Rose (8 page)

“Wait for me, Fay. Can you imagine living in those little villas on the mountain? Terraced, just like in Pergamum. They look like industrious beetles, scurrying around a hill.”

Dominus smiled to himself, looking forward to Mamie in
all her finery. And he spent the rest of the climb toward the palace
imagining her without it.

Mamie rode next to Fay, waving to the children who greeted them from the sides of the road. “I feel like I should explain that we are not the queen,” Mamie said, keeping her smile in place. “What are they doing?”

“Welcoming us?” Everard said.

The small outcrop of cottages suggested a village. There was a blacksmith and a potter tucked amongst the homes. “I would not want to live outside the palace walls,” Fay said, “though these people seem unafraid.”

“We do not come at them with drawn swords or a battle cry,” Dominus offered.

“That would change the way I thought about someone passing through, for certain.” Mamie smiled at Dominus before re
membering her sentiments toward him. Annoyed because she sensed his attraction to her. Frustrated because it could go nowhere.

They slowed as the road toward the palace gates narrowed. A girl of about eight ran up to Mamie, touching her shoe. “
En argente
?”

“Non,” Mamie smiled. “Not made of silver.”

The girl seemed fascinated, and Mamie halted her horse and allowed her to touch the shoe for herself. The girl took a straw figure from her apron pocket and lifted it up to Mamie.

Fay chuckled. “I think she wants to barter.”

Dominus ambled closer. “What is that?”

The child's mother ran up, her face red. “I am so sorry. Isla has a fondness for pretty things.”

“As do I.” Mamie looked closer, noting the rounded face and slack smile on the child. Ah. There had been a girl outside of Troyes who had similar features. Good-natured but slow.

Mamie leaned down to the mother. “May I give her my shoe? I warn you, it is not in the best condition, having survived much on this pilgrimage from France.”

The girl clapped and tugged at her mother's hand. “
Maman
?
S'il vous plaît
?”

The woman's eyes filled with tears. “It would mean so much to her.”

“What are you doing, Mamie?” Dominus asked.

“Making a trade. I happen to know an excellent value when I see one.” She questioned the mother as Isla handed over the straw figure. “Is this a queen with a crown?”

“We sell them at the marketplace. Our family has a table. This is Tyche, the goddess of Antioch. She carries wheat in her hand, and her crown is made of the ramparts around the castle. She is Fortuna. Good luck.”

“Just what I need,” Mamie said, running a thumb over the details in the woven straw. “May I pay you?”

The woman bowed her head. “A trade, as you said.” She touched Mamie's hem. “I will never forget your kindness.” She steered her laughing daughter back to a tidy cottage.

“So much for dancing,” Dominus said, his eyes the blue of the deeper sea and just as unfathomable.

Mamie couldn't speak until she'd swallowed past the lump
in her throat. Was there anything more powerful than a mother's
love? She'd felt it from her own mother but was unable to give it to a child of her own.

Mamie shrugged away her sadness and tucked her stockinged toes around the stirrup. “Come. I would see this palace. And have a cup of wine.”

Fay cantered ahead to where the road thinned. “We've ridden
so high I feel like my head is in the clouds.”

Mamie looked down the steep mountainside, then back up at the castle, which was built on a narrow ridge. Excellent for keeping the fortress safe from intruders but dangerous for navigation. Fay was right, and they were in the clouds. If her horse made one small misstep, her journey toward Jerusalem would be over. “Take care, Fay. I would live to see . . .” Mamie turned toward Everard, at her right. “What town comes next? I've been so concerned about reaching Antioch that I've not thought beyond that.”

“Daphne.” Everard's wispy hair fluttered in the light breeze. Despite his beard, his face retained an innocence she had not seen for a long time. Perhaps ever.

“Daphne?” A shiver started at the base of her spine and raced up her back. She was not one to believe in premonitions, but she did not disbelieve either. Mamie tucked the straw figure into her bodice: Tyche, for luck, facing forward into Antioch.
Luck.
And diligence. Pine trees and juniper bushes grew along the edges of the road, and two large ditches had been cut from the rock, ensuring safety on either side of the castle. The only way inside was across the ridge.

