashes of lightning. Waves crashing down on her. Thunder. The taste of salt on her tongue. The thirst. Men screaming; ropes straining, cracking like whips. Flailing hoofs. Blood…a dead slave …
Katerina forced herself to take slow, calming breaths.
Forget about Caesar. Commander Ashfirth knows how to handle him. This horse will not get out of control like those on the slave-ship. Caesar will not kick out, or rear up, or…
Forget about being on a horse.
It wasn’t easy. The path was narrow, little more than a goat-run. On the one side there were those jagged rocks in the water, and on the other the scree-covered hill that sloped up to St Mary’s. If Katerina shifted, ever so slightly, she could see the last of the convent walls, the trees in the orchard, the goats.
Even though she had scarcely moved, the Commander’s grip on her tightened. He had one arm round her waist, the other held the reins. Casually. As though it were nothing to him to have her up before him while he controlled the great stallion.
Behind them Lady Anna was on her grey mare, Zephyr. Lady Anna was a competent rider; like the Commander, she was entirely at ease, smiling, tossing back the odd remark to Commander Ashfirth’s manservant. The thin track was forcing them to ride in single file, and Hrodric—the Commander’s manservant—was immediately behind Lady Anna. He had one of the pack animals on a leading rein.
Lady Anna was actually laughing. Laughing. It didn’t seem to have occurred to her that if she fell, those boulders on the hillside would cut her to ribbons. Katerina hardly dared move. Still, it was a relief to see Lady Anna smile. Lady Anna was not in the habit of confiding in Katerina, but Katerina had received the distinct impression that Lady Anna shared Princess Theodora’s reluctance to return to Constantinople—she had heard her mutter something about not wanting to see her father. Now that was an emotion Katerina could understand.
One of Caesar’s hoofs sent a stone rattling down the hill. Katerina stifled a moan. I must remember my dignity at all times, I am meant to be the Princess.
But oh, everything was going horribly wrong. Already.
Several ladies were meant to be travelling with her, all of whom had sworn to help her, to cover up when she made a mistake. But he was insistent that the other ladies—and that included the Princess—were to travel on the Varangian galley.
What could she do? She had not been born to command, and this man had his reasons for insisting she travelled separately from the entourage. In any case, whatever she said, it was unlikely he would listen.
Katerina’s fingers dug into the front edge of the saddle; she was gripping it so hard the white of her bones could be seen. It was bad enough that she should have to impersonate the Princess when the whole entourage was on hand to help her, but to be made to travel with just one lady! Holy Mother, help me …
She could feel him at her back. Warm. Strong. He had removed his body armour for the ride back to the port because he wanted no one to realise he was a Varangian. They were to travel under false colours.
If only he knew.
Nevertheless, the fact that he had removed his body armour was a mercy, otherwise that coat of chainmail would have torn Princess Theodora’s silk gown to shreds. Her mistress had generously given it to her. Katerina had hoped that, in a few weeks, when she had carried out her orders and had truly earned it, the gown would still be in one piece. She had never worn such a delicate gown, had never dreamed it might be hers.
Below, the rocks were still clawing their way out of the sea. Katerina’s heart thumped. She looked swiftly away and forced her mind elsewhere.
Who could have imagined that repaying her debt to the Princess would become so complicated so soon? I must remember that if all goes well I will have wealth as well as land of my own. When this is over, I must ask the Princess if the land can be somewhere other than Crete, I have no wish to return home. Dear Lord, for the Princess’s sake, let me succeed. Do not let the Commander find me out.
The Princess had ordered her to act as though she were a princess. And on the voyage to Constantinople, Ashfirth Saxon wanted her to play the part of a princess pretending to be a noblewoman. And if that were not enough, she must not forget that as far as the sailors were concerned, Ashfirth Saxon was a rich merchant.
‘My lady,’ he had said. ‘From this moment you cannot address me as “Commander". I am Ashfirth Saxon.’
What a nightmare! By the end of the voyage, I will surely be insane.
A seagull screeched past a foot above their heads. The stallion snorted and tossed his black mane.
A whimper escaped. I am doing this for the Princess, for baby Martina.
Commander Ashfirth’s hand came to rest on hers.
‘My lady, you are quite safe.’
Safe? I am in your arms, how can I be safe? You are a man; you are Commander of the Varangian Guard; you are not Greek, you were not even born in the Empire. You are a barbarian.
Relax. He believes you to be the Princess, you will be safe.
Katerina shot another look towards the sea and the pointy rocks, and almost moaned aloud. Quickly, she brought her gaze level with the path, and hung on for dear life.
Her veil fluttered, it had to be blowing in his face.
‘Excuse me, my lady.’ Releasing her, Commander Ashfirth reached out and caught at the fabric. There was a slight pull on her scalp as he matter of factly twisted it into a rope and pushed it over her shoulder. She said nothing. Since she wasn’t about to let go of the edge of the saddle, it was an intimacy she must forgive him. His arm came back round her, her body was pulled snug against his.
‘Too steep,’ she muttered, ‘it is too steep here.’ And you are too close.
Commander Ashfirth’s saddle had clearly not been designed with two people in mind, but to give him his due, he had attempted to cushion it for her. He had called for a thick woollen blanket, but the wool was coarse and her thighs itched.
