Louis dragged off his gauntlets and set off after Jacques. "Back!" hissed Alexandre, pressing Liliane behind him as Louis neared them, but she saw Louis's sharp eyes catch sight of her. He paused slightly, his eyes narrowing, then continued abruptly along the line. "The devil's luck," Alexandre muttered. "He has spotted you with me. Ten to one, his crossbowman's already been silenced with a spear to his ribs, but not before he sniveled to Jacques about your toy quarrel. Jacques and Louis will soon put together a likely tale of your part in their ruined attack." He grasped her arm. "Come, you had best be out of here by the time Louis brings Jacques back."
Liliane could not have been more in agreement, but then she had an idea that Alexandre's conception of "out of sight" was the first boat in the direction of France. "Wait," she protested as he started toward the harbor. "Jacques probably seal Louis after the raiders' not only to impress Philip, but to provide a diversion so he might loll you. I am a witness. Why not bring me forward before Philip to confront Jacques and Louis now?"
"Because Philip would have to declare a trial, which spells delay. If I were willing to make you Jacques's target during that delay and if a Christian court would believe a Moor who has already turned his coat once, I would risk it. Unfortunately, Jacques still holds enough power to insure the dismissal of such a case. Like a tiger, he would be after you and even I might not be able to protect your pretty neck."
"But everyone knows the animosity between your families. Besides, why should a strange Moor guard your life without cause?"
"Without the bowman, we have no proof of anything, only rumor as motive." He frowned. "Unless . . . Diego's death was markedly convenient. Is there a possibility he was murdered?"
"A distinct possibility, but no proof. I believe that Louis startled his horse, but we could never find evidence."
"Jacques is not one to leave tracks." He resumed his walk to the harbor. "I shall see you to the quay."
Liliane tried to think of some way to escape him again, but they had gone no more than a hundred feet when a shout rang after them. "Ho! My lord Count de Brueil! You are wanted by the king. Bring your Moorish friend as well."
"Every imp in hell must be about today," muttered Alexandre grimly. For a moment, as if debating some excuse for disobedience, he stared back at the burly Poitevin knight who had hailed them.
"We must go, must we not?" pressed Liliane. Any risk from Jacques was better than being piled back on a homebound ship.
"Oh, yes," Alexandre said at last, his voice flat. "My lack of enthusiasm for this campaign has been duly noted by the Crown. Philip wants not only my cooperation, but my total obedience. Crossing him now could be dangerous." He waved acknowledgment to the Poitevin, then looked at her. "Buck up, sweet. I doubt if this interview will prove pleasant."
Incongruously lightened of heart, Liliane accompanied Alexandre to the spot where Louis and his men now sweated and wiped their brows under the broiling sun. The Saracens, still cheerfully yipping insults, hovered on the fringe of the dunes, while the defenders of Acre perched on their walls and brayed like gleeful donkeys. Louis's face was crimson with controlled anger. Liliane grinned inwardly. He would be far more furious if he could understand Arabic. Alexandre's lips were twitching as if he comprehended more than a little.
Philip was taking grim delight in chastising Louis for going after the enemy without orders. Liliane had learned enough of the young king to know that had the raid been successful, he might have given Louis a mere public rap and rewarded him privately. Jacques, who was now puffing into view, must have had the same idea. Unluckily for him, he was new to Palestine and unfamiliar with Saracen habits of baiting the enemy into recklessness. Purple veins stood out at his temples as he labored up the breastwork. With cold detachment, Liliane observed that he might handily succumb to an apoplexy in the desert heat before he could return to France.
Chafing under Philip's harangue, Louis's eyes settled on Liliane and turned black with fury. Under the circumstances, her Moorish garb was a goad to his temper, particularly after their encounter that morning. Out to humiliate the Signes, Philip was sparing him nothing. As an added slight, Philip let Jacques wheeze in the sidelines for some time before he recognized him. Although Philip must also have been aware of Alexandre's presence, he took no notice of him. Alexandre seemed calm enough, but Liliane could not help being fidgety, for while Jacques's attention did not linger long enough to draw suspicion, he had perused her sharply, particularly her light crossbow. Alexandre had been right in guessing the bowman would describe the Moor that had wounded him.
