Rose (28 page)

Fay nodded at the men. “This is a joust for entertainment, not to the death. He is no fool.”

“What if the German is?”

Fay snorted. “Dominus is the smarter fighter. The size of the German's horse really does not matter, my friend.”

Eleanor turned her head to join their conversation. “
Mon fleurs
, he will win. He was chosen by Princess Constance. I gave her my word that Dominus was the best knight I'd seen during our battles on the pilgrimage.”

King Louis smiled. “The Templars kept us going over the mountains toward Attalia. They are truly blessed by God.”

Mamie cleared her throat. She did not want to think of Dominus in any other way but male. And free of encumbrance. But he was trapped in the Templar House, and there was no way for her to offer succor if he truly was injured.

A cool cup of wine, fruit. She imagined them beneath the waterfall in Daphne . . .

Crack.
She stood up at the noise, her hands pressed to her belly as she searched the yard. Dominus urged his mighty destrier around, while the German ran at his back, lance out.

“Foul!” Mamie cried, warning her knight.

Dominus finished his turn, realizing the German was coming at him. He lifted his broken weapon, then tossed it aside and kept moving, urging his horse forward. Leaning over his mount's neck, he gathered speed and strength.

The German barreled toward him as Dominus held out his shield and met the German's lance with full power.

Shoving his shield upward, he knocked the German off balance. Dominus slowed his mount and turned toward his opponent,
shield raised.

The heavily armored knight slipped off his horse. His squire ran out to the field to help him as the crowd booed his dishonorable behavior.

Mamie's legs wobbled, and she held Fay's hand as she stared down at Dominus, who had blood trickling down the side of his face. “He's hurt.”

“He's the champion!” Eleanor shouted with pride.

Mamie applauded as loudly as the rest. Inside she worried whether he would survive. Was it a sword cut? Or had he been hit hard enough that his helmet sliced into his head?

“Send word to Everard, Fay? If there is anything needed from the palace—”

“It is done already,” King Louis said, pointing to Princess Constance, who was sending a page below to discover the extent of their champion's injuries.

In the meantime, Prince Raymond announced the winner. “Champion of Antioch, Dominus Brochard. Esteemed Knight Templar, brave warrior, congratulations!”

Dominus bowed his head, remaining on his horse.

Princess Constance stood next to her husband with a smile. “The usual prize for winning a joust is money, which you may not have, or a kiss, which you may not have.”

The crowd of nobles and peasants alike laughed. Dominus lifted his shield in acknowledgement.

“I will grant you a boon of your choosing,” she said.

His mount shifted beneath him, and he looked up with a thoughtful expression. “I would ask for your prayers, Princess Constance, for the safekeeping of our Christian faith.” He lifted his shield as if rallying troops, and the crowd went wild.

“From the Turks. The Muslims. From anybody who would see us abolished.”

He bowed and left the field, a grinning Everard leading Dominus's horse.

The applause finally died away, and Mamie sat back down on the bench to endure the rest of the day. He had told the page he was fine. But was he? She sipped her wine, wishing she could help Dominus remove his armor, his helmet. Assist him in his bath.
Hmm.

Dominus's blue eyes had blazed behind the metal visor, meeting hers but briefly before he'd bowed his head once more. Not married, not a Templar . . .

The afternoon inched by as the falconers showed off their skills. Hawks and other trained birds of prey did tricks for raw pieces of meat.

She'd been a decent falconer, knowing the rudiments of the sport without enjoying the kill as much. She'd loved the flight of the birds as they'd headed directly upward before swooping down with such grace and speed.

To fly such as that?

Impossible, she knew, and the closest she'd ever come was racing the fields with her horse. Or falling in love, which was like that too. Rushing so fast, your heart racing as you dared to push the limits.

Crashing on the rocks when love died. Physical pleasure could be relied upon without the heart's involvement. Things were safer that way.

Mamie loved children as if she were their mother, only to be asked to move on. As if her maternal love did not matter. She'd lost husbands, something she did not plan on risking again.

