Charles silently took the flower, murmuring, "If you put yourself and your fortune into my hands to protect Alexandre, you shall not regret it." His voice lowered to a whisper. "But betray him and the dogs will spurn what I leave of you."
"Fair enough. Now I state my bargain. Crush the primula upon your pillow tonight. I have brought Alexandre as much happiness as he has given to me. Wantonly destroy that happiness and until you die you will see my face whenever you smell a flower or look into Alexandre's face." With that, she left him in the garden and went to the tower chamber to wait for Alexandre.
He was late in coming. When he did, he pulled her quickly into his arms and kissed her. "While Philip rests his men, we have tomorrow and another night. By God, I shall waste no more of this one!"
His hands traveled urgently over her body and she answered him with the same abandon. A thousand nights were in his touch, with all their fevered longing, and his kisses were hard and hot. Even as he pressed her upon the bed, he was baring her. His mouth claimed hers again as he pulled quickly at his own clothing. When they were joined as one, she felt herself falling with him into the rapturous bloom of their vanishing spring—its flowers scattering as if by a blinding, relentless wind. The blossoms whipped against their faces, their fiercely driving bodies. The skies ran scarlet with fast-flying clouds, and when they soared together into the vast red sun, Alexandre's cry was like a hawk's scream.
When at last they were both still, Liliane looked up into Alexandre's face. He wore a strange expression and his eyes were an almost eerie violet. He caught her hair tight in his hands. "I could kill him," he whispered. "Forswear faith and kill Philip. He has a thousand men, younger, braver men than I, their eyes still shining with untarnished, untried faith in him. Let him turn to them, for I am weary of him and all the rivers of blood that follow him. He still believes that nothing can come between him and me, not even the woman I love. But you, this land—by God, peace!—all deny him. . . ."
His eyes held their wild light for another moment, then he laid his head upon her breast. "All, all deny him, yet I will never say him nay. Why? For my children, that he will not wrest away their inheritance? I know not. I know only that I fight no more for pride."
Liliane held his face in her hands. "You cannot deny Philip unless he first denies you. Before all of France, he has put you at his right hand and he cannot let you relinquish that position without having his pride and friendship publicly slighted. Turn from him now and he will destroy you." Her hand pressed hard. "But know this, my darling: go to Palestine and you will have Charles and me at your back. You are no longer poor; you have a wife and friend who love you, as well as the favor of the king. You do not go to war alone this time. My every waking thought will be with you." She kissed him. "Come home to me, I beg you."
"Marry how many wives he will," Alexandre breathed, "Philip will never find such a one to love as you. If only you could come with me, I would show you the desert on a starry night when all the sands seem to heave in a white sea and the palm trees whisper their dry prayers on the unbroken wind. Come to me in my dreams, my beloved Liliane, and we will be one again as the doves of Solomon."
Then they were one, man unto woman, as the first mating of living things upon the earth, that eon upon eon extended creation.
The next morning, as soon as the men left for their hunt, Liliane rode to the oak to leave another message in the cylinder. The first note was still there. Deciding that the banditti idea had best wait, she removed the note, men noticed that the parchment was of a lesser quality than the one she had used. Upon a close examination of the note, she discovered that it was not her own. The script and wording were similar, but the suggested date for the attack had been moved up, possibly to take advantage of Alexandre's absence before the castle could be reinforced.
Liliane had been right about the spy, and now she knew it must be someone who could write. Any one of the castellans could be hiding his scholarship, but the obvious suspects were Father Anslem, Premier and Charles. She dismissed Father Anselm and Charles, but the clerk was a possibility.
She would let Jacques take care of the problem, by telling him the message had been altered. Assuming the spy was his, her loyalty would be affirmed and he would be forced to recruit a new infiltrator. A new face in the castle would instantly come to her notice.
Liliane added a line to the note in the cylinder, which Jacques's man was due to pick up that afternoon. When she had finished, the message read, 'The king has arrived. An invitation to Castle de Signe might be in your favor. If such an invitation does not arrive at Castle de Brueil by sunset, I shall assume my message has been altered as were the rest of our communications.'
Jacques's invitation to Philip arrived at sunset while Liliane and Alexandre were closeted alone with the king for an aperitif before dinner. "The ingratiating, self-seeking weasel," muttered Philip, throwing the message into the fireplace grate. Apparently, Alexandre had assured him that Liliane had little love for her uncle, since he took no care to hide his contempt.
"My uncle is an exceedingly rich man, Your Majesty," Liliane observed softly. "Possibly he will offer a contribution as well as armed men for your campaign."
Philip peered at her, then his mouth curved in a vulpine smile. "Never make your wife angry, Alexandre. She has a brain as well as a pretty face. She will either make you rich or cost you your head." Casually, he sipped his aperitif. "I had already planned to visit your uncle, Countess. Kings cannot be particular about the purses they pick. I had intended to surprise him . . . but, then, I have an idea you reminded him of his manners."
Liliane and Alexandre glanced at each other. Philip's contempt of Jacques had been just another empty show, a pandering to their emotions. Certainly the pockets Philip picked were rarely repaid. That he now made his real intentions clear was a warning not to toy with his favor. "Do not fear, Countess," Philip drawled. "I am not angry, so long as you remember that men, particularly kings, like to lead, not be Jed"—he stroked her cheek—"be the carrot ever so lovely."
Alexandre rose silently to his feet and gently drew Liliane from Philip's reach. "This is one carrot for whom I would fight even a king."
A cool glint entered Philip's green eyes. "I will remember that."
With a cold chill of foreboding, Liliane knew that he would.
* * *
Philip paid his call on Jacques de Signe. To Alexandre and Liliane's dumbfounded delight, Philip returned a week later with the hastily equipped Jacques and Louis and twelve of their finest knights. "Recruits," Philip explained lightly, waving his doffed gauntlets at the Signes' douriaces. "Not only Signe gold, but their strong armed men shall accompany us in this Holy Crusade against the infidel."
Liliane looked up at Jacques. "So you have made peace with the king, Uncle?"
"I am honored to prove my loyalty to His Majesty," rasped Jacques. From his flat tone, Liliane surmised that the proof had been expensive. Jacques was not pleased with her.
As Philip watched Liliane standing beside Alexandre, his eyes held a calculating glint. "I regret that we will not be enjoying your hospitality tonight, Countess, for we ride now to join Richard. Your husband will attend us in Palestine."
Liliane wondered if Philip enjoyed the eloquent pain in her eyes as she turned to kiss Alexandre. Jacques and Louis would think her distress at his leaving a sham; Philip would guess it was agony. "Farewell, my love," she whispered to Alexandre. "I pray for a quick victory and your safe return."
He clasped her tightly. "I will come back to you; now I have more reason than even my life to do so. I want to spend the long years with you. ..."
"Take them now," the eavesdropping Philip added casually. "One, at least." He pulled on his gauntlets, smiling without warmth at Liliane. "Your husband asked a year's leave of me with his promise to meet the army in Palestine. Did he not tell you, my lady?"
Hardly daring to hope, Liliane caught Alexandre's arm. "Is this so, my lord Alexandre?"
&nb
sp; "That I made the request is so," Alexandre replied slowly. "That it has been granted, I have dared not hope."
"You should entertain more faith in your friends, my lord," rebuked Philip, his green eyes mocking. "With a good navigator and few men to transport, 'twill take you no great time to sail to Acre, Alexandre. A king encumbered by position and army must sail in sight of shore, for a lost ship may cost a hundred fighting men and near half that number of horses." He smiled wryly. "Naturally, Richard and I will attend a great number of entertainments while we battle over tablecloths with our hosts to establish policy that will be ignored the moment our sails are out of sight. 'Twill be a damned tedious trip that will waste a year at least. I shall look for you this day next spring in Acre."
"Thank you, sire," Alexandre replied quietly. "I shall not fail you."
"No," Philip replied expressionlessly "I do not suppose you will." He doffed his cap to Liliane. "My lady, look after your husband well. I want him in fighting trim to meet the Saracens."
"I will, sire," Liliane said softly. "I thank you for your gracious generosity." Although she knew that Philip's concession was calculated to hold Alexandre's loyalty, she was nonetheless grateful to him.