Just then, Philip turned to Jacques. "Well, Baron, what have you to say? This whelp is your responsibility, is he not?"
Jacques bowed submissively. "The fault is entirely mine, Your Majesty. My nephew is young and hot to prove his mettle in your service. I confess my old blood was fired by his ardor when he set out to avenge the insults the infidel enemy hurled upon the Holy Cross and your name. I had neither heart not want of spleen to restrain him." He bowed again. "I submit myself and my nephew to your will and just chastisement, asking only that you consider we are new to battle and to this hostile land."
He fawns so, thought Liliane, that one expects him to next roll over belly up at the king's foot.
Philip, weaned on hypocrisy, was cynically prepared to soothe the culprit into assuming himself forgiven. Such ambivalence tended to keep said culprit both cringing and fawning, too off balance to pose a threat in the future. "While I appreciate holy zeal and warlike fervor, Count de Signe will do well to immediately acclimate himself and his following to military procedure and deference to my royal command. Any further transgression of this nature must be punished severely. 'Tis not well for the infidel to observe division among our ranks. For this offense, your nephew will be fined one hundred livres." As Jacques winced, Philip turned with seeming idleness to Alexandre. "As for other matters . . . Count de Brueil, have you anything to add to this discussion?"
Jacques and Louis looked at each other uneasily.
"Nothing, sire," replied Alexandre.
"No? Some rumor floated to me that you have a grievance with your uncle-in-law this day. If so, animosities must be aired. I will have no brooding and ill will among my leaders." Philip gave a half paternal, half mocking smile. A young page, his eyes wide and wary as a hunted fox's, stood tensely just behind him. He was dust-covered with a scrape down his cheek, and blood trickled down his bare arm from a bandage high under his sleeve. Unlike the other young fops who hung about Philip's coterie, this one had seen fighting and possibly more. Jacques did not seem to have noticed the page; Liliane ardently hoped not, lest the boy run afoul of Louis.
"I assure you, sire, the Baron and I are on peaceful terms," answered Alexandre.
War has just not been openly declared, Liliane amended silently.
"That is good to hear," returned Philip easily. "Hereafter, it is my will that Lord Louis gain battle experience under your practiced command. I believe he will be less inclined to attempt ill-considered maneuvers."
Louis whitened, both in anger at the assignment and fear at Philip's inference. Jacques's pudgy features had taken on the clammy pallor of a fish's underbelly.
Alexandre bowed, hiding whatever feelings he might have entertained on Louis's inclusion to his tiny force. "Gladly, sire, will I undertake to train my cousin-in-law. I have no doubt he will learn quickly to guard his rashness and bring credit to France."
Louis, chafing at Alexandre's dig, jerked into a bow. "I am at Your Majesty's command."
"Good," Philip replied pleasantly, "then the matter is settled." His interest swung around to Liliane. "Now we must attend to courtesy. Count de Brueil, will you introduce your friend?"
Alexandre, who would have much preferred his "friend" to be ignored, reluctantly motioned Liliane to step forward. "Sire, I have the honor to present Jefar el din of the Siwans, now a loyal defender of the faith."
"A title our ally, King Richard, claims," murmured Phili
p. "Welcome to our service, Jefar el din."
"With respect, Melek Philip, effendi, I am Prince Jefar," corrected Liliane as she salaamed. She disliked the look on Louis's face. He knew now that she had lied this morning about knowing Philip. Also, her company with Alexandre must suggest she had been spying upon their tent. Best she did not slip too far from an appearance of respect.
"You are far from your people, Prince Jefar," observed Philip. "May I ask what has brought you such a distance?"
Ignoring the cynical faces of the surrounding knights, she offered her tale of her family's conversion and ultimate massacre.
"I see," Philip said at last. "So your presence is due to personal as well as religious cause. May I ask how you became acquainted with Count de Brueil?"
"Prince Jefar rendered me a service, sire," Alexandre put in quickly, "when I was ill at sea." His voice lifted slightly. "He may have saved my life."
"A grateful misconception, surely," Liliane murmured with a quizzical smile. "My lord was but seasick."
