Rose (35 page)

“So that he can control Outremer. He has not been quiet about that.”

“The king of Jerusalem might have a say against that.” She patted her hip, and he saw the slight bulge in her skirt hiding her sword.

“King Baldwin has Patriarch Aimery firmly in hand. But is that enough?”

“It has to be,” she said.

“I need to speak with the patriarch.”

“You will have to wait your turn. Eleanor is talking with him now.”

“About what?”

“I cannot say.”

Dominus drew back. “But we were talking.”

She blinked away the last traces of softness from her emerald eyes. “You were talking. I am a guardian of the queen. She is my first and only loyalty.”

“You are her bodyguard,” he said, walking around her with his hand on his chin. “Perhaps you do other things for her as well?” He nodded. “It makes sense that you would gather information. And how far would you be willing to go to get it?”

“I do whatever I must.”

His eyes simmered with hurt, then anger. She did not lie. Her heart ached, but she would not dishonor the emotions they'd shared.

“I do not believe you joined with me simply to gain information,” Dominus said. “In the grove?”

“Of course not.” She hardened her heart. “But it does not change that I gave the queen information you shared with me.”

“Like what? I did not have anything secret to keep.”

“The letters from the bishop. Your Meggie. The children.” Mamie lifted her chin, and he flinched. “We will be moving on soon. This will be our last meeting.”

He grabbed her shoulders and brought her mouth to his. She tried to hold herself back, but it was impossible. She responded to his kiss, reluctantly at first but then fully participating in the battle of their tongues. What if she never had the chance to kiss him again? She, the woman who indulged all of her senses, to be left with another broken heart?

He broke off the kiss. “I thought you loved me.”

“I never said so.” She spoke in a low voice, their mouths a hair's breadth apart. “The queen needs me now more than ever.”

“You are no better than Odo, his nose to the ground sniffing out rumors and secrets.” He stepped back, confused. “Is that your purpose?”

Mamie's lip quivered, so she pinched the inside of her forearm until it stopped. “I do not think I should answer any other questions.”

She stood perfectly still as he studied her, looking her over from head to toe.

“I have seen you behave with a lack of morals and utter abandon.”

He was hurt and wanted to strike out at her. Mamie dared not show emotion, despite the stab to the heart. “And your behavior is blameless?” she said, swallowing tears.

“No.” He kept his arms stiffly at his sides. “What does the queen want with the patriarch?”

Mamie held up a hand. “I do not know.” She fought off her stomach's sickness.

“I no longer trust you,” he said, his shoulders slumped.

“I never said you could. I told you I would do my best.” Mamie sniffed, the salty taste of tears at the back of her throat. “If I must choose between you and the queen, then I will choose the queen. Her safety is paramount. I have sworn an oath of loyalty to her. Understand I mean you no harm. The things you have shared with me, of your heart, they are between us.”

He backed away. “The queen's safety. What of it?”

“I would die for the queen.”

“And when this is over? This cursed Crusade?” Dominus rubbed the hair growing in at his scalp. “What will you do then? After you've given the best of your life.”

Being alone terrified her. Alone, unwanted. Unloved. She had earned the right to choose her path, and she would not dishonor herself by accepting less than her full worth. She tossed her hair. “I have a nice manor near Troyes. A stable full of gorgeous . . . horses. I will manage.”

He straightened so quickly his chin jerked. “I wish I could take it all back. God.” He closed his eyes. “That I hadn't fallen
in love with a woman who would bed a man for information. I went
against my better judgment, and for that, I cannot forgive myself.”

“It is better this way.” She blinked rapidly, refusing to cry. “You have your home to return to. Your family.”

“I do not want them. I told you that.”

She did not believe him. A man did not give up a year of his life unless the prize was worth it.

“They need you.”

“I am my own man.” He met her gaze full on.

“Then join me in Troyes.” Since he did not want to bring a jaded woman home to his family, he could come to her.

