Queen Of Knights (39 page)

He had not offered his oath to the woman, and she had not called upon him to swear to what he had agreed, but merely accepted what he proposed.  To Saladin, as to all the men of the Moslem world, a sacred oath—one that could not be broken—must not only be sworn to the seeker of it, but to Allah, the compassionate, and Muhammad, his prophet.

When the challenge was over, no matter which champion was victorious, Saladin knew he would have a new slave in his bed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE
reality of the past days held a tenacious grip on Gwendolyn's mind.  The confrontation with Saladin, and the lingering doubts about his agreement were only a part of what disturbed her.  She could not rid her mind of the visions she had been granted; of the strange and horrible future that awaited mankind.

What could man possibly do to make this world so different? And what could Miles's and her children do to save it? The guidance she had been given by the Druid priestess, her mother, and her father was gone; and with it, her ability to commune with them and learn more.

She felt deserted and alone for the first time in her life and almost wished she had never glimpsed the strange powers that ruled the universe.

But even as these thoughts bombarded her consciousness, she realized that with the loss of her otherworldly guidance, she must learn to depend more upon herself than ever before.  She still had the sword, and with it, its far-reaching powers.  But whatever other knowledge she would gain, would be because she had sought and learned it, with her heart and mind.

In the morning, she had released Valkyrie and bid him go to Miles and Saladin.  She wanted this final encounter to come so that she could either return home with Miles or end whatever dreams had been prophesied; for Gwendolyn had already accepted the fact that if she were to lose this fight, she would not become Saladin's slave.  Once she knew Miles was free, she would no longer continue her life.

Even as she thought this, she felt a strange hum pass through her.  Turning quickly, she saw the silver sword glowing.  She went to it and lifted it, wondering what had caused the sword to come to life unbidden.  When she held it in her hand, the humming eased, her mind calmed, and her confidence returned.

And so another new experience befell Gwendolyn.  She sat for an hour, holding the blade in a trance of healing she had been unaware of invoking.

She had desperately wanted to return to the crimson plane, to be able to see her husband, and to make certain her healing had restored his life and vitality.  But she would be denied that ability while she lived upon the earth.

Deep in her trance, the words of the old one returned to her, and with them came even more understanding.  Until then, rely you must, on our first earthly link.  In the sadness of her loss, and in her need to visit Miles, Gwendolyn had forgotten those last words.

Within the trance nothing else existed, and she focused her considerable energy to deciphering the priestess's words.  She went back in time, bringing out memories of her earliest years.  She lived again in the castle of her stepfather and searched through the years for some hint of an ethereal link, but found none.  She followed her life, and her move to Devonshire.  She relived the weeks, months, and years of her path to maturity.

She remembered the first time she learned of her father and the silver sword.  But the sword had only given her the barest glimmer of what she would become.  No, the sword had not been the link.  She remembered her mother's death, and then remembered finding Valkyrie, and nursing him back to health shortly after Gwyneth's passing.

In the trance, her mind absorbed with her task, Gwendolyn was again fourteen and riding on the moors of Devon in the early spring.  She released the golden eagle, returning to it its freedom.  But Valkyrie had not accepted the gift.  He had flown back to her and stayed with her, never once leaving her side unless she told it to.

Unless she spoke to Valkyrie! The sword glowed brightly within the chamber, but Gwendolyn saw it not.  She concentrated and saw the golden eagle.  She remembered every time she had spoken to her friend, and how he had always done what she'd asked.  She had never questioned this before, just accepting it in the way she had so many of the things in her life.

It had to be Valkyrie; there was no other possibility.

Slowly and carefully, Gwendolyn formed a mental picture of the giant eagle, trying with all her might to establish contact with him.

The sword vibrated in her hands, and even in her trance, she knew the chamber glowed with bright light.  Then there was a strangeness within her mind, an alienness she'd never known before.  But she could not understand this thing and forced herself to delve deeper.

