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“We thank you, Count von Wolfenberg,” the princess replied with a smile.
It was doubtful Dieter realized how blessed he was to receive the favor of a smile—Matilda had even remembered his name. Clearly, she liked him.
The gaunt-looking bishop bowed before beginning his list, pausing after each item to fill his wheezing lungs.
Blythe tensed as he swayed, fearing he wasn’t long for this world. Without his crozier for support he might keel over.
Dieter translated both the bishop’s rasped instructions and Matilda’s questions.
Blythe tried to concentrate on remembering the details in case her mistress forgot a step, but all she could think of was how at ease Dieter seemed in the presence of royalty. Heinrich must trust him completely. She’d heard Saxons opposed Heinrich’s rule. If Dieter was his faithful servant, perhaps he wasn’t a good person. After all, an honorable married man would not be flirting with other women.
Perhaps, he was no different from the young noblemen at King Henry’s court who thought Matilda’s ladies-in-waiting were fair game since they couldn’t marry.
Realizing belatedly the bishop was ready to lead the procession to the ceremony, Blythe assisted Matilda to don a fur-lined cape, then raised her allotted corner of the heavy garment off the planked floor.
Very conscious of the presence of the enervating count directly behind her as they began the short walk to the neighboring church, she nigh on faltered when he whispered. “I’m a widower.”
* * *
The ceremony betrothing Heinrich to Matilda seemed to be progressing without a hitch, but Dieter wasn’t interested in the historic event as he stood beside the duke in Adalbold’s Dom. The magnificent architecture of the Kerkenkruis absorbed his attention. In honor of Emperor Conrad, Bishop Adalbold had constructed a church at the centre of five churches built in the shape of the crucifix.
Dieter had done what he could to lessen Lady Blythe FitzRam’s upset, though she looked as bored with the proceedings as he felt.
He fully understood the necessity for rulers to form strategic alliances, but the betrothal of a child to a grown man was a travesty as far as he was concerned. He wondered if King Henry worried about his young daughter.
After Utrecht, the imperial cavalcade was scheduled to travel on to Mainz where the nine-year-old Matilda would be crowned empress. However, when Dieter answered the pre-dawn summons to Lothair’s chambers the next morning, his duke’s grim features confirmed the time had come to abandon any pretense of supporting Heinrich.
“We leave within the hour,” Lothair said abruptly. “Our troops have gathered near Warnstedt, ready to march against Heinrich. I must be there to lead them. Time is of the essence.”
“I will take care of things at Wolfenberg en route,” Dieter replied.
“Nein,” Lothair replied forcefully. “You are better suited to aid the resistance brewing in Köln. They need an organizer—someone they trust.”
Dieter admitted inwardly he preferred involvement in plotting and intrigue to fighting in an open pitched battle. However, organizing a rebellion was dangerous and would take months, if not years. He couldn’t risk taking Johann to Köln. It would mean a long absence from Wolfenberg. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shirk his duty. “I am your man,” he declared.
Lothair slapped him on the back. “Heinrich doesn’t know what he’s in for. My lieutenant has the men mounted and ready.”
They hurried to the stables and rode out to the meadows beside the Rhine where they joined the duke’s armed escort.
As the troop galloped away from Utrecht, immense regret filled Dieter’s heart. He would never see the lovely and innocent Blythe FitzRam again. She could have no notion of the turmoil that lay ahead as Heinrich’s tyranny stoked the fires of rebellion across Saxony. He hoped the coming inferno didn’t consume her.
