Rose (20 page)

“No,” Dominus said.

Commander Bartholomew's skin turned a shade of dark cherry. “You dare to argue with me? You do not have permission to leave on your own. Do you understand?”

He had no choice but to agree. Right now he had to protect his secrets. “
Oui
.”

“You will take bread and water in your room and spend the
night in prayer. I will question you regarding the rules of our order
until you have them all correct. It seems to me that you pick and choose which rules to follow. That may have been accepted on the caravan, but it is not all right here.”

Everard backed away, but Bartholomew said, “Stay, brother, and be witness to a man who has lost his way in Christ. Obedience is a must.”

“I apologize if I have offended you,” Dominus said.

“Offended me? You have offended God. Disrobe.”

“Commander?” Dominus quickly thought to his empty wallet—thank God he had no coin—and the letters hidden in the seam.

“Everard, go next door and get our brother slippers and a linen shirt.”

Angry, Dominus realized he had no choice but to obey. He removed his brown robe, his tunic, and his boots, standing before the commander in his bare feet and leggings. He'd tucked the leather wallet in the robe, kicking the garments to the side of the stall.

“You have nothing but what God grants you. You are nothing
but that which God gives. You deserve nothing; you own nothing.
You are a member of the Knights Templar, and as such, you belong to God.”

Dominus realized Everard was gone. He also realized that he and the commander were not alone in the stable. He opened his senses, detecting the faint smell of rose oil. Mamie? Why would she be in the stable? Could he get his wallet and the letters to her?

“I know that I should not have gone into the city without getting your permission. It was done not out of ill will but carelessness.”

“The city is filled with temptation. You may not eat or drink in public. What is it you were doing?”

Dominus nudged the robe closer to the stall, hoping to loosen
the wallet. If there was a way to hide it in the hay, he could come back for it later.

“I have gotten accustomed to my own company.”

Bartholomew narrowed his eyes.

“Here is a shirt, Commander,” Everard said, returning with his arms full.

“Give them to Brother Dominus. Where is your proper robe?”

“In the bag on my saddle.”

The commander walked to Dominus's horse and removed the bag, pulling the white robe free. “This is how you take care of the gifts given to you?”

“I only thought to keep it clean when I sat in the grass by the river.” How to reach the wallet?

“I do not trust you. Everard, give me his boots.”

Everard made a show of picking up each boot and bringing it to the commander. As the commander looked away, Dominus moved closer to the brown robe, stepping on the fabric until he felt the bulge of his wallet.

“Nothing in this one,” Everard said, shaking the boot upside down.

Dominus froze as the commander lifted his head, stared at him, and then picked up the other boot.

While the commander searched the heels, Dominus shifted the wallet free of the robe, kicking it into the hay. He did not question his trust in Mamie, only hoped she would discover it and hide it for him.

Bartholomew yanked on the heels of each boot as if certain there was a hidden compartment. Dominus sent a prayer of thanks upward when Bartholomew did not find the latch. There was nothing inside but only because he hadn't had time to read the letters. He was back in place when the commander threw the boots toward the stable wall.

“Get dressed,” he ordered.

Dominus put on the shirt, acutely aware of Mamie's unseen gaze.

He slipped the shoes on his feet and bowed his head. He would play along for a while more, though the charade was wearing as thin as old linen.

Just until he read the letters—then he would decide what to do next.

Mamie watched Dominus put the shirt on, dragging it over his
head. Unlike Bartholomew, Everard and Dominus did not have tonsured hair. Being on Crusade, they'd been allowed to let it grow.

An itch begged to be scratched behind her knee, but she did not dare move from her spot in the loft. She'd come to the stable hoping for a private word with Dominus. Instead, Bartholomew had arrived, spitting angry as he dismissed the stable lads.

What had Dominus been doing? And what had he hidden in the hay? She'd seen him glance up at her, quick as a heartbeat, gesturing toward the pile. She'd heard Bartholomew say he wasn't supposed to have coin. Was he hiding a wallet?

A trinket of some kind?

She would help him in whatever way she could. If she let him think that they were working in unison, she saw no harm in that. Her prevailing duty was to gather information for the queen, while protecting Eleanor with her life.

Besides, she was curious.

Bartholomew said, “Everard, take your brother to your room and pray with him that he might see God's light. You
may come to supper, and bring bread and water back to Dominus. Tomorrow we will discuss your thoughts before morning prayers.”

He took the boots and, at the last instant, reached for the robe. Mamie held her breath, hoping he saw nothing amiss. The commander shook it free of straw, plucking a piece from the hood. “You will do service in the laundry, I think. Until you have a better understanding of how to care for your clothes.”

Dominus kept his head bowed, though Mamie saw the tight line of his back. He did not seem very repentant.

Everard's gaze remained downward as he put his hand on Dominus's shoulder. “Come. I will gladly pray with you, for your salvation and mine.”

“And why have you not been to the barber?” The commander's
voice shook with temper. “I know I made an appointment for you both.”

The three knights left. As the stable boy returned, Mamie dropped from the loft like an acrobat, startling him. She dug into the hay until she found a leather pouch with a brass clasp. She nodded at the boy as if it were nothing, and hurried out of the stable.

Mamie quickly made her way to the chamber she shared with Fay, Eleanor, and Larissa. They were all gone, having a glass of wine with Constance and Hortencia.

Mamie went inside and locked the door behind her. Her
fingers trembled as she undid the clasp. The pouch seemed empty, until she felt along the edges and realized there was a second lining.

“Clever, Dominus. What are you doing?”

A note from a forbidden lover? Knights Templar were not allowed to have personal missives, not even from their families.

She recognized the seal but did not immediately know from
where. Dared she open it? What did she gain by reading Dominus's
private correspondence? She was a spy, God's bones.

