Authors: Traci Harding
Gone, too, is any hope of Molier’s rescue party finding me, now that we are at sea. I have spent every free waking hour praying that I shall still succeed in my quest before I am delivered from this loathsome existence—this is my only wish for this life.
My earthly vessel has been so wretchedly ill these past few days that, even now, to write this account is a great effort. Yet I am compelled to attempt to purge myself of these undesirable feelings in the hope of soothing my agitated spirit. For I cannot honestly say whether it is the sea voyage, or my companions, that sickens me more.
I still wear the apparel of a knight and the crew of this ship has conveniently resolved to treat me as a man, despite knowing full well that I am not. Devere has made an arrangement with the captain for me to use his quarters to relieve and refresh myself. Nonetheless, this seems to be the only allowance made for me.
I am not as fluent in Arabic as my abductor, yet I do comprehend enough of the language to understand a lot of the banter of the men whose
company I am forced to keep day and night. They converse openly about their most base and perverted desires in regard to those of my sex, and it is obvious that there is not an honourable or pure soul amongst them. Some have even asked for my thoughts on their foul subject matter and they find it most amusing that I want to ignore their questions and refrain from comment.
As there is no escape for me from such circumstances and, clearly, I am surrounded by infidels despite their claim to be Christians, I asked Devere yesterday if he would please consider returning that which he stole. My request, as with everything else I have said in the last few days, was received with great amusement.
‘And grant you the power to manipulate us all? I don’t think so.’
Devere’s protest made me furious. Either he was a Sion knight and thus bound to oblige me, or he was the scoundrel I took him for, and I stated as much in no uncertain terms.
My abductor claimed that he had taken no oath binding him to my service. ‘It is my ancestry that granted me a place in my order and which binds me to this quest,’ he explained.
This response puzzled me, until he clarified his statement.
‘Although we must be distantly related, it will not prevent me from killing you, should you threaten to thwart my mission.’
Devere was implying he was of the royal line of Judah! I had never met a male of the blood before and my first reaction was to reject his claim—he was just trying to throw me off guard, and perhaps he was succeeding. He was standing over me, using
our private business as an excuse to stand at uncomfortably close quarters to me.
‘Don’t think I have not considered that it might be easier for me to seek another daughter of the blood to aid me with this task, upon reaching Outremer.’ Devere’s voice was uncomfortably intimate and menacing.
‘You speak as if we were in plentiful supply and discernible at a glance.’ I could see through his game and would not be played for the fool.
‘It is not with my eyes that I can scry out such a woman, but with my heart,’ he said, in a tone that some might consider seductive.
Then, to my great horror, Devere stripped off his chain mail and exposed his bare chest to me. I was shocked to witness indisputable proof of his claim, for on the smooth skin of his torso he bore the same birthmark as I did, a red cross, and in the same place—just to the right of his heart.
‘I am only ever attracted to women of the blood.’
His conclusion made me gasp. Devere may have just confessed lust—for me, a holy virgin priestess. Such a confession was unforgivable and certainly not indicative of a knight of the higher orders and their vows of chastity. Marie de Saint-Clair would never have sent such a knight to protect me. ‘You could never be who you claim to be,’ I stated, and immediately departed his company to pray for his soul…and for my safety during this mission, which was now severely in doubt.
‘My apologies.’ Devere followed in pursuit to torment me further. ‘I forgot you
Perfecti
consider earthly love to be nothing more than prostitution, even when it is sanctified by marriage.’
‘You forget nothing,’ I accused. ‘You deliberately
attempt to offend me and destroy my peace of mind.’
He smiled, again amused by my disapproving reaction. ‘Your thoughts regarding me must already have been on shaky ground, if I can rattle you so easily. Still, now you see why I left the Fire vial in your possession…to avoid the temptation of the power it would give me.’
