Madelon

by Valentina Luellen

  Her brother gingerly touched his chest. It still hurt like hell, but soon he would be able to ride and then he and Madelon could put the Castle de Aguilas far behind them. His sister looked concerned when he voiced his intention of getting up that afternoon.

  "Did the doctor say you could? You can't be strong enough yet. Please, take care, Paco, and take his advice."

  "Advice be damned," Paco growled. "If I'd known what he was, I'd never have let him touch me. Jews!" His unshaven face wrinkled into an expression of disgust. "Filthy pigs! Do you know they use the blood of new-born Christian babes in their devilish rites? To think I've been touched by hands that have slit the throats of children."

  "Have you never killed a child? A Moorish child perhaps?" Madelon demanded.

  At the anger in her voice Paco looked at her in astonishment. "What did you say?"

  "What you say is not true, it's superstitious nonsense. Abraham ben Canaan is a wonderful man and without his skill as a doctor you would not be alive."

  "Are you defending him?"

  "Yes. I won't have you saying such terrible things about him. I can't stop you thinking them, but at least have the decency to keep them to yourself."

  Paco fell back onto his pillows, staring at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. Slowly his eyes wandered over the dress she wore. Today she had chosen the green wool, which was inclined to fit her even more snugly than the yellow one had. The tight fitting sleeves had a band of ermine at the wrists and a wider band softened the severity of the high neckline.

  "I see you are being well taken care of," he said harshly. "I understand you were at a banquet last night. It seems to be becoming quite a habit. Do I take it you have become friends with our enemies?"

  "I have been courteous to the men who saved our lives and the woman who has given us the hospitality of her house. Paco, what is the matter with you, why do you reproach me «o? Do you want me to stay in my room until you are well enough to leave? If you ask it of me, I will, but please don't continue to treat me as if I am behaving like a shameless whore."

  Paco gave an amused laugh and catching her by the wrist, he pulled her down beside him.

  "I'm a bear, aren't I? Blame it on to being cooped up in bed for so long. Forgive me and go and enjoy yourself while you can - I intend leaving soon. No arguments, Madelon. I'm not foolish enough to believe Valentin Maratin has given us shelter out of the goodness of his heart - he doesn't have one. How do you think cousin Alfonso is going to react when we arrive at Santa Maria de Carrion, prisoners of one of his brother's alferez?"

  "But we are not prisoners, I have Don Valentin's word on it," Madelon protested. "I believe him."

  "My dear little sister, you are far too naive for your own good. Maratin and Rodrigo Diaz command the cream of Sancho's army and are at his right hand. The land and power they possess is equalled by no other man in Castile. Should the contest at Golpejerra turn in favour of their king, I have no doubt I shall be flung into the deepest dungeon they can find and the key thrown away. Exile would be out of the question, I know too much."

  "Don Valentin is under the impression you were not on your way to Santa Maria de Carrion, but were in this part of the country searching for Prince Yusuf." Madelon saw a tiny nerve twitch at the side of Paco's mouth and grew apprehensive. "Is that true? Don't lie to me - it's important I know the truth."

  "Very well, he speaks true. We could have been at our destination on the day we were attacked had I taken a direct route. I had orders to try and contact the Moor."

  "And bribe him to come over to our side," Madelon said slowly. "I understand now. We were not brought here for our comfort alone. Don Valentin has also prevented you from talking to your man."

  "At last you are beginning to understand Maratin is dangerous to us. He will not be content with letting us go, Madelon."

  Madelon drew back from him, determined not to be swayed from her course now she was so near the truth.

  "Who suggested I should leave the convent and join you? Was it our cousin Urraca, or did you decide on it?"

  Paco threw her a puzzled look. She had grown pale and he saw her hands were locked together in her lap.

  "As it happens, Urraca suggested it. Why do you ask?"

  "Did she also suggest I should accompany you in your search for Yusuf and perhaps allow myself to be seduced in order to win his allegiance?"

