Beloved Pilgrim (13 page)

Albrecht sat up and wrapped his arms around
his bent knees, his eyes focused on Elisabeth. "I don't
understand."

She looked up and straight into his face. "I
think you do understand."

He considered, and then asked, "Are you
saying you want to persist in the masquerade? To try to live your
life as a man, a fake one?"

She shrugged. "More than that. I want to stay
a knight. I want to go to the Holy Land. I want to do what my
brother was to do. I want to fight Paynim and to make it to
Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher." She looked down
and plucked at the crusader's cloak she wore. "I want this to mean
something, to be real." She glanced up, then firmed her jaw and
said in a stern voice, "I don't just want that. I am going to do
that." Her voice softened. "And I want you to go with me, to be my
squire."

Albrecht gazed at her for some time. He
suddenly got to his feet and bowed to her where she sat on the
ground. "My lord, I would be honored to continue to be your
squire."

Elisabeth jumped up and they locked arms. Her
face was lit with anticipation, but at the same time with
earnestness and anxiety. "Thank you, Albrecht," she said
breathlessly. Then she added, "Deus lo volt. God wills it."

Albrecht grinned. "I just hope He knows
that."

Days later after threading the deep gorges
carved in the mountains by the River Danube on a small river craft,
Elisabeth and Albrecht heard the captain announce, "Mölk ahead. All
departing ready yourselves."

As they saddled their horses, Elisabeth
looked at the town growing closer on the south bank. She could see
some sort of stone structure under construction. Glancing at one of
the other passengers, she found her quizzical expression answered
by the man. "That's the Margrave's new monastery. They say once it
is built he will move his residence somewhere else."

One of the crew interjected, "Well I don't
care. Even if he and his court move away, it's not like there is no
other traffic on the river. Especially with you crusader knights
going back to the Holy Land to finish what you started."

Elisabeth marveled that he was indicating her
when he said "crusader knight," and she looked down at the red
cross sewn on her tabard.

"God wills it," she murmured. She could only
hope that God would forgive her masquerade.

Masquerade or no, Elisabeth continued to
marvel over how readily everyone she came in contact with accepted
her as a man. A young man, almost a boy, but a man all the same. As
she and Albrecht waited outside the hall of Margrave Leopold she
whispered her surprise to Albrecht. Since they had been among other
armed men, many of them wearing the cross of the crusader, Albrecht
had taken more care to walk behind her and to defer to her in every
way. He introduced her as "Elias, Ritter of Winterkirche."

"I have only seen one person look oddly at me
when you introduced me. That court official, the one who left to
ask the Margrave if he would see us."

Albrecht glanced about to assure himself they
were not overheard. "I noticed that too, my lord. I suppose we will
learn the truth soon."

Elisabeth enjoyed the playacting that was a
survival tactic for her now. She made a point of watching how other
knights stood, how they laughed and talked, and how they treated
their equals and their inferiors.

She tried a swagger, leaned indolently
against the wall, cleaned her ear with her finger, and belched when
she needed to. It helped her distract her worry about whether
Reinhardt had seen through their ruse or whether perhaps Hans
played them false. While on the road she was confident they had the
jump on any pursuit, but now, in Mölk for who knew how long, her
anxiety about pursuit returned. The sooner she and Albrecht could
get on the journey to Constantinople, the calmer she would feel,
she guessed.

The door to the hall creaked open and the
court official bowed to her. "My Lord Elias, their Graces will see
you now."

Elisabeth started to ask if Albrecht could
come in with her, but thought better of it. She simply held her
head high and walk past the man, letting Albrecht take the
initiative. She heard his armored footsteps on the stone flags
behind her and smiled to herself.

The hall was a huge and elegantly appointed
room that held no furniture save one table on a dais. Though the
only one, the table was covered with what looked like fine white
linen with gold embroidery, and the candlesticks and wine goblets
on the table were likewise made of gold. The three people who sat
behind the table were garbed in the richest finery Elisabeth had
ever seen.

None of the three were looking at her as she
approached the dais and went down on one knee, her head bowed. She
had time enough only to see the profile of a young clean-shaven man
not many years older than she. He was strikingly handsome, with
softly flowing fair hair and strong cheekbones. There was a cleric
of some rank on the man's left. On his right a woman was obscured
to Elisabeth's view as she leaned behind him to speak to the
cleric.

