Liliane spent the night on one of the troop ships. Deciding that the ship would be cleaner and cheaper than one of the local stews, she showed her army admission to the shipmaster who could not read and bribed him to let her aboard. She and Kiki burrowed under the bow among the stow of canvas, where they slept soundly until the first soldiers boarded at dawn. She had been discouraged when Alexandre had proven unyielding the night before, and she was horrified to hear him board the ship. There were three ships and he had to pick hers! Muffling Kiki's chatter, she burrowed deeper into the bow and kicked the canvas aft so that no attention would be drawn to her when the crew hoisted sail. Curling up, she pulled her haik over her head and covered Kiki so that they appeared to be a bundle of stowage. Preoccupied with seeing a hundred men, their gear, and horses being properly stowed to keep the ship balanced, Alexandre took no notice of her. Some time went by before the ships were loaded, due to some of the soldiers' reluctance to board. If the men had not been conscripted, the army would have attracted few volunteers. Almost none of them had been to sea; they feared every calamity, from wild storms to sea monsters. Liliane smiled sympathetically. They would be wretched soon enough without seeing dragons.
With squeaks of wood echoing the many rats scurrying about the hold, the pitch-caulked ships glided into the bustling harbor. At the slap of the water against their hull, Kiki's eyes became wide and frightened, her tiny hands digging into Liliane's arm. Liliane cuddled her and whispered words of comfort she could not share herself. Already very fond of the little monkey, she was unwilling to leave her behind to be starved and used badly by her former master. Kiki could learn virtue as well as vice, but meanwhile her current versatility might prove useful.
Liliane peeked out at the soldiers huddled in the creaking ships. Although the sun had just risen, they were sweating and miserable with fear. She was startled to see that Alexandre was white as a sheet in the stem. He looked less afraid than ill, and with dismay she realized that he was going to be seasick before they were beyond the harbor.
She was right. Five minutes out, Alexandre was retching over the side along with three other men. More soldiers were turning green from the heaving swells. With a sigh, Liliane settled down to wait until the next morning. They were nearly a day's sail from land before she crawled back to Alexandre. He was weak, parched and utterly miserable. She fished in her medical sack for herbs and ground them into her bowl with water from her flask; then she helped him sit up. His eyelids fluttered as she held the brew to his lips. "You!" he whispered hoarsely. "I ought to haul you back!"
"We are too far out now," she assured him calmly. "Besides, I have my papers. I have joined Count Lisle's banner. Drink this; you will feel better."
He eyed the bowl suspiciously, then, at its stench, looked as if he would be sick again.
"Come, effendi, do not be foolish; the bowl does not contain poison to keep you from causing me trouble in Acre. Once there, I will fight Saladin whether King Philip keeps me or not. If you are too stubborn to accept my help now, you will feel like mule dung for the duration of the voyage."
Alexandre drank the stinking brew. He silently vowed to hang the Berber by his thumbs later.
Through that day and most of the next, Liliane felt Alexandre's bloodshot eyes on her as she attended the men. His stare became even more intent when once she caught herself from falling overboard as the ship pitched and rolled. She realized that when they landed in Acre, she had better get out of his reach until his temper cooled considerably.
Unfortunately, Alexandre's temper did not wait until Acre to explode, but only until the ship's passengers were asleep. One of the four aboard who did not become seasick, Liliane was peacefully sleeping in her spot near the bow when a hard hand closed about her throat and another over her mouth. Her eyes flying open, she uttered a muffled, terrified squeak. "I am going to strangle you," a low, furious voice muttered from the darkness. "Then I am going to keelhaul you and twist your scheming little head off!" A hand shifted and Alexandre's mouth came down in a brief but forceful kiss.
"How did you know?" Liliane gasped when his mouth lifted.
In answer, Alexandre grabbed a strand of blond hair escaping her haik and flattened it across her nose. "The sun is fading your stain, and when you lose your balance, you catch it like a woman," he hissed. "What the hell are you doing here!"
"You need me!" she whispered back. "Do you suppose Louis and Jacques are going to let you sail home in glory?"
