Rose

by Traci E Hall

  Everard sneezed. “Too musty down there. And dark. I pray the rain will stop for a while.” His brown hair, straight and fine, plastered to his bearded cheeks. His beard had grown in rough, and neither of the men had kept up with tonsuring their heads.

  When the bishop had taken Dominus’s oath, he’d told him to follow the Templar rules as best as he could. The rest?

  Eh.

  Dominus’s secret jaunts to the deck as he’d shadowed Lady Mamille had given him respite from the confined space below. She and the queen took on the elements, as if together they had the power to keep their vessels afloat. Heaven help him, but she’d fascinated him since he’d first noticed her, in France before the expedition started. She had ridden next to the queen, each woman on a white horse as they challenged knights and lords to pledge their lives to the cause.

  Mamie moved through life as if it were meant to be savored. He’d watched her seduce men with her come-hither smile, enthrall them with off-colored jokes, ensnare them as she matched them drink for drink. She laughed like it mattered. Her unwavering bravery as she rode in the caravan against the Turkish infidel made her his ideal woman. Just a year ago, he’d have claimed her for his own.

  Now Dominus was forced to stay away. Templar rules dictated limited conversation—and no touching, if it could be helped. He poured his stymied affections into protecting her from afar. It was pure torture, but he had to be in her presence.

  “Dominus? Everard?”

  Dominus paused at hearing Mamie say his name, his grip on the shroud tight.

  “Are you all right, brother?” Everard asked with concern.

  “Dominus, this way,” Mamie said in a husky voice. “At least it stopped raining. And the wind does not howl like a caged wolf.”

  She stood near the side of the stern, the wooden railing coming to her waist. Her hair, a sinful shade of copper flame that had caused many a night’s temptation, flew in coiled curls in the breeze.

  “Not howling,” Dominus agreed. “But not absent either.”

  “You would argue such a point now?” She spread out her arms, her expression pained.

  He wished for the right to grab her hair in his fist and wind the curls around his fingers. He’d tuck it all away and cover her beauty beneath a black veil. Such flights of fancy served him not at all, and he brushed by her as if he did not see her.

  She made a garbled sound of anger in her throat.

  Her dark brown cloak, the hood down instead of rightfully hiding her hair, was almost black with damp. She would catch a chill if she insisted on staying out in the rain.

  Her eyes, round and bright in her pale face, focused on his forehead instead of what he and Everard carried. He understood loss and wished he could shoulder some of her pain. Dominus could not offer a hug of compassion without breaking the Templar oath or, worse, revealing his feelings—but Mamie needed holding. Where were her friends?

  Fay, the most angelic of all the queen’s ladies, had a spiritual essence that shone around her, like gold in the painting of a saint. She came from the other side of the deck, with Eleanor’s arm looped around hers. The queen carried a book in her hands. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and her long fingers had a purplish hue.

  Even though Eleanor was dressed as simply as Fay and Mamie, without a crown or royal scepter, her regal bearing declared her status. She walked with bred-in-the-bone assurance that her voice would be heard. Dominus wondered if she taught this confidence to her ladies of the guard. In her garden of love.

  No wonder the king’s advisors despised her.

  The queen raised her hand, regarding Mamie, Fay, Dominus, and Everard. “Thank you, sirs, for bringing our Sarah to the deck and assisting us in mourning her death.” She shook the book. “I have the Office of the Dead. I could read from Psalms and follow tradition.” Eleanor bowed her head, as if asking for aid from the Almighty. “But I will not. Sarah found the routines that offer most of us comfort to be binding.”

  Mamie inched closer to Fay. Neither woman looked at the sewn shroud holding the body of their friend.

  The captain ambled forward, his hands loosely before him, his head tilted as he listened quietly to the queen. Offering his support.

  Word spread quickly that the queen was speaking, and people came up from below. King Louis, Odo, and Thierry also arrived on the deck. The two advisors wore black robes and looked like a short version—Odo—and a taller version—Thierry—of Death.

  The queen spoke eloquently, her words resonating with power and easily heard. “I could offer a prayer to Athena. Greek Goddess of Love.”

