Chapter 12

The soothing heat of the stranger comforted her through the night and well into the morning. She felt so safe and protected near him. His arms around her made the perfect barrier between her and the rest of the world. She embraced the feeling of not being alone, of having a protector, of being with someone who would stay beside her. She had been warned her whole life to be wary of others, the Parisian Court was full of treachery. And all forms of affection or friendship were a ruse. But this was different. He was different.

Laying here so close to him caused a tide of emotion to wash over her; swallowing her whole. Consuming her completely. She loved him. This was the only man she ever wanted to be with. This is who she needed.

She needed the man with the gentle ways, who was not timid when he was with her. She needed the man who would listen to her thoughts and then would give his own opinion freely. She needed the man who would come back and stay, while holding her close the whole night to chase the pain away.

Overwrought by emotion she reached out for his hand that was draped over her. She brought the hand to her mouth and kissed every inch of it. She loved him, all of him, completely.

She felt his smile press against the nape of her neck as he stirred to wakefulness. Then his still sleep laden voice rumbled, "Is there a mouse in the bed? I felt something running over my hand."

Gisla let out a huff of indignation. He was impossible.

"No there is no mouse in the bed. That was me."

"Oh, and what was it you were doing?" He asked with his voice tinged with amusement.

"You know what I was doing." Gisla answered, not wanting to confess what she had done.

The faintest trace of a laugh filled his voice, "No I don't. I was asleep."

She moved away from him and crossed her arms in annoyance, "Then I do not know either. I was asleep too."

A deep laugh erupted from him and he took her own hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He placed a long, slow kiss upon it and said, "Do you remember now?"

Gisla felt her heart beat grow faster with exhilaration, like a thousand stallions turned free at once. Her cheeks burned with a blush and her head spun like she had just drunk a strong glass of wine.

A rooster's call cut through the silence of the night and the moment was broken. The stranger put her hand back down and began to get out of bed.

"Please," She said reaching out to stop him, "don't leave me, yet."

"I must. Dawn has almost come."

"Surly you could stay just a little longer."

"No," he said, a strange meaning hidden in his voice, "I do not think you deserve that."

Gisla felt her temper rise at his words, "What? You must have misspoken. I am the Princess of Paris. Who could be more deserving than me? What would you do if I ordered you to stay?"

A gentle laugh filled the room, "I would still not stay. I have told you before, I am your equal."

"I do not believe that is true. As your Princess, I command you to come back."

"No." He said his voice filled with enjoyment.

Gisla's face flushed with rage, "I am a true daughter of Charlemagne. Who are you to disobey me?"

"Ahh, but I think the real question is who do you think I am?"

"What," Gisla asked annoyed that he was changing the subject.

"Tell me who I am and I will stay."

"I am a Princess, I do not need to answer your riddles."

"Very well." He said as he began to walk away.

"Wait!" Gisla called before she even thought. "Wait," she repeated more calmly, "I know who you are. You are… you are… a gardener, I suppose."

A silence filled the room for a moment. And then he answered, "What is a gardener?"

Gisla let out a sigh, "Don't mock me. Just tell me yes or no."

"Tell me what that is and I will say."

"A gardener is a man who tends to plants."

"Then I suppose I was once, but I am not that now. Good bye Princess."

Gisla's feeling were caught somewhere between pure rage and unadulterated annoyance, "Don't leave just yet. I am sure I can guess. Just give me more time to think, I am too busy during the day to think of such things."

He let out a laugh offending her further. Why must he always be laughing at what she said?

"No, it is time for me to leave. But do not fret I will return sooner than you think."

He spoke no more and stole off into the darkness, leaving Gisla to ponder his final words.


Rollo returned to his own chambers and crawled into his empty bed. He was glad that he had returned to Gisla even if she still did not know him. He had remembered something as they talked before he left; she was young. That was part of her that bewitched him. She was half an emperoress, half a child. What the Franks called a princess. Five summers ago he did not think her father would have given her in marriage to anyone on account of her age. He needed to remember how much older he was than her.

Yes, she was stubborn, but she was young enough that she was still learning. Teaching her to love him was in a way no different than teaching Bjorn to wield a sword, with patience progress could be made.

A few hours later Rollo was striding through the halls of the palace. He had skipped breakfast, for he had better plans in mind. Outside of Gisla's chambers he saw a servant carrying a heavy tray of food. Inspiration struck him and he stepped in front of the servant blocking her way. The woman shrank up against the wall and looked up at him with eyes full of fear.

"For…Gisla, yes?" He said pointing to the food.

The woman shook with fear and gave a small nod.

"Good." He said snatching the tray from her.

She cringed as if she expected him to strike her, but Rollo only turned away. He had what he wanted now. He did not understand why the Franks were always so afraid of him.

He opened the door and entered Gisla's chambers. She was laying in her bed staring up at the ceiling with a distant gaze, as if considering all the mysteries of the universe at once.

"You are here at last Eleanor," she said without looking to the door, "bring the food quickly I am so famished–" Her voice dropped when she laid eyes on him.

"What are you doing here?" She said drawing herself into a sitting position.

He pointed down to the tray of food in his one had as an answer.

"You are not one of my servants. Why would– Wait! Where do you think you are going?" She asked as Rollo began to make his way to his side of the bed.

"You must not get in." She hissed as he began to place the tray in the center of the bed.

He watched her eyes grow hot as coals as he placed himself into bed.

"What do you think gives you the right to be in my bed!" She said in disgust.

He pointed to the wedding band around his finger.

"That does not mean anythi– Wait can you understand me?" She asked in confusion.

Rollo nodded yes.

"Then get out!" Gisla said pointing to the door.

A sly smile crossed his face and he shook his head to tell her no. He then reached down to the tray and picked up a piece of bread and began to butter it.

"That is mine!" Gisla said in indignation.

Rollo carefully spread the butter over the bread and then split the slice in two and offered her half.

"You are getting crumbs in my bed."

He shrugged and began to eat his bread.

Hunger must have over come her because she took the bread from his hand and began to nibble at the edge. She kept her eyes locked on him as if waiting for him to do something more offensive if she dared look away.

It took a small eternity for them to finish the food together. He would offer. She would refuse. He would eat. She would shout. Eventually they reached some kind of truce and the rest of the meal was passed in silence.

When the food was finished Rollo collected the dishes and put them back on the tray. He then climbed out of bed and over dramatically swept the crumbs of the bed in wide sweeping motions. He then gave a Frankish bow and left the room.

He shoved the tray and the dishes into the hands of the first servant he saw and went to go visit Abbot Lupus.


Night had come again and Gisla's servants bustled around as they readied her for bed. It was times like these when she was the most grateful for their help, for she was so lost in her own thoughts she did not know how she could ever dress herself left on her own. She thought it was providence that God had foreseen that she should be born royal so that she would not have to struggle with having to think and dress at the same time.

What a strange day it had been. And the night was only full of more mysteries and riddles. She was weary of wondering and decided to put an end to it.

Her maids helped her into bed and tucked her in, but as they were about to blow out her candles she stopped them.

"Adelaide, leave one lit. I wish to have some light tonight."

"As you wish, Princess."

Historical Note: "A true daughter of Charlemagne" It was common practice during this time to simply refer to yourself as a son or daughter of a famous ancestor even if you were more than one generation apart.