by Traci E Hall
Nothing angelic about her now, Dominus thought.
“We got separated when she gave Raymond a hug,” Fay said. “I’ve never seen anyone so furious. God’s blood!”
Everard stared at Fay, concern on his face, likely for her cursing more than her menace with a sword. Fighting together on the caravan had changed his perspective on what was the bigger sin. It had changed them all, Dominus observed.
“Templars!”
He heard the shout as he was jerked to the left, a hand on his arm. “Oui?”
A gray-bearded man with tanned skin, white hair, and a strong grip said, “Well done, saving the queen. I’m Commander Bartholomew. Escort these people to the palace, and then find me there. Your name?”
“Dominus Brochard, and this is Everard de Charney.”
“Welcome to Antioch. As you can see, we need your aid against the infidel.” He pointed to the cross on the mountain. “I’ll send a regiment of soldiers to check on the monks.”
The man melted away into the crowd—his order given with the full expectation it would be followed.
Mamie smacked Dominus’s arm. “Oui, we thank you for saving the queen.”
Dominus brushed at the spot where she’d touched him. “He did not give me the chance to explain.” He looked to Everard. “Find us horses. We’re supposed to escort these people to the palace.”
“We are women,” Mamie snipped, “and do not need your escort. We saved the queen.”
“You saw the arrow first.” Fay kicked at a rock. “I cannot believe I missed it.”
“What if it had hit the queen? I should have seen it sooner.” She shrugged, her mouth turned downward.
Everard came to the women’s defense. “They were hiding. I had looked at the mountains before and seen nothing. Do not blame yourselves.”
Dominus pushed Everard toward Fay and Mamie. “Fine. You three stay right here, and I will go get the horses.”
“Horses?” a passing Templar asked. “If you are going to the palace, then you simply need to sign in with the priest at the table there. You will get horses to be returned to the royal stable.”
“What of our horses?” Mamie appeared at Dominus’s side. “From the galley? I want my own mount. To see that she is all right.”
The knight’s patience slipped. “Madame, everything will be sorted out later. If you wish to avoid the crowd, I suggest borrowing a horse.”
He left, and Mamie gritted her teeth. “There was no need to be rude.”
“Quiet.” Dominus took her elbow—breaking the rules—and pushed her through the people. He signed his name for four horses.
He was not a stupid man, and he felt the heat of Mamie’s temper through her clothes. There was no point in placating her, so he said nothing at all.
Fay and Everard chatted about the finer points of an arrowhead as they waited for the horses to be brought to them.
Everard arched his brow at the obvious silent argument going on between Dominus and Mamie but did not comment. Praise be to God.
The road toward the palace was not to be ridden in silence, however. Mamie, behaving as if Dominus did not exist, set aside her anger to talk to Fay and Everard. She wore her sword sheathed on the outside of her skirt, not bothering to hide it. Now he understood the reason for the rip in her clothing.
Fay patted her hip. “I wish I had done the same, but I foolishly did not want to ruin another gown. I assumed there would be no real threat from the Turks this close to Antioch.”
“We all did,” Dominus admitted.
“The alteration was easy enough. Now I see how I could make it stronger. I will show you. I wager that Larissa could sew them without anyone the wiser.”
Dominus bit the inside of his cheek. Women’s gowns and secret pockets. Perhaps there were Templar rules for a reason. He kept glancing at the lace hem at Mamie’s ankle. Shoes were to be hidden, but hers, silver and delicate, were visible to any who looked. “Cover your shoe. It shines and could be a target.”
He could not think on the fact she might have been killed by an arrow, not without packing her over his horse and racing for the hills. Dominus knew she would not appreciate his desire to keep her safe.
Mamie glared at him before tucking her hem over the silver heel. Mamie’s posture was perfect as she sat astride her mount. She held her head high, her pert nose and full mouth beautiful in profile—even if she was angry.
“Look how tall that tower is!” Fay sat up, squinting against the sun. “It reaches the clouds.”
Everard rode next to Fay. “There are three hundred sixty towers, at least. I asked. All still used in defense of the city.”
