From beneath his red and, white silk cloak Yusuf produced a jewel case and snapped back the lid. The array of shimmering gems displayed before her eyes, made Madelon gasp.
"I cannot decide what will best suit you," he murmured. "Come, Valentin, you have excellent taste. What do you think?"
Madelon held her breath as Valentin's eyes scanned the contents of the box and then he selected a necklace of blood red rubies. Yusuf nodded delightedly and motioned him to put them around Madelon's neck. She was dreaming, she thought, as the magnificent stones nestled on her skin. Her eyes widened as Valentin selected yet another piece - this time a ring - an enormous pearl set in gold. It slipped easily on to her little finger.
"Well chosen," Yusuf said with great enthusiasm. "The fire of the ruby and the cold dignity of the pearls. You certainly have an eye for beauty. The keen eye of the eagle."
Valentin's pale eyes flickered over the jewels he had just bestowed on Madelon and then rested briefly on her face.
"Fire and ice - I wonder which is the stronger?"
The inference was only too clear. She instantly turned away, pretending to admire her ring, hating him for the cruel game he was playing with her. One moment he was holding her in his arms, the next, he was a stranger.
"Aiya has told me of your visit to her. You have a kind heart, Dona Madelon." Yusuf said moving to her side when Valentin had left them. Looking down at her flawless skin he momentarily cursed the quirk of fate which had given her to his friend, the Lord of the Eagles and then, his envy disintegrating, he was pleased they had come together. Valentin deserved only the best and this woman, with her great beauty and the untold delights her soft body, could give a man who had never known true love, made her far superior to any woman he had ever encountered.
"Your gifts overwhelmed me, my lord," Madelon said breathlessly.
"Beauty must be graced with something of equal beauty. What do you think of Valentin's choice?"
"They - they are perfect," she stammered.
"He is a perfectionist."
"Is that why he prefers to be alone?"
"Perhaps. Eagles are solitary creatures and prefer to fly alone - only sheep flock together. Valentin is as free as his eagles - as dangerous - and as lonely. He has yet to find his mate." Yusuf gave a soft laugh and his eyes fastened on her amusedly. "I am forgetting, he has already found her."
To cover her rapidly mounting confusion, Madelon said she was feeling hot and would like to go outside. In fact she was feeling far from warm. There was a strange coldness creeping through her limbs that made her want to shiver violently. Yusuf escorted her outside. Almost immediately Valentin appeared on his stallion, with Stephen riding behind him. Madelon was looking expectantly for her own mount when the former said:
"We will ride double, Dona Madelon, you are in no condition to handle a horse for yourself. Conquistador can carry us both easily and you may be able to sleep for a while."
The sound of Yusuf's laughter came out of the darkness behind Madelon. It was obvious what he thought of the suggestion. She bit back the sharp retort which rose to her lips, too weary to argue. And what he said was true. She was incapable of handling a horse.
She allowed him to pull her up in front of him on the elaborate Moorish saddle with its silver trappings, casting a quick look into his face before he turned away and gathered up the reins, but his expression was unreadable.
Both Abraham ben Canaan and Rebecca came out to wave good-bye to the departing couple. Madelon watched them until the darkness swallowed them up and the last of the tents disappeared into die blackness of the night. She was alone with Valentin. Stephen remained a discreet distance to the rear and might not have existed.
"Are you comfortable?" Valentin asked. There was nothing in his voice to tell her he had deliberately planned this close intimacy between them for his own purpose. She had not forgotten how soft his voice could be, as it had been that night on the battlements, in the tent only a short while ago and was bitterly disappointed it was now so casual.
"Yes, thank you," she answered and a silence ensued between them.
How Valentin managed to guide his horse successfully over the uneven terrain, Madelon did not know. The animal seemed to have an instinct of its own, or it was remarkably well-trained, for it rarely stumbled and the gentle, swaying motions, began to make her feel sleepy. But she was also cold and could no longer suppress the bout of shivering she had held back before. Held tightly in Valentin's arms, it was impossible for him not to feel the shudders which racked her slender body. "Are you feeling ill?" he asked in alarm.