My legs are showing. It is not very dignified. He must realise I am not the Princess, he must …
Another sideways glance at the sea below had panic bubble up inside.
‘Relax, my lady,’ his deep voice murmured. ‘The path levels off shortly, the marshes are only a little way ahead and it is flat there.’
His thighs were enclosing hers. As she glanced at them, her sense of panic intensified. Before she had been trembling, now she was rigid. Old terrors. She had feared this might happen.
Distract yourself. He is a barbarian, but he will not hurt you. You are the Princess.
His chausses were grey, made from linen of a particularly fine and even weave. The best quality. The muscles of his thighs were taut and firm. Quickly, she looked away.
The horse swayed on down the path. Katerina had no stirrups, there was nothing except the Commander to prevent her from slipping sideways. What if she fell? Would he think the less of her if she grabbed hold of his knee?
Talk to him, distract yourself. Remember your dignity.
Katerina cleared her throat and said the first thing that came into her head.
‘Command—’ hastily she corrected herself ‘—sir, I did not realise Varangians possessed horses.’
‘Not all of us do. As you are aware, we are primarily foot soldiers, but those of us who can afford it keep horses.’
When he spoke, it was with the easy confidence of a man sure of his place in the world. Through the fabric of her twisted-up veil, his breath was warm on the back of her head. ‘I see. Sir, there is something I would like you to explain.’
‘My lady, I am entirely at your service.’
‘You said that we are in a hurry because Normans have been seen in Dyrrachion?’
‘Yes. I suspect they are scouting for weaknesses in the city defences, but I cannot be certain. However, Normans are opportunists and I am determined they must have no inkling of who you are.’
‘You fear they are spies, sir?’
She felt him nod. ‘It seems likely.’
‘And this is why you must spirit me away with a reduced escort?’
Another nod. ‘Exactly. The ship I have reserved for you is less ostentatious than our galley. My hope is that the world will see us as prosperous traders. That is why I am taking only half of my men on the first boat. We shall, of course, conceal our arms and uniforms. Captain Brand and the other men will escort your ladies, and they will be prominently armed, as befitting the escort of a princess.’
‘Can I not persuade you to let more of my entourage travel with me?’ Katerina did not like to beg, but it would bolster her confidence to have more of the ladies about her.
‘I am afraid not. Captain Brand has been ordered to make much fanfare when your women and their servants embark on the galley. What with their baggage and so forth, I am in hopes that he will spin it out for a couple of days.’
‘Thus distracting attention from us?’
‘Exactly. With the size of your entourage, there will be no doubt that someone of great importance is setting out for the capital. Captain Brand’s ship will be taken for the Imperial galley and in the meantime ours will have slipped away unnoticed.’
A cold sweat broke out on Katerina’s brow. Saint Titus, help me, Commander Ashfirth intends to use the second ship as a decoy! But it will be no decoy, not with the real Princess on board!
Think, Katerina, think. If the Norman scouts in Dyrrachion are truly the Emperor’s enemies, and they hear that the Princess is on that second ship, what might they do?
Would they try to capture her and demand a ransom? Would they dare?
She kept her voice light, admiring. ‘How clever. In making a decoy of your galley, no one will notice ours.’
‘That is my hope.’
Heart like lead, Katerina stared between the stallion’s ears. The track had levelled off to a little above sea level, they were approaching the bridge across the marshes.
What would the Commander think if he knew that his strategy, far from ensuring the safety of the Princess, was actually putting her in the path of danger?
The Princess! Somehow I must warn her.
‘Sir, when will our vessel cast off?’
‘As soon as Captain Brand and your entourage arrive at the port. Within the hour.’
Within the hour.
Lord, no sooner had she begun to repay her debt to the Princess than she was in such a tangle she could scarcely unravel it. Somehow, before the hour was up, Katerina must get a message to her.
Princess Theodora must be warned of these new dangers.
The chance didn’t come until after Commander Ashfirth had escorted Katerina and Lady Anna onto the trader.
Katerina had not been in a ship since the slavers had dragged her, with chains clanking at her wrists and feet, on to theirs. The contrast between the courteous way the Commander handed her aboard this time, and the way the slavers had treated her four years ago couldn’t have been more marked. Nevertheless, that hated memory was hard to dispel. Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat erratic. And yet she must pretend all was well, she must present a calm face to the world.
And above all, I must get a message to my mistress.
As she gazed about the deck, she felt his eyes on her. He watched her constantly, or one of his men did. Was he suspicious? Please, Lord, let him accept me as the Princess.
An awning was rigged up near the stern and a giant of a guardsman directed her to it. Another barbarian from outside the Empire, the man’s Viking ancestry was obvious. Long blond hair was tied back in a sheepskin ribbon, his beard was ruddy. The arms revealed by his sleeveless leather tunic were scarred and roped with enough muscle to wrestle a lion and win. This Hercules of a man might have discarded his mailcoat, his axe might be secreted away, but Katerina had no doubt that the sword thrust into his belt was razor sharp. His eyes were at odds with his scarred, brawler’s body; they were a gentle grey.
‘Lady Theodora, since the weather is set fair, you may use this as your quarters,’ the blond Hercules said. His Greek was not as fluent as the Commander’s, but it was adequate. And clearly he had been briefed as to how to address her. He bowed her in under the awning. ‘Unless you would prefer to go below decks?’