Betrothed to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
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Removing his gloves, Nikolaos tucked them thoughtfully into his belt. He could not decide whether Princess Theodora’s illness was genuine or whether it was an excuse designed to keep him at a distance. Nikolaos wanted this marriage. He had seen other men’s careers blighted by innuendo and rumour and he was determined that was not going to happen to him. Marriage with an Imperial princess was a great honour, it would bolster his position at Court. Was it possible that Emperor Alexios had changed his mind?
Turning his back on the polo field and the turreted wall that protected the Great Palace from both sea and invasion, Nikolaos began walking towards the stables. Elias and Hermes kept pace. ‘It is odd, though,’ Nikolaos said, raking a hand through windswept brown hair, ‘you would think that His Majesty would have mentioned any concerns he has over my marriage arrangements when I was asked to organise the polo tournament.’
‘Didn’t he confirm that your marriage was to go ahead shortly after he was crowned?’
‘He did, he did indeed. Why, then, is the Princess so elusive?’
‘I do not know, my lord. Perhaps she really is unwell.’
‘Or a reluctant bride,’ Nikolaos said. ‘Think about it. First, she refused to return to Constantinople when the old emperor summoned her from Rascia, and when she does return, she hides away like a nun.’
‘You should give her the benefit of the doubt—she could really be unwell, my lord.’
Nikolaos gave Elias a straight look; he and his manservant had been together since Nikolaos was a boy and there was a strong bond of affection between them. Nikolaos could discuss anything with him. Nikolaos’s gut tightened—well, almost anything. ‘I have been giving her the benefit of the doubt for some days,’ he said, drily. ‘It occurs to me that Princess Theodora has no wish to marry.’
‘You cannot assume that, my lord.’
‘True. I am ready for this wedding to take place, Elias, but if my bride is reluctant?’ Nikolaos grimaced. ‘Lord, no.’
Nikolaos wanted this marriage. It would signal to the world that he was firmly ensconced with the new regime. And he wanted it soon, before anyone else got wind of his mother’s unexpected confession.
I am illegitimate.
The man Nikolaos had always thought of as his father was the late Governor of Larissa, Governor Gregorios. But according to his mother, Lady Verina, Gregorios was not his father. Nikolaos had received his mother’s confession as something of a body blow; her marriage to Gregorios of Larissa had seemed blissfully happy. They had been the perfect, loving couple with Governor Gregorios idolising his wife. And Nikolaos would have sworn the affection had not been one-sided, his mother had given every appearance of adoring her husband in return. The intense grief she had displayed at his death could not have been mere pretence. And yet …
I am illegitimate. I have no blood ties with Governor Gregorios.
Dear God, better men than he had their careers wrecked because of their birth. That would not happen to him.
‘Will you ask His Majesty for another bride, my lord?’
‘I may have to, if Princess Theodora continues to show reluctance.’ Nikolaos sighed and ran his hand round the back of the neck. In view of his mother’s confession, he needed this marriage more than ever, but … a reluctant bride? No.
‘Your mother will be disappointed. She was delighted when you were chosen for the Princess.’
Nikolaos felt his face stiffen, it was hard to keep the anger from his voice. ‘Naturally my mother would be pleased. Such a marriage would appease her conscience, if she has one.’
Elias frowned. ‘You have had a disagreement with Lady Verina?’
Nikolaos let out a bitter laugh. ‘You might put it like that.’
‘My lord, I thought—’
Nikolaos silenced Elias with a look. ‘Yes, old friend, you are right. My mother was delighted. I never thought we’d hear the end of it. But I will not marry a reluctant bride, however highborn.’
‘Duke Nikolaos?’
‘Mmm?’
‘If the Princess continues hiding away, will you ask Emperor Alexios to release her from the betrothal?’
Hermes clattered across the paving stones as they passed through a fountained courtyard. Water jetted from the mouths of a shoal of bronze fish; rainbows shimmered in the spray. ‘I am undecided. It was the previous Emperor who gifted her to me. If Princess Theodora really does prove reluctant, it should be easy enough to persuade His Majesty to give me another bride.’ He smiled at Elias. ‘I shall give the Princess until this afternoon to respond. Come, let’s get to the stables, Hermes needs a rubdown and that girth needs checking.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
That afternoon, Elias carried a third message to Princess Theodora’s apartment in the Boukoleon Palace. When he came away, he knew exactly where to find his master. Duke Nikolaos had told him he would be in one of the saddlers’ workshops outside the Palace walls.
The saddlers’ workshops were clustered together in a narrow street that cut away from the Mese—Middle Street—the main street of the City. Sure enough, Hercules, the Duke’s black warhorse, was tethered outside, next to an animal usually assigned to one of the grooms. Entering the workshop, Elias nodded at the groom and leaned against a wall to wait for the Duke to conclude his business.
‘But, General—’ the saddler’s voice was high and tight, his fingers shook as he examined the girth ‘—it is not as though you take this saddle into battle.’
Nikolaos shook his head. ‘You should not underestimate the rigours of the polo field, it’s an important part of training for my officers. Use stronger leather next time. Look—’ he pulled at the offending strap ‘—see here?’
‘That’s a natural flaw, General, part of the animal’s skin. You can’t avoid natural flaws.’
‘Nonsense! Even an untrained eye could see that this section of leather is weak. It should have been discarded. It has no place in a saddle of this quality—of any quality, come to think of it. Serious injuries can be caused by workmanship like this. If it happens again, I shall take my custom elsewhere. And I shall certainly ensure that the officers in my regiment know to avoid your merchandise. That said, I am sure you’ll put it right …’
‘Yes, General.’ The saddler flushed dark red. ‘My apologies, it shall not happen again.’
Nodding at the man, Nikolaos stepped back into the street and smiled at Elias. ‘Well? I can tell from your face that you had no luck at the Princess’s apartment.’
‘No, my lord. This afternoon she is apparently a little recovered, but there is no message for you.’
Nikolaos tucked his thumbs into his belt. ‘Does the total lack of response strike you as odd, Elias?’ The Princess might be reluctant, but surely she would have to be gravely ill to ignore so many messages from the man to whom she had been betrothed?
‘My lord?’
The skin was prickling at the back of Nikolaos’s neck. It was the sort of prickling he usually had on the eve of battle. His instincts were trying to warn him … of what? Danger. Danger to him? No, he did not sense that the danger was to him. To the Princess? That did not seem possible, yet his instincts had not let him down before.
He looked at the groom. ‘My thanks, Paul, that is all. I shall walk back. Take Hercules back to his stall, would you? Elias, you are with me.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Something’s wrong,’ Nikolaos murmured, once the groom had taken the horses and was well out of earshot. He followed the route the groom had taken, turning into the street that led past the Hippodrome, back