Free Time to Love Again by Flora Speer

in
their ale first. It made a singularly unappetizing mess, but India
did not complain. It was not long before she was mounted in front
of Theuderic once more and they were back on the almost invisible
track through the forest, traveling more slowly than before, to
accommodate Eudon.
    They reached the Rhine in mid-afternoon.
Flowing smoothly along its course through dense forest and a few
low hills, it was not as exciting a sight as India had expected.
All the wild, romantic cliffs and rapids she had read about and
seen pictures of lay upstream, to the south, and most of the famous
castles that in her own time were the signatures of that great
river, would not be built for several centuries.
    On the western bank, across the sparkling
clean, blue and silver water, lay the town the Romans had
originally named Colonia Agrippina, though the Franks referred to
it simply as Köln. By squinting against the bright sun, India could
make out a recently restored Roman wall around the town and what
looked to her like a Romanesque church surrounded by smaller
buildings.
    Of more immediate interest to their party, on
the eastern side of the river a few houses stood near the water,
making the tiniest of villages. The flat barge that served as a
ferry was tied to a wooden wharf. Set apart from the houses was
also a large Roman building, its stone faded over the centuries
into a warm, golden hue. Innumerable additions had been added to
this edifice, its sprawling walls now housing the Frankish garrison
kept there to guard the ferry crossing.
    Theuderic led his men through the open gates,
past a series of sentries, all of whom snapped to attention when
Osric called out their identity, each syllable rolling off his
tongue in a way that suggested this was his usual job and one he
relished.
    “He just called you count,” India said. She
was not especially surprised. She knew Theuderic had a large estate
near Metz, for he had told her so himself, adding that his son, now
three years old, lived there under Theuderic’s mother’s care. No
man who wore chain mail and led a well-disciplined warband could be
less than a nobleman. Still, she was impressed. In the realm of
Charles the Great, only a few dukes and Charles himself ranked
higher than a count.
    “My grandfather fought the Saracens at Tours
with Charles Martel,” Theuderic responded to her comment with quiet
pride. “My father was a close friend to King Pepin, and I am
Charles’s man. It was he who made me a count.”
    They were by now inside the courtyard of the
garrison, and India could see that it was crowded with busy men and
with horses. Apparently, the king of the Franks believed the Saxons
were a danger serious enough to make him keep this outpost well
staffed.
    “Now for some decent food,” said Hugo,
smiling when he saw a portly man in a green tunic and jeweled sword
belt coming toward them. “Savarec keeps a fine table. India, lad,
we have returned to civilization at last.”
    Behind India, Theuderic moved, dismounting,
and then he and Marcion, now on foot too, went forward to greet the
garrison commander.
    “My dear Count Theuderic, Lord Marcion,
welcome, welcome.” Savarec’s ruddy face shone with pleasure. “I am
pleased to see you return in good health and with your men
uninjured. You must give us the news of your battles with the
Saxons. Have you a report from Paderborn? Perhaps some news
directed especially to me? With so many men stationed here, I would
welcome the chance to let them work off their extra energy in a
small battle.” Still talking in a way that allowed no interruptions
or even answers to his numerous questions, Savarec swept Theuderic
and Marcion with him through the door of what appeared to be the
main section of the garrison building.
    “Enthusiastic, isn’t he?” Hugo grinned at
India, who still sat upon Theuderic’s horse. He tilted his chin
toward the doorway through which Theuderic and Marcion had
vanished. “You’d better dismount,