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Long, Hot Summer

Until she’d left home to become a lady-in-waiting, Blythe had shared a chamber with Ragna. The one at Kirkthwaite was large, spacious and well furnished, the Shelfhoc chamber slightly smaller. At King Henry’s court, she’d shared cramped quarters with three other girls. Her chamber in the Black Knight’s home could only be described as tastefully opulent. It was clear he was a wealthy man, and she wondered why he would risk it all by kidnapping the empress.

As the long, hot summer dragged on without any sign of her release, she found it increasingly difficult to remain impervious to the Black Knight’s charms. For charming he was, always solicitous of her well-being and comfort.

Despite the restrictions and difficulties imposed upon Köln by the blockade of the Rhine, he took her on more than one occasion to parts of the ancient city founded by the Romans. A maidservant always accompanied them in the stylish carriage he owned. He showed her sections of the Roman city wall and water system, which formerly brought fresh spring water to the ancient city from the Eifel region.

“The name Köln comes from the Roman empress, Agrippina,” he explained. “The wife of the Emperor Claudius was born on the banks of the Rhine and elevated her "Colonia" to the status of a city in the Fiftieth Year of Our Lord. The Roman road network is still reflected this very day in the layout of the streets.”

She tried to remain aloof, though she found the old city fascinating and his company exhilarating. His deep, slightly accented voice soothed her. The light touch of his hand on her back as he assisted her into the carriage caused a tingle that filled her with previously unknown feelings. As she descended, his gentle support of her elbow sent desire swirling in private places. His clean, masculine scent made her salivate. She adopted a habit of taking deep breaths, claiming a desire for fresh air in her lungs.

However, he had taken her as his prisoner against her will and she was still afraid he intended to sell her. She did not want to dwell on who might want to buy her and for what purpose. Surely, the Black Knight was not a man to commit such a crime? To be safe, she reasoned if she made herself unattractive she would not be easy to sell. She should perhaps suggest her family might pay a ransom. Her parents must be frantically worried and would pay willingly. But what amount would he demand?

She kept her face sullen. “It’s interesting, thank you for showing me,” she told him without enthusiasm when they returned home.

* * *

Determined for reasons beyond his comprehension to draw Blythe out of her self-imposed ugliness of face and demeanor, Dieter took her on frequent excursions. It had become an obsession. She was an intelligent woman who would be interested in knowing how the Romans brought Christianity to Köln, and how the city very soon became the seat of a bishopric. “In the year of our Lord Seven Hundred and Eighty-Five, Charlemagne himself founded the Archbishopric of Köln and bestowed secular powers upon the church dignitaries. The Archbishop of Köln became one of the most powerful feudal lords in the Holy Roman Empire.”

She inhaled deeply and yawned. “Hmm.”

He was disappointed in her coolness. He was drawn to this woman, had been since their first encounter, but she evidently did not feel the same towards him. It was a blow to his male ego. To her he was simply an unwelcome guide, whereas he longed to strip off her clothes and make love to her on the floor of the carriage. Her female fragrance filled his nostrils, even when he wasn’t with her. She recoiled whenever he touched her, when all he intended was to help her in and out of the carriage. Despite her aloofness, or perhaps because of it, he could not resist increasing the pressure of his hand on her back. He longed to look into those bewitching hazel eyes, but she always avoided his gaze. Having to conceal his seemingly constant arousal from her and the maidservant was maddening.

He often watched from the upstairs window as she enjoyed his garden, compelled to spy on her. Then he saw the real Blythe. When she closed her eyes and bent to inhale the fragrance of a flower, his senses reeled. When she beamed a bright smile on his gardener it was all he could do not to run down the stairs and kiss her until she cried for mercy.

She seemed to have no feelings for him. He was drawn to her like a moth to a candle’s flame, but didn’t want his heart burnt to cinders again. His marital experience had left him scarred in more ways than one. His captive lavished her attention on his hounds, not on him. He worried they loved her more. They too had fallen under the spell of this enigmatic woman.

Reluctant to alarm her with the progress of plans afoot to rid Köln of the emperor once and for all, he did not confide the extent of his involvement in the preparations. He spent a lot of time in clandestine meetings with other supporters of Duke Lothair, having apparently regained their trust after several difficult sessions following the botched kidnapping. Interestingly, none of his comrades ever mentioned Blythe FitzRam.

He resolved to concentrate on the military campaign, deciding he may as well go ahead with his plan to return her to her family.

* * *

Blythe was aware her abductor hid his actions and political views from her and suspected his involvement in plots against the emperor. Was it that he didn’t trust her? Or was she simply no threat to him, a non-entity he would soon be rid of? His courteous behavior seemed to belie that possibility.

Her German improved thanks to her interactions with the servants and other members of the household, but she steadfastly refused to speak German to him, feigning incomprehension. If he judged her dim-witted, it would lower her value.

The weather cooled as autumn stole over the land. She saw her Black Knight less frequently. When she did, he was tense, preoccupied. She sensed he was involved in some sort of imminent military action, and feared for his safety, but could not tell him of her feelings. She convinced herself it was only fear of what would become of her if aught untoward befell him.


Tags: Anna Markland Historical