When they had started out on their journey that morning Paco had demonstrated the skilful healing powers of the Jewish doctor who had cared for him, by starting a fight with the Sergeant-at-arms who was his escort. He had knocked down three men and seized a sword before he was overpowered by Rodrigo Diaz. His face a mask of fury, Valentin had ordered him to be bound on his horse and to have a constant guard of four men. Watching him Madelon thought he might be regretting his leniency of the other night. Wisely she held herself in check and did not interfere as she had done before.
For most of the morning she rode beside Teresa and Rodrigo in the middle of the accompanying soldiers, listening only half-heartedly to the other girl's eager chatter or to Rodrigo describing the excitement of a tournament. Her eyes repeatedly singled out the lone rider in front of them, clearly identifiable by the golden eagle on the back of his cloak. He had not spoken to her at all, but from time to time he rode past her down the column and she was comforted by the warmth in his eyes and the faint smile meant for her alone. Once she caught sight of Teresa and Rodrigo exchanging knowing glances, but she said nothing to disillusion them. They would realize their mistake soon enough.
Towards midday they rested on the banks of the Duero river. While the horses were being watered, Madelon tried to find some way to console her brother, but he only repeated his suspicions that Valentin intended to take them before Sancho as his prisoners. Madelon, equally determined he was not, went in search of the Lord of the Eagles, only to be told he had ridden on ahead. She did not see him again until they had been travelling for several hours and then there was no chance to talk to him for he was with Rodrigo. It was as if he was deliberately keeping out of her way, she thought.
In the afternoon the sun broke unexpectedly through the clouds and within a short time, these had disappeared and the sky was blue and completely cloudless. It was a blessed relief for Madelon to remove her enveloping cloak and to feel the warmth of the sun on her body. With the whole countryside bathed in bright yellow sunshine and the birds singing in the trees, she found it hard to believe Valentin might have lied to her, despite everything. As she reined in her horse on the rise of a hill and looked down on the fields of Golpejerra, she found herself beginning to tremble. They had arrived. Now Paco would be proved wrong - or else she would have to admit the word of Valentin Maratin was worthless.
Below her were hundreds of silken pavilions of all shapes and sizes. Some were striped, with different colours, others were all one colour and very brilliant.
She noticed the tents were divided into two camps by a long, narrow field where workmen were busily erecting wooden stands for the most important spectators to watch the tournament in comfort. A crowd of curious people had come to watch and a pie seller, who had set up his stall nearby, was doing a roaring trade with hot pies.
Madelon saw the scarlet flag of Alfonso of Leon waving in the breeze on the largest pavilion furthest away from her. That of her other cousin, Sancho, was displayed from the watch-tower of the walled town of Santa Maria de Carrion.
The Counts of Carrion were proud of their claim to have descended from a famous knight called Gomez Diaz and were always known as the Beni-Gomez, or sons of Gomez. The present Beni-Gomez were staunch supporters of Alfonso and had opened up their town to him and his men. Not without great reluctance they had also found quarters for Sancho and his entourage. If the tournament went the wrong way and the latter won, then it would be as well to be on the right side of the new monarch.
"Well, Dona Madelon, we have arrived."
Madelon was so lost in thought that she did not hear Rodrigo ride up. She turned to him, unable to hide the apprehension in her face from his alert eyes.
"And what now, my lord? Are we to be paraded through the town to your king?"
"I thought you knew Valentin better than that," Rodrigo reproved. "How many times has he told you, you are not his prisoners. Rather it is the other way around - he is yours."
"I wish it could be possible," Madelon sighed, "but I am no more free to follow the dictates of my heart than he is. His loyalty to Sancho who hates the name of Montevides. Mine is to my brother who hates Valentin - and you, lord Rodrigo. I am afraid he may try to kill you for our father's death."