  Paco interrupted her with a string of violent oaths and she knew that if it had been her cousin's intention to use her - and she was still highly sceptical about it - Paco had known nothing. Somewhat shamefaced she told him of Valentin's suspicions. Paco cursed softly as she spoke and his face became grey and drawn.

  "You believed him, didn't you?" The pain in his eyes brought tears to Madelon's. Mutely she nodded. He covered his face with his hands and was silent for a long while.

  "When I am well again, I swear he'll pay for the bitter words he's caused between us. Have you told me everything?"

  "No." Madelon's voice was so low he could scarcely hear it. "He said you were Urraca's lover."

  Paco looked uncomfortable.

  "If by that he implies I'm in love with her, he's right. I'm not ashamed of it or that she is my mistress. It was her own wish. It only hurts me to know he told you and made it sound so sordid."

  "I knew it couldn't be as horrible as he made it sound. He described Urraca as something resembling a vulture - always waiting to pounce on some poor unsuspecting men."

  So great was her relief, Madelon did not notice the bitter smile which briefly crossed her brother's face.

  "For love of Urraca there is nothing I would not do," Paco told her quietly. "She has given me great happiness during the past two years, Madelon. I pray, you too, will someday find someone to give you equal happiness. I love her, not only with my body, but my soul, my mind. Every little part of me belongs to her. Without her I am nothing - I have nothing. Do you understand? No, of course, you couldn't."

  Madelon thought of how the touch of Valentin's lips on hers had brought her to the heights of ecstasy. Yes, she thought sadly, I do understand, but I can never admit it to you or you will know how deeply I have betrayed your trust.

  The arrival of Abraham ben Canaan brought their conversation to an abrupt end. Paco refused to talk in front of him as if he regarded him as a spy. Madelon said she would come back later in the day and left them alone.

  That evening she did not dine in the Great Hall with her hosts and sent Diya with a message that she had retired to bed plagued by a nauseating headache. She lay awake for hours listening to the various sounds from the courtyard below. As she closed her eyes, at last growing drowsy, she heard the creak of the drawbridge being lowered and wondered who was arriving - or leaving - at such a late hour. The sharp staccato of horses' hooves on the rocky plateau followed her into the realms of sleep.

  ***

  The following morning, Madelon's headache had become reality. She was taking the air on the battlements, cautiously keeping a wary eye out for the Lord of the Eagles, when she heard someone calling her name and Rebecca appeared at the top of the steps. Madelon was immediately struck by the paleness of her face. She looked as if she was greatly upset.

  "Teresa said I might find you here," she said breathlessly. "My, you do look a grand lady in that green dress."

  "Thank you. It belongs to the Dona Francesca. She has been very kind to me."

  "Father has told me your brother will be able to travel in a few days. He's much stronger than we imagined."

  "If he has his way, he'll have us leaving tomorrow," Madelon answered. "You look unwell, Rebecca. Can I do anything?"

  "I've been crying - silly of me, wasn't it? I'm not usually so foolish."

  "Come and talk to me in my room," Madelon insisted.

  "I can't, I have to get back to camp." Rebecca motioned to a dozen or more Moorish riders gathered near the drawbridge. "My escort is ready to leave. They brought Dona Teresa her wedding presents and I came along
for the ride and to say good-bye before you leave here. I don't suppose we will ever meet again. I tried to see you last night, but Diya said you had gone to bed with a bad headache."

  Madelon felt a deep pang of regret. She had grown fond of the Jewish girl, and was annoyed not to have seen her earlier. She noticed Rebecca looking towards the main entrance and leaned over the wall curiously to see who or what was attracting her attention. Rodrigo Diaz stood on the steps looking up at them and then abruptly he spun around on his heel and disappeared inside. Madelon looked around in time to see the intense longing in Rebecca's eyes and instantly guessed what had upset the other girl.

  "You and Rodrigo," she breathed. "What an idiot I am not to have realized you are in love with him."

  Rebecca nodded with a sad smile.

  "Everyone seems to know except Rodrigo himself. He's asked me to go to Golpejerra but of course I can't."

