The old man paused and stared at her. His mouth wanted to say, “Do I know you?” but instead it said, “We are looking for Count Lothar von Stefan. Is this his house. Are you a servant in the house?”

Genevieve shook her head. “My father died on the battlefield when I was eight. You are Bernard, brother of King Pepin and Uncle to King Charles. I remember you when I was four. You came here at that time searching to strengthen the army to assault Septimania.”

“You were the girl,” Bernard said, suddenly, like he remembered something. “You were only this big.” He smiled and reached his hand down as close to the ground as he could without getting down from his horse. “You have a remarkable memory.” He paused before he added, “And I am sorry about your father. I guess I knew that, but I had forgotten.”

“I live here now with my stepmother and two stepsisters,” Genevieve spoke plainly. “But you are welcome to come up to the house and warm yourselves by the fire.”

“Not your mother?”

Genevieve shook her head again. “She died when I was four. One reason you came here.”

“Of course. I am sorry,” Bernard said, sincerely, as he remembered better.

“I was very young. I am seventeen now. Please come up to the house and I will see what there is in the larder. Maybe Matthild can make some hot tea to warm you.”

“We don’t want to be a bother,” Bernard said, which surprised some of his men. Usually, armies just took what they needed, and if the man or woman was important, they sometimes said thank you, but that was it.

“No bother,” she responded, though to be honest, she could not wait to see Mother Ingrid’s face, not to mention the faces of Gisela and Ursula. “Is Charles with you?” She knew it was cheeky to talk about the king in that manner, but Margueritte sat very strong in her mind at the moment. She remembered Bernard, who was actually King Pepin’s much younger half-brother, having a different mother. “How old is Charles now?” she asked before Bernard could answer since he got busy dismounting. She remembered, or Margueritte remembered Bernard as a young man of twenty or so, standing near Pepin at his father’s funeral. Charlemagne would not even be born for another seven years.

“Yes. He is twenty-seven and nearby. We were sent ahead to search out possible lodgings. We need a place to gather troops in the spring and the Rhine Valley has been fruitful this last year.”

“There are a couple of inns in town and one overlooks the river. The Rhine is slow moving this time of year. Too much ice still in the north. Of course, it may flood in a month, but I don’t think so. We had a cold but mostly dry winter.”

“Thank you for the information. Obviously, we would not want to put you ladies out of your winter home.”

Genevieve stopped on the front steps and faced the man. “You would not want the home in any case. It has been nine years since my father died, and there has not been a man around to keep the place. The winter wind whistles through the walls and the furniture is all worn out. Things do wear out with age, you know.” She nudged the man with her voice and smiled for him.

Bernard rubbed his shoulder and smiled in return. “That is something I know all too well.”

Genevieve laughed, and added, “You may not recall, but when you were last here I remember the snotty-nosed twelve-year-old boy who used to sing off key. It was annoying. I was just wondering if he matured since then.”

Bernard grinned. “Still can’t carry a tune,” he said.

Genevieve smiled, took Bernard’s arm, and brought Bernard inside. She found Mother Ingrid waiting, a most curious expression on her face. Genevieve simply smiled in return. “Mother. May I present Sir Bernard, brother of King Pepin and uncle of Charles, King of the Franks.”

“Lady von Stefan,” Bernard started right in. “Though I am years late, I am sorry about the loss of your husband. He was a good and faithful man to the king and to all the nation.”

Mother Ingrid’s eyes got big like she was barely able to breathe, “Thank you,” before Gisela and Ursula came running into the room. They went and got all gussied-up and used far too much makeup as usual.

“We have guests!”

“We have company!”

Some of the younger men who had been eyeing Genevieve closely came in and did not show the same interest in the stepsisters. In fact, they tried not to make eye contact, because the sisters certainly showed interest in the men.

Mother Ingrid pulled herself together fairly quickly. “Matthild,” she shouted to the old woman in the kitchen who stuck her head out the door. “Put the kettle on. Let us make some tea for our guests.” She turned back to give Genevieve a hard stare and said “Eggs?” Then she added a bunch of other things to the list before she finished with, “And tell Otl to bring the horses into the barn where they can shelter from the cold.” She smiled for Bernard in a way that made Genevieve want to gag.