"A father neither of you loved. Faith, what are you, a family of hypocrites?" Rodrigo demanded fiercely. "Follow your heart, let it lead you into the arms of a man who believes you are the most wonderful creature God ever created. Don't wait and hope he'll tell you, because he may never do so. Valentin has little use for words. He's a knight - a leader of men. You might find yourself bundled up and carried off one night."
And risk a clash with Paco? Madelon thought. No, he would not do that. Madelon was dazed by Rodrigo's words, but she knew Valentin would not come between her and her brother, no matter what his feelings were. The most wonderful creature God ever created ... did he really think of her that way. And then she recalled his words when she had asked him why he had called her a "golden savage". Like a wild horse you have yet to be broken. The man who tames you will have gained himself a prize... ! He had broken her, not with a whip or cruel actions, but by the force of his personality. She had not been able to rid her thoughts of him since their first encounter. Despite all her determination not to become involved, he had taken her by storm and she knew she would never recover. She was not sure she wanted to.
Rodrigo sat silently admiring the flawless skin which had taken on a rosy tint beneath the ferocity of the sun. There was no denying she was beautiful and for the moment, as innocent as a new-born babe as far as men were concerned. In a short while she would be united with her cousins and then how long would it be before the innocence vanished under Urraca's expert guidance and Madelon was brought to realize what power her beauty could wield over men? A few months perhaps? No, not that long. A few weeks of careful coaching and Madelon del Rivas y Montevides could become as dangerous and as evil as Urraca herself. Paco Montevides was completely under the thumb of his mistress and would be . helpless to intervene - he might not even want to. His sister's subtle use of her charms in the right quarters could bring her untold wealth - information useful to Alfonso - and for him there would be Urraca's gratitude.
Sweet Jesus! Rodrigo thought. Poor Valentin.
"Hola! Lord Rodrigo."
He became aware of a rider hailing him from the lower slopes of the hill, waving frantically as he galloped towards them and he recognized Teresa's betrothed, Cristobal de Altamiras.
As the young knight reined in his panting horse and exchanged friendly greetings with Rodrigo, Valentin rode to Madelon's side. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and saw Paco watching her. He was still heavily guarded.
"Valentin, it's good to see you. What happened, why are you so late?" Cristobal enquired.
He was as good-looking as Teresa's description, Madelon thought, and was pleased for the young girl. He was barely more than twenty, but he had his spurs and made an impressive figure seated on a high-stepping charger, whose bridle was adorned by tiny silver bells which made a delightful tinkling sound as the horse pranced impatiently.
"Explanations can come later," Valentin returned with a smile. "Tell me where Don Sancho is and you can be off to greet Teresa. I didn't think you rode out to welcome me," he chuckled as Cristobal's face grew red with embarrassment.
"The king is at the house of the Beni-Gomez," the boy answered, adding with a distasteful grimace, "Don Alfonso is housed alongside him. The Beni-Gomez are making sure to be friendly with both of them until they knew which way the tournament fares, or else they intend a dagger for our king's back while he sleeps in one of their beds. I'm at the house of Colter, the vintner and I've held rooms for you and lord Rodrigo. I thought the setting would appeal to you both and I've even arranged for two of the prettiest ladies in town to be your companions at the feast tonight."
"Enough - slow down, for heaven's sake," Valentin interrupted. "Our lodgings will be fine as long as there's enough
wine to satisfy my thirst. As for the female company, no doubt Rodrigo will be able to accommodate them both. Now, what's tins about a feast?"
"It was Don Alfonso's idea that all the contesting knights and their ladies, with himself and our king at their head, should get together to prove their good faith."
"Good faith! Rot," Rodrigo growled. "We'll all be poisoned, or stabbed in the back."
"I don't think so, not yet anyway. Don't forget Don Alfonso is also staying in Santa Maria de Carrion of his own free will - I call that a show of good faith," Madelon glared at the three men. "Who will stop a Castilian, in his own land, from breaking the truce? You, Don Rodrigo - or you, my Lord de Aguilas ..'." she broke off at the amusement mounting on Valentin's face.
