Rose (19 page)

Eleanor fumed. “Where I come from, Aquitaine, women are not chattel, and they are most definitely not evil. The church in Paris is not as educated in its views. It has been hard.” She shook her hands as if to rid herself of negativity. “Enough of that. I thank you for the dry gowns, Lady Hortencia. Tell me, where are you from?”

“Champagne. My husband and I have been in Antioch over a year now for business. He owns a mill, and we are looking for cloth. I give you fair warning: if you ask him about any sort of fabric, you will be inundated with details.” She shook her finger at them all as Mamie laughed.

Fay gathered the blanket, shook it out, rolled it up, and tied it to the back of her horse. “Do you like it here? Have you had any issue with the commander?”

“We do not cross paths much. The Templars have their own house separate from the castle, on the opposite side of the stables. Herbert and I have a chamber in the palace.”

“Princess Constance seems lovely,” Mamie said.

“She has become a sister of the heart. I have never met such a generous woman. She's a wonderful mother too. Have you met her son, Bohemond?”

“Briefly,” Eleanor said, walking toward her white mare. “He looks just like his father.”

“They make a handsome couple.” Hortencia whistled, and her horse came into the grove, plodding toward his mistress. She mounted, using a nearby rock for leverage into the sidesaddle. She faced forward, twisting her body so that her feet rested on a flat board rather than a stirrup. It allowed for a lovely seat, but for a long journey? Mamie much preferred riding astride.

“Thank you for coming to get us,” Mamie said, directing her golden Bahi toward the trail.

“I look forward to sharing a cup of wine with you,” Lady
Hortencia said. “I can bring the scrolls regarding the local legend
about the waterfall. Did you make a wish?”

“Several,” Fay said in a droll manner.

“Well, send a servant for me, and we can meet in the courtyard, all of us.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Eleanor said. “We shall tempt Constance to leave her duties and join us too.”

Mamie left the grove last, sending a look over her shoulder at the waterfall. Water glistened, and energy shimmered around the small pool. Was it the spirit of Daphne or Apollo or another entity entirely who wanted her to understand that the world all around them was love?

“Thank you,” she whispered, a shiver running through her.

They reached the sturdy Roman road without incident, though Mamie kept alert. Yesterday there was the arrow from the Turks, and today Bartholomew had revealed a possible conspiracy against the king. She remembered Eleanor's idea of the
ships being deliberately taken off course. What if these things were not coincidence? What if someone was sabotaging the Crusade?

Bahi, sure-footed, climbed the steep path up the mountainside toward the palace. They entered the same gate they'd left
through and made their way around the edge of the teeming city.

“Tomorrow,” Eleanor declared, pointing to the chaos, “I wish to see the bazaars and churches.”

“Just tell me when, and I will get everything ready,” Mamie said.

“The city is dangerous,” Lady Hortencia cautioned.

“I have my ladies,” Eleanor said. “I trust them with my life.”

“That is what Commander Bartholomew said you told him.” She turned her pretty face toward Eleanor. “Still, he should have waited.”

Eleanor said nothing, just smiled and followed Lady Hortencia
toward the palace.

Mamie looked behind them at the palace guard escort. She narrowed her eyes, picking out a certain blue-eyed knight toward the rear. He caught her looking and gave a half salute.

Dominus.

What was he thinking, disobeying his commander?

She waited, whistling to signal she'd stopped.

Fay waved in acknowledgment and stayed with the queen.

Dominus brought his gray destrier next to her gorgeous golden girl. Bahi tossed her head, as if flirting.

My horse, kindred spirit.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I would escort you safely.”

“And I told you I did not require such a thing.”

He shrugged. “I blended in with the guard. What gave me away?”

I felt your presence.
“I am a bodyguard for the queen. It is my duty to know who and what is around her.”

Nodding, Dominus gripped his reins. “What did you think of Bartholomew asking the queen about Edessa?”