"I can take care of my own ass, merci! How do you think I managed without you for twenty-odd years?" He let out another exasperated oath. "You shived a hulk in Massilia, par Dieu! How did you spend your childhood? Slitting your dolls' throats!"
"That ruffian was after me,'' she retorted, then held her breath as a nearby sleeper stirred, "not the other way around. Diego did not want to leave me helpless in the world so . . ."
"So he taught you gutter fighting." Alexandre grabbed his hair with Gallic fervor. "Helpless? He turned you into a little monster!"
At that, Liliane went cold. Hurt filled her heart, closing out whatever else Alexandre was saying. The worst she had feared was happening. Alexandre thought her unnatural; she was no longer a woman to him—certainly not his love that he expected to wait quietly at home for him so that he could fantasize about her in pastoral peace. Silently, she tucked her hair away, pulled her haik across her face, then curled away from him.
Alexandre was quiet now and she could feel him staring at her. The drowsing Kiki pushed into her neck, and her tears were wet against the monkey's soft fur.
Alexandre touched her shoulder. "Liliane, I am sorry." He was silent for a moment. "I did not mean for my outburst to be so unfair. If you were a man, I should have praised your courage and skill. As it is, all I can think of is the danger you risk, that you could have been killed by that street thug and that you have been venturing alone about those foul Massilia streets." His grip tightened. "I appreciate your concern for me, but the army camp at Acre will not only be exposed to the risks of war, but be teeming with disease and hardened womenless men. I should worry far more about those threats to you than any from Jacques."
"You do not know him as I do," Liliane muttered. "You must not know me very well, either." He nuzzled her neck. "Enjoy your sea voyage, darling, because the moment we reach Acre, you are going to embark upon another voyage home." But home is with you, Liliane thought stubbornly. Alexandre settled down to sleep with his back against hers. Although he scarcely moved until morning, she sensed that he was wide awake.
For the rest of the voyage, except for sleeping near her at night, Alexandre was careful not to pay undue attention to her. She suspected that his reticence was as much due to not wanting to alert the other men as to his lingering shock and dismay at her presence. Aware that she was causing him a very real problem, she would have given much to ease it, but she was not prepared to return to France. Jacques was wickedly patient and Louis was relentless. Better for Alexandre to endure injured pride than a terminally injured skull.
Yet, oh, how keenly she felt Alexandre's disapproval! She longed to curl up next to him and have him put his arms around her. He might Hank her brave and resolute, but she felt like a nervous mouse when she thought of the street thugs. The idea of seeing war at close hand filled her with dread. She had been lonely as Jefar el din for she dared not risk discovery by exchanging more than a few sentences with anyone. Alexandre's quick penetration of her disguise made her feel vulnerable. When unrecognized, she had foolishly envisioned herself as his guardian angel, which lent closeness to their relationship. Now he knew her identity and his anger isolated her.
On the night before sighting Acre, Alexandre watched Liliane stir restlessly. He was aware of her every movement. . . and her deep hurt. He slouched gloomily against the gunnel. He could not even make love to her, to do so now would be to say goodbye twice, and he could not bear that. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew that if he forgave her too quickly, she would fasten
herself like a crab to him. Her acquiescence at being sent home deceived him not at all. She had no intention of returning to France, but she would do so if he had to strap her to a wine cask!
* * *
Near dusk of the next day, they sighted Acre. The best port on the Palestine coast, the city lay in the shallow northern curve of the bay of Acre. A vast white-gold desert spread inland from Acre past Mount Carmel to the distant Galilean foothills that shielded Lake Tiberias. The setting sun glinted off the great onion domes and minarets that rose above the city behind its long, heavy wall.
Siege machines had shattered most of the tall palms on the highest city terraces; splintered stubs jabbed at the sky. The city wall bounded the sea and wound above the harbor streets where ramshackle shops still functioned. Several moored ships stood offshore, and shelters constructed from dismantled ships strewed the upper beaches above the tide line. Beyond the dunes, the camp spread to the siege trenches, now emptied for the day as were the ramparts of the city. Eastward, hidden in the great desert dunes, lay the camp of Saladin, who had come to give what relief he could to the besieged city by raiding the crusaders.
