Rose

by Traci E Hall

  She searched the men’s wing, the trail outside the palace—everywhere. Including the three olive trees—her and Dominus’s spot. Odo was nowhere to be found.

  Downhearted, she passed the Templar House with a sigh. Things were happening so fast, and she might find her allegiance pledged opposing the king and the Templars. Her time with Dominus had let her feel love once more, showing her the emptiness in what she’d chased. The physical solace had served a purpose, but she was no longer willing to settle for less than the entire feast.

  He had changed her heart, for better or worse. “Not now,” she muttered, taking the steps up the palace two at a time. Her future, bleak and empty, would leave her plenty of time to mourn.

  Dominus melted back as Everard walked forward. The young knight plastered on a happy grin and held out a hand. He introduced himself, and Bartholomew bragged that Everard was their new leader for Aleppo.

  He made his way back to the post in minutes, his face damp with sweat as he stood next to Dominus.

  “Nice friends you’ve made,” Dominus said.

  “I just saved your arse,” Everard quipped, then made the sign of the cross. “We heard correctly? They said they have a plan to take care of the queen?”

  Dominus leaned against the wall. “I heard that too.”

  “It is no secret the commander has little respect for the queen. Rumors of her less-than-circumspect behavior had reached him, and he’d judged her before we ever arrived. Unfortunately, the rumors proved to be true.”

  “Be careful, Everard. We do not know that. And if Raymond is secretly using his niece for her army, covering that sin with another lie, well, he has proven himself to be ruthless.”

  Everard nodded. “This is true. It does not change the commander’s hatred, which seems to have found fellowship with Thierry. I don’t understand Jocelyn’s stake.”

  Dominus said, “He is protecting what is his.”

  “Edessa?”

  “Oui. Raymond appears to be dangling a prize he doesn’t even hold, and look at all the candidates vying to be number one.”

  “We have to warn the queen.” Everard looked to Dominus. “Perhaps you could do that while I filch the prayer book?”

  “A fine young man of Christ you are, filching and spying. What have I done to you?”

  “You’ve shown me how to be a man of honor. Do you think they want to kill her?”

  Dominus pulled the younger knight farther back into the shadows. “Some things must never be said out loud.” Treachery within the most sacred order of men—a plan to murder the queen? “I will look for Mamie, the surest way to reach the queen. Be careful, my friend, and do not get caught. All of this is colliding like an impending storm. I do not want you struck by lightning.”

  Everard slipped from beneath Dominus’s hand and headed toward the church. “Godspeed,” he said from over his shoulder.

  Dominus strode back to the olive trees. Though he felt Mamie’s presence, she was not there. He turned toward the palace and whistled when he saw his temptation taking the stairs up two at a time. Her gown, specially made, he knew, with splits so she could ride astride or race across a field, trailed after her. She turned and stilled like a rabbit trapped in the woods.

  He whistled again and waited at the shadows of the garden trees. She came toward him at a run, reaching him while gasping for breaths.

  “I have been looking everywhere,” she said.

  “For me?” His heart quickened.

  “Non. Odo. He wants a private meeting with the queen. I could have killed him.” With a quick jerk of her fist, she had her dagger in her palm. “I was close.”

  “I am glad you did not.” Murder was a bigger sin than living life to the fullest. “You are innocent as a babe.”

  She laughed, bold and strong. “You know that is not true.”

  He grinned, remembering. “Let me say it differently.” He grabbed the back of her head and brought her mouth to his. Their lips clung, hungry, to one another—as if this might be their last taste.

  She pulled back, emerald eyes shining. “A royal meeting has been summoned in the Ivy Room at three this afternoon. If you can listen from the roof, you should. I don’t know what’s going on or what will happen, but the king and queen may need our aid. I don’t trust Raymond.”

  Dominus glanced up as Raymond stood at the palace’s top stair, overlooking his domain. He tried to pull Mamie back, but she yanked free of his grasp. “I have to go,” she whispered. “Take care, Dominus.”

  Mamie was halfway up the stairs as Raymond came down them. The prince reached out and brushed a knuckle along Mamie’s cheek, and she bristled. He chuckled as she finished her way up the stairs.

