Rose (27 page)

The next thing of import was how quickly he'd chosen to trust Mamie with his secrets.

But he was not a spy. That was never his duty. He would fight as a knight. And observe, writing down what he saw.

Did the bishop worry that the king and queen might separate? Or was Mamie right and he cautioned against the division of the caravan? There was no way of knowing without asking the man, and that was not possible.

To keep from scratching at his aching scalp, he pressed his fists into his thighs.

Everard returned with a lotion that immediately soothed the burn and the scratches. “Take this powder. It will help you sleep. You will not be able to shave again for a while.”

And that was a bad thing? Dominus had not missed the look on Mamie's face when she'd seen his tonsure. It was a look not of want but of amusement. He wasn't used to being the cause of a woman's laughter. He would much rather be the source of her desire.

He remembered the velvety feel of Mamie's lips and the deepening green of her eyes as passion flared. He'd been chaste the entire past year, but the kiss had awakened his desires. He wanted her, and she'd promised to keep his secret. For now.

He fell into a fitful doze, wondering how to explain Meggie and all of the children.

Dominus woke to a small shake of his shoulder. “Commander Bartholomew wishes to see you,” a black-robed servant whispered.

Sliding from bed, fully dressed in shirt, breeches, and shoes, as all Templars were ordered to do, Dominus reached for his robe and slipped it on over his head, easy to see with the light on. All of the rules against temptation.

Dominus did not bother asking the servant what the commander wanted, since the man probably didn't know, and even if he did, he wouldn't answer. Silence was prized, something else Dominus hadn't particularly minded until recently, when he wanted answers.

He entered the commander's office.

Despite the hour, with the morning sun only starting to show, Bartholomew sat straight, stern. “Sit.”

Dominus took the only chair before the desk.

Bartholomew tapped his fingers on a stack of books, staring at Dominus as if trying to read his soul.

“Princess Constance has specifically requested your presence
at the tournament today.” His brow furrowed as if Dominus were somehow behind this ludicrous attempt at joviality.

“Oh?”

Bartholomew sniffed, apparently smelling deceit. “I reminded
her that Templars may not hunt or hawk, so she has asked that you be her champion in the joust.”

Something he used to be good at. “If it pleases you, I know how to wield a lance.”

“It does not particularly please me, but it is a royal order.” Bartholomew rose quickly, pushing his wooden chair behind
him. “Wait here. I will return with your accoutrements.” He paused, then came around the desk to get a closer look at Dominus's
scalp. “You did this to yourself?”

Dominus bit back a sarcastic retort. “I did not realize . . .”

“It looks painful,” Bartholomew said, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of his mouth.

Bastard. “
Oui
. Very.”

“We are given trials on this earth to bring us closer to Christ. Amen.”

Dominus bowed his head, wondering how an itchy pate could bring him closer to God.

“You are my trial, Dominus.”

Bartholomew left, and Dominus chuckled.
At least I am getting under his skin.
He looked at the desk and the open door.

He quickly got to his feet and scanned the papers on the desk. Booklets of prayers, Bible verses. Dominus opened the middle drawer, feeling around inside for a hidden lever or latch. Nothing. Where else would Bartholomew put something he needed to hide?

Dominus sat back down, his heart beating fast. Bartholomew came in, his arms heavy with a folded crisp white robe, a lance and cover, a sword, a silver helmet, and boots. The Templars did not espouse wealth, but they also had a reputation to maintain.

“Win. But do not gloat in your victory. Do not smile at any woman, including the princess. Look to the side of her face and avoid temptation. You may not drink wine or take food until you come back here, where you will pray for your sins.”

Dominus bristled. What shaped Bartholomew? Power? Greed? Thwarted desire?

“I will do my best.”

“Wear the helmet at all times. We don't want rumors spread that you have some sort of disease. The Templar House is run by donation, not pity.”

Dominus accepted the items. “Thank you.”

“Thank the princess. If it were up to me, I would keep you in prayer and chores until your pride was broken. I think you have forgotten how to be humble, if indeed you ever learned. Who accepted your oath?”