Mamie patted her horse’s neck as it stumbled on a loose stone. “I wonder if there will be constant fighting. I’d hoped to relax my guard—against the Turks, anyway—while we were here.”
Dominus answered, having given this some thought since they’d left the ship. “I think that Antioch is under no immediate threat or they wouldn’t have had a parade by the pier, welcoming us. I wager there will be some soldiers in Prince Raymond’s army getting their backs whipped for not patrolling well enough.”
Everard nodded, his expression thoughtful.
“Ouch,” Fay said, rubbing her lower back.
“Edessa being held by the Turks means Antioch is without an ally to one side. Prince Raymond will feel much more secure with Edessa back in Christian hands.” Bishop Clairvaux wanted Outremer to be Roman Catholic and safe for pilgrims journeying toward the Holy Land.
“Save Edessa, then finish the quest.” Mamie stretched her fingers, her palms red.
“Where are your gloves?” Dominus asked.
“Ruined. The salt water finished off most of what I had left from the flood.” She wriggled her foot in the stirrup, lifting her hem for the blink of an eye. “I have my silver shoes, though, so I shall still be able to dance.”
Switching topics, from danger to dancing. Dominus was beginning to realize his temptation did not care to linger over the unpleasant aspects of life.
“Would you like mine?” They were worn thin and too big for her hands. An unworthy gift.
She shook her head, the silver veil slipping slightly forward on her forehead. “Queen Eleanor has promised us each a new wardrobe. I doubt you care much about fashions . . .” She glanced at him.
“No.”
“Well, our queen has a gift for putting together colors. She can see immediately what color is best for anyone. You would not think that I would look good in red, with my hair.” She tugged at a coil, “But there are certain shades that show my pale skin to advantage—” She stopped talking as she apparently remembered who she spoke to. Her cheeks turned pink. “I, er. I will have gloves soon.”
He did not want to laugh, but he couldn’t prevent the chuckle escaping from his belly.
With her customary show of spirit, Mamie urged her mount forward. “We shall see who is laughing, sir, once you see me in my new gown.” Hair flouncing behind her, she made her way toward Fay.
“Wait for me, Fay. Can you imagine living in those little villas on the mountain? Terraced, just like in Pergamum. They look like industrious beetles, scurrying around a hill.”
Dominus smiled to himself, looking forward to Mamie in all her finery. And he spent the rest of the climb toward the palace imagining her without it.
Chapter Five
Mamie rode next to Fay, waving to the children who greeted them from the sides of the road. “I feel like I should explain that we are not the queen,” Mamie said, keeping her smile in place. “What are they doing?”
“Welcoming us?” Everard said.
The small outcrop of cottages suggested a village. There was a blacksmith and a potter tucked amongst the homes. “I would not want to live outside the palace walls,” Fay said, “though these people seem unafraid.”
“We do not come at them with drawn swords or a battle cry,” Dominus offered.
“That would change the way I thought about s
omeone passing through, for certain.” Mamie smiled at Dominus before remembering her sentiments toward him. Annoyed because she sensed his attraction to her. Frustrated because it could go nowhere.
They slowed as the road toward the palace gates narrowed. A girl of about eight ran up to Mamie, touching her shoe. “En argente?”
“Non,” Mamie smiled. “Not made of silver.”
The girl seemed fascinated, and Mamie halted her horse and allowed her to touch the shoe for herself. The girl took a straw figure from her apron pocket and lifted it up to Mamie.
Fay chuckled. “I think she wants to barter.”
Dominus ambled closer. “What is that?”
The child’s mother ran up, her face red. “I am so sorry. Isla has a fondness for pretty things.”
“As do I.” Mamie looked closer, noting the rounded face and slack smile on the child. Ah. There had been a girl outside of Troyes who had similar features. Good-natured but slow.
Mamie leaned down to the mother. “May I give her my shoe? I warn you, it is not in the best condition, having survived much on this pilgrimage from France.”
The girl clapped and tugged at her mother’s hand. “Maman? S’il vous plaît?”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “It would mean so much to her.”