Mamie stilled. Why had he asked? Was he part of the council?
He had stayed at the edges of their party since France. Spying? Or guarding, as she had thought? “I do not get involved in court games.”

His quirked mouth showed what he thought of that.

She steadied her mount. “Usually. Besides, it is between the queen and her uncle.”

“I would say it is between the queen and her husband.” Dominus
sat astride his horse with confidence and ease. A man comfortable in himself. But there was more to Dominus, something hidden she would uncover.

“The matter of Edessa rightfully belongs between Raymond and Louis, as heads of state. Though I promise you that Eleanor would not like being cut from the equation. Her duchy and the accompanying vassals provided a large portion of fighting men for this quest. She has a stake in the outcome as well. Thierry and Odo would like the king to forget that, but it would be at his peril to do so.”

“I trust your observations,” he said. “I did not know what to make of the situation, being unfamiliar with royal ways.”

“Can you explain the Templar involvement?” Mamie did not care for Bartholomew, putting him in the same category as Odo and Thierry. Rats.

He brushed a dark blond curl from his forehead, but a breeze put it back. He frowned. “The Knights are involved because of the Outremer states. It is their duty to protect them as well as the pilgrims making their way toward Jerusalem. With Edessa in Turkish hands, the way is not safe.”

“
Their
duty?” She realized that he spoke as if he were distant from the issue. She surmised because he had been on Crusade for so long, he was not a part of local politics.

“Ours,” he said. “I was thinking of talking with Patriarch Aimery. As the religious leader of Antioch, he might have the most current answers on what the pope wants regarding the Crusade.”

Mamie sidled closer, talking in a whisper. She could almost touch his leg. Spiritually strengthened from her time in the grove, she allowed herself to trust her feelings of safety with Dominus. “We should not be speaking of these things. It would be simpler if every faction wanted the same thing. But if I've learned anything about royalty, it's that nothing is simple.”

He laughed, startling his horse, which he calmed immediately
with a stroke of its mane. “That is life. Royal or no.”

“You are correct—again.” She loved his laugh, a rare sound.

“Give me a stallion and sword and an enemy to fight, and I am content. This”—he waved toward the palace—“is not my strength.”

“What, this?” She studied him. “Intrigue?”

He exhaled. “I like knowing the face of the enemy. Here.” Briefly touching his hand to hers, he said, “I did not know that Bartholomew was going to confront the queen. Or even that he planned on joining us.”

“If you had, would you have warned me?” Her glove warmed in the place he'd touched it.

He frowned. “I had not asked myself that. I . . . I don't know.”

“Honestly spoken.” She sat straight, finding solace in her belief he said the truth. What did she
want
from this situation? She found herself caring for a man she could never have. If friendship were the only way to be in his life? But the Templars did not allow that either. “I am not the enemy, Dominus.”

“I know.” He rubbed his beard, a few shades darker than the curls on his head.

Heart lighter, Mamie smiled. “I am glad of it.”

“But if you are not the enemy, and I am not the enemy—who is?”

Mamie heard a whistle and looked up. Fay and Eleanor waited at the palace gate, and she could see they would not enter without her.

“We need to discuss this in further detail,” Mamie said.

His mouth thinned. “Go. I will find a way to contact you. I need your help, Mamie. May I trust you?”

“The queen comes before anything else.” It was the best she could offer.

Dominus trailed behind the palace guard, waiting until Mamie, Fay, and the queen were inside the locked wooden gate. Then he
turned back around and went to the city center, pausing to remove
his white robe and wear the brown he'd carried in his bag. He
was looking specifically for a candle maker by the name of Tallow,
who had his own shop.

After finding the right street, he tied his horse to a post.
Taking a coin from his hidden wallet, he paid a boy to stand guard over the mount and walked until he came to the storefront.

An Englishman, pale-skinned and red-cheeked, greeted him with a grin and handshake. “Candles, sir?”