"I'm cold," Madelon answered through chattering teeth. Immediately he reined in Conquistador.
"Sit still, I have a cloak in my khurj."
A khurj, Madelon discovered, were the two wide bags made out of horsehair which, when sewn together, were placed across the horse's rear behind the saddle. On a journey they would be used for storing provisions and extra clothing. Valentin drew out a thick burnous and wrapped it around her. As he pulled the wide hood over her head, his hand lingered on her cheek and she heard him mutter an inaudible oath.
"I knew it was madness to venture out tonight. It's so damned cold in these mountains, by the time we reach the castle you will have a raging fever. I'm of a mind to turn back."
"No, you must not," Madelon cried, twisting round in his arms to look up at him
Pale moonlight filtered through heavy clouds gave her skin a beautiful, translucent kind of glow. She felt her hands on her shoulders and waited eagerly for his lips to claim hers, but they never did. Instead he drew her head against his shoulder and set his horse in motion again.
Angry at the turbulent emotions which had almost made her beg for his kisses, Madelon huddled against him and pretended to sleep and at length she did. Above her, Valentin's face bore a strangely tender expression as he cradled her close. He bent his head until his lips touched the soft wisps of blonde hair escaping from beneath the hood and then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he kissed her on the mouth. Madelon stirred but did not awaken and he quickly drew back, alarmed at the passions she roused in him.
He had not possessed her and yet she gave him more pleasure than any woman he bad ever known. He liked to be near her, though it was an effort to be so and not to catch her in his arms and bend her to his will. It would be easy for a man of his experience. It was not the number of women he had known which gave him this experience, for compared to his amorous friend Rodrigo, and other knights he knew, he was a modest lover, but the fact he had learned the art of love in the arms of a Moorish girl. She had tended his wounds after a battle which had been so long ago he could not remember the name of it, but he remembered the girl and the skill which had brought him back to life. During his years as a soldier women had scarcely entered his life. He had neither the time nor inclination to waste on them and then suddenly he had been plunged into a world that he never knew existed.
Madelon was a child in comparison to the Moorish girl who had taught him so much, he mused, yet their ages differed little. Once she arrived at Alfonso's court she too, would find another world and despite his mother's prophecies, he was sure it would appeal to her. How could the attentions of handsome young courtiers not flatter and please a child who had been deprived of love and affection for so long? She would undoubtedly be the centre of attention and soon forget him. For him, it would not be so easy.
***
Madelon was awakened by a loud noise in her ears. Opening her eyes with a start she discovered it was the drawbridge being raised behind her. They had arrived back at the Castle de Aguilas.
Dismounting, Valentin swung her to the ground. She realized it must be almost dawn. There were no lights showing from the castle - only the torches in the deserted courtyard still burned. The patrolling sentries on the ramparts were the only visible signs of life:
"Go inside and kindle some torches, Stephen," Valentin ordered his squire, "and find Dona Madelon's maid and say her
mistress has returned and has need of her."
"My lord, a moment," Madelon said as he took her arm to escort her inside.
"It's late and you should be in a warm bed. Whatever you want to say can wait until tomorrow."
"No, it can't," she protested. "You are angry with me, aren't you, because I speak Arabic and understood what you said to me?"
"My mother told me of your talent for languages some while ago, I forgot, that's all," Valentin returned casually. "I don't enjoy being made a fool of, but it was my own fault."
"You said you wanted me," Madelon swayed closer to him, her hands clutching at his arms. "I think you meant it."
Her determination to remain aloof from men and so save herself the same heartaches as her mother and Rebecca was forgotten at the memory of the pleasure his kisses and embraces had given her.
Valentin's hand closed over her wrists in a grip of steel and her jerked her hands free of his sleeves.
"Don't act like a little fool. I was merely taking advantage of what I thought might turn out to be a very enjoyable evening. Of course I wanted you - any man in his right mind would want you and have acted the same as I did. Soft words and a few stolen caresses aren't a declaration of love, you foolish child, so stop looking so starry-eyed and get up to bed where you belong."
