Betrothed to the Barbarian. Carol TownendЧитать онлайн книгу.
marble floor, twisting her fingers together. ‘My apologies, Princess, I would have insisted on being here if I knew the Duke was in the City. Ashfirth didn’t tell me.’
‘Never mind, he was probably trying to protect you. And you are here now, which means we can each step back into our own shoes. It will be a relief to you, I am sure. Katerina, tomorrow the Imperial Court is going to find that Princess Theodora Doukaina is much recovered. She is going to make something of a show of herself and we need to discuss how she is to go about it. Once we have done that, you must take me into the reception chamber. I should like to thank your husband for all he has done for you.’
Next day, the bells for morning service had barely faded when courtiers in the Great Palace were at last granted clear sight of Princess Theodora Doukaina. She trotted out of the Imperial Stables at the head of a glittering entourage. Her stallion was the colour of milk, its flowing mane and tail had been neatly plaited with violet ribbon made from the same delicate fabric as her gown. The Princess had, so the word went, been up and about since dawn.
Princess Theodora led her cavalcade through the spring sunlight to the Mangana Palace, where she dismounted and went inside with a handful of ladies-in-waiting. She was doubtless reacquainting herself with her aunt, the former Empress. No one could say how the meeting went, the Princess had simply dismounted and gone inside. She emerged some half an hour later, climbed back into the saddle, and set about reacquainting herself with the City.
Princess Theodora Doukaina rode out through the Palace gates and no one had seen the like of it in years. A contingent of Varangians marched alongside her, fearsome battle-axes flashing in the light. Her outriders were wearing the uniform of Palace Guards and Lady Sophia, a favoured lady-in-waiting, was riding at her side. With the rest of her attendants riding a horse-length behind, the Princess processed down the entire length of the Mese—Middle Street.
Her next stop was at the Church of the Holy Apostles for prayers. Then she and her retinue paraded about under the arches of the aqueduct that carried fresh water into the heart of Constantinople. Citizens and slaves stopped in their tracks. From streets and alleyways, from windows and doors, heads craned to look.
There was no mistaking Princess Theodora Doukaina on that milk-white stallion. Some of the onlookers half-expected to discover that the Princess who had lived so long among the barbarians—ten years, imagine!—had grown horns and a tail. But there were no horns, just a jewel-encrusted diadem that had been set on elaborately arranged brown hair. Pearls swung on pendants dangling from the diadem; matching pearls hung from her ears. There was no tail, either, just yards of flowing violet silk. Princess Theodora’s smile was gracious and her brown eyes sparkled. She looked happy to be home.
Behind the Princess and her lady there was always that long and colourful train of ladies and maidservants. In short, the Princess was seen with enough attendants to satisfy the needs of a dozen princesses, let alone one. Silver glittered at wrists and fingers; gold shone on headbands and jewelled cloak-pins. Shawls fluttered, bright as butterfly wings—pink, blue, green, crimson. The ladies’ eyes were, as was seemly, downcast; they were talking to each other non-stop, chattering like sparrows. Harness jingled; hooves struck sparks from the paved streets.
Word spread like wildfire, the crowds grew. Everyone wanted to see for themselves that Princess Theodora was back. She was clearly enjoying perfect health and looked every inch the Princess. For those hoping for a scandal, she looked disappointingly normal.
‘So that’s what she looks like,’ one man muttered to his slave. ‘She was hidden away for so long, I thought she must be hideously scarred, but she’s lovely, quite lovely.’
‘That stallion is no lady’s mount,’ observed the young wife of one of the generals.
‘She’s controlling it well,’ the general said. ‘And given it only returned yesterday with her women, that is no mean feat, it must be champing at the bit for a good gallop.’
At last Theodora rode back to the stables, she was aware that all eyes had been on her—she had expected nothing less. They hoped for a pageant. I trust this has satisfied them. She felt exhausted.
‘Princess, we can leave the horses at the Boukoleon portico,’ Sophia said gently. ‘A groom will walk them back to the stables.’
‘I prefer to walk,’ Theodora said, realising, too late, that her tone had been curt. A slave-girl watching from one of the doorways lifted her eyebrows. Theodora made a note to soften her voice. She was not going to enjoy the restrictions that would be imposed on her, but there was no point snapping at poor Sophia because she was unused to being the centre of so much attention. ‘Besides, I have yet to inspect the stables. I want to speak to the head groom, there may be days when I am unable to ride and the horses must not be neglected.’
Sophia nodded.
Theodora gestured for one of the accompanying guards. ‘Captain Brand?’
‘Despoina?’
‘There are orders for the head groom that I should like to deliver personally. Lady Sophia will accompany me.’ She gestured at the train of attendants. ‘Be so good as to tell the other ladies they may return to the women’s quarters. You may escort them.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ The Captain exchanged words with a couple of sergeants and turned back to her. ‘Princess, I must tell you I have orders myself. Commander Ashfirth insists that I remain with you until you are safely in your apartment.’
Theodora kept her irritation from her face. Yes, this was how it was going to be. Already it had started; she was hedged in by rules, by other people’s expectations. Her days of freedom were truly over.
‘Very well, Captain.’
In a tack room in the Imperial Stables, Duke Nikolaos was checking his equipment with Elias and one of his grooms. That faulty girth had been weighing on his mind. His gear was regularly checked, both by himself and his groom, it seemed unlikely that they should have missed such an obvious flaw.
‘This saddle is fine, my lord,’ Elias pronounced.
‘This halter also,’ said the groom.
Nikolaos looped the bridle he had been examining on to its hook with a sound of exasperation. ‘And this. I simply don’t understand how we could have missed that girth.’
‘Everything here is in order, Duke Nikolaos. Shall I return the saddles to the racks?’
‘Please do.’ Nikolaos waved at the heap of harness. ‘Put it all away, Paul, there’s nothing wrong with any of it.’ He paused. ‘On second thought, leave out gear for two horses, I have business in the City; afterwards I shall take a gallop through the countryside. Elias, saddle up, you are coming with me.’
Nikolaos hefted a saddle at his manservant and together they headed for the stalls.
‘Where to, my lord?’ Elias asked, slipping the bridle over the brown mare that had been his gift from his master some years previously.
Hercules harrumphed and whickered a greeting as his master entered his stall. ‘We shall go to Cleo’s first and then—’
‘Cleo’s?’ Elias looked faintly uncomfortable. ‘Are you sure you want me with you?’
‘I shan’t stay long,’ Nikolaos said, slinging the saddle on to his horse and tightening the girth.
‘You are going to tell her about your marriage.’
‘She knows about that already. I am going to bid her farewell.’
Elias went very still. ‘Really?’
Nikolaos gave his manservant a rueful look. ‘I cannot afford to alienate a princess, Elias. Remember, she is a Doukas—cousin to the Empress.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘It strikes me that, if I am to be married, I should start by trying to do the right thing. Cleo must go.’ Lady Verina had given Nikolaos a mistrust of women; nevertheless,