Philip kissed her fingertips. "You are more than welcome, lady." Then he added impishly, "Will you not bid so sweet a farewell to your uncle and cousin? After all, they must brave a great distance to try their courage against the heathens. 'Tis a voyage even the hardy do not always survive."
All eyes turned toward Jacques. Liliane went swiftly forward to curtsy before him. "Godspeed, Uncle"—she looked up—"and to you, Cousin. I know that you will comport yourselves bravely." Like trapped rats, she mentally added. And as such, God willing, may you meet your just deserts. He sees into your hearts when I cannot. Liliane tugged a yellow ribbon from her sleeve. "This favor was meant for my lord Alexandre, but as you go now in his stead"—she tied the ribbon to her uncle's gauntleted wrist—"wear this and remember that I think of you."
Jacques patted her head with his heavy hand. "The year will pass quickly, my girl, and will be over before you know it." He unknotted the favor and returned it to her. "Keep this for your husband, who will soon join us."
Liliane forced herself to accept the ribbon with a smile, pretending that his words held no threatening promise. "Thank you, Uncle. I shall do so. As for the time passing quickly, I shall waste none of it." She eyed Louis demurely. "Guard our uncle well, Cousin, and see that he does not suffer unduly from the desert heat."
Louis grunted sullenly. "None of us will escape the heat, were the Devil himself to protect us."
Alexandre could not resist grinning wickedly. "Do not dismiss the Devil's fevor too lightly, kinsman. Men become none too particular of allies when frying under the enemy sun of Palestine. '' He held up his hand to Philip. "God save you, my liege. Please offer my respects to King Richard."
Philip touched his cap and spurred his destrier to the northeast. Like squat black toads in their saddles, Jacques and Louis followed, their retinues falling in behind them. As the riders picked up speed and their pennants flapped in the sea breeze, Liliane clasped Alexandre's arm. "Jacques is right, my love. Our time together will be brief."
Alexandre swept her tip into his arms and headed for their turret. "Then we will not spend it in chatter. I will show you a rare place to tie your yellow ribbon."
She giggled. "Alexandre, you are shameless!"
" 'Tis spring, Madame!" he crowed, men whispered in her ear, "I would wear a pennant upon my standard to celebrate!"
Chapter 8
~
Monkey in the Marketplace
Castle de Brueil
February 1191
Jacques's sober prediction proved all too true. The seasons came and went like ephemeral wraiths, and the winter, usually so sere and long, prematurely gave way to the melting snows and mud that promised the first new buds of spring. Alexandre spent his free time reinforcing the castle against his absence, yet time grew short and much remained undone.
As Alexandre had only ten knights and twice that many castellans to accompany him, he meant to sail from Massilia directly to Acre. Two lords who would meet him in Massilia had pledged to conscript for Philip another two hundred men. As the damp blasts of early February blew across Provence, Alexandre dared wait no longer to leave for Massilia. In a bitter rain, with his mounted men dripping in their saddles and his foot soldiers shivering among their weeping women, he bade Liliane farewell, and upon her finger placed a gold signet ring that duplicated his own. No greater mark of trust could he offer her, for it gave her power to act in his stead, whether to his good or his ill.
Liliane drew him into the great hall to kiss him. "Take great care, Alexandre," she whispered in the shadow of the cold gray walls. "Jacques and Louis are more dangerous to you than any infidels."
"Nay, you are the danger," he murmured. "In leaving you, I leave my heart. Will you wait?"
She was dismayed that he could doubt it, then she remembered that he still did not know she had guessed he had once pretended to be Jean. "I love only you, my darling. Nothing will separate us; I swear it on my life."
His mouth claimed hers, passionate with bitter loss, and she remembered the long night and how the sadness of their love-making had drained them. Finally, they had simply held each other and waited numbly for the sun. Before Alexandre had gone down to his men, she placed a medallion about his neck. "If ever you are in mortal danger from the paladins of Saladin, show them this and say it was given you by a friend of Almansor. You will gain either freedom or ..."
Shaken, she could not finish, and Alexandre dryly finished for her. "A quick death."
"Saladin is an old comrade of Almansor. I believe he would be merciful."
He ruffled her hair affectionately. "What shall I do with a wife who is friend to all my worst enemies?"