  Louis watched with compassion as his wife struggled to find the correct way to send off her lady. Dominus wondered why he did not join her.

  “I will not.” Eleanor looked up and met each person’s gaze. “Sarah de Lockeheart deserves something that only I, her sometimes friend, sometimes enemy, can give her.”

  Intrigued, Dominus looked at Everard, who kept glancing at Fay.

  “It is true that Sarah had the visage of a goddess. That she carried the spirit of Athena. She loved the hunt, and her loyalty to those she cared about or protected was unparalleled. She did not let me win a race just because I was duchess or queen. Out of all the women in my life, she treated me as an equal.” Eleanor wiped an eye. “That she was peasant born did not matter to her.”

  Sarah a peasant? She’d never carried herself that way. Dominus felt a reluctant respect.

  “She challenged me, bested me, just as at times I bested her.” Eleanor pulled an orange cloth flower from her cloak.

  “Lily. Peasant or noble born, your heart is pure, your soul unblemished despite the judgments of others. Go with God, Sarah. Go in peace. You and your babe are free of all restrictions.”

  Dominus looked at Mamie and almost dropped Sarah’s corpse. His temptation, Mamie, held herself rigid. Straight back, stiff shoulders. She lifted her gaze, unseeing as she stared over the wrapped body. He shivered, spooked by the terror he’d glimpsed in Mamie’s eyes. It was one thing to mourn a loved one, but this was something more.

  The captain removed his hat and said, “Amen.”

  By rote, the watching mourners responded with the same, whether they agreed with the sentiment or not. Odo seemed repulsed, but Louis shrugged free of his advisor’s hand and went to Eleanor. Louis nodded at the lily, then the shroud.

  “Oui,” Eleanor whispered. “Mon fleurs?”

  Mamie shook free from whatever fear held her captive, joining Fay and Eleanor around Sarah’s covered body. The captain’s men had added small rounded weights so it would sink, making her much heavier in death than in life. Dominus felt the strain in his arms and saw the beginnings of fatigue in Everard’s set mouth.

  The women bowed their heads over Sarah.

  The queen tucked the orange flower into the seam. “You are released from duty,” the queen whispered. “Free.”

  Mamie reached down, touching Sarah’s head through the sailcloth. Sarah’s protruding belly. She drew her hand back with shock, as if realizing how pregnant her friend had been.

  The captain nodded at Dominus. He and Everard counted to three, then tossed the body over the edge of the ship. Feet down, the figure seemed to glide gracefully into the deep blue of the sea. As they’d been told, the rowers were at rest. They would wait for a few minutes and then begin rowing once more.

  The crowd dispersed, though Mamie, Fay, and Eleanor along with Louis, stayed at the railing. Dominus and Everard waited too.

  “She’s gone,” Eleanor said, bringing her knuckles to her lips.

  “Her soul was already free,” Fay clarified with a sigh. “This was only her body. A clay jar. She will find a way to heaven, my queen. I believe that, no matter what the church decrees.”

  Louis stepped back. “My condolences.” He gave a short bow, his discomfort clear.

  It was impossible to ignore rumors of the royal pair at odds. Would Eleanor accept his kindness?

  Mamie coughed into her fist,
her eyes dry, her mouth strained. He would have accepted these as signs of grieving, until he saw the way her hand strayed to the sword at her hip—hidden beneath her cloak.

  The captain dared to step closer, as if to offer comfort. She delivered a scathing look, and the man quickly backed away.

  Relieved, Dominus accepted that he could not have her for himself. But he did not want anyone else to have her either. How to let her know she was not alone?

  He gestured for Everard to go below. “I will find you. Now that the rain has stopped, we can train with our swords.”

  Everard nodded and left. The knight would go far, following orders without question. Fay, Eleanor, and Louis wandered to the other side of the captain’s quarters, leaving him with Mamie.

  He watched from a safe distance—there were rules.

  Dominus had sacrificed much to be here on this stinking ship, and part of that meant observing life instead of partaking in its wonders. He’d promised, and so far he had kept his word.

  A harsh sob sounded as Mamie stood at the rail. Her shoulders started to shake, and she gripped the edge of the ship as if she would jump over and join Sarah in a watery grave. Driven by passionate emotion, Mamie might do it before she realized it was too late and there was no coming back from the sea.