  What had the rogue said to his Mamie?

  The ringing of the church bells reminded him that he had little time—but enough, if he commandeered a horse—to descend the mountain and return to get into his position on the roof.

  He went to the stable and freed one of the horses outside eating hay. Sometimes it was easier to apologize afterward than ask permission.

  Prodded by urgency, Dominus reached the marketplace minutes later. He tied the horse outside Tallow’s. His brown robe allowed him to blend in with the other knights on the road.

  The Englishman seemed to be waiting for him. “Come on. Ye’ve gotten two messages just arrived this morning. I had a feelin’ ye’d be in for them.” He didn’t offer ale but took the box down and slid it across the table.

  Dominus did not sit, either, but instead lifted the letters. “Both from our friend.”

  The man nodded and left, dropping the curtain behind him.

  Dominus cracked the wax seal and read the letter. He stopped, gasping, and read again. His eyes blurred, and he sank, leaning his forehead against the table. Moments passed as he digested the news, and at last he had to force it aside. “I have a duty to finish. Let us get it done.”

  He opened the next message. Patriarch Aimery will be appraised of Commander Bartholomew’s association with R and J. Find proof, if possible, and bring it directly to him. As of this reading, you are no longer bound by Templar oath. Unless you wish to wear the cloak and find God’s truth in Jerusalem. A scrawling B took up the last inch of parchment.

  He could hide behind the white cloak and avoid his birthright or hide in Troyes with his lover and avoid his birthright. Or he could accept God’s will and go home.

  First, to eavesdrop on the Royal Summons.

  Mamie and Fay each wore a white gown with the crimson surcoat and tight sleeves. Not the height of fashion but necessary when wielding a sword. Tightly fitted white leather boots laced up their shins, and they each wore their hair pulled back into a high ponytail, cascading down their backs in curls. No veil, no caplet. There was the slightest hint of color to their cheeks, and dark brown powder outlined their eyes.

  Larissa came too, carrying a basket that held sewing supplies, a sealed bottle of wine, and food they had already tested.

  “I have no idea what this meeting will be about, not really, mon fleurs, so we must be prepared for anything. Remember: we are in support of Edessa, as that was the main reason for this Crusade.”

  “Swords?” Mamie asked, patting her empty sheath.

  Eleanor looked them over. “You look magnificent. But bringing weapons might send the wrong message.”

  “You are the queen.” Fay shrugged. “We protect you.”

  Mamie nodded. She had her dagger strapped to her inner arm, out of sight, and she had another small knife at her waist. Eleanor did not understand how dangerous her uncle was, but Mamie did. And she’d made sure to tell Fay too. Blinded by his charms and his strength, Eleanor justified his rash behavior as necessary to retain power.

  She was not here to fight right or wrong. She protected the queen.

  They walked in procession to the Ivy Room, ten minutes late. Eleanor wanted all eyes on her, to take stock of the room and who stood where.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you
would arrive,” Raymond said, his voice tight with disapproval.

  Eleanor paused, meeting his gaze. “I am a queen, Uncle. It is fortunate I came at all.”

  Silence echoed around them and Mamie perused the room, moving her head as little as possible. Louis, Jocelyn, Constance, Odo, Thierry, Bartholomew, and Everard? She couldn’t help but look for Dominus.

  She hoped for all of their sakes that he was out of the room—on the balcony, to be exact. His loyalty was to the bishop and the patriarch. A neutral witness.

  “Ever the competitor, Eleanor,” Raymond said with a rueful laugh. “I see you came prepared to do battle.”

  “Here I am,” she said, dipping her head.

  “Come. Stop being so formal. I asked us all here today to discuss the Crusade.”

  “We have worried this subject like a dog a bone. I am tired of it.” The queen led them slowly toward the couch saved for her. Not next to Louis but closer to Raymond. Constance’s face was inscrutable. Bo was not around, which indicated that Constance expected trouble.

  Eleanor walked slowly, Mamie and Fay on either side, Larissa at her train. Mamie was careful to maintain a neutral expression and avoid direct eye contact.

