Free The Cross and the Dragon by Kim Rendfeld

hand over the nail of pain above her right eye.
    “Alda!” Veronica whispered. “Come quickly, before someone sees you. Do you want everyone to find out?”
    Alda scrunched her eyes shut and bowed her head. “There is nothing to find out,” she murmured. “Unfortunately.”
    “What do you mean, ‘unfortunately’? Are you trying to inflame Ganelon’s jealousy even more?”
    They both heard a moan. Alda opened her eyes again and looked toward the sound, despite the candle’s searing light. Hruodland rolled on his back, covering his eyes with his arm.
    “Hruodland? Are you well?” Alda asked, her own voice ragged.
    “Take the light away,” he barked.
    Veronica tried to shield the light with her fingers.
    Hruodland sat up. His face was pale. He looked about and took in his surroundings. “Is it morning?” he asked.
    “It is almost prime,” Veronica replied, straightening. “I must take my lady to the solar.”
    Hruodland nodded and made the sign of the cross. He hunched over, leaned on his elbows, and held his temples.
    “Hruodland?” Alda asked.
    Hruodland looked up and watched her rise. He steadied himself as he stood.
    “I meant what I said last night,” Alda said, her tone of voice as much a question as a statement.
    He pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. Alda wanted to linger in the kiss. “So did I.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    Following Veronica upstairs to the solar, she tried not to think of the pounding in her head. She realized she still wore her jewelry and boots. In the solar, the royal family finished dressing and descended the stairs. Alda discovered her mother was already awake and dressed.
    “Alda, what happened?” Theodelinda asked.
    Veronica looked at Alda wide-eyed.
    “I fell asleep in the hall,” Alda mumbled, her hand again on her forehead as if she were trying to keep that spot from bursting.
    “I knew you should have retired when I did,” Theodelinda said, shaking her head. “Alfihar should have heeded me. Are you well, Daughter?”
    “Yes,” Alda whimpered, fighting back another wave of nausea.
    “You are not,” Theodelinda said. “I can see it in your face. Do not drink so much wine.”
    Alda winced at the harshness of her mother’s voice.
    “My poor girl,” Theodelinda sighed. “You should rest after Mass.”
    “But the hunt…” Alda pleaded.
    “I shall have Veronica wake you in time to change clothes.”
    Alda nodded, too ill to say anything more. In the dawn’s light, her gaze fell on the tapestry of the Virgin and her Child, which always brought her comfort. Dazed, she made the sign of the cross and then washed her face with water in a clay basin and smoothed her hair and the wrinkles in her dress.
    “Time to leave,” Theodelinda said.
    Veronica held the candle and led the way down the stairs. Theodelinda and Alda followed.
    Many of the men had slept on the floor and on benches. A few had made it to the cots and pallets. Alda noticed Ganelon was among the sleepers, but Hruodland, his brother, and her uncles were not.
    “I cannot rouse the count,” a servant told Theodelinda.
    “When is that boy going to learn?” Scowling, Theodelinda marched up to Alfihar and called his name shrilly. “Do you realize this makes you look like a sluggard?”
    Alda grimaced at the tone of her mother’s voice and clamped her hand above her eye. Alfihar did not stir. Alda envied his ability to sleep through such a noise.
    “Come,” Theodelinda snapped.
    As they walked, Alda’s own footsteps crashed inside her head. When they entered the chapel redolent with incense, Alda noticed some of the peasants had slept here after last night’s celebrations.
    The bell rung by the priest clanged overhead. Usually, Alda welcomed the call to Mass and thoughts of heaven. Today, she braced herself against the sound slamming in her mind. The now-awake peasants cradled their heads and rocked. The first red-gold rays of the sun slipped through the chapel’s narrow windows and made