I was doubly shocked and confused. How could I possibly believe he had any admirable intentions after the confession he had just made? ‘You seem to think very highly of yourself, Sir Devere, but I can assure you that I do not share your delusions. No mortal man could ever rival my love of the one true god.’ I hurried below decks to avoid any further debate and to escape the despicable laughter of the crew, who no doubt ascribed all sorts of disgusting motives to my hasty retreat.
Ever since Devere revealed his birthright to me I have been ailing, for I literally cannot stomach our association when I suspect that he is entertaining impure thoughts about our relationship. The constant rocking of this vessel, caused by rough seas, only accentuates my revulsion.
Why could I not have escaped this world with my fellow
Perfecti
in the burning fields of Montsègur? I had never thought to have my faith so sorely tested and in such a seductive fashion, nor had I ever imagined that I could find such a test so deeply disturbing. How could I have known that the face of Rex Mundi might haunt one so, his smile and manner so charming while also tormenting. I could accept any other man as being a vessel for the supreme corrupter of the world and the human spirit, but not a son of the blood.
Already I feel his words twisting my thoughts to his own ends and setting me at odds with everything I hold to be true and good. It was disturbing that Devere had made it sound as if an attraction between us was inevitable. The seductive expression on his face as he wove his spell only adds to its potency as the confrontation plays upon my memory.
I have known since birth that the god of good and the god of evil are equally as strong as one another, and that only human determination will confer power to either of them. Unfair as it is that my first personal confrontation with Rex Mundi should be when I am trapped in his company for weeks on end, yet I shall not falter from my vows. As is my duty, I will endeavour instead to dispel the corrupt thoughts from my cousin, so that he might better serve the higher cause.
For the past month there has been little to report. Our voyage has taken us via Sicily and Crete, but I cannot comment on these exotic places because, whilst our ship was in port, I was bound and kept below decks, and forbidden to even think about putting a foot onshore. Needless to say this only added to my animosity toward my abductor.
I have spent most of my time in prayer and silent contemplation and up until yesterday my troubled spirit was feeling far more at peace. Devere has not talked to me on a personal level and, although I sense his attraction in every glance, I am thankful for his distance and I have prayed for his soul.
However, yesterday I saw a side to Devere that has thrown me into confusion once more, and I can no longer think poorly of him or of the crew of this
vessel. Yesterday, my abductors became my saviours, and although I know Devere is bound to protect me, I feel I now owe him a debt that I cannot imagine I will ever be able to repay.
Despite the trials and horrors I have witnessed in my thirty years of life, I have never been so terrified for my wellbeing as when a Saracen pirate ship was spotted trailing our vessel when we passed by the islands of Rhodes.
These islands have long been known as a haven for bandits who seek to plunder passing ships, seize their crew and passengers and sell them into slavery.
Our captain knew it was impossible to try and outrun the pirate vessel. His ship was weighted down with a cargo of timber, iron, furs, honey, wax, and wine from Europe for the crusading knights in the Holy Land. He was also carrying ivory and gold, acquired from East Africa long before Devere and I had purchased passage. This cargo was prized by pirates and our only means of escape would be to fight off our attackers, which the captain assured me he and his crew had done many times before.
I was hidden below deck in a crate in the cargo hold. Before nailing down the lid, Devere assured me that he was the finest knight in all of Christendom. At the time I thought he was exaggerating to ease my worry and this must have reflected on my face. ‘How do you think I escaped Molier’s men?’ This gave me food for thought. His claim did seem to support his boast. ‘I shall come and get you out as soon as our adversaries retreat.’
My crate had small slits down the side, through which I could see and draw air. As I lay there in near darkness, waiting for the sound of a skirmish to erupt up on deck, all sorts of dreadful scenarios ran
through my mind. What if the ship was taken and the crew killed or enslaved, and our vessel was diverted to some distant port? I might starve to death before I was ever discovered. Worse still, what if I was discovered? I had a fair idea of the physical abuse and horrors that lay in store for me if I fell into the hands of a shipload of pirates. I was not even carrying a weapon with which to end my own life if such a scenario was to unfold. For the first time since we’d met, my heart, will and soul were with Devere—I had never prayed so hard for the life of any man in my entire existence.