A ripple of laughter went about the gathering at Alexandre's flush; Philip laughed loudest of all. "So, my lord Alexandre, It appears we all owe your friend a service. Prince Jefar must be ever at your side during this campaign to assure us of your continued good health." He grinned at Liliane. "Your Highness, are you willing to accept Count Alexandre's command?"
"Most readily, sire." Her lips twitched slightly in an effort to suppress her elation, for she was too well aware of Alexandre's discomfiture.
"So, my lord Alexandre," observed Philip puckishly, "you are twice fortunate today." He gave a casual wave of his hand. "Back to your posts, gentlemen. We have dallied enough and owe the infidel thrice a harrying for this respite." Briefly he turned with a murmur to Alexandre. "Take Lisle's place to my left, Alexandre, and keep sharp. Both my neck and yours may depend on it."
Everyone bowed as Philip departed for his barricade, then returned to their positions. The capable Lisle appeared to be ruffled at being demoted to a more distant position from the king, but all in all, took his reassignment with scant fuss. "He's privately relieved," observed Alexandre to Liliane as Lisle withdrew his men. "Philip's is the safest, dullest position on the whole line. Unless the Moors attack from the desert, we will be yawning the siege away until Richard arrives." He led her to the new position.
"Being appointed to Philip's left is a great honor, is it not?"
"Yes, and in these circumstances, the least welcome to a soldier. Still," he paused, "this position is best for your protection as well as his and mine. With the king so close, Jacques will not dare try another such attempt on my life. By being assigned to my command, Louis is now hamstrung, as well. Another 'accident' would be too obvious. You were assigned to me as extra insurance."
"So Philip has proven your friend, after all."
"He has use for me," Alexandre replied quietly. "A king cannot be a friend as other men, yet by his lights, he loves me."
Liliane looked up at him. "I love you, too, without Philip's reservations. Let me stay."
Alexandre's eyes filled with tenderness, then bleak regret. "No, sweeting. Your place is in France."
"My place is with you," she pleaded. "Please, Alexandre, do not send me away. Thoughout history, many women have put on male dress and attended their men in battle. Who knows when you will return to France again or where Philip's whim will take you next? Shall we always live apart?" She touched his sleeve. "I should rather risk an early death than such long years of separation. I am not so brave as you may think."
"Nor am I," he replied softly. "I could not bear to see you die upon some bloody, wretched field as this. Be generous and kind as you have always been, Liliane, and press me no more about such dangerous folly."
Seeing the strain upon his lean face, Liliane fell silent, despair creeping over her as the day wore on. She had not admitted, even to herself, how afraid she was to return to France alone. The loneliness and suspicion that awaited her at Castle de Brueil seemed unbearable. Aye, she might have come to Acre to protect Alexandre, but she also craved his protection and companionship with an intensity she had not realized. She might endure living with the celibacy of a nun for as long as was required of her; but to live without him altogether conjured up a desert of such bleak horror that the wastelands of Acre seemed a lush garden.
The sun lowered, casting a bronze glow upon the city walls and the pale dunes. The sea was copper-flecked lapping at the horizon's lilac and russet clouds. Never had Liliane seen such a glorious sunset as in Acre, and she thought bleakly, that she never would again, for as the swiftly dropping night banished the twilight's brief whisper, Alexandre escorted her to the harbor. Just beyond the camp, he purchased a long, striped mantle from a vendor and cast it about her. "Keep to the walls," he admonished. "That camel drover and his friends will have clear memories of you."
While he took care not to choose the quay where they had encountered the drovers, they had not gone ten feet beyond shore when Liliane noticed that one of the men loitering on the quay belonged to her uncle's service. His obvious purpose gave her a desperate idea. After all, she would not bellying about the danger, but merely exaggerating it somewhat. She urgently tugged at Alexandre's arm. "Alexandre, that fellow over there is in my uncle's employ."
Careful not to display undue interest, he slid a glance toward the man. "Are you certain?" While aware Jacques might have set an assassin on her, he gave her a canny stare. "Or are you up to your games again?"
"Alexandre," she protested vehemently, "I vow that you may place me aboard whatever ship you like and that man will follow."