Perhaps it was pride, but Dominus met the commander's gaze. “Bishop Clairvaux.”

Commander Bartholomew gritted his teeth. “Go get ready. Everard will act as your squire.”

Dominus and Everard rode their broad-chested destriers into the cleared yard for the tournament. The excitement in the air was palpable, and the scents of grilled chicken and roasted goat made his stomach rumble.

Everard looked at him and grinned, a reminder of his youth that had been absent as of late. “We will have to dream of tender chicken morsels. The commander said we may not eat—”

“Until we return to the monastery.” Dominus shrugged. “Bartholomew is dedicated to our spiritual well-being. And your weapons training?”

Everard moved his mount to the left, closer to Dominus. “
Oui
. I am to be part of a superior army.”

“Superior to the Templars or part of the Templars?”

“Is there a difference? We work in tandem with secular knights, as we did on the caravan. Integrating as one unit.”

“For what purpose?”

Everard's face, framed by the metal helmet, remained innocent
of intrigue. “To be the best warriors we can.”

“Can I join?”

“Can you stay out of trouble?”

Dominus chuckled. “Let me start by winning this joust.”

They neared the benches set up in an oval around the center
of the yard. The area was open, and numerous shields were already placed along the grandstand. The tallest raised stage seated
the royal nobles. Dominus looked up and saw Mamie dressed in her signature red with deep-pink trim.

As if she felt his look, she turned his way and smiled in greeting. She lifted a hand, the lace sleeve so long it fell from sight behind the railing.

He knew he was not supposed to respond and felt Everard's gaze on him, so he turned away before he did something foolish like wave back.

“I know we are not to notice, but Fay looks very pretty.” Everard sighed deeply.

“We will both be fasting until eternity if a certain commander hears your words.” Dominus edged closer to the other knights, waiting for instruction.

“At least your lady knows you exist. Mine does not see me.” Another melodramatic sigh followed.

“Pray that it stays that way, else you will not have a chance to forget the longing in your heart.” Dominus stayed on his mount, though Everard jumped down.

“You have been a good friend to me. It is my honor to serve you today,” Everard said. “Is there anything you need before I tell them you are here?”

“No.” Besides, they were forbidden to eat, drink, or be merry.

Everard left, having made a sacrifice of his own by forgoing the white robe of a Templar for the brown robe of a squire. Bartholomew
saw the sin of pride everywhere, Dominus thought. Perhaps he saw his own sin in others? Was there a way, perhaps, to use that against him?

“Psst.”

Dominus turned toward the whisper coming from the shadow of benches to his left. He ambled his horse away from the four other knights.

“
Oui
?” He assumed it was Mamie. Who else could it be?

“What did you find? Did you search the commander's chamber?”

Amused, Dominus leaned over, as if to swat a fly off his horse's nose. He peered into the shadow, seeing the gleam of Mamie's green eyes. “There was nothing.”

“Sainted Mary's toes.” She stamped her foot, the elaborate beading on her pointed shoe catching the light.

“Cursing?”

“You have no idea. When can we meet? I have missed you.”

She had? Dominus made as if to stretch out his arms and back, adjusting his seat on the saddle. “After supper? But before dinner prayers.”

“Non,” she said. “I expect this will last all day. Tomorrow?”

“I will try.” He leaned over and into the dark. “Mamie?”

“
Oui
?”

“I am not married.”

Not married?

Her body fired up from within, and she touched her lower lip. “How dare he say such a thing and canter away?”

Mamie watched as he turned his horse around, not using the reins but merely the muscles in his legs. She'd learned how
to do that with her fellow guards to impress the queen's followers.
It was harder than it seemed.

She went up the rickety wooden stairs to the top stage and
looked out at the pandemonium below. It felt like a fair day, and her mood lightened. She refused to attribute her giggles to Dominus
and his news.