  Dominus sprinted the hundred paces it took to reach her. He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, away from the rail and into his arms. “Stop!”

  She pushed away from him, scowling. “What are you doing?” Her hair stuck on the toggle of his cloak, and she yanked it free, leaving behind a few fiery strands.

  “Saving you,” Dominus said, looking at her glassy eyes and hard mouth. She seemed like the angry version of his temptation. Was this how she dealt with her grief?

  “From what?” She glared at him, blinking in quick succession.

  “I know you are sad,” he said, keeping his arms stiff at his sides instead of pulling her into an embrace. “But suicide is a sin.” He would wait for her emotions to calm, then appeal to her reason.

  “Su—? Are you serious? I would not jump! I am furious, Dominus.” Her gaze snagged on the cross at his shoulder, and she tapped the cloak with her forefinger. “Perhaps you can answer this, since you and God are so close. Why would He take a woman in her prime? Why would He call back to heaven an innocent babe? And do not tell me that baby committed any sin, whether or not his mother had—which I would debate, if I could.”

  Tears sped furiously down her cheeks. Other women cried like statues, marble relics leaking meekly from the eyes. Not Mamie. She cried with purpose and passion.

  “We cannot know God’s will,” he said, walking the line between his oath and desire. When, he prayed, would he be free to hold her in his arms?

  Her face flushed with myriad emotions, from sorrow, to guilt, to anger. “Get away from me, Templar. Before I toss you overboard. Then you can hear what God has to say firsthand.”

  Chapter Two

  Mamie resisted falling apart and throwing herself into Dominus’s embrace, choosing instead to give him a solid push backward, so she could breathe. The Templar, entirely too handsome to vow chastity, rarely said a word. He studied her now, his blue eyes filled with empathy.

  “Why are you here?” she said.

  He carried himself like a soldier, his voice gruff. “My intent was consolation.”

  Sarah, dead, the baby a mound wrapped in cloth. In the sea. Her stomach pitched, and she gritted her teeth, wanting to fight. Or make love. Or pretend that nothing had changed. “You have feelings of compassion behind that white tunic?”

  “It is not so white, madame. A warrior has blood staining his hands.”

  Mamie sniffed, quarrelsome. Her skin itched from the inside, and she had no source for relief. “Forgiven by God.” Where was the damned wind now, when she could use something to mask her anguish? She felt as fragile as blown glass.

  Dominus shifted his weight, hands at his sides. “Once we reach Jerusalem, all of our sins will be forgiven.”

  She took a last look into the water as the rowers got the vessel moving. Lurching forward, within two strokes, they’d found a rhythm—leaving Sarah behind.

  God. “Absolution was Catherine’s concern, not mine. I welcome my so-called sin. It lets me know that I am alive.” She dared him to disagree. His eyes, the blue of the Mediterranean on a clear day, held her gaze.

  His brow twitched, though the rest of his face remained expressionless. Hmm. What would it take to unsettle the knight of God?

  From emperors to burghers, Mamie reveled in male attention. Eleanor had harnessed that power, asking Mamie to swear an oath of fealty and, in return, granting her freedom to do as she pleased. Discreetly, naturellement.

  “Have you been to Antioch before?” she said.

  Dominus could be anywhere from thirty years of age to forty, a man in his prime, she thought. It was possible he’d traveled back and forth, fulfilling his oath to keep pilgrims safe as they traveled toward Jerusalem.

  “I have not.”

  So it was his first time with the Greeks too. “What did you do, before swearing your soul to God?”

  He scowled, which did not, unfortunately, detract from his handsomeness. “Your question is impertinent.”

  With a wry chuckle, Mamie leaned back, her elbows against the railing. “True.” The spray off the ocean settled around her like a soft mist. No more tears, please. “I would like to know anyway.”

  “No.”

  Another spray washed over the side, and she laughed as she wiped her face clear of water. “I am tired of death and rain and sickness.” God’s will seemed cruel, and she had no heart for it. She had no desire for absolution, but she had a few things to say to Almighty God and his Holy Ghost.