They passed through the first gate, riding four across, and entered the outer courtyard. Amid the bustling activity from permanent outbuildings, the residents ignored the steady stream of pilgrims making their way to the palace. A bailiff stood on one side, directing them.

Mamie heard Larissa's voice: “Lady Mamille!”

“You are in trouble now, Mamie.” Fay laughed. “
Mamille
.”

Mamie searched for Larissa, turning her horse toward the woman calling her name.

The handmaiden reached her horse and put a hand on Mamie's
stirrup. “What is it? Where is the queen?”

Frustration clouded Larissa's features. “The queen is with her uncle and the king. They are waiting for you in the front solar. Come now, and I will take you both.”

“We have our horses,” Mamie said, not wanting to meet the
infamous Raymond with only one shoe. Larissa's frown indicated
they were wanted at once. “What are we to do with them?” She looked around the busy courtyard but didn't see anyone to take their mounts.

Dominus spoke up from behind. “Everard and I will bring your horses to the stables. I suggest you watch where you step, Lady Mamille.”

She knew he was teasing her, but there was nothing for it. Urging her horse to the side, she and Fay dismounted and searched the ground for horse droppings.

Perhaps she could have been more gracious as she handed him the reins. “I will remember this, Sir Dominus. Thank you, Sir Everard.”

Fay offered her thanks, unable to keep from smiling. “Would you like to lean on me, Mamie?”

“What is wrong?” Larissa asked with concern.

“Nothing is the matter. I, er, lost a shoe.”

Dominus and Everard chuckled.

“Non!” Larissa looked down at Mamie's hem, which covered the offending stocking. Her eyes widened, and she burst
out laughing. “The queen asked that you come straight away. She cannot wait to introduce her brave guards to her favorite uncle!”

The men left, leading the ladies' horses. Weren't Templars supposed to be gentlemen? Dominus could have offered her his boot. Not that it would fit, but still, the path toward the castle was treacherous. Mamie slung an arm over Fay's shoulders.

“I thought the queen might need us,” Fay said. “You rarely look so flustered.”

“I was sent to wait for you a good while ago. Then I shouted for you, but you did not hear me.” Larissa shrugged. “The queen is in excellent spirits. Yet for some reason, she is not completely happy without you both at her side.”

“Where is your gratitude for us saving you from Turkish arrows?”
Mamie avoided steaming piles in the dirt, careful where to place her foot. With so many horses, such things were inevitable.

Larissa sobered. “Thank you.”

Mamie nudged the handmaiden's arm. “I was teasing. You have been very brave.”

Larissa shivered. “Nothing like an arrow through one's head to spice things up.”

“That's the way,” Fay said. “Are you certain that you won't be a guard?”

Larissa gave an exaggerated sigh. “No, thank you.”

The women walked up the palace steps. A uniformed servant directed them to a large airy room decorated in the Roman style with faux columns and a mosaic floor. Mamie tripped over her hem trying to depict the image. The Greek god Apollo?

Fay kept her upright. “Almost there. Big smile. God's bones. Raymond is
magnifique.”

Mamie glanced up and almost tripped again. “Our queen did not exaggerate, did she?”

The Prince of Antioch was tall, his dark hair streaked with
gold. His smile charmed and invited. His eyes seemed to be laughing at a joke everyone could enjoy. “Welcome!” Raymond said.

Eleanor walked toward them, dressed in a new gown of emerald
silk with sleeves that fitted to the elbow before dropping in a froth of lace to the floor. Hair in two visible plaits on either side of her face, a flowered caplet holding a gossamer emerald veil, a clean face that shone with love and happiness.

“It has been some time since she has been so happy,” Fay said quietly.

“
Mon fleurs
,” she said. “My guardians.” She held her arms outstretched but waited for Mamie and Fay to reach her rather than come to them.

Her brow quirked as she took in their travel-worn dress, but she kept her hands out.

“We are so relieved to see you safe,” Fay said with a hint of censure.

“Do not rebuke me, Cuz.” Eleanor laughed, sharing a look with Raymond. “Did I not tell you I would be in trouble for losing them on your boat?”