Fay tapped Mamie's shoulder. “What? Why are you so happy?”
Dipping her head, Fay whispered in Mamie's ear. “I have got the queen seated next to Louis. Pray with all your might that we make it through the day without a public argument.”

Mamie elbowed Fay. “Do not waste your prayers! Smell the air? That, dearest Fay, is a hot berry pastry dusted with cinnamon. I brought two bottles of crisp white Aquitanian wine. We shall feed our king and queen until they are too full to disagree.”

“Louis never takes more than a goblet or two.”

“Fill his cup, then. Keep it filled.”

“We shall get him tipsy; then Eleanor can take him back to the palace and have her way with him.” Fay snickered. “I approve.”

“We must get rid of Odo.”

“Wishful thinking,” Fay said as King Louis and Odo walked onto the stage. “Greetings, my liege.” Fay guided him by the elbow to the chair she'd chosen. “Sit here, and your wife will be next to you.”

Odo looked around for another seat. He pulled a high, three-legged stool as close as he could.

Fay did not budge, ensuring the seats were saved.

Eleanor arrived with Constance, Raymond, and Lady Hortencia. Her husband, Herbert, followed with Jocelyn de Courtney, disposed Count of Edessa. Mamie held on to her good mood with both hands. Sometimes the hardest battles were fought with words. A sword made a cleaner cut.

Fay steered Eleanor next to Louis. She smiled as he rose and kissed both of her cheeks in greeting.

The ladies had dressed with intent this day, wanting to shine in a garden of beauty. Eleanor would be the brightest star; her guards, capable accessories.

“You look lovely,” the king said. He seemed hesitant, as if she would take his compliment and turn it around.

Eleanor leaned close to her husband and whispered, “You look quite handsome, Louis.
Mon cher
.”

Mamie noticed Odo looking very put out at the kind exchange between husband and wife. Where was Thierry?

Raymond sat next to Eleanor, and then Constance with Bo. Behind them, on a padded bench, sat Lady Hortencia and her husband.

Mamie and Fay would sit on the bench behind the queen and king. Odo gave his stool to Jocelyn, who moved it to the other side of Louis. The king's advisor was forced to sit next to Mamie. She gave him a wink, knowing how he loathed her.

And all women—but especially strong ones.

The trumpet sounded, and Prince Raymond announced the tournament. “In honor of our royal guests, Louis, King of
France, and Eleanor, Queen of France and Duchess of Aquitaine.”

Mamie saw Louis's shoulders stiffen as Raymond gave his niece the longer title. Louis was Duke of Aquitaine, by marriage. The first time Raymond had done so, Mamie had thought
it a harmless mistake. Now she knew more of Raymond's cunning
and wondered at the slight.

Eleanor put her hand on the armrest, her fingers touching Louis's. He relaxed, and Mamie took a deep breath.

The jousting began, with men challenging one another in the open field. As each opponent was knocked off, the shields were removed from the place of honor against the wooden stand
and the knight was finished for the day. Hours passed, and finally
there were but four knights left.

Each time Dominus took a hit, Mamie felt it in her toes. He was an excellent warrior. She'd seen him fight firsthand. This was different. He showed real courage, facing his opponent lance to lance. The true bravery in a joust was waiting, preparing as the opponent came right for you. There was no ducking out of the way, but as the knight aimed his lance for your shield, you were to hit his shield and somehow avoid injury while hanging on to all of your weapons. Mamie was exhausted just watching.

Dominus took each blow in stride, taking each man's shield until just two remained.

Dominus and a knight from Germany. The sun had passed noon, and the rays heated the metal armor. Mamie waved a lace fan in front of her face, not knowing how Dominus could stand it inside the helmet. She had not seen him take any water.

Concerned but proud of his ability to wield a lance at an opponent while riding at full speed, Mamie kept her seat, though her knees trembled.

“He is magnificent,” Fay said, putting a hand on Mamie's leg.

“
Oui
. But the German's horse is slightly bigger.” She squinted.
“He and his mount have the same size chest, and I think Dominus
is favoring his right arm.”