Then she was seeing the desert below her, far, far beneath her as she had never before.  The smallest stone could be seen perfectly, and the colors of the sands were enhanced and magnified with crystal clarity.

Then Gwendolyn understood.  She was seeing through the eyes of Valkyrie.  He had been her link! Valkyrie had been sent to her to watch over her by the powers who guided her.  The sadness and loss that had left such emptiness within her began to ease as the knowledge that she was not alone came to her aid.

She gladly lost herself to the desert she viewed through Valkyrie's eyes and journeyed with the giant eagle to Jerusalem, and to Miles.

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The call to prayer echoed through the streets of Jerusalem, and Miles listened to it in the solitude of his chamber.  Nothing had changed since he'd awoken the morning after Gwendolyn had healed him.  Aliya came twice daily, and the guards ignored him, thinking him to be dying.  But with each visit, Aliya brought more news.

The night before, Aliya had delivered more than news; she had brought Miles a small, yet deadly sharp dagger.  It now rested beneath the cushion nearest his head, waiting for him to call upon its use.

In the morning, Aliya had come with more news.

Information that boded ill times ahead.  Since Saladin's return from his meeting with Gwendolyn, he seemed to have become obsessed with her.  Aliya said the rumors in the harem were heated, and that Saladin took no woman to his bed.  All he spoke of was Gwendolyn, and of the day he would possess her.

"But he is in the heart of a dilemma," Aliya had said.

"Explain.”

"Saladin is a true Moslem.  He is a devout believer in Allah and Muhammad, his prophet.  Muhammad has decreed that none of the faithful may commit adultery.  Saladin is bound by this law, and although he is an honorable man, and a good leader, he is also a true son of the desert.  There are none more devious than our race," she had added in a trembling voice.

Miles had listened, but could not comprehend what she had been trying to say.

"He may not bring your wife to his bed unless you pronounce the words of divorce."

"This I may not do, for my religion prohibits the act," Miles had explained.

"I know this, as does the emir.  Therefore, you must die before he can have your wife."

"He would not do that," Miles had argued, but Aliya had shaken her head violently.

"He would and he will! He is all-powerful.  You must try to escape."

"Aliya, until the challenge is done, he cannot do away with me."

"Who would tell your wife? Who would warn her that Saladin would have her no matter what the cost?"

"She would know of my death in the instant it happened," Miles had whispered to Aliya.

"Take precautions, Master, for death lurks everywhere for you," Aliya had warned.

For the rest of the day Miles had thought upon her words and realized they held some truth.  But there was nothing he could do about it, unless he could speak to Saladin himself and tell him of the futility of his plans.

The call to prayer ended, and Miles pushed the thoughts from his mind.  Somehow, he would find a way to thwart Saladin.

At the entrance to his chamber, his two guards knelt on their prayer rugs, facing east, which placed their backs toward the chamber entrance.  While they prayed, the large, dour guard on the left opened a pouch and tossed it inside the entrance.  Even as he called upon Allah in prayer, he heard a slithering movement behind him and smiled.  He would be greatly rewarded this day for taking such a wise initiative.  He had heard of Saladin's problem, and of the emir's desires.

Miles sat up and stretched his arms over his head.  Aliya would be here soon.  She always came within a few moments after the evening prayers.  But when he lowered his arms, he froze.

Four feet from him was the flat head and narrow eyes of a pit viper.  The snake's head was a foot above the ground, its long tongue flicking constantly in Miles's direction.  Moving slowly, he lowered his arm and began to search under the cushion.  As he did, the snake hissed loudly in warning.  He saw its head go back, and its dark body coil.  He froze again, and so did the deadly reptile.

Miles willed his body to obey him and, as sweat streamed down his face, he moved his hand imperceptibly toward the dagger.  His eyes locked on the snakes, and he watched every movement of his new adversary.

Then he touched the cold steel of the dagger and grasped it firmly.  He knew he would have only one chance, and that was a slim one.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Miles readied himself.  As he drew the dagger out, the viper hissed again and rose higher.  The long coiled body arched, and Miles flung himself from the cushions, his dagger held outward.

