Bound to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
Читать онлайн книгу.
knew her at once, even though this second time she was so heavily veiled that her eyes were barely visible. The soft fall of her veil had the look of fine silk, it was violet in colour and shot through with gold threads.
‘Commander Ashfirth!’
Her voice was still light and clear, but something about it had changed. Ashfirth was unable to put his finger on what that change was. Was it more forceful? More confident?
‘The Princess will see me?’
Behind the bars, Doe Eyes withdrew slightly. ‘Commander—’ her voice was cool ‘—it would please the Princess to know exactly why you are here.’
It would please the Princess. Ashfirth narrowed his eyes. This is a delaying tactic, she knows why I am here. ‘Am I addressing the Princess?’
He couldn’t read her, not without seeing her whole face—that damned veil hid too much. Everything but a slight flicker in the brown eyes.
‘Answer my question, if you please, Commander.’
At this moment, she certainly had the tone of a princess. Lofty. Calm. A gold thread winked in the light. This must be the Princess. Most likely she was irritated that he had caught her unprepared when he had first knocked. It didn’t escape him that she had ignored his question. He would be brief.
‘His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Nikephoros has commanded me to escort Princess Theodora back to the Great Palace at Constantinople.’
There was a pause, and again the doe’s eyes flickered. Her head turned to one side and Ashfirth caught a faint mutter of voices. If Doe Eyes was the Princess, and Ashfirth strongly suspected that she was, someone behind the gate was certainly advising her.
The brown eyes met his. ‘Is Duke Nikolaos with you?’
Ashfirth shook his head. ‘Duke Nikolaos will join you once you have reached Constantinople. The Emperor wishes you to reacquaint yourself with …’ Ashfirth paused to search for the right words, the diplomatic words. Peter, the Rascian princeling who had been her fiancé, was in the eyes of many Greeks a barbarian. The Imperial Court had been astonished when word had reached them that the Princess had allowed herself to become enamoured of him. ‘The Emperor wishes you to reacquaint yourself with life at the Palace.’
When Peter of Rascia had been killed in a petty border skirmish at the edge of his territory, the Emperor had been swift to arrange a second betrothal. Byzantine Princesses were valuable commodities, and as a member of a powerful family, this young woman would have been brought up on the idea. Her person could be traded according to the political needs of the time.
Ten years ago Emperor Michael had found it politically expedient to betroth her to the vassal ruler of Rascia. Had the Prince lived, the contract would have been honoured, but his death altered everything.
Today, it was less important to placate a minor kingdom at the far reaches of the Empire. A different Emperor occupied the throne, one who needed to look closer to home for support. The military aristocracy was crying out for change and Emperor Nikephoros needed every ally he could lay his hands on.
In offering the Duke of Larissa this well-born Princess for his bride, the Emperor hoped to placate him. Marriage with the Princess would, he hoped, ensure the Duke’s loyalty should the conflict among his generals come to a head.
The brown eyes stared into his. What is she thinking? Ashfirth was fully conscious that Princess Theodora would likely peg him for a barbarian in much the same way that the Imperial Court had thought her Rascian prince a barbarian. Ash was an Anglo-Saxon, a dispossessed Anglo-Saxon in charge of the Varangian Guard. The Court only tolerated him because of his loyalty to the Emperor and his skills as a leader and warrior. The citizens of Constantinople never forgot that the men of the Varangian Guard were mercenaries, barbarian mercenaries.
The woman behind the grille had her head tilted slightly to one side. She was obviously listening to her advisor, but those brown eyes were fixed on him. While the low muttering continued, Ashfirth was able to watch her quite openly. Something was telling him that this woman, princess or otherwise, had her secrets. He had not given up on trying to read her, but when the long eyelashes swept down, he had learned nothing.
‘Constantinople is a long sea journey away,’ she said, in that cool, carefully modulated voice. ‘You cannot expect a princess to be ready at the snap of your fingers. Be so good as to return on the morrow …’
Ashfirth felt a frown forming, he held it back. ‘Tomorrow? The Princess must have received the Emperor’s summons, she must know how…eager he is for her return to Court.’
He paused, gritting his teeth. The Princess had to have known someone was coming to escort her back to the capital! Ash had been informed that several letters had been sent. Not that a reply had ever been received. The Emperor had given her the benefit of the doubt; he had assumed her replies had been lost en route. Ashfirth was not so sure. Had she replied? Surely the Princess would not do the Emperor the discourtesy of simply ignoring his letters?
However, those doe’s eyes were looking steadily back at him, giving nothing away. And she was right, blast her. The journey was likely to take some time and there was no sense starting off on the wrong foot by naming her a liar. Especially if this was the Princess.
Keep it simple. Non-confrontational.
‘Our ship leaves this afternoon,’ he said.
Doe Eyes tipped her head to one side and listened to her counsellor.
‘Two hours,’ she said. ‘Come back in two hours.’
‘The Princess will be ready to leave?’
‘Yes.’
Nodding curtly, Ashfirth turned away. A light click informed him that the shutter had closed.
Two hours?
Make that four. The woman has not been born who can keep proper time. And this one is a princess who not only leaves the Emperor’s letters unanswered, but attempts to evade his summons to Court.
Catching Brand’s eyes on him, Ashfirth spread his hands. ‘Two hours, Captain. Tell half the men they have two hours before reporting back for duty. Something tells me that Princess Theodora won’t be too punctual.’
‘Two hours? Right, Commander.’
The Princess reached in front of Katerina to slide back the shutter and the tall, dark commander was cut off from sight.
‘Oh!’ Katerina said.
‘What?’
‘He has a limp.’
Princess Theodora looked blankly at her. ‘Who?’
‘Commander Ashfirth.’ The Princess’s dark eyes searched hers and Katerina felt her cheeks warm. ‘Yes, he’s limping. I didn’t notice at first, it is only a slight limp, but …’
When her mistress lifted an eyebrow at her, Katerina trailed to a halt—the Princess wasn’t remotely interested in Commander Ashfirth. Worse, she was looking at Katerina as though she had never seen her before, a slow smile dawning.
Inside the convent, the baby began to cry. The Princess smothered a small groan.
Katerina’s stomach clenched with foreboding. Hastily, she snatched at the pins of the violet veil and made to hand it back.
The Princess brushed it aside, and Katerina caught the glitter of tears.
‘Despoina, what is it?’
‘Katerina, I am sorry …’ Princess Theodora’s voice broke. She gave a weak smile ‘But I fear I am going to have to ask for your help after all.’
Katerina swallowed. ‘Are you?’
The Princess nodded. ‘Yes. I would not do so if I did not have to, you do understand?’