Liliane laughed. "Heed Philip and do not drape yourself with too many sloe-eyed concubines." When he started to protest, she gently laid her finger across his lips. "Nay, promise nothing. Only guard your life. You have seen that Jacques is not loath to use women to gain his ends."
She smiled with forced brightness when she waved off Alexandre and his troops. Her apparent cheer did not go unnoticed by Charles, who stood at her side in the courtyard. "So," he commented laconically, "now you have the place to yourself."
"That I do," she replied quietly. "Have you made reconnaissance of the force left at Castle de Signe?"
"By Alexandre's order. Twenty men at arms and two knights remain."
This time her smile was genuine. "Bless Philip. He stripped them to the bone."
"It suited his purpose,"
Conceding nothing, Liliane met his gaze. "And ours." She tossed him a pouch from her kirtle. "Still, we are undermanned, as well. You will take these gold dinars and hire mercenaries in Avignon. Also buy weapons and post a border patrol at the old banting lodge. You are now not only my seneschal but also my military commander. Six of the dinars in that pouch are yours to cover your first three months pay."
He stared at her. "At that rate, I could apply to the king for my own land in three years."
"In three years, Alexandre will be home and by then it will be high time you had a place of your own." She cocked her head. "You are a very intelligent man, Charles. I would be foolish to let you become dissatisfied, as well."
"Not everyone has your means of betrayal."
Refusing to take offense, she watched Alexandre's pennant fade into the distance. "Do not protest too much. You may soon find that I have reason to reward you."
By tomorrow morning, in fact, Charles would understand all too well the reason for his high recompense.
* * *
At dawn, as the meadow mists rose about her, Liliane looked back at Castle de Brueil; it was her home now and she would only see it again with Alexandre at her side. Under her indigo blue cloak, she was dressed as a royal page in gray velvet, courtesy of one of Philip's fops whose snobbery did
not preclude his selling some of his clotting to a beautiful countess who professed a wish to richly garb a page of her own. Under the cloak she also carried a light crossbow used for bird shooting.
Accustomed to her sometimes riding alone, the guards made no inquiry as she crossed the drawbridge with her disguise well hidden from their notice. Her comfortable relationship with them would soon have been ended by Charles, who would awaken this morning to his role as sole governor of the castle. Liliane had no misgivings about him; he would guard the place with his life. Were she to linger within his reach, he'd put her to the sword if her uncle killed Alexandre in Palestine. Charles made a superb friend, but a relentless enemy.
Just now, Liliane had enemies enough and they could not be fought at Castle de Brueil. Once in Palestine, Alexandre would need someone behind' him. What easier way for the Signes to take the Brueil lands than to make certain that the sole Brueil heir never returned to his ancestral home.
Philip was an equally dangerous opponent. He saw Liliane not only as an enemy Signe, but also as a rival for Alexandre's fidelity. He would make every effort to turn Alexandre against her; and ruthless and clever as he was, he might just succeed. Liliane knew that a tiny doubt about her still lingered in Alexandre's mind. Lonely and frustrated in Palestine, he might in time give heed to Philip.
No, Liliane dared not molder under Charles's thumb at Castle de Brueil. After a year's hard debate, she had made her decision. Alexandre needed her now more than ever, but in a way that might tear them apart. To follow him to Palestine would never have entered her head had Jacques and Louis not been destined there. Women were nuisances and liabilities on campaigns. Alexandre would have good cause to be furious if she tagged after him; therefore, he must be unaware of her presence. He was about to make a steadfast new friend: one Jefar el din.
* * *
Audacious as Liliane might be, she was not foolhardy. Even a knight traveling alone tempted bad luck. Massilia, or Marseilles, as some now called the old Roman town, was about a three days' ride westward along the coast. From Massilia, Alexandre would embark for Acre. Liliane found a rock sheltered hideaway that she could use to observe the coastal road. With the horse hidden, neither searchers from the castle nor passersby could spy her. Just before dusk, a search party rode past her with Charles at their head, his eyes squinting at the sun shafting through the clouds. A short distance beyond her vantage point, she saw the riders split up, most of them heading inland, while the rest continued west.
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