Madelon reeled back from him, her eyes dilated in horror. Unable to stand the sardonic smile tugging at his lips, she turned and ran up the stairs into the castle. The Great Hall was dark with shadows. Stephen had only paused to light two torches before going on his way to find Diya and Madelon was forced to cease her headlong flight in order to see where she was going. A long shadow slanted across her path as Valentin moved up behind her. Wordlessly she stalked on towards the staircase. A dark shape suddenly rose from a chair in front of her and she came to an abrupt halt with a cry of alarm.
"Where have you been until this hour?" Paco demanded harshly. She saw he was fully dressed and armed, both with sword and dagger. His expression was furious.
"I went to thank the doctor for all he did for you," she replied with a wildly beating heart Behind her more torches flared to life, illuminating her brother's features more clearly.
"I prefer not to hold a conversation with a shadow," Valentin drawled as Paco glared in his direction.
"I'll not waste words with you," he snarled. "Cold steel is all you understand. Haven't you enough Moorish mistresses without seducing my sister?"
"There will be no fighting beneath this roof. You are my guest. Keep your brave words for the fields of Golpejerra, Montevides. Besides I gave your sister my word I wouldn't fight you." Valentin's green eyes glittered dangerously, but he kept his own temper well in check.
"Did you now." Paco wheeled on Madelon with blazing eyes. "What else did he give you to make you run in here as if the devil himself were after you?"
"You are talking like a fool, Paco," Madelon cried. "You must have a fever to act this way with me. Of what am I accused, besides the error of not asking your permission to go to Yusuf's camp and of having enough manners to remember you would have died but for Abraham ben Canaan?"
"It's you who are the fool. I warned you what kind of man Maratin is. I can't altogether blame you. You are too young to protect yourself against such scum, but this won't happen again. You will remain in your room until we leave tomorrow." Paco seemed beside himself with rage and she was unpleasantly reminded of her father as he stood before her, his face contorted with anger. She knew it was not wise to argue. "Get upstairs," Paco shouted, "unless you want me to take a whip to you..."
His voice trailed off as he saw the look on Madelon's face and realized the memories he had evoked. "You know I didn't mean that."
"Didn't you? Why not? you have his temper? Just now you looked like him - sounded like him. I swear if you lay a hand on me, Paco, I'll ... I'll," she faltered, knowing she loved him too much to retaliate whatever he did to her. She could pity him, but not hurt him.
"If he touches you he'll have six inches of my blade in him,"
Valentin growled. He stepped up to her side and she was horrified to see his sword already more than half out of its scabbard. She caught his arm and hung on to it. "No - no - you don't understand. Please don't interfere."
"Where did you get that?" Paco asked in a deadly voice.
She saw his eyes were fastened on the ruby necklace around her throat, just visible beneath the burnous. She lifted a hand and hesitantly touched the warm stones and in doing so revealed the ring on her finger. "And that?"
"The Moor Yusuf gave them to me," she said as calmly as she was able. She was really frightened now, for Paco was shaking with rage. He began shouting abuse at her and the man at her side until Valentin scornfully interrupted him, saying:
"Moorish custom demands a host gives his guest something to take away as a momento of their visit"
"A priceless necklace and a pearl ring bigger than even I've ever set eyes on before," Paco sneered. "God, Madelon, what have you done? Have you been bought with worthless baubles and sweet words as your mother was before you? Why didn't you heed my warnings? To give yourself to such a man as this ... I could forgive any other, but not him." Paco's voice rose to a shrill hysterical pitch. Without warning he threw himself at Valentin, taking him completely by surprise, and the two of them fell fighting to the floor. Madelon saw the flash of steel and screamed as Paco aimed his dagger at the other man's chest.
"Stop it! Please, Paco, you are wrong ... listen to me ..."
