The Falcons of Montabard (18 page)

Annais was late to the hall and the dishes of spiced roast lamb were already being carried in. Her father sat in his chair at the high table with the senior members of the garrison. There was an irritated frown between his eyes as he looked at the empty chairs that should have been occupied by the women. Annais quickened her pace and since her attention was on the dais, did not see Mariamne hastening from the side entrance until they collided.

The desire to snarl, 'Watch where you are going,' was on both women's lips, but each managed the grace of a stiff apology instead. Annais stepped back allowing her stepmother to go in front, and noticed, as Mariamne swept ahead with high colour and glittering eye, the stalks of straw clinging to the hem of her gown.

There was a third empty place on the dais table, but Sabin neither came to dine nor arrived to play dice or merels in the hall after the meal had finished. Having discovered his whereabouts from one of the garrison who had been in the tiltyard when he returned with the horse, Annais hoped that she was wrong, and kept her thoughts to herself.

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Chapter 10

Jerusalem, Autumn 1121

Sabin watched with amusement as the bathhouse barber approached Strongfist with his shears, emollients and depilatory unguents.

The latter waved the man away with an expression caught between alarm and revulsion. 'I'll keep all the hair that God gave me,' he growled. Water rippled at his waist, tinted pale green by the Roman tiles lining the bath and flowing with gold from sunlight diffused through the fretwork shutters.

'If you are to stand before the King, then you will need a trim at least,' Sabin said, grinning. 'What you have at the moment is a pair of eyes peering out of a thicket.'

Strongfist ran a hand through his wet blond and silver hair. 'It's not so bad.'

'Not when it's soaked, I agree, but wait until it dries. You'll look like a sheep on the day before shearing. I heard your wife remark to her maid that she was considering doing what Delilah did to Samson and cutting it all off while you slept.'

'Oh very well.' Strongfist gestured the barber to attend him, but wagged a warning forefinger. 'But only the hair and beard, and only a trim. You make me look like a Turkish bath boy and I'll shave your bones with my sword.'

The attendant looked affronted while Sabin spluttered on his mirth. Gesturing rudely, Strongfist left the pool and padded off to be shorn, leaving broad wet footprints on the tiles. Sabin lazed in the water, enjoying its cold lap against his body. There were

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no baths in Tel Namir, although the castle did have tubs and there was a stream running through the village that even in the height of summer did not dry up. Still, neither could compare with the luxury of the bathing facilities available in the cities.

The lady Mariamne had been in high spirits ever since her cajoling had finally persuaded Strongfist into bringing his entourage to Jerusalem. He was to report to the King's officials on the first summer of his tenure and present the rents owing from the harvests. Strongfist could have sent representatives and remained at Tel Namir, but his wife had persuaded him otherwise. Being seen at court now and again was important, she said. Paying a fleeting visit to the Patriarch's palace in Antioch was simply not enough.

Sabin had tried to keep his distance from Mariamne. She teased him with little touches, batted eyelids, and knowing, sultry looks, wanting, he thought, to see how far she could push him. He pretended to be impervious, but he wasn't. He stayed away from the hall and the places that were her domain, spending his time in the male company of the garrison. He took out patrols amongst the foothills to the east. He lingered with Yusuf, absorbing horse lore, broadening his riding skills by learning how the Saracens rode into battle, their stirrups shorter and their bodies attuned to the movements of their mounts. Yusuf was teaching him Arabic too. When he had to spend time in the castle, he made sure that he was never alone. But if anything, his avoidance seemed to have whetted Manamne's appetite. She treated his behaviour with pitying amusement, as if he were a recalcitrant child whose measure she had down to the last grain.

Strongfist was oblivious of his wife's behaviour. Like so many barons that Sabin had known before at the English court, providing that his household was well ordered, his bed occupied, and rules seen to be obeyed, he thought that all was well with the world . . . even if it wasn't.

Sabin sighed and splashed his face. At least in Jerusalem there were establishments such as the
Oasis
where he could

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vent the heat generated by the dry frictions at Tel Namir and not have to worry about repercussions.

A customer descended the steps into the pool. The exposure of new white skin above the tan line on his neck revealed that he had already undergone the ministrations of the barber. He had short brown curls and grey-blue eyes, heavily seamed by staring at the sun. 'Gerbert de Montabard,' Sabin said.

The man turned, looked puzzled, and then smiled in dawning recognition. 'I have a poor memory for names, but I surely know your face.'

'Sabin FitzSimon.' They clasped hands. A bath attendant brought them cups of frozen sherbet and bowed out of their presence. The men exchanged pleasantries. Sabin told Gerbert about life at Tel Namir. Gerbert listened attentively enough, but when there was a lull in the conversation addressed a subject that had obviously been on his mind.

And your lord's daughter, the lady Annais - how does she fare?'

Ah,' Sabin chuckled. 'You remember
her
name then, if not mine?'

Gerbert made a gesture with his hand. 'You would look at rne more than askance if it were the other way around,' he said. Reaching to the side of the pool, he took his goblet of sherbet. Light flowed through the pale Tyrian glass and settled in the heart of the frosted lemon juice. 'I remember her skill with the harp,' he said. 'Truly she played like an angel.
¹
For a moment his eyes were distant with memory, and even looked a little sad. Then he rallied. 'Is she yet unbetrothed?'

Sabin looked at Gerbert. 'For the moment,' he said.

Gerbert flushed. 'I know you told me that you had no interest, but I thought you might . . .'

Sabin laughed ruefully. 'Her father would burst his hauberk at the notion of such a match and it would scarcely suit me. Strongfist will likely beget sons to follow him at Tel Namir and Annais will only have a small portion for her dowry.' He shook his head. 'I have no desire to take any wife for the nonce.' He

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emphasised his final words. People seemed to find it important to tie him down and, rather like his grey stallion at the sight of a whip, it made him skittish.

'Begetting sons to inherit is more easily said than done,' Gerbert said. 'Even when a child has been conceived, it may be miscarried, or die soon after birth.' He looked down at his sherbet, his expression sombre.

Sabin recalled Gerbert saying last time they had met that his wife had been with child. He made a hesitant enquiry.

Gerbert drew a deep breath. 'My son died at birth,' he said, 'and my wife a week later of the childbed fever.'

'I am sorry.'

Gerbert shrugged, dislodging water droplets from his shoulders. 'It is a common tragedy,' he said. 'We even employed an Arab physician, but there was naught he could do. The child emerged feet first and tore Odile badly.' He gave Sabin a steady look. 'I am in mourning for my wife and infant, but in Outremer life does not stand still. It is my duty to wed again as soon as I may.'

Sabin nodded. 'And you were wondering if there were any obstacles in your path should you choose to court Annais?'

Gerbert rubbed his face in a nervous gesture. 'Yes.'

'Not from me,' Sabin said. 'I would be no good for her.' He studied Gerbert thoughtfully. 'I am sure that her father would be delighted.'

Gerbert lowered his hand. 'What of Annais herself? Do you think she will object?'

'I doubt it,' Sabin said. 'She and her stepmother are not fond of each other and the situation is awkward at Tel Namir. I believe she looked kindly on you when you met at court.'

The cynical part of Sabin was amused that Gerbert should be seeking the advice of someone of his reputation. Prospective husbands had never sought his counsel before - although one had once asked Sabin outright if he had bedded his betrothed. Not that Sabin could imagine bedding Annais. There had been a moment when he saw her in that russet silk gown when the

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notion had burned rather brightly, but since he had forsworn playing with fire, he had quickly smothered it. He did his best to view her as a sister, and most of the time he succeeded. He thought that she and Gerbert would suit each other. She would fall for his decent honesty and admiration. He had already fallen for her wholesomeness, her harp playing, and doubtless would be captivated by her formidable domestic skills. 'You do not need me to smooth your path,' Sabin said, 'for there are no obstacles . . . unless your overlord has an interest in where you remarry?'

Gerbert shook his head. 'I have paid an indemnity to marry whomsoever I choose,' he said, 'and I have no relatives in Outremer with opinions to please.'

'Then your road is open.' Finishing the sherbet, Sabin heaved himself from the pool. A bath attendant came forward with two soft linen towels. Sabin folded one around his hips and used the other to dry the sparkling beads of water from his body.

Strongfist returned from his experience with the barber and Sabin regarded him with gleaming eyes. The former still sported a full head of hair; it had only been trimmed into shape at brow and nape, but the beard had been closely shaved to hug the jawline and showed Strongfist's firm Saxon bones to advantage.

'I never realised what a handsome man you were,' Sabin remarked.

'You needn't start realising now either,' Strongfist growled with a warning look for the bath attendant whose expression was admiring.

Sabin chuckled. 'Mariamne will like it.'

'She had better, since I've done it for her.' Strongfist entered the pool and ducked his head to swill off the loose hairs. 'I haven't felt this exposed since I was knighted.' Belatedly noticing Gerbert, he held out his hand. 'Good to see you again.' He cleared his throat in mild embarrassment. 'I still find it passing strange to conduct talk in a bathhouse mother-naked.'

Gerbert smiled. 'It becomes easier with time,' he said.

The attendant brought more sherbet and offered another cup to Sabin who shook his head. 'I have to be on my way.' He

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nodded to Strongfist and de Montabard. 'Besides, you have matters of importance to discuss.'

Strongfist raised his brows in surprise and the back of Gerbert's neck reddened. Grinning, Sabin left them.

In the women's bathhouse, Annais lay upon a towel-covered table, head pillowed lazily on her hands as the attendant worked scented oils into her flesh. The feelings of sensuous lethargy engendered were so wonderful that she was sure it must be a sin. Briefly she thought about the strict regime at Coldingham, and what the nuns would have thought if they could see her thus prostrated in God's own city, then she banished the image from her mind. She was not going to spoil the moment by magnifying a prickle of guilt into a gigantic thorn. If she had to pay for this bliss later, then so be it. She would go to confession and say the requisite prayers.

Mariamne had opted to have all surplus body hair removed, and lay on her own table like an effigy of perfectly proportioned gleaming marble. Her black hair was twisted high on her head, revealing the graceful column of neck and the exquisite line of her jaw. She had been married to Strongfist for almost five months and her belly was still as flat and firm as a virgin's. Below it, her pubic mound was a hairless cleft. Annais could imagine what that would do to a man, and the path of her thoughts made her bury her hot face in her folded arms. The attendant had offered to shave her too, but Annais had refused.

'She is a virgin,' Mariamne had said with amusement. 'Best to break her in slowly. Besides, she may consider taking the veil, and although nuns must crop their hair in obedience to God, I do not believe that they shear other parts.'

Annais had thought about walking out, but that would have been failing the challenge. She had almost insisted on being shaved too, just to prove she was bold enough, but then had wondered if she really wanted to compete with her stepmother. If she yielded to the goad of the woman's words, then she had lost before she started.

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Pampered, oiled, soothed and invigorated, the women returned to Fergus's house, where they were lodged for their sojourn in Jerusalem. The men had already returned from their own visit to the baths and Annais saw that they had added Gerbert de Montabard to their company. She felt a surge of pleasure, and her smile of warmth was genuine when she greeted him.

He seemed flustered, almost stammering his words, and beneath his tan his face had a high colour. Her father was full of bluff bonhomie, slapping Gerbert's shoulder, making sure his cup was filled, rubbing his hands together as she had not seen him do in a while. Sabin held back, looking wary but also amused. There was a conspiracy here, she thought, and the way the men kept throwing glances in her direction, Annais knew that she must be the subject.

Mariamne had noticed too, for her lips tightened, and after a moment, she made an excuse to take Strongfist on one side. Whatever she asked and whatever he answered set her mind at rest, for she nodded and even began to smile a little. Annais bit her lip and tried to make polite conversation with Gerbert by enquiring after his wife.

Gerbert straightened his shoulders as if bracing them to receive a blow and gave her the tidings, but it was Annais who recoiled. 'I am sorry ... I did not know.'

'There is no reason that you should,' Gerbert said. 'The news is recent and I have not bandied it abroad. It is indeed a great sorrow.' He broke off and looked at her. 'Your father . . .' He swallowed and cursed beneath his breath. 'Your father was kind enough to invite me to dine here tonight.'