  Remembering Paco's unreasonable attitude towards Jews, Madelon has not need to ask why. Gradually her own enthusiasm to reach the royal court was diminishing. She had been plunged into a life totally different from the one she had led at the convent and was just beginning to realize how little she knew of the world.

  "Don't be too hard on him, men are inclined to be blind sometimes," Madelon said gently. How experienced she sounded and yet she knew nothing of love. Paco's feelings for Urraca made him risk his life in her brother's cause - the love of Rebecca for a man she could not have was breaking her heart. If love brought such misery, she would take care never to lose her heart, she decided.

  "I wish you would stay a while longer," she pleaded. "I'm sure your father won't mind."

  "But - don't you know? He returned to camp last night. He quarrelled with your brother and decided to leave. Valentin went with him."

  Madelon realized she had heard them riding away.

  "What did they argue about, do you know?"

  "Father is a Jew, what other reason do you need." Rebecca said bitterly. Composing herself, she stepped back from Madelon. "Thank you for listening to my troubles, but there is nothing you can do. Good-bye, Madelon, I will pray for your safety."

  Madelon watched her walking away with growing anger. How dare Paco insult the man who had saved his life - there was no excuse for such a bad display of manners. It was too late for him to apologize and so she Would have to do it for him, even if it meant riding out to the Moorish camp to do it.

  "Wait," she called and picking up her skirts, ran after Rebecca.

  Francesca Maratin was surprised when her guest asked permission to borrow a horse to ride back with Rebecca, but when she heard the reason for the journey, she silently congratulated herself on making a correct assessment of Madelon's character and ordered one to be saddled. She told her Valentin was at the camp and would probably want to escort her back. Also that she would tell Paco where his sister had gone, but only if he asked. Madelon realized the woman was only too aware of the doctor's reason for leaving unexpectedly.

  Madelon's decision to accompany Rebecca seemed to revive her flagging spirits and for most of the journey, she rode close to her friend, talking about the many homes she and her father had made in different places and lost through the hatred of people of another faith. Madelon listened and wondered if she would have accepted such a life so calmly. Somehow she knew she could ever endure the life of an outcast, and yet they were not completely so. Yusuf had given them a home and a new lease of life. Whatever other faults he possessed, she admired him for that.

  The camp was strangely deserted when they rode in. Only the women watched them from behind their veils, or old men, sitting beside their fires. Abraham ben Canaan came out of his tent to greet them, his face breaking into a warm smile as he saw the unexpected arrival and explained Valentin and Yusuf had gone hunting and taken most of the men with them.

  Madelon followed the doctor and his daughter into the pleasantly cool interior of their tent and sat down on the couch, unconscious of the soft sigh which escaped her lips.

  "You look tired," Abraham ben Canaan said quietly. "Did you not sleep last night?"

  "Not really. I have a bad headache."

  "I have just the thing to refresh you. Rebecca ..."

  His daughter nodded, apparently understanding. She went away to return carrying a large tray which she set down before them. On it was a platter of sweetmeats and sugared fruits and a large silver samovar and two wafer thin gold cups. She smiled briefly at Madelon, made the excuse she wanted to change out of her dusty riding clothes and disappeared through the silken curtain which partitioned the tent into two rooms.

  Madelon watched curiously as the Jew picked up the samovar and poured a dark, syrupy looking liquid into the cups.

  "Be careful, it's hot, "he warned as she stretched out her hand to pick up one.

  "What is it?"

  "The Arabs call it kahwi - coffee. Sip it slowly. I don't think you will find it unpleasant."

  After allowing it to cool for a while, Madelon took a tentative sip of the kahwi. It was terribly strong and very sweet, but after two or three mouthfuls, she decided she quite liked l it. Certainly it had a reviving effect on her.

  "Something is worrying you," Abraham ben Canaan said, with a glance into her pale features. "Am I right in assuming you are having a conflict of emotions?"

  "Why do you say that?"