The sound of men yelling and the clash of swords set the blood pounding in my throat; soon I could barely hear what transpired on deck over the sound of my terrified heartbeat. I had expected that I would end my days tied to a stake by my enemies, and I had prepared myself for such spiritual persecution—I did not fear the torture devices of the Inquisition, or a death by fire—but sexual abuse was quite another matter. Such a violation is too intimate and personal to bear so easily, and the duration of suffering could prove far longer than that which the Inquisition were prepared to set aside to break a soul.
The hatch to the cargo hold opened and daylight streamed down. Two men lowered themselves onto the highest stack of crates; my heart sank when I realised that they were not members of our crew. ‘She’s loaded all right!’ one yelled up to those on deck and then he jumped down to floor level. Using the tools he wore on his belt, the intruder cracked the lids of a few crates to uncover the contents. He called out his discoveries to his associate, who passed the information to those on deck. The pirate
was now only a crate or so away from me, and I was horrified when his attention skipped to my hiding place. He unexpectedly rocked my container, sending me crashing into the far side of it where a nail punctured my skin and, although I tried to smother my reaction, a gasp slipped from my lips.
‘What have we here then?’ he muttered enthusiastically as he cracked the wooden lid and peered in at me. The pirate chuckled and tipped the crate, sending me hurtling onto the floor at his feet. ‘Livestock,’ he advised his accomplice, who gave a cry of approval and jumped down into the hold to assist his crewmate in seizing their acquisition. ‘I don’t believe there is a man beneath that warrior guise,’ the discovering pirate commented as he hauled me to my feet and handed me to his shipmate. ‘Shall we check?’ He grabbed for my trousers and I screamed to give myself strength as I kicked him away from me. The pirate did not appreciate the numbing kick in the jaw my boots dealt him, and he drew his large curved sword. ‘I would be more cooperative if I were you,’ he advised.
‘Death would come as a welcome relief from your company,’ I spat back at him.
‘I wouldn’t dream of killing you, princess. You’ll fetch a high price where we are headed, and provide much entertainment for our crewmates before then. So, perhaps we’ll just maim you a little.’ He raised his sword high and metal suddenly protruded through his round gut, spraying me with blood as he fell dead at my feet.
Devere withdrew his sword and looked to the pirate now holding me captive. ‘Your friends are all leaving…you’d best be quick if you want to join them.’
The pirate didn’t know whether or not to believe Devere’s claim, but he was forced to let go of me in order to draw his sword and I dived for cover as soon as I felt his grip loosen.
I watched the sword fight that ensued, amazed and impressed by Devere’s prowess. He had no sooner finished off his opponent than two more thieves jumped into the hold, and although he fought gallantly, one of the pirates landed my protector a mighty gash to his right side. I feared the battle was lost, but Devere fought on as though I had just imagined the fatal blow. The man who had wounded Devere was finally defeated. A call of retreat sounded out from the pirates above, capturing the attention of the second attacker who made for the hatch. As the intruder jumped up and gripped the entrance to the hold to pull himself up, Devere went after him, but collapsed before he could prevent the pirate from escaping.
And so it is that I have been keeping a constant vigil at Devere’s bedside. I have been bathing his wound and dressing it to prevent infection, but his blood loss has been great and he is pale and weak. If he would only stir from his delirium long enough to partake of some food and wine, I could be more assured of his recovery, but as it is I fear the loss of my guide. As much as I have complained about Devere and been suspicious of his motives, what shall I do without him once I reach Outremer? I have no contacts there and although I am aware of where I need to go, without having travelled to my destination before I could be led to China and be none the wiser.
And so I pray and tend and hope to god that the creator will see fit to return my saviour to good health.
The answer to saving Sir Devere was right in front of me all along—I must have been severely shaken by the pirate attack not to have thought of it sooner. It was only when I considered taking the Star vial that hung around Devere’s neck that I realised the smallest quantity of the Food of Life would restore my guide to perfect health.