by Traci E Hall
“What is left?” Eleanor asked.
“Acrobats. Lions.”
“Lions!” Bo screamed with glee.
“He can sit with me, Constance,” Raymond said.
The princess lifted her chin.
“We will keep an eye on him,” Mamie offered, hoping to soothe tempers.
“All right. There will be no official supper but a light repast offered in the smaller dining hall. I will have the service set out. Do not wait for me to begin.”
Dragging her husband with her, Lady Hortencia offered to walk back with the princess.
“I would appreciate the company,” Constance whispered.
Mamie realized that Constance was upset and blaming Eleanor for the disruption with Raymond.
Odo, eyes narrowed like a rat’s, watched as well.
She leaned across him, digging an elbow into his leg. “Sorry,” she said. “My queen, would you like to come with me for a tart?”
Jocelyn, a fair-looking man with hazel eyes and full beard, nodded. “That sounds delicious. I would go with you. We could bring back enough for everyone.”
Dear heaven. Mamie wanted the queen away before things worsened. She had no wish to traipse the grounds with the count.
“I am not hungry,” Eleanor declared.
“I want a pastry,” Bo shouted, bouncing on Mamie’s lap.
“I thought you wanted to see the lions, mon champion.” She smoothed her hand over his red cheeks. Excitement had made him tired.
“Lady Mamie, I want to see the lions while I eat a berry tart.”
“Your son”—Eleanor laughed heartily, placing a hand on Raymond’s arm—“he wants it all.”
“And your daughter?” Raymond asked. “Is she the same?”
“We have not seen her in a year,” Louis lamented. “Though when we left, she was sweet-tempered.”
“More like Louis than me,” Eleanor admitted.
Odo sniffed.
“I know you agree, Odo,” Eleanor said with a shake of her finger in the advisor’s direction. “I am many things, and I have no illusions regarding them, for good or ill.”
King Louis sent his advisor a warning look.
“I look forward to having a son.” Louis smiled at Eleanor, who bowed her head. “Do you have children, Jocelyn?”
“None. Too busy fighting to settle down. Once Edessa is properly fortified, I will be able to think of a family. Sons, daughters. I am in no hurry.”
Mamie saw the look Raymond gave Eleanor, a hint of complicity that did not bode well. What were they planning?
They sent a page to get the tarts so Bo could watch the lions and eat his sweets. The acrobats twisted and leaped about with ease.
“Fay can do that,” Mamie said as one of them tumbled across the ground after leaping from another’s shoulders.
Jocelyn looked amused. “You, pretty and delicate Lady Fay? I do not believe it.”
Louis shook his head. “Do not doubt them, whatever you do. You will have cause to regret it. My wife’s personal companions are supremely gifted.”
Eleanor seemed pleased, but Mamie saw her pinky twitch. Was it because Louis referred to her guards as personal companions?
“I can do a few things,” Fay admitted.
“Can you juggle?” Bo asked, leaving Mamie’s lap for Fay’s.
“Oui.”
“Can you swallow fire?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Fay asked, her eyes sparkling. “Only magicians can do that.”
“I would like to see you juggle,” Jocelyn said, his interest in Fay obvious. “Can you teach us?”
“Very well,” Fay agreed. “Tomorrow morning, if you want to learn. I will be at the upper courtyard after breakfast.”
Jocelyn lifted his cup. “I will be there.”
“Can I, Papa? Learn to juggle?”
“Oui. I think I should learn too.”
King Louis tugged at the end of his thin mustache. “What have we begun? A pilgrimage to the holy land, where we juggle and tumble into the city of Jerusalem.”
Odo’s mouth thinned at the levity. “Sacrilege.”
“Pah,” Raymond said, finishing his wine. “A life without laughter—that is sacrilege.”
Chapter Sixteen
The morning after the tournament, Mamie woke up with a start, feeling as if something was terribly wrong. Her head ached from too much sun, too much wine, and too much worry. But it was not that . . .
She nudged Fay, who slept next to her.
“Hmm?” Her friend and fellow guard pulled the blanket from over her eyes and blinked, reminding Mamie of a gray-eyed kitten, including the pink nose.
“Did you hear the queen come in last night?”
Fay jolted awake, and she leaped from the bed as if it were on fire. Her light brown hair streamed behind her, her knees pale as the chemise hitched upward. She went to the connecting door, which was shut when they’d had it open.
She pushed at it as quietly as possible, peering into the room before dragging it silently closed and creeping back into the bed.
“Eleanor is there, and Larissa is snoring in the trundle.” Fay’s somber tone reminded Mamie that they’d been right to worry.
“We were up very late. She was supposed to be directly behind us.” Mamie shivered with foreboding. “I have never been one to believe in portents—”
“Not even after Daphne?”
“I do not know what that was. I do not think about it.” Mamie bit a fingernail. “But I do not feel good about last night at all.”
Eleanor had walked back to the palace with Raymond, after Jocelyn had pulled Louis away for a private conversation. Some nonsense about relics in Constantinople, which everyone could see was a ruse to get the king’s ear.
Probably to beg for Edessa.
Which had been a golden opportunity for Eleanor and Raymond to leisurely sample the wares of the tents as they made their way back to the palace. They had appeared for all the world like a couple. Mamie, Fay, and Bo had followed, but when Raymond had asked them to see their son home, what could the ladies do?
Especially with Eleanor nodding her agreement?
“Our hands were tied,” Fay said. “She is our queen, and we have to follow her orders, whether we like them or not.” Fay sat back against the wall, adjusting the bolster behind her back with a scowl. “Where was she last night?”
“Perhaps she was swept off her feet,” Mamie whispered, all too familiar with longings of the flesh.
Fay glared at Mamie. “Sh.”
“What? We are here alone, the two of us.” Mamie pointed at the bed curtains and the closed doors.
“Some things are not spoken of”—Fay crossed her arms over her chest—“ever.”
“As if I would judge?”
“Non, it is not that.” Fay shrugged, refusing to say another word.
“She was with her uncle. Family. Not even Odo can find fault with that.” Mamie recalled with painful clarity the ease of kisses passed, the familiarity of an arm across shoulders or hands held. Their shared laughter in the marketplace.
“Things are different in the south. Less formal.”
Fay closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “I know what things are like. It will not make it easier for outsiders to accept.”
“I am saying it out loud for myself,” Mamie admitted. “Practicing my answers. Constance was not happy after the queen was voted most fair by her own husband.”
“I saw.”
The guards—no, friends—stared at one another.
“Well, do not say a word,” Fay said. “Give the gossips nothing.”
Mamie nodded, unbraiding her hair and finger combing the tangles. “You agreed to teach everyone how to juggle. Beware the Count of Edessa. He seemed smitten.”
“Not the sort of man I fancy.” Fay grimaced. “What was I thinking? Except that Bo is the most adorable child.”
Mamie parted her hair in the middle. “If I had a heart, he would
steal it.”
“You act as if you do not care, Mamille, but I know differently.” She hesitated. “I know how you suffered over Sarah, though we have not talked.”
“There is no need to discuss what is already done.” She pushed the feelings to the back of her mind, where they could remain hidden.
“You care.” Fay pushed her shoulder. “Admit it.”
“I admit nothing.” She braided a section of hair, knotting the end before starting on the other side.
“Your appetite for lovers has dimmed, I’ve noticed. You could have gone back to the captain, but you flirted from a safe distance instead. There has been nobody since the emperor.”
Fay had watched closely. “Not dimmed,” Mamie confessed with a rueful smile. “Changed unfortunate direction, and I am caught in the tide.”
“Does this have to do with a certain Templar? One who won the tournament and whose gaze landed only upon you?”
Mamie did not answer. Her reddening cheeks made it so that she did not have to voice her guilt.
“Ah, Mamie. Perhaps the captain would be the better choice. You live by your own set of morals. What will you do?”