"Your Graces, bishop, may I present the
Ritter Elias von Winterkirche," announced the man who had brought
her and Albrecht into their presence.

The young man turned toward Elisabeth and
said in a warm and welcoming voice, "Ritter Elias, how pleased and
surprised we are to see you!" He sounded quite sincere.

With her head still bowed, she replied in her
best male voice, "Your Grace, I am gratified for your welcome. You
are too generous."

She heard a chair pushed back and a man's
step first on the dais and then on the stone flags. Fabulously
be-ringed hands reached down to hold and raise her by her arms.
Astonished, she looked up and into the Margrave's smiling face. His
blue eyes sparkled. He still held her arms, and he leaned to kiss
her on both cheeks.

"My lord, we were delighted to learn that the
news we received from Bavaria was untrue!"

"B-beg pardon, your Grace?" was all Elisabeth
could muster as a reply.

The Margrave looked a little abashed. "My
dear young sir, we had heard you had died!"

Impulsively, Elisabeth answered, "Good my
lord, I think it was my twin sister's passing that was mistakenly
reported as my own."

Leopold III looked back into her face with
concern. Letting loose of her arms, he made the sign of the cross
and said a quiet prayer. "I am so sorry. May God bless her and keep
her to his bosom. And may Our Holy Mother ease you in your loss."
He looked up at the table on the dais. "Do you hear that, Mother?
It was his sister, not he. Good news but yet so sad."

Elisabeth followed the Margrave's eyes and
then froze. The woman on the dais sat forward with her hands
clasped prayerfully on the table, looking with sympathy into
Elisabeth's face. She was as fair as her son, the Margrave, seemed
hardly older than he, and Elisabeth immediately saw why this woman,
Ida, Margravina of Austria, was called the greatest beauty in
Europe. Her skin was smooth and soft, her blue eyes luminous, and
her Cupid's bow mouth was red as strawberries. Her hair, where it
showed underneath her loose veil of some delicate Eastern stuff,
was almost a white gold as it cascaded in soft curls to frame an
angel's face and spill out upon white shoulders. Elisabeth thought,
"I could die in her arms," then panicked, afraid she had said it
aloud.

The sweet, bell-like voice said, "Your Grace,
my lord bishop, can we not have a prayer for this young knight's
sister?"

Elisabeth caught an amused smile on Leopold's
face that turned solemn at his mother's words. He knelt next to
Elisabeth while up on the dais the Margravina stepped back from her
chair and knelt before the bishop who stood, one hand raised, and
spoke a prayer in Latin. Elisabeth discovered she had knelt as
well, though she could not bow her head. She could not look away
from the glorious woman on the dais.

"In nominee Patri et fili et spiritu sancti,
amen," the holy man finished.

Elisabeth expected a hand under her elbow to
help her rise, but it flashed through her mind that men did not do
that for other men, unless they were old or infirm. She stood and
said gratefully, "Your Graces, bishop, I cannot tell you how much
it means to me that you honor me and my family so."

The bishop, seated again, said in the deep
sonorous voice he had used for the prayer, "Young knight, I see you
wear the cross of the crusade. Are you then ready to take the vow
to serve God and remove the godless Paynim from the ground upon
which our Savior trod those many years ago?"

She bowed her head. "I am, your Grace." She
looked up into Ida's eyes and thrilled to see the pride and
approval there. "Let me die at your feet, lady," she knew she said
only in her heart this time.

The Margrave slapped her on her mailed
shoulder. "Good, good. Though you are not a subject of ours, we
shall be glad to add our blessing to your act of faith and
honor."

"Thank you, my lord."

The Margravina asked, "But did you not know,
the Archbishop of Milan, Anselm, has already left with thousands of
the faithful from Lombardy?"

Elisabeth paled. "Surely, your Grace, there
will be other parties?"

Leopold, still standing at her shoulder,
smiled and reassured, "In fact, good sir, we have just received a
message from Conrad, the Constable to his imperial highness, Henry,
that he will pass through Austria with his own contingent and shall
come here to Mölk to see the new monastery works and accept our
hospitality ere he moves on through Italy. You are the Emperor's
man, are you not? How more fitting can it be you and your good
squire should join him?"