Cristobal de Altamiras gazed from one to the other in puzzlement, then at a significant nod from Valentin, he muttered a rapid "by your leave" and rode on to where Teresa was eagerly awaiting him.
"This is where we part company," Valentin told Madelon. "It will be best if you ride in with your brother ahead of us - alone."
"Thank you. Will I see you again?"
He smiled briefly, but his eyes had lost their warmth. They had come to the end of the road together - their two paths might never cross again except by chance. She smiled faintly and added:
"Perhaps not, that might be tempting providence - and my brother a little too far. It is better to part now - as friends."
Madelon did not look at Paco who had left his escort and ridden up to them, scowling fiercely. Valentin told him curtly where he would find his cousin and motioned him to ride on. He did so, with deliberate slowness.
Unexpectedly Valentin reached across to where Madelon sat and took both her hands in his and pressed her fingers to his lips. The searching look he gave her made her heart leap.
"Inshallah," he whispered. "If it is written we are destined for each other, no force on this earth will be able to keep us apart. Go now."
His words, almost identical to those spoken to her by Aiya, brought the tears to Madelon's eyes. Valentin looked alarmed, then puzzled when he saw she was smiling too.
"You don't know what happiness you have brought me. Thank you."
He watched her riding swiftly after her brother, his face strangely troubled. Rodrigo gave a short laugh.
"Women! Why don't they say what they mean? Did you understand her?"
"No. I'm glad I didn't. In the past I've found it only too easy to understand women, my friend. Now I shall have a reason to seek her out again and find out what she meant, won't I?"
Madelon kept close behind her brother as they rode through the main gate for the streets were crowded with people who bustled along on both sides of the horses, dashing to and fro across their paths and threatening to separate them.
The streets were cobbled and uneven, forcing her to keep a tight rein on her horse. The smell was horrible. Most of it seemed to be caused by the foul rubbish lying everywhere. It was worse as they crossed over the town sewer which was little more than a ditch and lessened only slightly in the town interior. It seemed as if hundreds of people had invaded Santa Maria de Carrion for the tournament and already vendors had set up their stalls in the market places to attract and in most cases, dazzle the peasants with their wares. Madelon wished she could get near enough to Paco to make him slow down and let her inspect some of them. She glimpsed beautiful stitched gauntlets and belts trimmed with silver and hoped she could remember where the stalls were, so that she could visit them later. She had somehow to refurnish her whole wardrobe before the court assembled. On another stall there were shelves full of soft leather shoes with pointed toes in a variety of exciting colours and beside that, was a draper's stall with bolts of satin and velvet cloth - cloth of gold and silver from far-off Persia, decorated Cyprus silks and damask from Damascus. She had to have something really outstanding to wear at the tournament, Madelon decided, if only to make Paco proud of her so that he forgot her friendship with Valentin Maratin.
She had eaten nothing since starting out that morning, and she rode on, trying hard to ignore the emptiness in her stomach which was made worse by the delicious smell of baked bread wafting from a line of bakers' shops.
Most of the houses on the outskirts of the town, nestling beneath the fortified outer wall were of daub and wattle, with thatched roofs. These belonged to the poorer people and lower class merchants. An immediate improvement came as they rode past an inner wall into the heart of the town. There was far less garbage strewn about the streets and the buildings were of stone, mostly coated with white plaster which gave them a bright, fresh appearance. Several tall church spires soared above the roofs of other buildings. The sight of them was somehow comforting to Madelon and helped her put Yusuf, Prince of Tehlan, Aiya and the days she had spent at the Moorish camp, out of her mind. Nothing could ever change the fact that they were Moslems and she was a Christian. Paco would want to forget what was, to his mind, an unpleasant episode and she would have to do the same, or incur his anger.
Her brother drew rein before an impressive house which stretched almost the whole length of the street. A wide palisade of steps rose upwards to where two scarlet liveried servants stood in front of the massive doors. He dismounted and stood staring at the house completely forgetful of Madelon who was forced to dismount by herself.