Once in the harbor, Liliane had planned to jump overboard and swim past the anchored ships for shore, but when they passed the Tower of Flies, she had second thoughts. The water, though clean enough offshore, was filled win floating garbage and ships' debris in the harbor area. A thick sludge of sewage had gathered in the coves protected from the sea breeze; eventually it would edge out with the tide, but it rolled and stank. Alexandre's discouragement was quicker to the point. He slipped a rawhide tether about her wrist and cinched it to his before she realized what he was doing. "I could not bear to lose you," he quipped in Arabic, dropping her loose sleeve down to conceal the cord as he led her a little apart from the rest of the men leaning over the tilting gunnels.
As Liliane gave him an angry look, her free hand crept to her waist for her dirk. It was gone! He had stolen it! She jerked at the thong and Alexandre laughed softly. "Calm down, friend. You will miss little in leaving Acre. Sieges are ranch like that sewage; their stink never seems to go away but lingers long after the city is taken. King Richard may have his faults, but he knows how to conduct an assault. If the Saracens will has not been broken by now, the day he does break it will be some time in coming and will be an ugly sight. Tomorrow will dawn hot and miserable, as will all the days that follow, and the army will grow meaner with each moment they sweat." His face sobered as he pointed to the Tower of Flies. "When Acre falls, you will not see the base of that tower because of the pile of bodies. Women and children will not be spared. I do not want you here for that."
"Alexandre, I am not a child," she replied quietly as the ship docked and the crewmen tossed lines to the quay. "I can endure Palestine if you can. Let me stay. If I take care, no one need know who I am.
"I knew, three days out. How long could you hide your sex from a sergeant or banneret? Twenty minutes in the field and you would be spotted. Besides"—the wrist tether tightened a notch— "I am damned if I will risk your neck. No more arguments." Once the ship was secure, he propelled her ahead of him up the creaking ladder. When they reached the quay, he did not bother to wait for his servants and belongings, but curtly ordered the shipmaster to see to them. Then he led Liliane toward the nearest loading merchant ship.
With the chattering Kiki clutching her neck, Liliane stumbled behind him. "Slow down!" she hissed. "Everyone will suspect something is amiss if you keep dragging me along like a puppet!"
Alexandre did not ease his pace. "I shall worry about that when you are in the middle of the Mediterranean. Pick up your dainty feet, my sweet."
The first merchant lateener was sailing for Rhodes. Alexandre applied to another one and was told Palermo. As he began to dicker in fluent Italian with the oily-tongued captain over the price of her passage, Liliane cast a quick, desperate look about the quay. In Alexandre's current mood, he would arrange for her to be stowed in the cargo hold until the ship was a day out. A few feet away, a sullen camel was being unloaded. Rolled rugs were stacked by the animal's feet on its near side; two rugs still remained on its back. Liliane eased closer to Alexandre, then loosened the slack loop about her wrist. Scratching Kiki's chest, she whispered in her ear, "Allez! Make trouble, Kiki!" That being one of her favorite orders, Kiki's small eyes gleamed, her teeth baring in anticipation.
The monkey leaped through the air to land atop the camel's neck. Scrambling to its head, Kiki screamed in its ears, then wrung them industriously. The camel exploded with pain and rage. The rugs still aboard the creature came flying off his back, and everyone, including Alexandre and the wide-eyed culprit who began the whole display, ducked.
Liliane had seen a camel in full froth, but never at so close a range. The spectacle was horrifying. His eyes rolled, teeth snapped, head snaked, spittle sprayed. The dockhands shrieked as spatulate hooves flayed with a startling reach at the nearest targets.
Liliane was so eager to distance herself from the beast that for the first few seconds, she forgot her purpose in arousing its ire. Then, observing the way Kiki bounced precariously atop the camel's skull, Liliane remembered haste, whether suicidal or not, was in order. With a quick tug, she slipped from Alexandre's loop and, her heart in her throat, bounded atop the pile of rug rolls and onto the camel's hump. The sensation was that of leaping into a tornado with teeth.