“Yes, Mother,” Genevieve said without emotion. She smiled a more natural smile for Bernard and stuck her hand out to her stepmother. She would need more money to pay for the extra things Mother wanted. Their credit was running rather thin.

“I am not made of money,” Mother Ingrid complained and headed back to the bureau where she kept her small stash, but Bernard interrupted.

“Er… Let me help,” he said and pulled more than enough coins out of a small purse that hung from his belt. Genevieve accepted them and smiled a bit more.

“It is hard to make ends meet without a man around the house,” she said, and leaned up to kiss Bernard on the cheek. “I’ll bring you the change.” Bernard turned a bit red and returned her smile. “You are as nice as I remembered,” Genevieve added, before she glanced at her stepmother and scooted out the door.

Inside, Mother Ingrid invited her guests to sit and relax, but Bernard was not finished.

“Robert. See what you can do to help in the kitchen.” Mother Ingrid opened her mouth but Bernard held his hand up to stop her protest. “Robert is a fine cook. Don’t let the soldier’s uniform fool you. We need a good cut roasting for Charles when he gets here.” The man nodded and left the room.

“The king is coming here?” Mother Ingrid asked.

“The king? The king!” Gisela and Ursula got excited which caused Bernard to shake his head.

“That might not be a good idea.” He paused to think. “His new wife is pregnant or just delivered. We had to leave her behind to come this way. We have selected Basel as the best, most central place to gather the army this spring, so we will only be passing through Breisach, you might say. You have daughters.” Bernard paused and shook his head. “Charles is very good at logistics, that is the assembly, care, and feeding of an army, and he is very good on the battlefield, especially in selecting and surrounding himself with excellent generals. But when he is not fighting, or doing army things, he has few other interests. He likes to read and learn about new things. He likes roasted meat, and he likes, shall we say, female companionship. He is very charming. Since his wife is not here. You have daughters…”

“No need to be embarrassed,” Mother Ingrid said with a sly grin. “Gisela is fifteen. Ursula is eighteen. Both virgin daughters, and they would be happy to entertain the king.”

“Mother!” At least Gisela understood what her mother was suggesting.

Ursula simply said, “The king?”

Outside, Genevieve arrived at the gate where Otl was talking to a handful of soldiers, just arrived. They looked like Francia’s finest, well turned out for ordinary soldiers. One in particular stood out from the rest, literally. He was a half-foot taller than his companions. Genevieve shaded her eyes as she looked up.

“They are growing them tall in Francia, I see.”

The man gave her a nice smile. “You are as tall as my soldiers. That is pretty tall for a woman.”

“My father was tall, like you.”

“Was? I’m sorry,” the man said with actual sympathy in his voice.

Genevieve nodded. “He died fighting for King Pepin, some years ago. I was eight, so nothing recent. But you. How did you get so tall?”

The man shrugged. “My father was short. In fact, some called him the Short. He also died several years ago, so nothing recent here, too. My name is Charles.”

“Genevieve,” Genevieve said. “My father was also a believer in the stories of the olden days, “When right was right and wrong was wrong”, he would say. “No one doubted who the good guys were back then. Not like today when politics gets everything all jumbled up. I think he wanted a son he could name Arthur after King Arthur, but he had a daughter, so I got Genevieve.” She shrugged very much like Charles who laughed a little and kept smiling for her.

“Lady,” Otl interrupted. Genevieve had to break her eye lock with the tall young man to answer the old servant. He spoke quickly. “Baggins and Littlewood have brought a whole deer for Matthild to roast. Your mother Ingrid will just have to accept that, though I imagine she won’t complain much, given the company. Meanwhile, I thought I might bring the horses into the barn and rub them down. They look like they have been ridden some distance today and should get out of the weather, if we get some rain.”

All eyes went to the sky. It did look to be clouding over.

“Good idea. My thanks,” Charles said, and he told two of the soldiers to help the old man, while Genevieve remembered her errand.

“That would be fine,” she told Otl. “I have to walk to town and get eggs and a few things Mother Ingrid wants to impress our guests, not that they will be impressed given the shabby state of the house and our things.” She started toward town and Charles stepped in right behind her, his other two soldiers following.

“Where are you going?” Genevieve asked.