"Is this where our cousins are?" she asked.
"Yes." He turned and stared at her coldly. "I would remind you, you are my sister and as such you will be expected to act with a certain degree of dignity. Any irregular conduct will not only sully my honour, but the name we both bear. That would make me angry, Madelon. Do I make myself clear?"
Madelon went white to the lips. So he expected her to act like a Montevides, did he? Well, she could do that well enough.
"You have no cause to worry on my behalf, Paco. I won't bring any disgrace on any of the things you hold in such high esteem, but for the first time in my life I find myself wishing I was born of peasant stock. I envy the freedom of a girl who can surrender to her heart's desires and give herself to any man she pleases without bringing shame to those about her, who consider their honour so much more important than hers. May I take your arm, or am I to follow behind you like a lackey?"
Completely stunned before her contemptuous onslaught, Paco offered his arm and together they ascended into the house.
The first thought which struck Madelon as they entered the royal presence was that the Beni-Gomez, with all their pride of ancestry, did not possess a house as comfortable as Valentin Maratin. The thought gave her great satisfaction.
Her cousin Alfonso had changed little over the years. He was a man of medium height and build, in his late twenties. His dark hair was cut rather shorter than was fashionable and his neat beard was trimmed to perfection as always. Madelon hoped he would not bestow the honour of a kiss on her as he had done the last time they had met for his beard had so tickled her cheek she had wanted to burst out laughing.
"Sire, forgive my late arrival, it was unfortunately not of my doing." Paco went down on one knee before his king and kissed the jewelled fingers extended beneath his nose.
"How so, Don Paco? I seem to remember you were to meet us here four days ago. How can there be a tournament when one of my best knights is gallivanting around the countryside with a wench - even such a comely one?"
Alfonso's eyes fastened on Madelon's impassive face. Deliberately she remained standing, meeting his gaze with matched candour. If Paco was to forgive her, she must make a lasting impression on her cousin, she thought. She heard a murmur run through the courtiers crowded into the small chamber where the audience was held at her boldness.
Slowly she sank into an elaborate, faultless curtsey and then, raising her head, she said with a mocking smile: "My king pays a great compliment to his cousin."
At Alfonso's side a woman who was surrounded by handsomely-clad men and women, turned to look at her. She was breathtaking. Her raven hair plaited into one thick coil and wound o
n to her head was adorned with a jewelled coronet, over a pale coloured wimple. Jet black eyes studied Madelon with growing interest. Her skin had an ivory sheen to it and her red mouth was full and sensuous. With a shock of surprise, Madelon realized this was her cousin, Urraca.
Suddenly she was ashamed of her own appearance. Dust clung to the hem of her skirt, her face was flushed and wisps of hair had escaped from her plaits to fall untidily around her shoulders. She hardly represented a dignified picture and her confusion turned into anger as she heard an amused titter from somewhere behind. All the women around her we-e lavishly dressed and heavily jewelled and Urraca was the most outstanding of all. Her tight-fitting gown was of scarlet velvet, the hem bordered with ermine and sewn with diamonds. The neckline, slashed low across her breasts was bolder than any other in the room. She had only to crook her little finger and immediately the young men clustered around her in force, each hoping he would be selected to do her bidding. Now she had seen her again, Madelon knew why she was reputed to hold such sway over men and she was envious of her power, although at the same time, a little frightened by it.
"Why, I do believe it is our little cousin, Madelon," Urraca murmured. Her voice was rather low with husky undertones. Her brilliant eyes wandered over the faces around her, all smiling because they expected her to come out with one of her witty remarks. Urraca's accuracy at shooting down her enemies or rivals with words was renowned throughout the court. There was a stunned silence as she rose to her feet, disdainfully ignoring the many hands outstretched to help her and descended to where Madelon stood.
Madelon Page 14
