by Traci E Hall
Dominus answered the younger knight as honestly as he could. “Non. No regrets.” His time here was a means to an end. “We can eat our fill of the food and not have to dance.”
“I was never good at dancing,” Everard said.
“There was a lot of dancing in the tavern?”
“My sisters would make me practice with them before I stepped all over their feet. Then they left me alone.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”
Everard smiled. “A year ago. Right before we left France. I was fourteen when Peter came for me, and I am twenty-four now. My sisters have children, and my mother’s hair is all gray. But my grandfather still runs the tavern.”
“No sisters for me.” Dominus remembered sitting in the dining hall, his brothers crowded around the long table, benches on either side. They had finished eating his older brother’s favorite meal, lobster with cream sauce and a side of wild greens. He and Drummond were the only two fully related. They were celebrating his brother’s eighteenth birthday, and his father lavished attention on Drummond, plying him with ale and regaling them all with stories of his misspent youth. It had not changed much from his current state, although after their mother, his father never married again. “Seven brothers.”
“A large family,” Everard noted.
Fifteen years ago, he’d been sixteen. His brother’s party had turned into a drunken brawl. Keep the village operating and the village daughters pregnant.
Not something to share with Everard, whom Dominus suspected was a virgin.
“Count your blessings,” Everard suggested. “Did you get a horse?”
“Two. And a blade.” He’d quit counting blessings a while ago, concerned with keeping a roof over the heads of the ones he already had. His brothers had all followed his father’s ideology, spreading their seed throughout the village. He had two dozen children to care for, waiting for him to accept his responsibility as the only surviving relative of his generation. If he chose. He could also finish the quest to Jerusalem and disappear into the wilds of Scotland.
“Have you met the patriarch yet?”
“No.” Everard’s eyes lit up. “Tonight, I hope. I heard some of the fellows say how he blessed them all, coming off the boat. He left as soon as he knew there were Turkish archers aiming at our party. You know there is a bit of controversy around his acting as patriarch?”
“How so?”
“Do not get too friendly with him, as he is not officially blessed by the pope.”
Dominus leaned back on the bed, stretching his legs before him. “Can he do that?”
“The previous patriarch, who helped Raymond marry Constance when she was a child, was deposed—imprisoned in Saint Symeon’s monastery.” Everard lowered his voice. “He escaped, made his way to Rome, and is demanding, right now, to be reinstated.”
“What would happen to the laws made in the last four years with Aimery acting as patriarch?”
“It could be a problem. Just take care.” Everard tugged his bushy beard. “We both have appointments with the barber tomorrow. I would like to trim this rat’s nest before supper.”
“Do it,” Dominus said, thinking over Everard’s words. The church cannot be wrong. Aimery could not be wrong. Dominus wondered if this was what the bishop wanted to know. Despite Everard’s well-meaning advice, Dominus planned on making friends with the possibly false patriarch. How did the current patriarch feel about Raymond?
“We must watch over one another in the brotherhood,” Everard said, getting out his mirror and blade. “In battle it is easier, because we know who the common enemy is. In life, the path is not always so clear.”
“Well said, Everard. Now, if you do not mind, I will spend some time in prayer before we go.” Dominus sank to his knees, bowed his head, and pondered the situation. How to get to Aimery? How to build the man’s trust?
Evening had fallen long before. Mamie and Fay walked on either side of Eleanor, following the stream of gaily dressed and cheerful nobles down the lamp-lit hall. The light did not create the same sparkles as the sunshine against the mosaics.
Eleanor laughed as they passed groups of people waiting to eat. “It has been so long since I’ve heard my own language spoken. And music!” She paused to tap her foot.
“You are the queen,” Fay reminded. “No twirling or dipping until it is time to dance.”
“You, Cousin, are turning out to be a damp towel.” Eleanor winked. “Mamie, would you dance with me?”
“Right here in the hall, if that is your wish. It is good for both of us that Fay has the calmer head.”
“I do not understand how I became the nursemaid.” Fay’s long hair peeked below her veil.