“I have kept my distance. Or tried to. We are connected by the letters I found from the bishop.” She held back that Dominus was bound by neither God nor matrimony.
“Fate,” Fay said. “Your part is all crooked. Let me.” She sat up, and Mamie scooted backward.
Fay’s quick fingers soon had Mamie’s hair braided correctly.
“I do not believe in fate.”
“How can you say that after what happened in the grove?”
“I think I was touched by an angel, who had a message for the queen. And it was warning the queen of a choice she would have to make. A choice.”
Fay drew in a slow breath. “Destiny?”
“We”—Mamie patted her chest—“may all have a part to play in our lives. A lesson we must learn. Is Eleanor destined for greatness? Am I destined to be childless? What of you, Fay?”
“I am destined to be the queen’s shadow.”
Mamie gave Fay a questioning look. “Do you believe that?”
“I do. But as you say, it is my choice as well.” Fay’s smile trembled. “Being around Eleanor energizes me. She believes in something so beautiful from the very core of her being.” Fay pushed against her stomach. “And mine. I do not believe in anything as much as I believe in her.”
Mamie held out a hand, accepting the curl of Fay’s fingers around her own. She’d sensed loneliness in her friend and feared what might happen if Eleanor no longer had use for her cousin.
“Love, chivalry, honor—a code for ladies as well as knights. Perhaps if we can teach this to everyone, there will be a more peaceful world.” What she’d felt after Daphne still held true. They were connected—everybody.
“You can slice a melon in half with a single motion.” Fay giggled. “And yet you want peace?”
Mamie’s skin heated with embarrassment. “I know it sounds simplistic, but I like the idea that men and women can find equal ground. Some will be stronger than others, but that is true of all people, male or female. Some will be quicker-witted or, like you, more agile.”
“Speaking of agile, I should get dressed. Will you come with me to juggle? Flirt with Jocelyn, so that he does not break my concentration?”
“No.” Mamie laughed. “I want breakfast, and then I’d like to see the size of Raymond’s army. Walk around the palace. Observe.” She touched an ear. “Listen for rumor and discontent.”
Perhaps find a way to visit Dominus or leave a message at the olive trees. How best to help her liege?
“I pray there will be no hint of rumor.” Fay sighed. “Let us meet back here by noon. Hopefully our queen will be awake with a plausible explanation of where she spent her night.” Fay, deceptively delicate while stronger than them all, scooted from the bed.
Mamie dressed simply in a tunic the color of an olive leaf. She kept her hair in braids, pinning it to the back of her head. She chose a veil in the same color and a circlet made of silver flowers. She would blend in with the trees.
“Very pretty,” Fay said, “though you’ve forgotten a rose.”
“My dagger will be enough to remind me of what I am to the queen. Today I will be a shadow. Listening where least expected.” She smiled. “You look lovely. That shade of brown is like mink fur.”
“Not as hot, thank heaven, and the sleeves are tight to the wrist instead of loose so I can move properly.” She practiced tossing imaginary things in the air.
“Dangling laces are the height of fashion but dangerous when juggling.” Mamie opened the door as if presenting an act.
The two friends laughed and walked down to the kitchen, careful to leave the queen and her handmaiden undisturbed.
“Cheese, fruit juice, and bread,” Mamie said, wrapping her breakfast in a napkin. “Good luck, Fay.”
“Luck,” Fay answered absently, taking three apples, three lemons, and some oranges. “And a nutty bun for me.”
Mamie left the palace and found a stone bench overlooking the hills. She sat and spread out her feast. It was not often she had time to mull alone. At first it felt strange, but once her mind stilled, peace descended like a mist on a glade.
She recalled the energy she’d felt in the grove. The fullness, as though her entire being was filled with love or light or something.
Why me?
I do not believe in gods and goddesses, though I would like to.
Perhaps an angel. What if the ancient gods were angels?
Mamie nibbled a corner of hard cheese, waiting to get struck down for blasphemy. But she did not really believe in that either. To her mind, God made man and woman. Why create one to be subservient? Woman carried true power, being able to have children. Without women, there’d be no men. They needed one another. The church did not honor a woman’s place.
Her priest in Troyes had been cruel when she’d prayed for a miracle. A child of her own. Father Agus had made it clear she was at fault. Inferior, even to her fellow womenfolk. He’d commanded her to remember what grave sin she’d committed somehow, in her pain, to offend God so cruelly he would take her only purpose.
Mamie swallowed the cheese, which had lost its rich flavor.
She heard a twig snap to the left and noticed a path leading from the men’s wing of the palace to the upper courtyard. Was that Raymond? She spied the red and gold of his mantle. Eleanor had been correct in her assessment of her uncle’s charms. Handsome, charismatic, strong. Dangerous.
Mamie watched as another man went to the trail, as if following the first.
“Odo,” she whispered. “Who else?” She finished her juice and bread. “Perhaps he is going to learn to juggle too?”
She folded her napkin inside the empty cup and left them on the bench to retrieve later. What was Odo up to?
Looking around to ensure she was alone, she stealthily crossed the yard and walked into the line of silver-green trees closest to the trail. Raymond had veered up toward the courtyard and Fay. Odo turned right and went down toward the bathhouse. He passed it by, certain in his steps. He knew where he was going.
Mamie followed as quietly as the slight breeze, grateful for the abundant olive trees alongside the trail. To be hidden, she’d worn her hair up and was glad she’d foresworn her favorite rose oil, remembering her mistake at the stables.
Odo took an abrupt turn at a slight divot from the trail, hardly a path. He didn’t go inside the trees very far. Mamie stopped to listen.
“After her disgraceful behavior at the tournament,” Odo said in greeting, “Eleanor spent the entire evening secluded with her uncle.”
Mamie crept closer. Who was the rat talking to?
“We need to tell the king,” a gravelly voice answered. “She has gone too far this time.”
Thierry. Mamie was not surprised. Someone must have grown wise to their collaboration if they were meeting outside the palace. Away from the k
ing.
While disappointed, she was not taken aback over where Eleanor had been. She didn’t blame the queen for spending time with someone who understood her.
It was not her place to judge.
“He has not listened before now,” Odo said.
“He excuses her actions as being youthful, though they are the same age. He is too good for her. There are ways to mend this situation.”
“Thierry. Wait for a moment and think. If we share what we know with the king, what will he do? Will it affect the pilgrimage to the holy land? Right now reaching Jerusalem intact is paramount to a victory. We have not had many of those, and morale is terrible. We need to remind everyone that absolution is waiting for each noble, knight, and foot soldier alike.”
“Coddle them,” Thierry spat. “They should be grateful to spill their blood for Christ. Every single one of us has made sacrifices.”
Odo hesitated. “I think the princess is aware of Raymond and Eleanor’s public display. Can we use that?”
Mamie’s nose scrunched with disgust.
“She supports her husband. A good wife. She will look the other way at his debauchery.”
Remembering the hurt on Constance’s face when Raymond agreed that Eleanor was the most beautiful woman during the tournament, Mamie was not quite so sure.
The stable smelled like horse droppings and was as hot as an oven. Dominus stretched his aching muscles, forking another stack of hay down from the loft. Bartholomew had given him extra duties around the church and the Templar House, saying if he was well enough to win tournaments, he was well enough to work for God.
He didn’t mind. It kept him from thinking of Mamie. How beautiful her hair had looked as it caught the sunlight, how adorable she’d been, stomping her feet in frustration. Her look of happiness as she’d realized he was not married.
A few more loads of hay, and he’d sneak off to the olive tree and kiss Mamie as she deserved to be kissed. Not that light melding of lips, though that had been sweet as honey too.
“Hey!” A voice spluttered. “Watch where you’re putting that stuff.”
Dominus looked down at Everard and grinned. “Apologies.”
“Accepted,” the knight said. He picked a piece of straw from his hair. “Can you come down here for a moment?”