“What are you doing, Mamie?” Dominus asked.
“Making a trade. I happen to know an excellent value when I see one.” She questioned the mother as Isla handed over the straw figure. “Is this a queen with a crown?”
“We sell them at the marketplace. Our family has a table. This is Tyche, the goddess of Antioch. She carries wheat in her hand, and her crown is made of the ramparts around the castle. She is Fortuna. Good luck.”
“Just what I need,” Mamie said, running a thumb over the details in the woven straw. “May I pay you?”
The woman bowed her head. “A trade, as you said.” She touched Mamie’s hem. “I will never forget your kindness.” She steered her laughing daughter back to a tidy cottage.
“So much for dancing,” Dominus said, his eyes the blue of the deeper sea and just as unfathomable.
Mamie couldn’t speak until she’d swallowed past the lump in her throat. Was there anything more powerful than a mother’s love? She’d felt it from her own mother but was unable to give it to a child of her own.
Mamie shrugged away her sadness and tucked her stockinged toes around the stirrup. “Come. I would see this palace. And have a cup of wine.”
Fay cantered ahead to where the road thinned. “We’ve ridden so high I feel like my head is in the clouds.”
Mamie looked down the steep mountainside, then back up at the castle, which was built on a narrow ridge. Excellent for keeping the fortress safe from intruders but dangerous for navigation. Fay was right, and they were in the clouds. If her horse made one small misstep, her journey toward Jerusalem would be over. “Take care, Fay. I would live to see . . .” Mamie turned toward Everard, at her right. “What town comes next? I’ve been so concerned about reaching Antioch that I’ve not thought beyond that.”
“Daphne.” Everard’s wispy hair fluttered in the light breeze. Despite his beard, his face retained an innocence she had not seen for a long time. Perhaps ever.
“Daphne?” A shiver started at the base of her spine and raced up her back. She was not one to believe in premonitions, but she did not disbelieve either. Mamie tucked the straw figure into her bodice: Tyche, for luck, facing forward into Antioch. Luck. And diligence. Pine trees and juniper bushes grew along the edges of the road, and two large ditches had been cut from the rock, ensuring safety on either side of the castle. The only way inside was across the ridge.
They passed through the first gate, riding four across, and entered the outer courtyard. Amid the bustling activity from permanent outbuildings, the residents ignored the steady stream of pilgrims making their way to the palace. A bailiff stood on one side, directing them.
Mamie heard Larissa’s voice: “Lady Mamille!”
“You are in trouble now, Mamie.” Fay laughed. “Mamille.”
Mamie searched for Larissa, turning her horse toward the woman calling her name.
The handmaiden reached her horse and put a hand on Mamie’s stirrup. “What is it? Where is the queen?”
Frustration clouded Larissa’s features. “The queen is with her uncle and the king. They are waiting for you in the front solar. Come now, and I will take you both.”
“We have our horses,” Mamie said, not wanting to meet the infamous Raymond with only one shoe. Larissa’s frown indicated they were wanted at once. “What are we to do with them?” She looked around the busy courtyard but didn’t see anyone to take their mounts.
Dominus spoke up from behind. “Everard and I will bring your horses to the stables. I suggest you watch where you step, Lady Mamille.”
She knew he was teasing her, but there was nothing for it. Urging her horse to the side, she and Fay dismounted and searched the ground for horse droppings.
Perhaps she could have been more gracious as she handed him the reins. “I will remember this, Sir Dominus. Thank you, Sir Everard.”
Fay offered her thanks, unable to keep from smiling. “Would you like to lean on me, Mamie?”
“What is wrong?” Larissa asked with concern.
“Nothing is the matter. I, er, lost a shoe.”
Dominus and Everard chuckled.
“Non!” Larissa looked down at Mamie’s hem, which covered the offending stocking. Her eyes widened, and she burst out laughing. “The queen asked that you come straight away. She cannot wait to introduce her brave guards to her favorite uncle!”
The men left, leading the ladies’ horses. Weren’t Templars supposed to be gentlemen? Dominus could have offered her his boot. Not that it would fit, but still, the path toward the castle was treacherous. Mamie slung an arm over Fay’s shoulders.
