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archbishop. They stood together, facing the king, as one man.
    The archbishop’s smile had not yet faltered. “He said, ‘Yes.’”
    â€œHe said what?”
    â€œHe said, ‘Yes,’ Sire. He agreed. The terms have all been written.” He gestured to the canon, who handed him a scroll of parchment. “He agreed to a treaty, so long as different land than Flanders is given him. And he agreed to the marriage.”
    Why was it that I could not seem to gain my breath? And how was it that it had become so deathly cold?
    Andulf glanced over at me and then took the child from my arms.
    My father stepped toward the archbishop. “ I have not agreed to the marriage!”
    The count stood between them and placed a hand on my father’s chest.
    My father knocked it away. “You forget yourself!”
    The count withdrew his hand as he inclined his head. “May I remind you, Sire, that I cannot fight them and—”
    â€œIf you will not fight them, and if, because of it, I am not to be allowed to keep my own daughter, then you must forfeit something in return.” My father, seemingly done with the count, took a step toward the archbishop.
    That unfortunate man stumbled back, away from him.
    Now my teeth were clattering together. I could not seem to stop them.
    Andulf set the child down and pushed her back toward the door of the villa. “My lady?”
    My father was still shouting. “You tell that Dane he will find his new lands here, in Neustria.”
    The count’s face went dark as his hand dropped to his knife. “But these are my lands, Sire!”
    â€œHe can have all the lands from this river to the Seine and out to the sea. I trust those will be more to his liking.” He turned his wrath on the archbishop. “If those are sufficient, then he shall meet me in Rouen three months hence, when you will indeed baptize him and save his piteous, black soul.”
    The archbishop bowed. “For the glory of God.”
    My father stared at him for one long moment. “For your glory, Franco. I suspect this has been for your glory all along.”

CHAPTER 7
    I do not know how I made it back inside the villa; my knees were shaking like leaves, and I could not have had my wits about me. Once inside, once I had gained the sanctuary of the royal bedchamber, I waited for my father while my belly twisted with fear. Had I once thought my life sad and sorry? Had I despaired of being forgotten and neglected? How I wished it were now so!
    As my father entered the room, I threw myself before him. “Please, Sire. I beg of you, on the grave of your mother, the rightful queen, do not give me to the pagan.”
    His own queen looked on from her silk-cushioned retreat in the corner of the room.
    He sat in his armed chair. When I reached for his slippered foot, he shifted, removing it from my grasp. “What else can I do? I cannot defend my own kingdom, and I cannot control my own vassals. And now I cannot even save my own daughter.”
    â€œBut the pagan already has sons. He already has a wife! So what would that make me?”
    He did not need to answer. We both already knew. It would make me my mother. His face went dark, and I knew I had overspoken. I rose to my knees as I beseeched him. “And—and I was not told. I was not even asked—”
    â€œNor was I.”
    â€œThe archbishop cannot expect that—”
    â€œHe does.”
    â€œBut you cannot just—”
    â€œWhat else am I to do?” He passed a hand over his face with a weary sigh. “If I will not agree, they will keep on fighting. Robert may have more men than I do, but in this, he is right. The Danes will keep on attacking. Perhaps not this spring, but surely the next. And maybe the one after that. How many times will Chartres be burned before there is nothing left there to destroy?”
    â€œBut it is the count who won the battle. At Chartres he was the