“Default?” Mamie suggested. “Nobody else wanted the honor.”
“I would give it back.”
“Too late. Though I promise to behave, so your duty will be simplified.”
“You? Behave?” Fay rolled her eyes.
Rich smells of roasted meat greeted them as they neared the large open doors to a vaulted-ceilinged room set up with at least fifty long tables seating what looked like a hundred people each. “I have missed beef,” Mamie said. “No more fish. Not unless it is covered in beef gravy.”
“Yuck.” Fay gave her a little shove.
“Look at all the jewels,” Mamie whispered to Fay. “And did you see that fur wrap?”
“All I care about is finding our seats so that we can start eating,” Fay said.
Pages dressed in the Antioch livery of red and blue waited at the door to seat people as they arrived. When the boy realized that he was to escort the Queen of France, the lad straightened so fast Mamie worried his cap would fly off.
He bowed, then led the way down the center aisle between the tables.
“Her Royal Highness, Eleanor Queen of France and Duchess of Aquitaine,” he called out at intervals as they walked, his slight chest puffed.
Mamie kept her chin high, a smile on her face as she remained a half pace behind Eleanor. Fay did the same, so the crowd could see the queen’s beauty, though her guards stayed close.
Mamie missed her fellow guards, for the presentation they made as well as their friendship. Catherine with her chestnut hair, Sarah blonde, Isabella black, she red, and Fay light brown, with auburn Eleanor in the center of it all.
They neared the dais, where the royal family would share the meal. The raised platform allowed the royals a view of their people and the people a view of them. Mamie could see already that the tables above were full. There was one seat saved for the queen, which meant she and Fay would be separated from their liege.
“Eleanor! At last.” Raymond stood, dressed in an embroidered blue robe. “We have been waiting for you to arrive.” He rose, walked around the table, and held out a hand to assist his niece up the five stairs. He turned, presenting a delighted Eleanor to his court. “Meet my beloved niece Eleanor! Queen of France, Duchess of Aquitaine.”
The nobles cheered, and Raymond, almost as an afterthought, stepped back to bring Louis to the front. He raised their joined hands high. “King Louis, King of France, welcome to our family.”
The king, uncomfortable at the applause, nodded. Mamie’s heart went out to the man, who had been raised for the church until his older brother unexpectedly died and he became the heir to the throne. He’d married Eleanor and, after the death of the old king, ruled to the best of his abilities.
In the past ten years, he’d become more comfortable, but in no way could he compare to Prince Raymond of Antioch. Eleanor, raised in a similar environment, was in her element.
Mamie and Fay exchanged a quick look. Trouble, Mamie thought, knowing Fay felt the same.
Raymond released the royals’ hands and shouted to the waiting servants. “Let the feast begin!”
Mamie and Fay were seated at the table directly below the dais, in line of sight of their queen. “We cannot protect her from here,” Mamie groused.
“She does no
t think anything can happen to her in her uncle’s palace.” Fay frowned, sliding next to Mamie on the padded bench.
Mamie wanted a plate of capon and stuffed quail and whatever other hot delicacy was prepared. It had been ages since they’d had such a variety of food. Raymond had provided a splendid array of wealth, from the pristine white linen tablecloths, to the gold-and-silver plates and jeweled goblets filled with dark red wine. It all enticed Mamie’s senses. “I smell a feast, but where is the food?” she asked the well-dressed woman to her left. “How do you do? I am Lady Mamille of Rou, and this is Lady Fay of Toulouse.”
“Coming. See?” The pretty woman pointed to the side doors. “I am Lady Hortencia.”
The same page who had escorted them to the table now brought three more guests.
“Do you mind if we share your table? It is the last available space. Dominus had to finish his prayers, making us late.”
Mamie looked up at Everard, noting his freshly scrubbed face. “You are always welcome at any table of mine, old friend,” she said, trying hard not to look for Dominus. Hadn’t he been confined to his room? He wore his white robe instead of the plain brown.
“Mamie, thank you. Fay. May I introduce Commander Bartholomew? He directs the Templars here in Antioch.”
She raised her gaze, smiling in greeting at the gray-haired man. A nobleman at some point in his life, he bowed with courtesy and took a seat opposite them on the bench. “Mesdames.”
Dominus sat next to him across from her, though he avoided looking at her.
Mamie squirmed, uncertain what to say. She did not care for being uncomfortable, so she took a large drink of her wine.
Everard and Bartholomew each looked from her to Dominus, who shrugged as if her bad manners were nothing to him.
Fay laughed, breaking the tension. “How have you been since the ship this morning? It took a vat of lotion after our bath to get rid of the stench of salted fish.”
Bartholomew’s face reddened.
Mamie kicked Fay beneath the table. Discussing a lady’s toilette with men sworn to abstinence? It was something she might have said if Dominus did not have her tied in knots.
She bowed her head, wondering what in the world they could talk about. Court banter was often filled with romantic and silly innuendos. Queen Eleanor’s private garden had been rife with poetry and tales of chivalry. Knights falling in love with their ladies fair, all for a token or a kiss.
Suddenly a trumpet sounded, disrupting the awkward moment.
Cooks and servers brought out a dozen or more giant platters, a swan on each one, cooked but displayed in full plumage. A boar’s head, a haunch of beef, and plates of pheasant followed, with the servers stopping at each table to carve the chosen selection. Olives, lemon, and fresh herbs were set in the center of the table for each guest to help oneself.
Mamie kept an eye on the dais while filling her plate. Since the men were quiet and she could not think of anything bland to say, she ate. Grape leaves stuffed with ground meat and covered in lemon and olive oil, white fish encrusted with pistachio breading. Roasted quail in plum sauce. More vegetables than she’d ever seen and some she’d never tasted before.
The queen ate too, laughing and leaning across the table to speak with the other people around her. King Louis spoke with Count Jocelyn of Edessa on his left—a less boisterous conversation, but at least he was talking instead of brooding.
Dominus, too, was quiet. Mamie did not look in his direction if she could help it. Unfortunately, her gaze went there of its own accord. He and Everard had trimmed their beards and mustaches, and he’d taken the time to wash his hair, the dark blond curls loose around his head. His sea-blue eyes met her gaze more often than they should have.
Forbidden desire loomed large above her, and she pushed her plate back. “I cannot eat another bite.”
“But there are cakes yet,” Lady Hortencia said.
“And candied nuts.” Fay’s eyes gleamed as she dabbed her mouth with the edge of the tablecloth.
“There will be more tomorrow. That is what makes me the happiest.” She hugged her middle. “We have not been certain of a decent meal in months.”
“I heard you resorted to eating horseflesh,” Bartholomew said.
Mamie lifted her head in surprise. The man had not said a word until now, and this was what he chose to say?
Dominus coughed into a fist, choking.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Commander Bartholomew gave her a stern look, she imagined for daring to speak to his Templars. He pounded Dominus on the back.
“The journey had its challenges,” Dominus admitted, talking to the commander before turning to Mamie and Fay. “It should be better, now that you have eaten your fill,” he said with a straight face.
“Until morning,” Mamie answered back in kind. “It is sad that I am counting the hours until breakfast, when I will be able to eat again.”
“Gluttony is a si—,” Commander Bartholomew said as Dominus accidently spilled his wine goblet over them both. “Fool!”
“Sorry.” Dominus patted at the commander’s robe. “There was not much in it. A swallow, perhaps.”
Lady Hortencia tapped Mamie’s shoulder. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
Had the commander been ready to call her a sinner? Little did he know. “I would like to visit the area. So much history is here. Roman ruins. Greek mythology. There is a grove?”
“That area is not safe,” Bartholomew said, his shoulders firm.
“We can take care of ourselves,” Mamie answered quickly.
He frowned. “Where are your husbands?”
“I am not married,” Fay answered.