A lover was someone she could control.

A husband was given control over her.

Bo had crawled over all of their laps, but Mamie did not mind when he settled on hers. His sticky hands and curly hair were just what she needed to think of something other than Dominus. Except he'd saved Bo's life—the wanting started all over again.

Eleanor, cheeks flushed from wine and the heat of the day, applauded as a falconer sent a ribbon toward the stage, announcing a gift for the queen.

Princess Constance smiled, looking on in approval, though Mamie observed her hands tightening over the armrest.

“To the most beautiful queen in all of Outremer,” the falconer said with a flourish.

The falconer did not deliberately slight the princess with his words, for the princess could not be queen. Raymond, also merry with wine and entertainment, applauded the gift. Mamie wondered why Constance was upset.

“We are known for our beauty and wit in the south,” Raymond said, holding a hand toward the railing. “Aquitaine.” The crowd laughed as the trained falcon plucked a ribbon from the prince's sleeve and offered this one to Eleanor as well.

“The falcon chooses you as the most fair,” Raymond conceded with a bow of acknowledgement. “More beautiful than I, my niece.”

Eleanor sighed with exaggeration, obviously pleased. “Thank you, everyone, for your gracious compliments.” She took both ribbons and tied them loosely around the falcon's neck.

The falconer whistled, and the bird flew back to his padded arm.

“I miss flying my hawk,” Eleanor said. “Such sport.”

“We could not bring them on Crusade. Bishop Clairvaux was right to remind us of the extra work the birds would be,” Louis said, giving Eleanor's arm a pat. “They would not have survived Laodicea.”

“I do not need the reminder. Let us enjoy today without bringing up the past!”

Mamie cringed at the queen's sharp tone.

Raymond leaned over Eleanor, speaking to Louis, Jocelyn, Odo, Fay, and Mamie. He gestured with a full goblet of wine, dripping it onto the stage. “Eleanor was always a great hunter. Better than most men.”

He drank.

Louis leaned back, out of Raymond's spilling range. “My wife is most skilled in many subjects.”

“Hard to keep up with someone like her, eh?” Raymond agreed with his own comment. “A man would never grow bored in her company.”

Mamie cleared her throat, uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was going.

Eleanor laughed.

“King Louis is very busy being king. I fear he does not appreciate
all my talents. I like to dance and sing, and he likes to pray.”

Louis's expression darkened. “I have two left feet,” he said in quiet, sober tones. “As you have remarked upon.”

Fay gave Eleanor's chair a kick.

The queen startled, then leaned so that she and Louis were shoulder to shoulder. “I am sorry for that. I am impatient and quick to anger over silly things. You did not know the dance and were a good sport to even try it.”

Mamie breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“We southerners are born dancers,” Raymond said with a shrug. “Blessed.”

Constance rose in a sudden motion. “Bo and I are tired,” she said, waiting for Raymond to realize she was leaving.

He did, rising as well. “Shall I go with you?”

Clearly perturbed, she said, “Someone should stay with our guests until the tournament is over.”

“What is left?” Eleanor asked.

“Acrobats. Lions.”

“Lions!” Bo screamed with glee.

“He can sit with me, Constance,” Raymond said.

The princess lifted her chin.

“We will keep an eye on him,” Mamie offered, hoping to soothe tempers.

“All right. There will be no official supper but a light repast offered in the smaller dining hall. I will have the service set out. Do not wait for me to begin.”

Dragging her husband with her, Lady Hortencia offered to walk back with the princess.

“I would appreciate the company,” Constance whispered.

Mamie realized that Constance was upset and blaming Eleanor for the disruption with Raymond.

Odo, eyes narrowed like a rat's, watched as well.

She leaned across him, digging an elbow into his leg. “Sorry,” she said. “My queen, would you like to come with me for a tart?”

Jocelyn, a fair-looking man with hazel eyes and full beard, nodded. “That sounds delicious. I would go with you. We could bring back enough for everyone.”

Dear heaven. Mamie wanted the queen away before things
worsened. She had no wish to traipse the grounds with the count.

“I am not hungry,” Eleanor declared.

“I want a pastry,” Bo shouted, bouncing on Mamie's lap.

“I thought you wanted to see the lions,
mon champion
.” She smoothed her hand over his red cheeks. Excitement had made him tired.

“Lady Mamie, I want to see the lions while I eat a berry tart.”

“Your son”—Eleanor laughed heartily, placing a hand on Raymond's arm—“he wants it all.”

“And your daughter?” Raymond asked. “Is she the same?”

“We have not seen her in a year,” Louis lamented. “Though when we left, she was sweet-tempered.”

“More like Louis than me,” Eleanor admitted.

Odo sniffed.

“I know you agree, Odo,” Eleanor said with a shake of her finger in the advisor's direction. “I am many things, and I have no illusions regarding them, for good or ill.”

King Louis sent his advisor a warning look.

“I look forward to having a son.” Louis smiled at Eleanor, who bowed her head. “Do you have children, Jocelyn?”

“None. Too busy fighting to settle down. Once Edessa is properly fortified, I will be able to think of a family. Sons, daughters. I am in no hurry.”

Mamie saw the look Raymond gave Eleanor, a hint of complicity that did not bode well. What were they planning?

They sent a page to get the tarts so Bo could watch the lions
and eat his sweets. The acrobats twisted and leaped about with ease.

“Fay can do that,” Mamie said as one of them tumbled across the ground after leaping from another's shoulders.

Jocelyn looked amused. “You, pretty and delicate Lady Fay? I do not believe it.”

Louis shook his head. “Do not doubt them, whatever you
do. You will have cause to regret it. My wife's personal companions
are supremely gifted.”

Eleanor seemed pleased, but Mamie saw her pinky twitch. Was
it because Louis referred to her guards as personal companions?

“I can do a few things,” Fay admitted.

“Can you juggle?” Bo asked, leaving Mamie's lap for Fay's.

“
Oui
.”

“Can you swallow fire?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Fay asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Only magicians can do that.”

“I would like to see you juggle,” Jocelyn said, his interest in Fay obvious. “Can you teach us?”

“Very well,” Fay agreed. “Tomorrow morning, if you want to learn. I will be at the upper courtyard after breakfast.”

Jocelyn lifted his cup. “I will be there.”

“Can I, Papa? Learn to juggle?”

“
Oui
. I think I should learn too.”

King Louis tugged at the end of his thin mustache. “What have we begun? A pilgrimage to the holy land, where we juggle and tumble into the city of Jerusalem.”

Odo's mouth thinned at the levity. “Sacrilege.”

“Pah,” Raymond said, finishing his wine. “A life without laughter—that is sacrilege.”

The morning after the tournament, Mamie woke up with a start, feeling as if something was terribly wrong. Her head ached from too much sun, too much wine, and too much worry. But it was not that . . .

She nudged Fay, who slept next to her.

“Hmm?” Her friend and fellow guard pulled the blanket from over her eyes and blinked, reminding Mamie of a gray-eyed kitten, including the pink nose.

“Did you hear the queen come in last night?”

Fay jolted awake, and she leaped from the bed as if it were on fire. Her light brown hair streamed behind her, her knees pale as the chemise hitched upward. She went to the connecting door, which was shut when they'd had it open.

She pushed at it as quietly as possible, peering into the room before dragging it silently closed and creeping back into the bed.

“Eleanor is there, and Larissa is snoring in the trundle.” Fay's somber tone reminded Mamie that they'd been right to worry.

“We were up very late. She was supposed to be directly behind us.” Mamie shivered with foreboding. “I have never been one to believe in portents—”

“Not even after Daphne?”

“I do not know
what
that was. I do not think about it.” Mamie bit a fingernail. “But I do not feel good about last night at all.”

Eleanor had walked back to the palace with Raymond, after Jocelyn had pulled Louis away for a private conversation. Some nonsense about relics in Constantinople, which everyone could see was a ruse to get the king's ear.