  The nobles had all stood, waiting for Eleanor’s arrival. She paused by the empty couch and sat down. Everyone else sat too.

  Constance kept her gaze on her hands, folded in her lap. Mamie saw that her victory, sharing a couch with her husband, seemed weak after Eleanor’s show of power.

  “I would offer refreshment?” Raymond gestured to the servants in the back. “Wine. For everyone.”

  “I brought my own,” Eleanor said, gesturing toward Larissa. The handmaiden used a sharp eating knife to peel the wax and open the bottle. Next she took a cup, wiping the inside with a freshly pressed linen square, before pouring the ruby liquid inside. She took a sip, waited, then handed it to the queen.

  “What is this?” Raymond demanded.

  Eleanor remained calm. “This is my favorite wine. I had a thirst for it.”

  King Louis’s thin nose turned red. “Eleanor. Is this a game?”

  “No game, my dear husband. I have been ill twice now, and I wish to keep my health.”

  “Is it possible you are—?” Constance asked, pressing her belly.

  Eleanor glared at Thierry and Odo, who hovered behind the king like skeletons. “Non.”

  The king exhaled, tugging at his thin beard. “Can we please get on with this charade?” He looked at Raymond with a hard expression Mamie had never seen him wear before.

  The servants passed out wine as Raymond spoke to the gathered nobles. Though Fay and Mamie were each noblewomen, in this event, they were the queen’s guards and would drink later.

  “This charade is about Edessa,” Count Jocelyn said. “My city, overrun by Turks.”

  “You should have held onto it better, then,” Eleanor said.

  Jocelyn held his tongue. Mamie applauded his will—if he had not, she would have sliced it from his mouth.

  Raymond put his hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. Mamie looked at him, down at his hand, and back at him. Move it, she thought.

  Looking flustered, he did.

  If he was under the impression that she was charmed, he was mistaken. He’d stopped her on the stairs, complimenting her flushed cheeks and heaving bosom after she’d run up the steps. She’d sickened as he’d caressed her hair. Mamie was immune to Raymond’s power and wished she could make Eleanor see her uncle for the villain he was.

  Odo caught her eye. She gave a barely perceptible nod. They would talk afterward to discuss his meeting with the queen.

  “Edessa is held by the Turks. I have information that their leader, Nur ad-Din, is living in the city next to it, Aleppo.”

  “Aleppo is smaller,” Commander Bartholomew said, putting his hands behind his back and looking like an officious toad.

  “Easier to take?” Thierry asked.

  “I know a secret way inside,” the commander said.

  “Aleppo is not Edessa,” Jocelyn countered, but Mamie could see they’d rehearsed this before. This was being played out for King Louis and Queen Eleanor. Angry, Mamie hoped the queen was aware of the deception.

  “I say we take advantage of the commander’s secret passageway, grab Nur ad-Din from his bed, and hang him from the ramparts. We control both cities then.”

  Ah. Mamie ground her back teeth. Perhaps this was being played out for the king alone. If Aleppo and Edessa were available, there would be one city each for Jocelyn and Eleanor. Unless Eleanor was innocent, and the other city was for Bartholomew?

  “Louis, with your army we can make this a safe Christian state. But I need your help, my friend. You are family now.”

  Eleanor winced.

  King Louis brushed off Odo’s warning hand.

  “I have said it once, and I will say it again. I am going to Jerusalem, with the bishop’s blessing. I have written approval to move forward on this Crusade without risking more men in Edessa.” He threw his hands in the air. “And Aleppo? What are you thinking, Raymond? To rule all Outremer?”

  Raymond shouted in outrage, while Constance sucked in a sharp breath. Eleanor stayed very still, which worried Mamie.

  “Bishop Bernard of Clairvaux, along with Patriarch Aimery, have assured me of safe journey with complete provisions offered by Antioch. We leave for Jerusalem in three days. My wife and I will need enough food and supplies—”

  “No,” Eleanor said harshly. “No, Louis.”

  Thierry started to stand, but Odo pushed him down. The king drew himself up, posture stiff. “No?”