The bishop inserted, "With your leave, your
Grace, I shall include young Elias in the oath-taking ceremony we
plan for Conrad's arrival."

Expansively, the handsome young Margrave
nodded and spread his arms wide. "Splendid. Splendid. Just so." He
turned to beam at Elisabeth. Unexpectedly he leaned to her and
whispered, "I am flattered that you have adopted my style of being
clean shaven. I should think on campaign the fewer places for
vermin to live, the better!" He laughed at Elisabeth's nonplussed
look. "Good lad," he said, and clapped her on the shoulder again.
He looked at the servant. "Johann, see to it this noble knight has
what he needs for bed and refreshment for his wait here in Mölk."
To Elisabeth he invited, "I hope you will take time to tour the
building we are doing for a great monastery. It shall in time take
the land on which this building stands as a monument to the glory
of Our Lord."

The Margravina rose from her seat and went to
the edge of the dais. Seeing this, Elisabeth rushed forward and put
out a hand. The older woman gratefully accepted it as she stepped
down. When Elisabeth did not release her hand but instead stood
staring down at her face, she chuckled and conveyed her own
delicate hand toward the young knight's lips. Elisabeth took the
cue and pressed a soft but reverent kiss on the back of her
hand.

"May God go with you, brave sir."

Elisabeth lowered to one knee to accept the
lady's blessing.

As she and Albrecht backed out of the hall,
then turned at the door, she heard Leopold's voice. "Do you ever
tire of young knights falling in love with you at first sight, my
dear mother?"

The Margravina replied with a smile in her
voice, "No, never, and the less so as I grow older. And I will have
you know your beloved father did not either. He knew my true faith
and . . . "

The door shut on her words. Albrecht gave
Elisabeth an amused grin as the servant handed them over into the
hands of a page. She had her fingers on her lips, touching the same
skin that touched Ida's. "So is that how it is, my lord? Welcome to
love."

The narrow streets of Mölk were as busy as
the Margrave's courtyard, full not only of the bustling business of
a noble city but of many craftsmen in their aprons and belts with
builders' tools, and occasional men in crusaders' tabards with
their own households. The massive horses of the knights made
passing by them on foot a risky affair. But each knight nodded his
head in greeting to Elisabeth as he passed. Albrecht opined,
"Methinks your guise is a success, my lord."

Elisabeth glanced down at the tunic and cloak
she had donned once she and Albrecht had disposed of their heavy
armor. A strip of cloth binding it flattened what little she
possessed of a bosom. "Methinks people see what they expect," she
replied thoughtfully. "They see the armor and the cross and need
look no harder. Shall we find a tavern and have a drink and some
food?"

Glancing about Albrecht spied a tavern sign
and pointed to it. "The Pig in Barley, I'll warrant," he
interpreted the wordless sign that hung over the door. "Let's see
if we can even get a place to sit."

In the dark tavern the two peered about at
the noisy, smelly crowd until their eyes adjusted. "The only places
I see are over there on the far wall, my lord. With those rather
disreputable looking men."

Elisabeth did not have to stretch to see over
the heads of other customers. Her height gave her that advantage.
She had trouble seeing the men clearly, however, as they were in a
far corner and there were no lamps or candles there. "Let's go
introduce ourselves."

Elisabeth used her presence, her elbows and
sharp looks to force her way around to that table, Albrecht sailing
along in her wake. She stopped at the side of the table nearest the
wall and bowed her head briefly. "Good sirs, may I beg a place on
the bench for my squire and me to rest our journey-weary
arses?"

Four pairs of eyes looked up from tankards to
stare back at her. Only one set did not look openly hostile. This
man looked wary, but there was a spark in his eye that promised
friendliness. In a merry voice, the man said, "I think I can
persuade my companions here to welcome you both. Can I not?" He was
a muscular man of some height from the look of him, though he was
seated. He had long brown hair, a close-cropped dark beard and a
moustache that was waxed and pointed at the ends. He surveyed his
companions with dark clear eyes.