It just feels personal, because of my feeling for the knight.

Feelings she wasn't supposed to have in the first place.

She took her knife and heated the blade over the flame of an oil lamp. With great care, she lifted the wax and unfolded the letter.

“Two should be as one. Once divided, it cannot be made whole.”

What does that mean? It could apply to anything.

“Mend what is broken, or bury what is dead.”

Intriguing.

She skipped to the last part, her breath catching as she finally understood the seal.

Why are you receiving private letters from Bishop Clairvaux?

Mamie tucked the letter back into the purse, then took the second packet and repeated the slow, careful process of lifting the seal without breaking the wax.

This letter read differently, and after reading the first two lines, Mamie's heart wrenched with disappointment.

“Dearest Dominus, I hope this finds you well. The children are fine, but they asked me to send their love. I know you told us to be patient, but it is difficult. A year has passed with no word, and I fear our family is beginning to believe you will never come home. Please, come home. Love, Meggie.”

For no reason she could think of, Mamie's eyes welled with tears. He had a Meggie. And children. A family. He'd lied, telling her he was alone.

Keeping her foolish emotions at bay, Mamie sniffed and thought of the facts in front of her.

What did the bishop want from Dominus? The cryptic note gave no clue, other than the seal. There was no salutation and no closing signature.

If he was married, he could not really be a Templar. Unless the bishop knew of the marriage and had made one of his exceptions. She got up, pacing the room. What if Dominus worked on behalf of Bernard of Clairvaux, the man—not necessarily the bishop representing the church?

Why?

She burned with questions. There was no way she could get the answers—unless . . .

He was confined to his room, with Everard.

The commander told Everard he would leave Dominus alone for supper, bringing him back bread and water. That gave her plenty of time to sneak into Dominus's room at the Templar House and get to the bottom of this mystery before the night was out.

Mamie left the castle, determined to discover the truth about Dominus. She kept to the edges of the path, walking as if she had all of the time in the world, though she wanted to run like the wind.

Reaching Templar House, Mamie was not prepared for how
seriously the Templars took their solitude. Knights in white tunics
guarded the perimeter. She attempted to cross into the yard.

“Hold!” a man shouted.

Mamie turned, smiling bright.

The knight, about forty years of age, was not impressed. “This is Templar House, madame. No women are allowed on the property.”

Mamie thought of, and discarded, plans to take the man
down and tie him to a tree. Instead, she decided it was not worth the risk to either her or Dominus. “I was looking for the blacksmith.”

The man jerked a thumb in the opposite direction, then waited until she left.

Rude
.

She returned to the palace just as it was time for a late meal in the hall.

“Where were you?” Fay asked as she met them by the giant doors leading toward the laden tables.

Mamie was not sure if she should tell them just yet what she'd heard or found in the stable. The note with the bishop she was certain had to be shared. But the private letters from Dominus and his Meggie? Well, she was on rocky terrain. “We will talk later.”

Eleanor gave her a sharp glance before nodding once. The page announced them and then led them to the front of the room. Eleanor was escorted up to the table on the dais, while Fay and Mamie were seated below.

Wine was poured, and servers waited for Prince Raymond to lead them in a blessing.

Once the prayer was over, sumptuous dishes came from the kitchens—steaming hot vegetables and meats, all arrayed in artistic fashion.

Mamie speared an olive with her knife and popped it in her mouth. “I love these. The dark brown ones are my favorite.”

“They taste too salty.” Fay tore off a hunk of bread. “I would rather eat the oil and herbs on this.”

“You realize that these will cost a small fortune back home?” Mamie bowed her head. She hadn't thought of France as home in months. Did that mean she, too, sensed the end of adventure?

“You were off somewhere while we conversed with Constance and Hortencia. Both women say that olive oil is nourishing
for your skin as well.”

“They are beauties,” Mamie said. “Perhaps that is their secret.”

“They wanted to know ours.” Fay laughed. “Especially since we'd been in the elements.”

“Fresh air, water, fruit, fish.” Mamie shrugged and leaned back as a server offered a display of sliced meats. She scrunched up her nose. “Lots of fish.” She chose a dark, juicy morsel of partridge while Fay took a portion of white.

Mamie chewed and swallowed. “Rosemary and sage. Delicious.”
She speared another bite with her dagger. “I am grateful for this adventure. What if the queen is right and we are bored out of our minds once we return home?”

Fay leaned in. “I fear the same for her. Now that she has traveled
the world, how can she fit back in that narrow royal box?”

“We will have to help her be happy. Make her court of love brighter and more renowned. We will invite scholars and entertainers to match wits with her and make her laugh.” Mamie planned to be with the queen in whatever fashion her liege needed for as long as she was wanted.

The two guards looked at one another and sighed.

“When she was a girl, Eleanor always laughed and smiled. Paris stifled her, becoming queen so young. I still believe it was good that she married well. She needs strength, and who is more powerful than a king?”

Mamie thought of the slight King Louis, with his boyish looks and pious demeanor. She bit her tongue and looked up at the dais, where the queen, looking magnificent, exuded charm as she laughed with her uncle, a very powerful man.

Eleanor put a hand on her uncle's arm, leaning in to tell him something. He tossed back his head and chuckled. Louis, on Eleanor's other side, was not invited in on the jest, and his face was solemn.

She could not mend this problem, and she wished they would hurry away from Antioch. Edessa be damned.

“What else did Constance say?”

“She has planned the tournament for the day after tomorrow.
It takes time to get everything together, but she said we will be amazed. I told her that we already were.”

Mamie drank her wine, observing the royals above. “She loves her husband.”

“Constance and Raymond?
Oui
, I believe so. Though she was ten when they married.”

“Royal strategies.” Mamie shook her head.