  “It is part of life,” Dominus said.

  “Hmm.” She’d loved, been loved and betrayed. Widowed and saved from poverty—she knew to count her blessings. The Master gave with one hand while dealing a ringing blow with the other. “What do you know of life’s bounty? You’ve given up everything. For what? You watch from the side. I suppose you do a lot of praying.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I do not fear my own death.” She smiled wide, determined to keep her pain at arm’s length. “Which is why I live every moment. Sarah is gone”—Mamie snapped her fingers—“like that. I say, enjoy the wine, the rich velvets, and the lovers. Death comes soon enough.” Damn her watering eyes. She looked away, the ocean a calm sheet of bluish gray behind them. White clouds skittered across a soft sky. Au revoir, Sarah.

  Dominus cleared his throat. “And what of your soul? If you do not take care of your spiritual duties on earth, then what happens when you die?”

  “I will know soon enough.”

  “But not yet,” he said, his tone demanding. What right did he have to behave as if he cared?

  She knew one sure way to remember she was alive. Skin to skin. “Thank you, Sir Dominus, for your concern over whether or not I jumped. I would not have, but I appreciate your regard.”

  Touching Dominus’s sleeve, she met his gaze with a sultry question in hers. He inched back. “A warrior, I dare guess, your entire life. Your shoulders are as broad as the sail.” Mamie slid her glance across his tanned face. He had a nose that had been broken at least once. His beard, thick and light brown, the same color as his brows, furrowed into a single strip as he watched her study him. His dark blond hair curled close to his head. What would he do if she ran her fingers through the curls?

  She reached up, and he grabbed her wrist.

  “You think to tempt me into forgetting my oath?” His voice held strength, something that appealed to her more than the size of his forearms. “I am sworn to chastity.”

  Mamie dropped her hand, though she kept the honey in her tones. “It is not so with all men of the cloth. Is the reward worth being chaste?”

  His voice deepened, affected by her seduction. “I hope so. Until then, it is for me to honor my promise and contr
ol my baser urges.”

  Mamie straightened at the rebuke, adjusting her cloak around her shoulders. Her hair whipped over her cheeks and mouth. She needed a comb, a bath. What she would give for a bath. “I respect that. Honor is a rare thing. I have finished here, Dominus. Thank you.”

  Her hair smacked his cloak as she passed by, slowly giving his back and shoulders an appraising glance. “If you ever decide to dabble in those base urges, find me. I would see what lies beneath that tunic.”

  She could’ve sworn he grinned before looking down.

  “I will pray for you,” he said to her back.

  Waving a hand to show her gratitude, she kept walking, knowing he watched. She added a slight sway to her hips, as if she wore a clean gown instead of mildewing clothes. Ah well. There was always the captain’s invitation.

  Dominus thanked all the saints for his iron will. Mamie of Rou was Jezebel and Delilah and Eve all in one. She was made to tempt a man, which despite his donning of the Knights Templar robe, he was. Full-blooded and fighting a hardened cock with no relief to be found. Privacy was impossible on board the crowded vessel.

  Everard joined him later as he leaned far out over the rail, searching for answers to his dilemma in the white-capped waves. Funny how just a few hours ago, he’d wondered if the galley would stay in one piece.

  “Are you sad because of the dead woman?” Everard asked. “Sarah? I said my own prayer for her soul.”

  Dominus gave half a nod. Not because of the woman so much, though he cared about how Sarah’s death seemed to affect Mamie. He’d turned the strands of her hair into a sailor’s knot and stowed it in his wallet. “I am contemplating life.”

  “A philosopher?” Everard chuckled. “We spend enough time in quiet. But we are supposed to be praying.”

  “I do. Most of the time.” He said his prayers and then allowed his mind to wander. How to keep Mamie from joining with anyone else, now that they were so near Jerusalem and the completion of his assignment?

  Everard glanced around to ensure they were alone. The slap of the water against the wood of the ship made it difficult to be discreet. “I saw you speaking with the redheaded woman, and so did a few others. Odo, for one. Take care. He is not in charge of our conduct, but I am certain he will speak to the commander once we reach Antioch.”