Betrothed to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
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bedchamber, Theodora dragged the diadem from her head and tossed it on to the mulberry bedcover. With a groan and a grimace, she began massaging her scalp. ‘I had forgotten the weight of that thing.’
Sophia clucked her tongue and retrieved the diadem, the pearl pendants had become entangled. Reverently, she straightened them.
Theodora began to drag the pins from her hair and Sophia watched the destruction of the elaborate hair arrangement she had taken so long to create with rueful resignation. Hairpins went the way the diadem had gone, bouncing off a tasselled cushion. Theodora’s hair rippled as it was released, a glossy dark cascade which hung to her waist.
Aware she was frowning, Theodora searched her hair for more pins. ‘Did you hear my betrothed? He knows our official meeting must be soon, yet he is arranging assignations in the City.’ She thrust her shawl and a couple of stray hairpins at Sophia. ‘She must be his mistress.’
‘You don’t know that, my lady.’
Theodora let out a sound of vexation. ‘You don’t need to be a soothsayer to read Duke Nikolaos. A man like that will have women scattered all over the Empire, waiting on his pleasure.’
Carefully, Sophia set the diadem and hairpins on a gilded side-table. She shook out the shawl. ‘A man like that?’
‘A … a man of … vigour and experience.’
‘Vigour. Experience. Hmm.’ Sophia shot her a penetrating look and pursed her lips. ‘Certainly. Duke Nikolaos seems extremely … vigorous.’
Theodora held down a blush and paced to the window. Sophia knew her too well. She had realised that Theodora found the Duke handsome, she knew Theodora was carnally attracted to him. And as for his vigour … his energy … that, too, was attractive. She sighed. What would it be like to be loved by a man of experience, rather than a boy? The thought seemed so disloyal, she pushed it away. I loved Peter, I do not love the Duke and he does not love me. If I bedded with the Duke, of course it would be disappointing …
There. That was better, that was much more loyal. If only she could believe it.
Resting her arms on a window ledge, she found herself gazing out over one of the Palace courtyards. She could see the Palace walls that separated them from the city she had once been so sad to leave. And beyond the walls lay the huge stone oval of the Hippodrome, the great arena where chariot races and circuses were staged.
She turned and caught Sophia’s eye. ‘The Duke is nothing like Peter.’
‘I don’t suppose that he is, my lady, but you have only spoken to him once and, don’t forget, he is unaware he spoke to you yesterday.’
‘I cannot marry him.’
‘Why not? It’s obvious he intrigues you.’
‘It is no good, I cannot marry a man like that. I shall have to seek an audience with the Emperor.’ Yesterday Sophia said that a man with the Duke’s experience would know at once that I am no virgin. She was right. He will expose me. I was dreaming to think otherwise.
Sophia put Theodora’s shawl on the bed. ‘His Majesty is doing penance for usurping the throne, many of his duties have been set aside until his penance is over.’
Theodora frowned. ‘How long a penance?’
‘Forty days, my lady. There is more than three weeks left of it and—’
‘The Emperor must still govern! I shall insist on seeing him.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise? It might be better to go ahead with the marriage as planned.’
‘I cannot marry that man.’ Theodora had reached the window again. Heavens, there were soldiers everywhere. Varangian Guards, Palace Guards … she recognised the uniforms of several local regiments. ‘The army is here in force, the grounds are bristling with soldiers.’
Sophia came to lean against a mulberry-coloured curtain and murmured agreement. ‘I don’t remember half as many when I was last here.’
‘The army will want to make the most of the regime change. Emperor Alexios is himself a soldier, I expect the military are delighted the balance of power has shifted in their favour.’ Theodora sighed. ‘It may be no bad thing that the Emperor has decided to do penance for so many days. In truth, Sophia, I was dreading the moment I must meet him. A reprieve will be most welcome.’
‘Look, my lady.’ Sophia pointed. ‘Duke Nikolaos is by that fountain.’
For a moment Theodora was able to study her betrothed unobserved. He stood casually, a boot on the rim of the fountain, exchanging jokes with a Varangian officer. When they flung their heads back, their laughter reached the apartment. The Duke’s teeth were white and even, his dark hair was ruffled. He was dressed as he had been in the stables, like a groom. Even at this distance Theodora could see that his brown tunic was fraying and worn. The Duke should have looked out of place among the immaculate uniformed officers. It was mildly irritating that he did not. The brown tunic stretched across wide shoulders, a worn brown belt cinched a slim waist. The man was big, but he carried not an excess ounce. And he was wearing his sword—he was the only non-uniformed man in the courtyard to be doing so.
She felt a pull on her skirt. ‘He will see you watching him, despoina.’
‘Too late,’ Theodora observed, as that darkly handsome face turned up to the window.
Duke Nikolaos grinned and, with something of a flourish, gave her an elaborate bow. He clapped the Varangian officer on the arm and continued towards the steps that led into the Boukoleon.
‘I wonder if he’s coming to meet you?’
‘Dressed like a stable hand? He wouldn’t dare.’
Sophia gave Theodora a look that told her that Sophia believed the Duke would dare anything. In her heart Theodora knew Sophia was right.
‘He is not in the least like Peter,’ Theodora murmured.
‘No, my lady, I do not believe he is.’
As Theodora pondered on the nature of the Duke’s character, a nervous shiver shot through her. She really did not think she could marry him.
Chapter Four
The formal introduction of Duke Nikolaos of Larissa to Princess Theodora Doukaina did not take place until late that afternoon. Lord Basil, the Palace Chamberlain, was in charge of the ceremony and Lord Basil was not to be hurried; the ceremony must be perfect. In the Palace courtyards and gardens, shadows lengthened to allow for final preparations. Theodora was left with hours to consider how Emperor Alexios might react if she were to repudiate his most trusted general in public.
Sophia and Thetis took her to the bathhouse on the ground floor for another bath. They hustled her back into the apartment to redress her hair, and all the while Theodora found herself worrying over the matter of her impending marriage. She fretted almost as much as Martina fretting over a new tooth.
Theodora had sent a subtle plea for help to her cousin, Empress Irene, in which she confessed to having misgivings over the match. Her message had been carefully worded, to avoid giving offence to the Emperor’s most loyal general. All afternoon, Theodora waited anxiously for the reply, praying she would not be summoned to meet either her cousin or the Emperor. She was not prepared to lie to them, and if she were asked about Peter or Martina, she did not know what she would say.
Empress Irene’s reply came when Theodora was in the windowless dressing room adjoining her bedchamber. Clad in her undertunic, she was peering through the jumpy light of a sputtering wall lamp at a violet silk gown Sophia had picked out for her. ‘Not that one, Sophia, I have never liked black braiding.’
‘Excuse me, Princess.’ A maidservant stood under the arch that led back to the bedchamber, holding out a silver salver with small scroll on it. ‘From the Empress, despoina.’
Snatching