Chapter 9
Rollo scaled the tree once more. It was another night, and another chance to be with Gisla. With the progress he was making every night he was sure he could win her over. He was so close now. The kiss she had given him last night was the proof of it. And he was even surprised himself how much a single kiss satisfied him. The kiss was valuable because he wanted the woman behind it and not just her body to satisfy his own cravings. How long had it been since he had thought along those lines?
It was true she still held a low opinion of the 'heathen' Rollo she saw during the day, but what were her complaints? That he was a strong and brave warrior who had killed many Franks? That was true. That he was a Viking and a Northman? That was true as well. And when she told him her disdain for him not learning the language he could not help but laugh a little on the inside, for he knew her own language so well she did not even notice he was a foreigner when he spoke. Rollo did not worry because these prejudices could all be overcome or forgiven given enough time.
His feet landed lightly on the balcony and he entered her chambers. It never ceased to amazing him how wonderful her rooms smelled. The Franks were so wealthy they could afford heady perfumes to fill up ever space. He walked to the edge of the bed and began to climb in when Gisla's voice stopped him.
"You must not get in." She told him.
He paused for a moment. He thought they had gotten past this. "And why not?" he asked as he climbed in the bed.
"Because people are growing suspicious I think."
"Who?"
"The matron in charge of my ladies. I do not know how, but I think she knows something."
"I do not think she does, I have been discreet."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, no one has seen me." He reassured her.
"Very well," Gisla said and she moved closer to him. "Just the same I am glad you are here."
Rollo felt as if he were glowing from the inside at her words and her actions. He now understood that he must have been doing something right all these nights that had passed before. To increase his own enjoyment he asked, "Oh, why is that?"
"Because I feel so safe with you beside me." She clung to his person and nuzzled against his chest.
"Good. Good," Rollo answered wondering if Valhalla could be as wonderful as this. "You will always be safe with me with you."
"I know, but it is still good to have you here. I was so afraid before you came."
"Oh, and what was it you feared?"
"The heathen."
Rollo felt the tender moment break within him. Were all her thoughts tied around her hatred for him?
Gisla continued, "For the longest time I feared that he would come and murder us all in our sleep. That is what all the gossips would say."
Rollo drew back from her and felt a slight anger growing inside him, "And why would he do a thing like that?"
Gisla did not notice his irritation and let out a yawn as she answered, "So that he could seize Paris and let his brother in the front gates. He is a pagan and has no soul or conscience, I am sure traitorous acts are second nature to them."
"You think he is a traitor? Then what was all that we heard about the massacre against the Northmen in their camp. Did he not assist in this?"
"Yes I suppose he did. But that only proves my point. They are little more than animals. I doubt it meant anything to him."
She moved so that she could rest her head against his chest and held him closer, but all Rollo could feel was a lump of ice growing in his chest. She thought the death of all those people, many of whom he had once called friends meant nothing. He felt anger and unrest grow inside him until his skin felt like it was crawling with a thousand stinging ants. He could not stay. He could not be here.
He moved her arms off of him and got out of the bed in one fluid motion. She gasped in surprise as she struggled to understand what had just happened in the darkness.
"Where are you going?" She questioned.
"I am leaving." He answered as he made his way to the door.
"But you never leave once you come. Why go now?"
"I am leaving because I think I have been mistaken about many things."
She said something else as he made it towards the door, but he paid her no mind. He did not have the heart to listen to her any more. All he could feel was anger.
Rollo went to Abbot Lupus' teaching room first thing the next morning. He was not suppose to be there for his lesson for hours, but his mind was troubled. When he arrived at the room though the abbot was not there. He sat down and decided to wait. How strange it was he felt comfortable here of all places?
He remembered his first lesson here. Two small boys had been brought out before he had entered and then they had made him sit where the children had been. It had been such an insult. Yes, he could not speak the language, but he was not a child. The lesson had ended poorly, with Rollo tossing the abbot about and storming from the room. Thinking back he was not even sure how he had communicated that he wanted to sit at the large table across from the abbot like a man. Some how the old man had understood that Rollo wanted to sit at his 'desk' as he called it, and that was where the lessons took place from then on.
Rollo heard a noise at the doorway and looked up to see the abbot entering the room while reading over a piece of parchment. The old man looked up with surprise when he saw Rollo sitting in one of his chairs.
"What are you doing here this early?" Abbot Lupus said with a hint of a smile.
Rollo looked away he was in no mood for smiles, "I simply wish to speak with someone."
"Very well," the abbot said walking over to his desk, "what is it you wish to speak of?"
"Do you think of me as a heathen?" Rollo asked, not even daring to look up.
The abbot paused for a second in thought, "Do you think of yourself as a heathen?"
Rollo's head snapped up, "No, don't answer me like that. I need to know when you look at me do you see only a heathen."
"I do not see a heathen. I see a man."
Rollo slammed his fist down on the table, "No, what sort of man do you see. What sort of man am I?"
"Peace Rollo. Who has put all these questions in your head?"
"That does not answer my question!" Rollo said standing to leave.
"Rollo, Rollo sit." The abbot chided him.
Rollo reluctantly sat down and stared daggers into the man as he waited for answers.
"Do not fret, I do not have a low opinion of you Rollo. I know that you are clever, for you have learned Frankish so well. I know that you are brave, for before I even knew your name your acts of valor on the battle field were well known. And I know you have enough restraint to not force yourself on Gisla. What all this amounts to I could not say. I suppose it is up to you. And what you do with it."
"Then you do not think I am a savage? A traitor? Someone who would kill you in your sleep?"
"No, not at all. And I do not think many others truly think these things. What you have heard is probably only idle talk."
"Then do you think it is hopeless for me?"
"Do I think what is hopeless?"
"That I can win over the princess. That I can achieve greatness."
The abbot shook his head in amusement, "No I do not think it is hopeless. Now tell me truthfully, have you been visiting with the princess?"
Author's Note: Yes, it's a cliff hanger. Sorry. This was actually the first half of a single chapter, but that chapter grew to be three times the size of one of my normal ones so I had to break it somewhere. I hope no one minds too much.
