“See that she drinks this potion with lots of water.” The physician handed the powder to Lothar. “And have one of your servants remove her bloody apron and find her a clean one.”
Surprised that Lothar followed the physician’s demands, Isabel studied the dark-haired ruler, noticing that his features were well-formed and his beard neatly trimmed. Although she knew Lothar didn’t believe she was a serving maid, she wasn’t sure whether he knew she was Chetwynd’s wife. Because her hand was starting to hurt and she trusted the physician, she drank the potion handed her and tried to think what to do next. But the throbbing pain in her hand made her feel weak. Fatigue kept her from thinking straight, and she closed her eyes for a minute.
When she had recovered a bit, Isabel saw that Lothar was staring at her from a nearby chair. “Who are you?” he finally asked, much more gently this time.
She struggled to sit up straight, looking him in the eye. “I am Lady Isabel, the daughter of Lord Theodoric of Narbonne and wife of Lord Chetwynd,” she answered in a steady voice.
Lothar shook his head back and forth. “I was afraid of that. And your brother is Lord Justin, a minister and advisor to King Louis,” he mumbled, as though to himself. He was still shaking his head.
Finally, he turned to one of the guards and spoke in a weary voice. “Go find Lord Justin and bring him to me.”
Isabel noticed his anger had disappeared, and he too seemed tired. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Would you please free Chetwynd?” She collapsed back against the pillows and, although it wasn’t an entirely calculated maneuver, she hoped it would win her some sympathy for her request.
“We’ll see about that. I didn’t mean for you to be hurt. You must believe that, Lady Isabel. And I really had no idea who you were.” Lothar frowned and shook his head. “What were you doing in the cell?”
“I wanted to make sure Lord Chetwynd was all right. He disappeared so suddenly. I only planned to stay a minute.” Isabel was too tired to say more.
“Did Chetwynd entice you to visit him?”
“No, of course not. He was most upset that I came,” she answered in a small voice, remembering how worried he had been.
“You disguised yourself as a serving wench and went to visit your husband in the dungeon. You are a brave woman, Lady Isabel. But you have caused me a great deal of grief.”
“I think it is you who have caused me grief,” she retorted, forgetting her resolve to do all she could to persuade him to free Chetwynd.
“Hold your tongue, or I’ll throw you back into a cell, and not with your husband.” Although his words were harsh, he sounded like he was scolding an irritating child.
Lothar took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean that, Lady Isabel. Things have been getting out of hand around here, and I don’t need another martyr. I had no idea who you were when I saw you in that cell. How could I possibly know that Lady Isabel would visit Lord Chetwynd in the dungeon? In case you aren’t aware of the fact, it’s simply not something ladies do.”
Lothar had risen to pace back and forth in front of Isabel, and she closed her eyes because his movements made her feel sick. When he pulled over a stool to sit directly in front of her, she opened her eyes and saw his concerned expression.
“Are you all right?” When she nodded, he continued. “How long have you been married to Lord Chetwynd?”
“Almost three weeks, Your Majesty.”
“Almost three weeks. All that time. And did you know about your husband’s involvement with Queen Judith before you married him?”
“Yes,” she replied quickly, telling herself that Lothar didn’t need to know that she had no idea that Chetwynd’s attachment was the queen. “How is that any concern of yours?”
“I’m the one asking the questions here. I must admit I find this situation very curious.” Once again he stood up to pace the floor.
Isabel wished he would stop jumping around. Her head was beginning to ache, and she leaned back and closed her eyes again. There was a buzzing in her ears, but she could still hear Lothar mumbling in the background. He seemed to be talking to himself. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
“Now I remember. I’ve heard stories of you. You’re the one who escaped from the kidnappers. No wonder they couldn’t hold you. My god, you are the type of woman who inspires legends. They will be writing poems about you and singing them along with the ode to Lord Roland. His bravery on the battlefield will be compared to your bravery against kidnappers. I do not want to become part of the legend. As I said before, I don’t need another martyr. What am I going to do with you?”
Isabel couldn’t make sense of his mumbling, and wondered if he had gone mad. Why was he talking about Lord Roland? What did she have to do with the legendary hero of Charlemagne’s Spanish war? She must have gone to sleep for a few minutes, as the next thing she knew Gilda was leaning over her.
“Isabel, can you hear me?”
“Yes, of course. Stop shouting, Gilda.” She tried to look around. “What are you doing here?”
“When the guard sought out your brother, I was with him in the dining hall. Marianna had told us where you went, and I tried my best to calm Justin down. We were both waiting for you to return. When Justin was summoned by King Lothar, I followed along.”
Isabel saw Justin over Gilda’s shoulder, and she smiled at him. “Greetings, brother.” The pain in her hand had ceased, and she felt very relaxed.
“What did you give her?” Justin asked Lothar. “Her eyes are glassy. She looks like she has been drugged.”
“My physician gave her a