"We shall see soon enough." He took her arm. "Stay close to me." They strolled past the loitering man. As if on a pull string, he quickly followed mem.
"Now do you believe me?" she hissed. "Jacques cannot afford to let me live. I saw his assassin try to kill you."
Without reply, Alexandre eased up to the captain of a merchant ship. Their pursuer drifted in behind them.
Alexandre's hand slipped to his sword hilt. Another man, is Portuguese dress, appeared from the shadows. Liliane's stomach knotted. She had not counted on having her story quite so forcefully confirmed. "Keep moving," Alexandre whispered through stiff lips. "We are just out for an evening stroll. When we reach the street, split,"
Split! she thought fearfully. Why not serve me to them au jus?
Still, when they arrived back on shore, she obediently turned toward the camp, but took care to stay near shore. With the Portuguese trailing her, the silent alleys were no haven. The first man had followed Alexandre. Within the length of two streets, Liliane heard the pursuing footfalls grow quietly closer. Her heart hammering, she silently slid out her scimitar. A sound came swift and slippery behind her. She whirled to see Alexandre easing the dead Portuguese into a deserted alley. Looking about to make sure that no one had seen the assassin's disposal, Liliane followed Alexandre into the alley. He was neatly seating the Portuguese against a wall. "Dio, you did not stab him in the back?" she breathed, both relieved and horrified.
"I tapped him on the shoulder first," her mate replied laconically.
"Where is the other one?"
"As the day's crowds from Acre eased their rush to the Pit at sunset, he has reached hell by now."
Liliane surveyed Alexandre with new and uneasy respect. "You never waste much time accomplishing this sort of thing, do you?"
He cocked his head thoughtfully. "In truth, considering the peril of delay, I do not think I am overquick. My father, now, was hasty. At forty-one, he died old for a soldier in a squabble with a fellow knight over pillage. By the time he finished swearing at the rival and drew his dagger, the knight's poignard was sticking from his liver." He smiled grimly. "A trifling prick, but to the point."
"You did not much like your father, did you?" she observed quietly as they scanned the alley's mouth, then went to check the shore's crumbling street.
"He was greedy and brutal, with no use for my mother ex
cept in bed when no more likely female was within reach. He had no liking for children, and home was merely a property to fight over. He hated kings and loved war."
Alexandre's emotionless tone saddened Liliane immensely. How Alexandre must have been hurt in those early years! "Your father expected you to be like him," she murmured as they watched the deserted street. "Philip sees in you the same frightful boar, only sauced with intelligence and obedience." She moved into his arms. "My poor love, you have never been free, have you?"
His arms closed about her. "Bound by homage and honor, who is free? Richard's a slave to his temper and Philip is ruled by ambition. All men may be free one day, Liliane, but that day is not now." He kissed her softly. "I should like to shock Philip very much this night by taking Prince Jefar el din to bed."
Liliane giggled. "I do not know for sure, but Philip might not be much shocked, I think, and Richard even less."
"Shame"—he touched her lips—"for a lady to whisper such wicked gossip."
But even as he kissed her, a tiny, troubling thought flicked through her mind. Gossip had long whispered that Richard and Philip had once been lovers. Philip had since proven his attraction to women, and yet . . . might he not only love Alexandre as his friend, but in some perverse way, be in love with him? Alexandre's passionate lips told her well enough that such an attraction would not be reciprocated, but love was so near to hate. Philip might not be fool enough to reveal untoward desire to Alexandre, yet what would Philip do if Alexandre thwarted him in some other way? A spurned woman could be more vicious than any man—and was not Philip now much like a rejected woman? He still had the ability to keep Alexandre bound to him, but if Alexandre should ever break that bond . . .
Alexandre's kisses were not letting her think. Her head was whirling and she clung to him, heedless of danger and discovery.
His hands moved freely, ardently upon the softness of her body beneath the aba, and she felt the urgency of his desire pressing hard against her thigh. Had he claimed her there in the dust, she could not have said no. She leaned close to him, felt his heart beating, racing, her own need matching his. "We cannot stay here," he breathed huskily. "I am fair to burst."
A Flame Run Wild Page 21