  "As you probably know by now, your brother and I quarrelled. He said many unpleasant things to me, but I have heard them all before and I bear him no grudge, but it makes me sad to think he may direct his anger to you when he finds out you have come here to see me. He said you defended me? Why did you do that?"

  "I respect you. Apart from my brother, you are the only other man I respect."

  "Rebecca told me you did not have an easy childhood. Would you care to tell me a little more, if it isn't too painful?"

  Madelon found herself pouring out her heart to the wise old doctor who sat sipping his kahwi and nodding from time to time. He did not interrupt once. When she had drained herself of memories and bitter feelings, some of which she had not been aware of until she started talking, she laid her head back amid the cushions and said quietly:

  "Do you know I actually feel better now?"

  "It is good to talk sometimes .... to rid your mind of harmful thoughts."

  Madelon looked at him curiously.

  "Why do you speak of them as harmful?"

  "Aren't they? Not all men are like your father, but you consider them so."

  "I have good reason."

  "Come now, is that really true? Who, apart from your brother, do you know - only Rodrigo and Valentin, unless of course, you took to entertaining visitors in your convent as seems to be a certain Castilian custom?"

  Madelon coloured at the reference to her cousin's behaviour. So Valentin had spoken the truth about that at least. She was sure the doctor would not have mentioned it otherwise.

  "The resemblance between Don Valentin and my father grows stronger every day," she replied and went on to explain I why. Her companion smiled to himself as she described her shameless behaviour that night on the battlements. She was so 1 young and had much to learn of life and love.

  "Valentin has not confided in me," Abraham said, "but that is not unusual. He is a man alone."

  "As wild and free as the eagles which live above the castle. I saw him with them the other day. Teresa tells me he tames them with the greatest of ease. He is like them in so many ways. Now I understand why he is called the Lord of the Eagles."

  "Exactly, but if you are honest with him, he will be your friend and you will never find a truer one."

  "I have been honest with him, but he repeatedly compares me to my cousin Urraca, and does nothing but insult me."

  "Be yourself and leave the rest to providence," the doctor murmured. "By the way, you have a staunch ally in Yusuf. Since he discovered Aiya is with child he's been pouring down blessings on your head daily. He desires another son, you see, but so far he has been prese
nted with four girls. His boy was only two years old when he was murdered by Leonese soldiers and his wife abducted. He was badly wounded and left for dead. God knows what that poor girl endured before Valentin brought her back. We never knew - she died a week after her return."

  Madelon's hand was trembling so violently she had to put down her cup. It was too much of a coincidence surely for Valentin to have rescued two Moorish women who had been abducted.

  "What was her name?" she asked faintly.

  "Yasmin. Valentin told you about her then? It was tragic."

  Madelon sat in a stunned silence. Valentin and Yusuf were like brothers. It would be natural for the former to pursue the soldiers who had stolen his friend's wife. But why had he not told her the whole story? A vision of his marble features rose up before her eyes and she knew he had been too proud to answer the cruel accusation she had heaped on his head.

  "Would you like to see Aiya?" Abraham asked her, when she had drunk another cup of kahwi. She said she would and he took her through the camp to a small tent erected close beside Yusuf's.

  Aiya was reclining on a narrow couch surrounded by a bevy of veiled women, enveloped in their dark coloured cloaks. Whenever they left the sanctuary of the harem, it was decreed they must be covered from head to toe so that no man might look on their beauty.

  Abraham ben Canaan clapped his hands and ordered them out. Laughing and chattering the women brushed past him and Madelon watched them being escorted back to the harem by two black eunuchs.

  "I have brought someone to see you, Aiya."

  The girl's black eyes fastened on Madelon and she was silent, then her face broke into a smile.

  "The angel of mercy whose intervention saved me from my lord's anger?" she said in Arabic. "Aiya is your servant. May you always walk in the shadow of Allah. Please tell her of my gratitude, El Hakim."

  "She understood," Abraham replied. He smiled at Madelon. "I will be in my tent when you have finished here."

  Madelon moved hesitantly to the couch as Aiya asked in wonder: