Rose (33 page)

Everard's laugh gave plenty of warning. He was on his way back to the room. Dominus, on his knees, finished his prayer and made the sign of the cross before looking up.

“Everard! Where have you been?”

Everard winked knowingly. “I was assisting with the dishes in the kitchen. Brother Walker has some interesting stories that I know for a fact would not be approved by our commander.”

“Of his life before the Templars?” Dominus guessed.

“He was married five times. Outlived all his wives. He was rich, too, but since he had no living children, he decided to give all his wealth to God. Now all he does is pray and eat. And wash dishes. Before praying again.”

Dominus smiled but then frowned as he was hit with a realization. Perhaps he had been looking in the wrong place. “I have been kept in my room, away from the company of the others. Bartholomew leads the prayers,
oui
?”

“Normally, this is true. Tonight, Brother Walker led them since the commander was called away.” Another wink. “As you know.”

Dominus raised a brow, not willing to be led on a merry tangent about things Everard did not need to know. “He leads prayers. In the church?”

Everard nodded. “Where else?”

“He is still gone?”

Everard slowed his nod. “What are you thinking?”

“I would like to see the church.”

“I can see no harm in that.” Everard shrugged. “Come. I will take you.”

Dominus followed the younger knight from the room and
down the hallway. They took a series of turns, passing the dining area filled with long trestle tables and simple wooden benches.
Candles sat in the center of the tables as men read in silence.

They walked a bit more, then turned left into the church. A vestibule and a dozen sturdy pews filled the small area. A plain altar with a white lace cloth and a hefty Bible.

Would Bartholomew dare to ferment a rebellion in God's house?

If the fanatic Templar thought it would gain favor, no doubt remained in Dominus's mind.

“Everard! Dominus?” The two knights turned at the commander's stern voice. “What are you doing here?”

Dominus bowed his head, in trouble once more. “I was hoping to borrow a Bible. Mine was ruined in the flood at Ephesus.”

Everard said nothing, though they hadn't discussed a Bible at all.

“Jocelyn de Courtenay, Count of Edessa,” the man next to Bartholomew said as he held out a hand. “My thanks for coming all this way to fight the infidel. Have we met? You won the joust in the tournament. Congratulations.”

“
Merci
.” Dominus shook the Count of Edessa's hand, taking
stock of the man in that one shake. More enamored of food and
a title than keeping Christianity in Outremer. “Dominus Brochard.
It is my honor to do God's work.”

Bartholomew's lip twitched as if he did not quite believe
it. “There are Bibles at the end of each pew. If you return it by morning, you may read from it for the evening. How is your head?”

Dominus rubbed his scabbed scalp. “It itches, but the cream from the physician helps.”

“He had a reaction to the shaving powder,” Bartholomew told Jocelyn, as if such a thing were ludicrous.

“Is there a particular passage you are looking for?” Jocelyn asked.

His fortune, Dominus thought, to be discovered out of his room by a nobleman interested in prayer.

“My mind is restless, and I thought scripture would help calm me enough to sleep.”

“A cup of hot spiced wine would do too.” Jocelyn winked.

Likeable. But was he a leader of men? Or was that what Bartholomew thought to do? Dominus looked away, tucking
away the thought for later. Popular opinion seemed to agree that Jocelyn was not strong enough to hold Edessa. Did Bartholomew
want the honor? Jocelyn the puppet; Bartholomew directing the strings.

“A luxury from before my days as a Templar.” Dominus tried to keep his voice humble, but he managed to anger the commander anyway.

Bartholomew's cheeks reddened. “How long have you been a Templar?”

“A year,” Dominus smiled and shrugged.

“You have spent enough time in service to understand the rules.” The commander spoke in clipped tones.

“
Oui
. Most of it on horseback.”

“More prayers, perhaps, would be good for your soul.”

Count Jocelyn looked from the commander to Dominus, as if finally noticing the rancor between the two men.

Everard cleared his throat. “Let me choose a Bible, and we will
hurry back to the room. Thank you for letting us borrow one.”

Dominus did not feel particularly grateful, but he followed Everard's lead. He nodded to both as they left. “I can feel the commander staring holes into my back.”

“He does not like you.”

“Nor do I care for him.”

“You should hide it better or else you will never be allowed to leave the Templar House.”

“I have things I must accomplish.” Like meeting Mamie again in the grove. He would risk a dozen punishments to see her again. He had to make her see that he cared for his family, which was why he had agreed to this hell.

“You will get further with humility,” Everard advised.

Dominus rubbed his tender scalp. “I know you are right, but it is difficult.”

“Pride.” Everard nodded and smiled. “Man's downfall.”

“I was not aware of what a sinner I'd been before joining the Templars.” Dominus accepted the Bible and sat on the edge of his bed. “I might have had more fun.”

“I'd wager you had plenty of fun. You must have been a nobleman,
oui
?”

“Minor nobility, with a crumbling old keep and a hungry fishing village.” Dominus sighed. He missed home, which came
as something of a surprise. He had to go back for the children. He remembered his oldest brother's son giving him the Brochard
brow before he'd left, as if not quite believing he'd be back. When had the haughty eyebrow lift taken hold? Age ten?

“I assumed as much. Nobles have a way about them that's different than regular folk.”

“Different how?”

“Privileged. There is nothing wrong with it. But I would also wager that Bartholomew is
not
nobly born. He resents the pride you walk with.”

Dominus set the Bible on the bed and got to his feet. “I
want to know everything there is to know about our commander.”
He snapped his fingers. “Do you think Brother Walker will still be in the kitchen?”

Mamie watched the sun's light creep across the room as stealthily
as a thief. Fay slept on, her features as smooth as a napping child's. Sunshine inched closer to her unwary face, but they had not shut the curtain last night. If Mamie moved now, she risked waking her friend. If she waited, the sun would do it.

The scritch-scratch of the queen's quill held but a portion of her attention, so she allowed her mind to wander.

Hope, that ugly, dangerous emotion, curled around her heart like an asp. Dominus kindled a love bright and strong within her, beyond where she'd expected anyone to breach. She'd thought herself safe, positioned behind jokes and lovemaking. With a kiss, Dominus had connected them forever. Then he'd mucked things up, telling her she was better off barren. In the court, like a bejeweled bird. Free to drink and make love?
Fool.

A drop of sun kissed Fay's nose, and she turned to her side, facing the wall.

Love and passion drove Eleanor, something they had in common. In ancient times, the queen would have been in her glory, ruling and loving without a man at her side—unless she chose. Aphrodite was worshipped for her strengths. Was this business with Raymond part of the warning in the grove?

The sound of Eleanor's quill retuning to the inkstand coincided with the sun reaching across Fay's shoulders. She woke, rubbing her eyes as Eleanor slipped a piece of parchment under the door—right between the stool legs.

Mamie put a finger to her lips, waiting to pick the note up until the queen's footsteps crossed the room and she heard the creak of the bed as Eleanor got in.

She took the letter and quietly tiptoed to the bed she and Fay shared. After Mamie unsealed it, they each read to themselves.

Eleanor was cancelling their scheduled outing, not feeling well. They were ordered to send a letter that Larissa would give them later to the bishop, which meant a trip into the city. Fay
was to befriend Lady Hortencia and Jocelyn of Edessa, and Mamie
was to stick to Constance. She did not want to be disturbed until after dinner, perhaps even supper, when she might take a light repast in her room.

She did not want to see anyone, especially Louis. She had signed her name with larger letters.

“What is her plan?” Fay whispered.

“I do not know,” Mamie said. “She was up writing all night. I heard her being ill and Larissa helping her. I hope she is all right.”

“Poison?”

Mamie shrugged. “Nobody else has been sick.”

“We are jumping at shadows,” Fay said. “What am I supposed to do with Lady Hortencia? The woman has no life outside of her husband and his clothing business.” She scrunched her nose. “And Jocelyn stole a kiss yesterday—I tossed an apple at his head. We will not be friends. At least with Constance, you have Bo to entertain you.”

“I will send a note to the women, alerting them to our queen's illness, though extending our offer to go. We can be together and still see the market.”

“The letter to the bishop?”

“Simple enough for one of us to slip away. We are supposed to see a man named Tallow. A candle maker.”

Fay nodded, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her shins. “I am tired of this journey. I hope that reaching Jerusalem is worth the angst, but I wish I were home. Even Paris, with its dreary skies, would be better than this. At least then our king and queen would be together. We could train in the garden, as we used to do. Tossing knives at apples until we cleaved them in two.”

“Isabella was best at that,” Mamie whispered. “I miss them. Catherine and Sarah. Especially Sarah, though she could be so mean.”

Fay put her hand on Mamie's forearm. “She was hurting inside so badly. Filled with regret and a babe she did not want.”

“I would have cared for it. Gone to England, where she would not be burdened. But she
died.
” Mamie's eyes welled, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek until she drew blood. She regretted the words instantly.

“She told me once that she'd never wanted children. If she
could have given the babe to you, she would have. I think it was difficult for her to be around you when she knew she had what you want
ed most—and what she didn't want at all. She called God cruel.”

A tear brimmed over. “We could have agreed on that.”

Fay reached over and gave her a hug.

Mamie sniffed. “Dominus once asked if I would pray for a miracle once we reach Jerusalem.”

“Will you?”

“I stopped praying a long time ago. They are never answered.
I am barren, and nothing can fix that.”

“That is sad, Rose.”

“It is the truth. After being hurt and disappointed, one learns there are other ways to find fulfillment. Even happiness.” She wiped her cheeks until they were dry. “I am the happiest woman I know.”

Fay smiled, her eyes dark gray with concern. “There is a saying about the person who laughs the loudest. That they have the most pain to hide.”

“Do not look so close, Fay.” Mamie pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “What miracle will you pray for?”

“My prayers are answered every day,” she said. “I am with the queen, my family. I am in worthy service to her, where I will stay, God willing, as long as she has need of me.”

“That is beautiful. Honorable.”

“It is what lives in my heart. Well, that and the desire for vengeance against Odo and Thierry for their part in destroying a royal union.”

“No regrets for a husband? Children?”

“We will not be so long in the tooth by the time we return. Those things may be in my future.” Fay laughed softly. “Shall we go find some bread and cheese? I will miss the pomegranate juice and the bathhouse.”

Outdoor plans were for naught as the sun's rays turned into
a rare spring rainstorm. Three days later, Eleanor finally agreed to leave her chamber and join them all for a breakfast in the Ivy Room.

Whereas other women might look ill, Eleanor looked fragile. Vulnerable. The men were absent, which was one of the reasons
the queen had agreed to come.

“I do not want to see Louis. My heart is sick that we cannot come to a simple compromise.”

“You have not spoken?” Mamie held a hand over Eleanor's. The veins beneath her flesh protruded.

“Letters, back and forth.”

“Why won't you talk?”

“I am weakened in his presence, when I need resolve. He claims to love me, but how do I know it is true?”

Mother Mary's toes
, Mamie thought.
Everybody knows it's true.

“Are you feeling stronger?” Mamie pressed.

“I think I was poisoned,” Eleanor whispered just as they neared the servants by the front door—where Mamie could say nothing about it.

They walked into the room, where Constance and Lady Hortencia and a few other ladies sat among the chairs and couches and watched the rain.

“Eleanor!” Constance said when they arrived. She stood im
mediately, with her hands held out as if all past behaviors were forgotten. “I offered to send the palace physician. How do you feel?”