“To be another stud in your stable? No, thank you.”

Mamie heard the slamming of a heavy door near the palace courtyard and turned to Dominus with a finger to her lips. She gestured for him to follow her through the trees down the trail. They stayed hidden and watched the path.

Patriarch Aimery strode down the paved road, fury etched on his face. His hands, clutched into tight fists, swung at his sides. His red robe and golden mantle swept by them, his breath in angry chuffs like that of a horse run too hard.

She looked at Dominus, whose jaw was tight. He started to pull away, but Mamie cautioned him to wait.

Sure enough, that rat Odo scurried after the patriarch.

Instead of just following the man, Odo called, “Patriarch. Wait, please. Wait.”

The holy overseer of Antioch turned on a heel. Odo was so close behind that they almost bumped into one another.

“What do you want?”

Odo shrank back. “Holy Father.” He reached for the patriarch's hand. “I would ask what has you so upset. I could not help but hear you leave. Can I be of service?”

“You have done plenty already. I know who you are, Odo de Deuil. You have been entrusted with the king's faith, and instead you have led the queen down a road of matrimonial misery. I have been in contact with Bishop Clairvaux, and I swear upon your soul that if he and Eleanor do not get to Jerusalem together, you will never see the gates of heaven! Thierry and you have twisted a joyous union, and I will not have it.”

Odo's jaw dropped.

“You,” the patriarch said, poking Odo's chest, “get back in that palace and make sure the king and queen are happy.”

“But,” Odo said, “I, she—”

Patriarch Aimery of Limoges raised his head, and from behind
the trees Mamie felt the power of his oration. “God bless the union of King Louis and Queen Eleanor. Praise be to God.”

Odo looked ready to slide beneath a rock and die. The patriarch would not let that happen. Mamie watched as he took the spiritual advisor by a shoulder and kicked his arse toward the palace.

“I will see you—all of you—in Jerusalem.” The patriarch left in a flurry of velvet cloth.

Odo darted toward the palace, tears reddening his eyes.

Mamie did not pity him. After all he'd done to the queen, he deserved an ass kicking.

She turned toward Dominus. “That which is broken cannot be mended. I am certain the bishop was referring to the king and queen.”

Dominus shrugged, refusing to look at her. “It is not my concern.”

“Just because you are angry with me does not excuse your fealty to the Crusade. To the king and queen of the Franks.” Mamie knew the queen needed her, though leaving Dominus in this way would add the final layer between her heart and any lover ever again. No more chances.

“I am loyal to myself.” Without another glance at her, he walked away.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the pain, then rushed to the palace.

“What in the name of Christ was I thinking, allowing myself to trust a woman I witnessed indulging immoral behavior? That she would find love and suddenly be faithful?” He left the olive trees and walked toward the soldier's training field.

Even in his anger, Dominus stopped himself. He had never witnessed Mamie being unfaithful.

As a woman grown, she had every right to choose her own lovers. If he knew about them, it was because he'd been looking.

Dominus, not in the mood to follow anybody's damned rules, made his way toward a small pond he'd discovered behind the field. A few pine trees shielded him from view, and he sank to his knees in the shade.

“I've gotten so used to praying, it's my automatic thinking pose. Good Lord.” He knew he had to think of the future, whether he wanted to or not. He had not declared himself his own man all those years ago to fall apart now, but he was beginning to feel as if Jerusalem were a mirage neither he nor the queen would ever see.

“I was hoping to find you here,” Everard said.

Dominus opened his eyes, his shoulders tight. “Are you an
apparition? How the hell did you get in here without me noticing?”
He looked around, seeing the footprints across the long grass. He had not heard a thing.

Everard, filthy and bloody from his time on the field, grinned and lifted his sword. “Got ya.”

Sighing, Dominus sat back on his haunches and gestured for Everard to do the same. “That you did.”

The younger knight brought a memory of his brother Drake. The boy had loved playing tricks and would do anything for a laugh.

He'd been about to pray for answers but the memory of Drake just brought more questions.

“Why were you looking for me? How did you know about this place?”

“I know a lot of things.” Everard sat down too. “I ask questions.”

Dominus frowned. “I am sorry for chasing you from the room earlier. Tell me.”

“Commander Bartholomew, Count Jocelyn, and Prince Raymond have scheduled our attack on Aleppo. We are to find Nur ad-Din, drag him from his bed, and hang his body from the turret so that all can see how brave we are. Killing innocent women and children will be pardoned, in battle.”

“Don't go.”

“I have to. I am leading the raid inside the city.”

“Why you?” Dominus did not have a good feeling.

“I volunteered.”

He smacked a palm flat to the ground. “Why?”

“To gain the commander's trust.”

Dominus leaned forward and stared Everard in the eye. “Why?”

“You wanted to know. I trust you are doing something bigger
than me. From how you talked about owing the bishop, I guess
it has something to do with him and Templars. You make a terrible
Templar. But an honorable knight, even in the face of the commander's treachery.”

“You aid me, in possible treason?”

Everard paled. “When you say it like that . . .”

“This is not a game. I am not a spy.” He growled. “I collect information for the bishop and send it to him.”

Brushing his mustache into points, Everard said, “That is spying.”

“No, it's—” He exhaled. “Shit.” He was no better, really, than Mamie. Not as honorable, even, since she served her mis
tress with pride and he scurried behind the scenes. “It was a job I accepted from the bishop to pay the loans he held against the keep.”

“Were you sworn in as a Templar?” Everard asked.

“Yes. The bishop took my oath, knowing it was temporary. Told me to do my best.”

“Why you?”

“He knows my family, knows my skill as a warrior. I can read. Write.” He paused. “He was teaching me humility, I think.”

“The commander would appreciate that.” Everard laughed.

“I've told you of my fishing village.”

The younger knight nodded.

“It is actually its own independent province.”

Everard left his mustache alone. “Who might you be, then?”

“Dominus Brochard.” He bowed his head, accepting his fate. “The Duke of Byronne.”

“A duke?” Everard rose. “And you were to be penitent and humble for what purpose?”

Dominus stood as well. “I did not want to be a duke's son. I was not in line for the inheritance. I never wanted it. I wanted to be my own man. I left when I was sixteen, trained as a squire, earned my knighthood, just as you did.”

“I promise you, my family is not noble.” He grinned. “Unless you want to marry one of my sisters?”

“Everard. Be serious.”

“I am! We could be brothers in truth.”

“We will always be brothers. It is unfortunate for me that my heart belongs to a redheaded Jezebel, who will not accept my heart. Her sense of duty is even greater than mine.”

“I doubt that. I assumed you had fallen in love. Not that you had suffered a broken heart.”

“My heart is cracked, not broken. We shall see. She said that love is not enough. She will not even admit to loving me, but I know she does.”

Everard chuckled, rocking back on his booted heels. “That is not what they preach in that garden of love, is it? You might want to remind her of that.”

“She is right, though. Neither of us is free.” He paused, then
told Everard about what he and Mamie had seen with the patriarch
and Odo. “It is imperative I find written, tangible proof that Bartholomew is acting against the Templars' best interest.”

“I was thinking about that. The commander is rigid when it comes to the safekeeping of our souls. Which means he always carries his book of prayers.”

Dominus staggered beneath the weight of truth. “Whatever he is planning will be there. I would tell you to go back to your training on the field, but I have a feeling you will do as you please. I am going to church, in search of Bartholomew—and the book.”

“You will need my help.” Everard leaned over the pond and washed the grit from his hands and face.

Dominus made the sign of the cross as they left, having received many answers to his prayers. He was left with more confusion and a broken heart, but he considered this his own human failing.

Everard looked to the sky. “Bells will be ringing soon for our midday meal. He will pray, but he has to eat. His book will be laid aside.”