“I thought the queen might need us,” Fay said. “You rarely look so flustered.”
“I was sent to wait for you a good while ago. Then I shouted for you, but you did not hear me.” Larissa shrugged. “The queen is in excellent spirits. Yet for some reason, she is not completely happy without you both at her side.”
“Where is your gratitude for us saving you from Turkish arrows?” Mamie avoided steaming piles in the dirt, careful where to place her foot. With so many horses, such things were inevitable.
Larissa sobered. “Thank you.”
Mamie nudged the handmaiden’s arm. “I was teasing. You have been very brave.”
Larissa shivered. “Nothing like an arrow through one’s head to spice things up.”
“That’s the way,” Fay said. “Are you certain that you won’t be a guard?”
Larissa gave an exaggerated sigh. “No, thank you.”
The women walked up the palace steps. A uniformed servant directed them to a large airy room decorated in the Roman style with faux columns and a mosaic floor. Mamie tripped over her hem trying to depict the image. The Greek god Apollo?
Fay kept her upright. “Almost there. Big smile. God’s bones. Raymond is magnifique.”
Mamie glanced up and almost tripped again. “Our queen did not exaggerate, did she?”
The Prince of Antioch was tall, his dark hair streaked with gold. His smile charmed and invited. His eyes seemed to be laughing at a joke everyone could enjoy. “Welcome!” Raymond said.
Eleanor walked toward them, dressed in a new gown of emerald silk with sleeves that fitted to the elbow before dropping in a froth of lace to the floor. Hair in two visible plaits on either side of her face, a flowered caplet holding a gossamer emerald veil, a clean face that shone with love and happiness.
“It has been some time since she has been so happy,” Fay said quietly.
“Mon fleurs,” she said. “My guardians.” She held her arms outstretched but waited for Mamie and Fay to reach her rather than come to them.
Her brow quirked as she took in their travel-worn dress, but she
kept her hands out.
“We are so relieved to see you safe,” Fay said with a hint of censure.
“Do not rebuke me, Cuz.” Eleanor laughed, sharing a look with Raymond. “Did I not tell you I would be in trouble for losing them on your boat?”
“I am indebted to you ladies for spotting the danger,” Raymond said, his throat red. “I had a patrol out, but those Turkish archers got by.”
King Louis met Mamie’s gaze. “Thank you. Again. I have been reminded just how important the queen’s ladies are.”
Mamie silently wished him well, knowing that Queen Eleanor would let him know his mistake of keeping her behind.
If he did not feel it keenly already.
Carefully keeping her balance as if she had two shoes, Mamie nodded at Fay. “We were but doing our duty.”
Eleanor said, “Let me introduce you. Prince Raymond and Princess Constance, this is Lady Mamille of Rou and Lady Fay of Toulouse.”
The women curtsied, Mamie careful to keep her stocking hidden. Not as easy as it should be, standing partially on tiptoe.
Princess Constance, blonde with blue eyes, seemed to be in her early twenties. Her slim figure held a slight thickening around the waist. She was pretty but nowhere near Eleanor’s beauty. She smiled and welcomed them to the palace.
“To Antioch.” Raymond hugged his niece, an arm around her shoulders. “Now that the formalities are over, we can finally talk as we used to do, so freely, in Aquitaine.”
“Your palace here is as cultured as anything we have there. You have created a wonder. Your father, my grandfather, would be proud.” She blinked, but Mamie saw the trace of moisture on a lower lid.
“William IX, Duke of Aquitaine and Gascony, and Count of Poitou. The Troubadour.” A pleased expression crossed Raymond’s face. “What a scoundrel! I rarely saw him without a woman.”
“Just one?” Eleanor asked, her eyes bright.
“Two or three,” Raymond amended. “And how he laughed. I have a fair singing voice, Eleanor, but do not ask me to recite poetry.”
“I know a few of Grandfather’s poems.” The queen held up a hand. “I would share them, but they are inappropriate. Do you remember Eremesse, Agnes, and the cat?”