Her pleas went unheard. She heard a grunt of pain and through half-closed eyes saw Valentin had disarmed her brother. The blade of the weapon was against Paco's throat. To her tortured vision he seemed about to use it and she threw herself on her knees beside him pleading.
"No, Valentin... spare him for the love of God."
Valentin looked up at her startled. Without hesitation he stood up and tossed the dagger across the far side of the room, contemptuously.
He said something briefly in Arabic, then as she sat staring up at him in a shocked silence, he asked harshly,
"Do you understand?"
She nodded, bright tears flooding her eyes and streaming unchecked down over her cheeks. "I do for you what I would do for no other - man or woman" he had said. He did care for her. He had known better than she what her brother's reaction would be to a liaison between them. In trying to make her hate him, he had been attempting to save her from Paco's anger.
"Thank you." No other words would come, her heart was too full of happiness. Even if they were forced to part forever, at least she knew. "Thank you."
"Don't grovel," Paco snarled from where he lay on the floor, nursing a badly bruised shoulder. The brief struggle had shown him how weak he still was. He would have to wait for his reckoning with Valentin Maratin but his day would come. Valentin bent down and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet.
"Don't forget to thank your sister for saving your life. Now get out of my sight."
"I want two horses for tomorrow."
"You will leave when I do - the day after tomorrow," Valentin retorted. "My men have orders to use force to stop you if you try to leave before then. We Castilians don't allow spies to wander our countryside alone."
Madelon went up to her brother and took him gently by the hand.
"Please, Paco, let us go."
"When you have given the Lord de Aguilas his gifts back."
Madelon's warning look silenced the reply which rose to Valentin's lips. Unfastening the necklace she took it off and placed it on the table behind her. Beside it she laid the pearl ring. Only then did Paco leave the Great Hall. She did not look at Valentin as she passed him.
Crossing to the table, Valentin stared down at the rubies. He touched them and felt they were still warm where they had rested against her skin.
Rodrigo Diaz stepped out of the shadowy alcove beneath the staircase where he had witnessed the fight and slowly crossed the hall. He had been en route to his room when the sound of
voices raised in anger had brought him to investigate and he had been on the point of intervening in the dispute when Madelon had brought it to an abrupt end. He was surprised - and disturbed - by the murderous look on his friend's
Yes, he muttered. "I will."
CHAPTER NINE
The day was heavy and oppressive. At dawn, when the riders had left the Castle de Aguilas, the plateau and the valley below had been shrouded in heavy mist which made the descent along the narrow trail slow and tortuous. The weather did not improve even when the Sierra de Gredos was far behind them. Black clouds gathered in the overcast sky threatening rain, but none came to relieve the terrible humidity which made clothes cling uncomfortably to perspiring bodies and seemed the lengthen the already long journey.
Francesca Maratin had given Madelon a cloak of sumptuous velvet, lined with fur to keep her warm. When the girl protested she could not take it, Valentin's mother had smiled and said she could return it on her next visit
Remembering her words as she rode, Madelon touched the velvet resting against her cheek. She wanted desperately to go back to Valentin's home again, to get to know his mother and sister without Paco's disapproving eyes following everywhere, to be alone with Valentin so that she could put into words what her eyes said every time they followed him, but she knew it was impossible. As the journey progressed, she forced herself to accept the fact she would never return and she must put all of them out of her mind. Her brother's behaviour had not improved since the night in the Great Hall. The next day he had been confined to his room with an armed guard outside to ensure he did not leave. Madelon had remained in her room too, despite Teresa's attempts to get her to go riding on her last day and later, to dine with them. Madelon was infinitely relieved Valentin did not seek her out and try to change her mind. In a few days they would part - never to see each other again. He would return to his great castle and she would be with Paco in Leon. No two worlds could be further apart. Nor for one moment did she consider the possibility of Sancho of Castile being the victor at Golpejerra for it meant Paco would be imprisoned. She would be free to go her own way, to return to the Maratin family if she wished in pursuit of her own happiness while her brother languished in some filthy dungeon slowly wasting away - it was unthinkable.
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