  “I am not going with you. Raymond has offered me sanctuary.”

  “For what?” The king stepped forward.

  Eleanor met his gaze, unflinching.

  Mamie’s belly knotted. She thought of the voice in Daphne and the choice Eleanor was to make. Was this the queen’s destiny? Or was she making a huge mistake?

  “I want to dissolve our marriage.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The words resounded around the hall like the quiet after a cannon boom. Dissolution of marriage? Mamie exchanged a glance with Fay. Her fellow guard was the color of spoilt milk. Larissa cried, hiding her face in the linen square from the basket.

  The king, stricken with betrayal and grief, fell to his knees. He bowed his head. Odo, in the first act of kindness she had ever witnessed from the man, put a hand on the king’s neck, offering solace.

  Eleanor, perhaps realizing the severe consequences of her words now that they were said, crossed her ankles primly. “We are married within the confines of consanguinity.”

  “We had a special dispensation for that. From the pope.” Louis looked up, eyes red. He loved her. It was plain for everyone to see.

  Tears welled, and she dashed them away. “You yourself wondered if this Crusade was cursed, Louis.”

  He rose, a man injured. Betrayed. Meeting Raymond’s eyes, the king shrugged. “I will be leaving tomorrow, taking my men. All of them. I am Duke of Aquitaine by marriage. Make sure we are properly supplied. You can keep the queen.”

  Eleanor gasped. “I wounded him.”

  “Did you think you wouldn’t?” Constance asked, her voice like ice. “You were never poisoned by my hand, but it is not difficult to see how you may have angered someone close. Louis, my condolences.” She got to her feet. “Raymond. If you are a smart man, I suggest you come with me. Now.”

  The king, shaking and ill, remained mute. Thierry glared daggers at the queen, while Odo seemed to draw in on himself. They left, Constance and Raymond at their heels.

  Mamie had to reassess the princess’s power. She’d chosen to wield it lightly before, but now? The rules of the game had changed.

  No doubt tired of the rumors of an affair between uncle and niece, Constance would not want Eleanor in the palace or even nearby in Edessa.

  Jocelyn was the next to go, his eyes bright. Bartholomew fell into step at his side.

  Al
one in the Ivy Room, Mamie and Fay waited in silence with their queen as Larissa sniffed. Eleanor finished the wine in her cup, then passed the bottle back to Mamie.

  “Well,” she said. “That went better than I expected.”

  Mamie tilted the bottle, drinking deep.

  “Pass it,” Fay warned. “What do you plan next, oh mighty one?”

  Eleanor laughed, the sound brittle. “Constance had a point. I do not have a lot of friends here.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Fay drawled.

  Mamie stole the bottle back, drank, returned it to Fay, then went in search of another bottle. The servants had disappeared, knowing what was best for them, no doubt. Mamie went to the balcony and poked her head outside.

  Dominus waited on the bench. His eyes, so blue, so filled with compassion, let her know he had heard everything.

  “The olive trees?” Mamie whispered. “I will get away when I can.” Because it was Dominus, she let him see her tears but blinked quick to stem the flow.

  She came back in to find the queen and Fay nearing the door. Trying to smile, she opened it farther while shielding Dominus.

  “You should come out for fresh air,” Mamie said, hoping to warn the knight.

  “You are hiding your tears,” Eleanor said. “There is no need.”

  Dominus scooted onto the roof as Fay, Eleanor, and Larissa came out to the balcony. Each woman had her own bottle of wine. Fay handed one to Mamie.

  “To a new life,” Eleanor said, tears running down her cheeks.

  The women drank. And drank.

  Dominus waited in the olive trees, holding the proof: written correspondence between Jocelyn, Bartholomew, and Raymond regarding the rebellious attack on Aleppo. Though he was no longer officially a Templar, he wore the brown robe from the Templar House. It was easier to play the part for a while longer.

  He liked the anonymity of the brown robe. Dominus could be anyone. Secular knight with the Templars or just a nobleman without a name. After hearing the queen’s public declaration for a dissolution of her vows, he now understood what had happened earlier between the patriarch and Odo.