Chapter 3
With only the light of a crescent moon to guide him Rollo stepped past the curtains that divided the chamber from the outside world. He strained his ears to hear any life inside. He hoped to hear the soft sound of snoring; that she was asleep. If that was the case he would climb into bed with her and when she awoke at dawn he would tell her all he ever wanted to say.
It was not silent in the room however. When he listened he could hear the soft sound of sobbing, muffled by a pillow. He was unsure of how to proceed. The idea of her crying in private frightened him. He had seen her weep before at the wedding, but he had thought of that as a way to shame him. Like when she tossed wine in his face or mimicked his manners at the table for the amusement of the courtiers. The idea that she was truly upset about her circumstances frightened him.
He walked in darkness to her bedside remembering his way from the few nights he had stayed here before he was given his own chamber. He felt his knee brush the edge of the bed and he waited a moment longer as he considered what to do next.
His presence seemed to escape her and her crying was heavy and heart breaking. Between her ragged sobs he thought he could hear her muttering a few words now and again and he wondered if she was praying.
He considered for a moment if he should just leave her to her anguish. He did not have the heart to though. He could remember nights like these when his soul suffered and he cried out, but no one came. Rollo had lived in Kattegat then, but he supposed pain felt the same no matter where one lived.
He climbed into the empty spot of her bed next to her and laid down.
At his movement he heard Gisla make a sound that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup.
"Who's there," she hissed, "if you are that filthy pagan I will scream."
"Then scream. I do not care." It was true if the guards came running they would only find a husband in bed with his wife. There was nothing wrong with that.
"And why would you not care? Have I lost all standing among my people?" She wailed.
"I do not care because I am exactly where I am suppose to be."
He heard Gisla give a loud sniff as she tried to compose herself. "Who are you? I do not know your voice." She said in a stiff and regal manner.
"I am who I am." He answered enigmatically, then continued in a softer voice, "Why were you crying?"
He felt Gisla go rigid, "I was not crying. And who are you to ask such things of me? You must leave before I have you dragged away."
"I am not afraid of that. They would not be able to drag me. I am one of the strongest men in all of Frankia."
"That cannot be," Gisla said in a bored voice, "if you were one of the strongest I would know you. You must be someone of no importance."
Rollo considered her words for a moment. "You are right," he finally agreed, "I am of no importance. But I wish to be important, especially to you."
Gisla let out an indignant huff, "It is very bold for you to say such thing to me. Now as your princess I must command you to leave at once."
Rollo snorted at her words. He was pleased to see that her temper never left her.
"What is so funny?" Gisla questioned. "I commanded you to leave. Now go."
"You cannot command me leave."
"And why not?"
"Because I am your equal."
"How dare you," Gisla said with her voice holding the frosts of winter, "I have no equal and answer to no one, but my father. What could someone like you ever offer me?"
"I could listen." Rollo answered.
"Listen," Gisla mocked, "and what good would that do me?"
"It might help to share your mind. I know what it is like to suffer. And as I said before I am your equal. You could share your thoughts with me."
"Why so you could go around Paris peddling my secrets? Get out! Besides I was not crying I was simply. . . praying deeply."
A slight grief filled Rollo at her words, "I would not tell anyone what you tell me." He said in earnest, "Besides I could already tell them you were crying. This much I already know. Please just tell me what it is that troubles you."
"I was not crying! And if you must know I was troubled because my father is angry with me."
"Oh, and why is that?"
"He is incensed that I tried to be granted a divorce from the heathen he forced upon me. He said it was wicked of me to try and ruin all his plans and leave Paris without protection. But I told him that it was wicked to force me into a marriage with one of Paris' attackers and that there were other ways to defend the city. He grew angry at my words and had my guards dismissed."
"Guards?"
"Yes," Gisla said with an annoyed huff, "I had been keeping men outside my door to ensure that savage did not come and attack me in the night. My father had those men sent away saying that my behavior was an offence to the sacrament of marriage, and it was not right for me to keep my husband away from me."
For a brief moment Rollo felt slight panic rise up inside him. He did not know what a 'sacrament' was and he was worried she would like to speak about that more.
His fears vanished when Gisla began to speak again, "That is why I mistook you for my husband. I thought my father had sent someone to fetch him to my chambers so that he could come and defile me."
"Do you worry about him often?"
"Not when I had guards at my door!" Gisla said in protest, "Now I must spend all my nights in terror waiting for that beast to come and find me."
"Why would you be terrified? You have kept him from you this long, perhaps he is not interested."
"Interested? Of course he is interested." Gisla said in offense, "I am the lovely princess of Paris. Many men desire me I know it. And that heathen did too, he would have taken me on the wedding night if I had not bravely defended myself with a knife."
A deep smile etched across Rollo's face as he heard her telling him her version of that night. She was a kitten who had confused herself with a lion, and he loved her all the more for it.
"I have no doubt that that piece of warm meat will come back and try and have his way with me. He is an animal and only the most base of instincts control him. Do you know they have been trying to teach him Frankish for weeks with no improvement? He cannot even say a word of it and lives like a mute."
"No that is not true, he can say more than a word. I have heard him."
"Yes I suppose someone was able to get him to grunt je vous salue, it must have taken them all morning for them to teach him that much. And that ends his progress, one little phrase was all his little mind could muster."
Rollo smiled to himself again at her sarcasm. He had worked all morning to learn those words. And at the time he hoped she would be pleased with him.
"And now I must live in terror of the night he returns to my bedside to stammer out those words and then violently takes me. My father is truly cruel to consign me to such a fate."
Rollo heard a slight shudder at the end of her words, and he understood that in some way she truly feared this. He reached for her hand and clasped it. At first she moved as if she wanted to withdraw her hand, but then she relented as he began to speak.
"Princess what if I asked you for you to allow me to stay in the place of your guards? No one would see me coming or going. And I promise as long as you are with me you would never need to fear an attack from your husband."
He heard Gisla suck in a sharp breath. "No-no, that would not be appropriate." She stammered, "And you are only one man and he is very strong. I do not think you would be able to help me."
"I am not afraid of him. As I told you I am one of the strongest men in Frankia. I have no reason to fear him. In fact, he should fear me."
"Who are you?" Gisla asked again.
"Someone sent to help you."
Gisla considered his words for a moment and then answered, "Then I barely give my consent for you…to stay."