With a furious yell, Alexandre grabbed for the camel's bridle at the same moment its head snaked back for Liliane's leg. Alexandre missed and Liliane slammed her booted foot against the camel's bared teeth. She grabbed the startled animal's bridle, jerked its head in the direction of freedom and gave him a mighty whack in the ribs with her heels. Giving a ferocious shriek, he reared. Alexandre, with one arm shielding his head, grabbed at Liliane's ankle as the camel's cursing owner tried to drag her off from the other side. Alexandre nearly connected with an accurate hoof while the owner met Kiki's vicious little teeth. With a shout, the man grabbed his bleeding hand. When the camel's mad spin pointed his head to the quay entry, Liliane jabbed its rump with her steel brooch pin.
The camel exploded into a dead run. Trying to toss his rider off, he crowhopped and leaped dock cargo. Her spine ready to snap, Liliane screamed in Arabic for the quay to clear: She need not have bothered—everyone capable of running was in motion. She and the camel were called many foul names, most wasted on a non-Mohammedan and an animal preoccupied with murder.
Alexandre pounded off after the pair, but the camel had disappeared into the harbor alleys. For a few minutes, shrieks and howls from frightened pedestrians marked its passage. Finally, all Alexandre could hear was the rising note of panic in Liliane's fading shouts. Sick with worry, he stumbled to a halt with his chest heaving. Not only had he lost Liliane, but that crazy camel was apt to kill her.
Flattening Liliane was more the camel's intent. Although not clever, he discovered that walls, carts and people were not scraping her off. A low arch off the main street offered a new solution. Liliane ducked but not quickly enough. The arch scraped her painfully off the camel and onto the dirty cobbles. With the breath knocked from her lungs, she lay stunned, amid citrus peels and unnameable, slippery refuse. Fortunately, Kiki's cluttering penetrated her rattled brain in time to realize that the camel had perceived the success of his maneuver and was gamboling back for a leisurely trample that would permanently add her to the general mess on the street. With a wheezing groan, Liliane crawled to a window lintel and dragged herself up. The camel trotted closer.
Merciful heaven, she could hardly walk! What was she going to do? Overhead hung a tattered awning. Liliane grabbed for her dirk, then remembered that it was gone. She yanked the awning's cord; it snapped, but a corner of the awning tore. Dizzily, Liliane caught the edge and pulled hard. It ripped and fell down just as the vengeful camel came under the arch. She swung the awning hard against the beast's muzzle. The instant the cloth tangled about the camel's head, Liliane scrambled down, limping h
urriedly away from where the camel was rending its new affliction. Kiki scampered after her.
Liliane scooped up the small creature to quiet its telltale cluttering and set off down the first alley. Her head was clearing, but with every step her body protested more heatedly. Tomorrow, if she could escape that rotten-tempered camel, she was going to feel even worse. When she lurched around another corner, she heard no sound of pursuit—apparently the camel had been diverted to shredding the awning.
After walking some distance in confusion through the harbor streets beyond Acre's great wall, Liliane came upon the sweep of tents and makeshift huts of the joined camps of King Guy of Jerusalem and King Philip. Rubbing her bruised shoulder, she sank to a halfhearted squat. The camp was a warren of erratic "streets" strung aimlessly together. The fringes that caught the sea breeze were jammed with tents and hovels, while the ones that neared the siege trenches and desert dunes were open and empty. Saracen raiders would be roaming those dunes at night. Any crusader venturing far to relieve himself might be relieved' of a working gullet, as well.
Odd bits of fabric, goatskins and horsehides patched together most of the tents; even by night, Liliane could see how the recently pitched French tents had already bleached in the relentless sun, the folds of their draping showing their original colors. A cluster of makeshift bordellos lay nearest the harbor town. The largest bordello was in a rundown two-story building with Moorish screens at its windows. Business was already brisk, and laughter spilled into the canvas-lined alley.
The camp stank. It was raucous with wandering soldiers, boisterous wenches and restless livestock. The usual disorder was aggravated by the arrival of Philip's army the previous week. French soldiers were already in scattered brawls with Guy's men, and the routiers were busy trying to maintain a boundary between the camp already established on the best site and the new discontented army of men. Liliane took care to skirt the chaotic French camp and the pole-mounted torches that cast a feeble, scattered glow over the allies. Fires and cooking pots sent up a greasy, sooty smoke that hazed the early evening air.
A Flame Run Wild Page 19