Templars were given just enough coin for a purpose and no more. Dominus did not care for this way of doing business, so he broke the rule. Money greased hands and answered questions far better than a please or thank-you.

“A dozen of your finest. I will be sending them to Rome.” He would be sending them to France, actually, but that was not the code phrase.

The Englishman's grin faltered. “Rome?” He looked at Dominus's plain robe and sized him up. “My best selection is in the back. Come with me.”

Dominus followed him inside the dark shop, his shoulders brushing the narrow walls. The man went behind a curtain and gestured for Dominus to squeeze in. Once there, the room brightened with candles, but the space was still tight.

“Rome?” Master Tallow repeated.

“That is what I was told,” Dominus said, patting his leather wallet. “Do you have anything for me?”

“Aye. Two missives, actually. Let me reach behind you . . .” The man took out a candle box, which turned out to be empty, except for two sealed packets.

Perhaps the bishop had gotten worried when he hadn't heard anything while they were out at sea. Dominus thumbed the seals, ensuring they were still fastened. “I have a letter I would like to send, along with the candles—to France, though.” The secret network of people in the church's employ amazed him. From the time they'd left France, Dominus had been sending and receiving messages with no other soul the wiser.

Dominus traded his sealed letter for the two and gave the man enough coin for candles and a bit more for his trouble.

“Thank ye. We have another shipment due in a day or two.”

“I will be back, Master Tallow.”

He left, gathering his horse and walking him toward the water. The Orontes River teemed with boats and people. His own village was on the Atlantic Ocean, where his family had provided sustenance for over a hundred years.

Yes, the Duchy of Byronne was small, but it had staying power. Why had his brothers borrowed so heavily against the property? He had never wanted it, but here he was giving up everything to save the mildewing heap of rock. No, he did not give a denier for the keep. It was the children who tore at his sense of honor. Where would they go if he walked away? If he did not finish the quest for the bishop?

Dominus made his way toward a shaded tree out of the way of the masses, when he heard Everard call his name.

Damn it.

Wishing he'd read the letters in the candle maker's shop, Dominus turned toward the younger knight. “Everard. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he said, not bothering with pretense. “Commander Bartholomew is wondering why you missed prayers.” He gave Dominus a sorrowful look. “We had more freedom on the caravan.”

Dominus nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing. I was taking in some air.”

Everard dismounted, stretching his legs. “You cannot turn around without someone at your elbow, watching to see if you are committing a sin. Not that I am complaining, because I am grateful for a roof and food in our bellies. Does it make me evil for wishing we were fighting Turks?”

“Not evil at all. That is what you are trained to do. Battle the enemy. And pray.”

Everard gave a single nod. “And pray and pray. I would do God's will, but it is sometimes hard to concentrate. The Templar House, despite its holiness, makes me think of sin.”

Dominus turned with a start.

Everard blushed, shifting. “Worldly things.”

Dominus had an idea he was talking about women in general
and Fay in particular.

“It is normal for a man to think thus. However, as a knight sworn to God, you have made an oath to be chaste.”

He didn't care for that oath either and looked forward to being free of it.

Everard heaved a sigh as if the weight of the world rested
upon his muscled shoulders. “I will ask for more strenuous chores. Chopping wood helps.”

Dominus hid his smile and clapped a hand on the younger knight's arm. “I will assist you. The blessing of being part of this fraternity is that you are not alone in your suffering.”

They mounted their horses and rode back to the stables,
where Bartholomew waited for them. His tanned features clouded
as he looked at Dominus's brown robes. Dominus bowed his head, realizing his mistake in not changing back.

“You wandered the city dressed in such a way? You are a Templar, not a regular knight free to do as he pleases.”

Dominus gritted his teeth. “I apologize. I wanted some time away from everyone, and I did not want to dirty the white.”

The commander drew himself up. “It seems as if you planned to commit a sin.”