Free The Cross and the Dragon by Kim Rendfeld Page B

mouth.
    “Hruodland of the March of Brittany. He has much wealth and…”
    The cupbearer returned with a full cup and drank a sip. Alfihar took the cup and slapped the cupbearer. “You tarried!”
    “He did not tarry,” Alda said irritably while Alfihar downed a couple of gulps of wine. “You did not need to discipline him. And you are fortunate Mother did not see this. She would have…”
    “Hold your tongue!” Alfihar slammed down the half-empty cup.
    “I will not.” She winced and shook her head. This is going all wrong . “About Hruodland…” she said softly.
    “I already know his virtues,” he said, waving her silent. “Hruodland is a good friend and a good ally. Are you certain?”
    The question startled Alda. She had expected him to say Hruodland would never marry the sister of a count on the Rhine, despite the family’s wealth, and to insist that she marry Ganelon.
    “Alda? Did you hear me? Are you certain?” Alfihar repeated.
    “Yes,” she managed to reply.
    “Good.”
    That is all? No argument? “You… you give your word you will negotiate with Hruodland?” she stammered.
    “I give you my word,” he said. “I swear by the dragon’s blood. Swear to me that you will consent to marry Hruodland?”
    “By the dragon’s blood,” Alda replied, her hand on both the cross and the dragon amulet.
    “It is near terce,” Alfihar said, “and the king will want us to be prompt. You should change clothes.”
    “As should you.”
    “You are like Mother. If you see her, tell her I shall be in the solar shortly, and yes, I know not to be tardy for a hunt when the king is our guest.”
    Alda let out a giggle, and Alfihar smiled. She rose from the table and spotted Veronica talking with maidservants. Alda called to her foster sister to help her dress and braid her hair.
    When they entered the solar, Alda and Veronica went straight to their chests, Alda threw open the lid and eagerly dragged out her hunting clothes, which included a bright green dress for riding.
    “I am glad to see you have recovered,” Veronica said.
    Alda still felt a little sick, but she was not about to allow that to get between her and a hunt. She removed her rings so that they wouldn’t impede her grip on the javelin.
    “I have the best news,” Alda said excitedly. “Alfihar has agreed to negotiate with Hruodland for my hand.”
    Before Veronica could reply, they heard familiar steps hurrying up the stairs. Alda put her finger to her mouth and whispered, “Not a word. I haven’t told Mother.” How shall I tell her?
    Now was not the time.
     
    * * * * *
     
    While Alfihar was changing clothes, Alda went to the courtyard and found other nobles watching the preparations for the hunt. Grooms led saddled horses. The huntsmen and dog trainers leashed the hounds, already leaping and barking and wagging their tails. Servants gave the nobles their swords and handed arrows and spears to their men.
    As the terce bells rang and all the nobles cleared the hall, the murmur of eagerness rose. Alfihar walked through the crowd to mount his stallion and held his horn overhead. The crowd quieted. “Let the hunt begin,” he shouted.
    Alda and the other nobles mounted their horses. Everyone was eager for this hunt. Prince Pepin rode beside his father. Servants helped Queen Hildegard onto her mount, although she would simply watch from afar as the party drew closer to their prey.
    Alda heard the king say to his eldest son, “When the boar or stag appears, join your mother.”
    “But Father…” the five-winter-old boy started to whine.
    “You must protect her and your unborn sibling.”
    “Oh,” the boy replied, straightening his shoulders as much as his curved spine would allow.
    Remaining at the castle because of his age, toddling Prince Karl wailed, stomped his feet, and threw himself on the ground.
    “But, child,” the nurse pleaded, “a hunt is too dangerous for you.”
    When the gate ground open, the baying of the dogs