In that instant, several things happened at once.  He heard a woman's loud scream of fright, and an unidentifiable sound of rushing air as the viper launched itself at Miles.

The viper moved with lightning speed, but before it reached him, Miles saw a flash cross in front of him, and heard the loud war cry of Valkyrie.  The eagle caught the viper within its talons and began a dance of death with its deadliest of enemies.

The snake was no match for Valkyrie's deadly beak and within seconds, the viper's head was severed from its body.  Miles's breathing was harsh and his heart pounded.  Then he saw Aliya, her dark almond-shaped eyes wide with fear, staring at the dead snake.

Before Miles could stand and go to her, the two guards entered with drawn scimitars.  The largest saw the dead snake and the golden eagle who stood near it.  He yelled in rage at his foiled attempt and charged toward Valkyrie.

Reacting quickly, Miles turned the dagger in his hand and, in one smooth movement, flung it at the guard.  The blade entered the man's throat, and his bubbling cry was cut off by the death that claimed him.  His scimitar clattered loudly on the chamber floor, landing next to the golden eagle he had tried to kill.  The other guard broke free from his trance just as Miles reached the scimitar.  He lifted it and faced the man.

For the first time since his imprisonment, Miles faced a Saracen and was prepared to kill him.  The guard circled his prisoner warily, looking for the right opening.  Then he charged.  Miles deflected his blow easily, but the sound of their fight drew the guards from the courtyard, and when they saw what was happening, they, too, drew their weapons.

Aliya was still held in the powerful grip of fear, but when Miles and the other guard met, she broke free and ran from the room.  Love, not fear, lent speed to her feet.  Love made her do what all else would have feared.  She rushed past the two guards at the entrance of Saladin's audience chamber and flung herself at the emir's feet.

"They will kill him!" she cried.  "Your guards will kill Miles!"

Saladin stared at the slave for a moment before he stood.

"Speak! What are you saying?"

"A viper was sent to kill your prisoner! The snake is dead and now he battles your guards."

"Bring her!" he yelled, as he ran from his chamber to the one Miles was imprisoned in.  The woman was mad.  He had given no orders for Miles's death.  He had merely discussed several possibilities.

Miles was hard pressed to defend himself against the three Saracens, yet he fought on.  He battled the two in front while trying to stop the third from getting behind.  His scimitar blurred with reflected light from the oil lamps, and his feet carried him in a dance that confused his opponents.  Ducking under a wild blow, Miles parried another before spinning to thrust at the third man.  A shout of pain was his reward, but the man did not go down.

Then the three attacked him as one, and Miles was backed against the wall.  He thrust at one man, just as another screamed.  Valkyrie had joined the fray, his talons digging into the defenseless back of one guard.  The man screamed and spun, trying to dislodge the eagle, but Valkyrie's talons were deeply imbedded in his flesh.  His terrified cries of pain broke the concentration of the other two, and Miles took advantage of this.

With a sweeping stroke of the scimitar, he broke through one guard's defense, the shining blade drinking of the man's lifeblood.  Then he faced but one.  The guard attacked him in a frenzy that Miles met with equality.

Saladin burst into the chamber and stopped dead.  The sight before him shook him to his core.  A giant eagle fought one guard; two others lay dead in pools of their own blood, while Miles and yet another guard fought.

"Hold!" he yelled in a powerful voice, but it was lost on the two men who battled.

Drawing his scimitar, Saladin moved forward.  With one mighty swing, he killed the man who the eagle fought.  With his next, he laid open the back of the last guard.  The man stumbled back, pain and shock on his face as he stared at his king.

"Pig!" screamed Saladin.  His scimitar flashed again, and the guard's head parted company with his body.  Then Saladin turned to Miles, who held his scimitar in readiness.

Carefully, Saladin lowered his blade and stared at Miles.