“I have been married and widowed,” Mamie said, detesting the implication that they needed watching over. “I have no interest in marrying again. We are trained members of the queen’s private guard.” Mamie tapped her fingers against the bench seat, feeling Fay’s annoyance rise.
Bartholomew’s brow lifted, and he looked to Dominus, who nodded and said, “These are the ladies we were with earlier when we saved the queen. All of us, together.”
“You travel with the queen?” The commander grimaced. “Might I suggest a visit to Saint Pierre’s cave? A holy sight, worthy of an outing. Much safer.”
“I am friends with Princess Constance,” Lady Hortencia said. “The grove is beautiful, with a waterfall and small pond. It is dedicated to Daphne, though Apollo had a temple there. The cook will make a basket of food for you, if you ask.”
Commander Bartholomew spoke again. “Saint Pierre’s church is built into the rock. Magnificent.”
Mamie nodded at the man before turning to Lady Hortencia. “What a wonderful suggestion. Queen Eleanor very much enjoys historical outings, and a mythological grotto sounds perfect. Is Daphne far?”
“You could walk, but horses would be better,” she said with a smile. “You can get them from the stable.”
Everard looked at the commander. “You said it is dangerous?”
“Without an armed escort, stay within the palace walls,” the older man said. “There are vagabonds, beggars, not to mention the infidel.”
Dominus raised a hand. “Everard and I can escort the queen and her ladies. I too would like to see the area around Antioch. It is beautiful, truly a sign of God’s favor.”
Bartholomew seemed uncertain but unable to keep his charges from escorting them after he’d insisted it was dangerous. “Pagan sites? I do not think that is the best way to spend the day with the queen. There are ancient hermit caves around too. I could draw you a map.”
“We will want to see those,” Mamie said. “Another day. Tomorrow is perfect for a ride after being ship-bound all these weeks. Thank you for your concern, Commander.”
He bowed his head as if in prayer and then gave a nod. “None will bother a Templar escort.”
Mamie swallowed her refusal, realizing it would cause more harm than good.
A servant pas
sed by and filled their goblets. Mamie glanced at Dominus and saw his smile behind the goblet he’d brought to his lips.
Why did he have to be so handsome? He was the kind of man she enjoyed best. Broad of shoulder, barrel chested, and muscles as thick as her waist. A man who met life without fear. He should smile more, she decided. Perhaps he had no reason?
He said he’d lost everything.
She knew about that.
“I am eager to see the marketplace as well.” Mamie wiped the blade of her eating dagger clean, tracing her thumb over the engraved rose on the handle. “What language do the people speak? French? Latin?”
“Those, plus Greek and Arabic,” Lady Hortencia said. “Prince Raymond encourages merchants from all over the world to stay and visit. If you are interested in shopping, there are a number of open bazaars down by the river.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Fay said, nodding at Mamie. “I can purchase that lotion the queen liked.”
As the servants came to clear the table, Lady Hortencia excused herself. “I will find you once the dancing begins and introduce you to my husband,” she said with a cheerful smile. “It was my pleasure to meet all of you.”
“What a nice woman,” Fay said. “I wager she will know the best places with the best prices.”
Commander Bartholomew seemed to have reached his fill of conversation as he fidgeted with the silver edge of the plate.
“Will you stay for the dancing?” Mamie teased, posing her question to all three men.
Everard shook his head and stammered, “Two left feet.”
Bartholomew sniffed. “Against the Templar code. Living in a city such as this, when traveling, we of course have some exceptions to the rules. Dancing is not one of those.”
Fay suppressed a smile at his announcement, but Mamie felt her friend’s leg wiggle, as if some part of her had to laugh.
Dominus finished the last bite of his meal, then pushed back with a sigh.
“You men may stay for a while,” Bartholomew announced, expressing a sudden change of attitude. “We are not complete hermits.” He shuddered. “Most of those poor men are crazy. Patriarch Aimery insists that those in the Black Mountain have human spiritual advisors to aid them in their journey. I’ve gone a few times.”
