Rome, 1087

Constance was running as fast as she could, when she slipped, with a yelp of surprise, in the tall wet grass of the courtyard. The princess muttered a curse as she found herself lying on her back, staring at the sliver of moon which provided the only illumination in the courtyard. She rose in a crouch, realizing at last that all this running had done little good for her bare feet which were now throbbing in pain. Nevertheless, she willed herself to move on to the next shadow. There she folded herself in half, hands on her knees, out of breath and panting. Her heart was pounding furiously from a mix of exhaustion and fear.

If she had been told a few days ago that she would be sneaking off in the dark to flee a convent, she would have probably laughed off the notion as absurd. Now, faced with this very reality, Constance found herself scared and confused, but also slightly excited. Still, she could not wrap her head around the idea that her own loving father had wished her trapped in this abominable place. Surely someone had altered the letter she had presented upon her arrival in Rome. Then it dawned on her, that this would be precisely something her brother could do; after all he had always wanted to get rid of her, had he not? Louis, you wretched pig, you won’t get rid of me so easily! She thought with some measure of venom.

Thinking of Louis spurred Constance into action once more and as if drawing from some secret cache of energy, reserved only for hating her brother, she sprinted to the next large patch of shadows under a sturdy stone wall. The wall would pose a problem, it was taller than she was and had a reasonably even surface, furthermore, Constance, despite being fit, had never been very strong of the arms. Yet, stopping here meant the whole escape had been for naught, it meant that she would be trapped here, it meant that Louis had won.

With an undignified grunt the princess launched herself at the wall, her hands barely reaching the edge. With great effort, and multiple near falls, Constance heaved herself over the daunting obstacle until she was lying, her back resting on the cool stone. Her arms were burning and she was out of breath, but she couldn’t stop herself from uttering a small cry of exhilaration. Underneath her came a whisper, which startled, but she quickly recovered her senses when she realized who it was.

“Highness?”

“Hermann von Munich!” For once she spoke the name with joy. “I was not sure you would come.”

“How could I refuse your plea for mein help?” Constance had counted on that and she was beginning to understand that such a man had his uses, besides being annoying.

“Come Highness, everything is ready.” He continued in the same near silent tone.

Without a word, she rolled off the wall and dropped on his horse, wrapping her arms around him as he launched his mount into a gallop. While Constance disliked being rescued, especially by this man, twice, she had to admit that he was well prepared to escape the city. While she would have lost her way after two intersections, his mastery of directions was flawless, the guards at the wall were well bribed and right out of the city a fresh horse awaited them, more importantly, no questions were asked along the way.

It was only when the sun came up and they were surrounded by Hermann’s personal guard, that Constance realized something was terribly wrong. This was not the way to Florence, the practical route to return home.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked sharply.

“Bologna.” Was all he said and her face contorted itself to accommodate a flurry of emotions. Finally she settled herself.

“You can’t! Our two people are at war… Unless you mean to free me from one prison, only to deliver me to another?”

“After a fashion.”

Constance mulled over his cryptic and feared for the worse, nevertheless, she chanced a reply.

“What does that mean?”

Hermann turned to her with a large grin that chilled her to the very core.

“When we reach Bologna, Kaiser willing, we will be joined in wedlock!”