“I am indebted to you ladies for spotting the danger,” Raymond
said, his throat red. “I had a patrol out, but those Turkish archers
got by.”

King Louis met Mamie's gaze. “Thank you. Again. I have been reminded just how important the queen's ladies are.”

Mamie silently wished him well, knowing that Queen Eleanor would let him know his mistake of keeping her behind.

If he did not feel it keenly already.

Carefully keeping her balance as if she had two shoes, Mamie
nodded at Fay. “We were but doing our duty.”

Eleanor said, “Let me introduce you. Prince Raymond and Princess Constance, this is Lady Mamille of Rou and Lady Fay of Toulouse.”

The women curtsied, Mamie careful to keep her stocking hidden. Not as easy as it should be, standing partially on tiptoe.

Princess Constance, blonde with blue eyes, seemed to be in her early twenties. Her slim figure held a slight thickening around the waist. She was pretty but nowhere near Eleanor's beauty. She smiled and welcomed them to the palace.

“To Antioch.” Raymond hugged his niece, an arm around her shoulders. “Now that the formalities are over, we can finally talk as we used to do, so freely, in Aquitaine.”

“Your palace here is as cultured as anything we have there. You have created a wonder. Your father, my grandfather, would be proud.” She blinked, but Mamie saw the trace of moisture on a lower lid.

“William IX, Duke of Aquitaine and Gascony, and Count of Poitou. The Troubadour.” A pleased expression crossed Raymond's face. “What a scoundrel! I rarely saw him without a woman.”

“Just one?” Eleanor asked, her eyes bright.

“Two or three,” Raymond amended. “And how he laughed. I have a fair singing voice, Eleanor, but do not ask me to recite poetry.”

“I know a few of Grandfather's poems.” The queen held up a hand. “I would share them, but they are inappropriate. Do you remember Eremesse, Agnes, and the cat?”

“Ah, yes,” Raymond chuckled. “Wasn't the title ‘How the Count of Poitiers Pretended to be Mute'?”

“About the two pious women bringing a poor man home
and keeping him there for days for their own nefarious purposes.”
She tilted her head and laughed.

Mamie looked to King Louis, whose mouth seemed strained around the edges.

“Did you know the old man spent time in Antioch? It is right that you are here. It is becoming a family tradition to fight for Christianity far from Poitiers.” Raymond hugged his wife to him, kissing her rosy cheek. “Constance, we must make sure our guests are well taken care of.” Returning to Eleanor on his other arm, he said, “I have a banquet planned this evening in your honor and the king's.”

Mamie watched Louis's gaze narrow before the king nodded.
“We are honored.” He too wore a fresh robe of blue velvet with a gold surcoat that swept the floor. His fair hair seemed dull next to Raymond's dark locks, his cheeks thin due to the rough voyage while Raymond was in the peak of health.

Raymond clasped one of Fay's hands and one of Mamie's. “My good wife has new gowns laid out for you, small gifts. Whatever you need. If it is not there, tell me and I will get it for you.”

Mamie believed he would, which was probably part of his appeal.

He kissed Eleanor's cheeks. “A private female bodyguard?” Mamie heard the whisper because she was meant to. He winked, as if sharing a naughty secret. “Oh, Eleanor, I'd heard rumors.” He laughed. “Your audacity knows no bounds.”

“Should it?” She tapped his arm, coquettish as a girl.

“No, you are a duchess and a queen. I say you should do as you please. Devil take it.”

“Another family trait?” Mamie asked. “Singing, poetry, and tossing things to the devil?”

Raymond gave Mamie an appraising look, his voice deepening. “Are you always so witty?”

Mamie read the challenge in his gaze and responded, lowering her eyelids half-mast. He embodied raw masculinity.

“Non,” Eleanor mouthed.

Mamie blushed and averted her eyes.

“Rest before our meal,” Raymond instructed them all. “We will have dancing,”

“Dancing!” Eleanor clapped her hands together.

Mamie heard Louis groan.

“Wine and as much food as you can stuff in your belly. Which, from the look of you, you need.”

Eleanor put her hands to her cheeks. “Am I so terrible?”