The Falcons of Montabard (50 page)

'Indeed not,' she said with quiet vehemence. 'But the Queen would.'

'At least you would be safe!'

The composure broke and indignation flickered across her face. 'How can you say that when you gallop off to hunt boar and return covered in blood? You expected me to bring you a stirrup cup and a smile when you rode off to skirmish at Aleppo and Membij. I was supposed to sing carefree songs at my spindle when you left our marriage bed for Kharpurt, where only by the grace of God were you yourself not hurled over the walls to die. I see most clearly . . . my lord . . . that sauce for the gander is not sauce for the goose!'

'Of course it is not the same!' He looked at her in pure exasperation. 'You are a woman.'

She drew herself up. 'And I have a queen to follow who will do what she must for the sake of the kingdom. She has asked it of me and I have agreed.'

'Without consulting me!'

'You were away pig-sticking,' she spat. 'I do not recall being given a choice in whether you went to Kharpurt or not.'

'But that was—'

'Different?' she finished for him on a curled lip. 'For once the shoe is on the other foot.'

He wanted to grab her, shake her, tell her that he would not allow her to go, but he swallowed the fury and felt it burn like a hot coal in his belly. More than half of it, he knew, was fear. She was right. It was different when he put himself in danger. It had never mattered to him, and he had never given much thought to whether it mattered to her. Now that the tables were turned, he disliked the sensation intensely.

Seizing her by the shoulders he drew her up to him and kissed her hard, parting her lips, flattening them against his own. Born of frustration and meant to dominate, his purpose failed because she matched him. She clasped her hands at the back

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of his neck and her nails dug into his flesh. He felt the wild-ness in her. Before it had always been covert, even in extremity a little held back by her convent training, but now it was undammed and had he not been so pent up himself, he would have been hard pressed to stay with her.

Her rib cage heaved as she strove to breathe without breaking the kiss. Her hand went down between them and, as Sabin closed his eyes and groaned in his throat, he heard her whimper. It was foolhardiness bordering on stupidity, but for the moment, neither of them cared. The wall chamber was cramped, there was no room to lie down, and the difference in their heights would make coupling against a wall something of a trial, but there was a bench cut into the stone and in seconds Sabin had made use of it, sitting down, drawing her after him.

She poised above him, her brown eyes narrow with concentration and hot with desire. 'I suppose you learned this as King Henry's squire too?'

'God no, I'd use a bed unless I was desperate.'

'And are you desperate now?'

'Bursting at the seams,' he said, his hands on her thighs beneath her gown, and then her buttocks, cupping them, pulling her up and forward, and then, blissfully, down. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his body quivering with tension, that single moment almost bringing him to the loose.

Her breath locked in her throat and then emerged on a strangled cry. She bit her lip and leaned forward, muffling her voice against the thick, soft linen of his tunic and shirt. Her nails scored him again and she took her pleasure without urging or encouragement, but as her right. And as she moved upon him and he gritted his teeth against the intense pleasure-pain, Sabin thought dimly that this was the part where he did not so much lose the battle, as lower his weapons and yield.

'I am going to the Queen,' he said a short while later. His breathing had recovered, but his heart was still racing and his fingers were somewhat heavy as he adjusted his braies.

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Annais gave him a sharp look, the pleasure-haze clearing rapidly from her eyes. She smoothed her hands down her creased skirts and raised her arms to adjust her skewed veil. 'You tell her that you will not permit me to go, and I will not forgive you.'

Sabin gave a twisted smile. 'It had crossed my mind,' he said, 'but I would be cutting off my nose to spite my face. If I am going to Morphia, it is to offer my services. The hostages will require a Frankish entourage as well as a Saracen one. If it is your intention to be mad, then it is mine to protect you . . . and I will not take no for an answer — from a queen, or from a wife.'

She drew a breath and parted her lips, but her words went unspoken as the curtain across the chamber entrance was ruffled aside by Amalric. The youth's grey eyes were alight and his complexion blazing. So consumed was he with his own emotions that his lord and lady's state of disarray completely passed him by.

'Tyre has surrendered!' he cried, his adolescent voice cracking with excitement. 'The messenger's just arrived! The Queen's going to announce it in the hall. I've to summon as many as I can find!' With that, he was gone at the run.

'That has to be a good omen,' Annais said, her eyes luminous. 'Surely things are beginning to turn in our direction.'

Smiling, Sabin rose to his feet and took her hand to lead her from their brief sanctuary into the public domain. 'Including Fergus,' he said. 'I think I would rather be a hostage!'

A week later, arrangements finalised, the hostages set out for Shaizar where they were to be held in honourable captivity until the full eighty thousand dinars was paid. A deposit of the first twenty thousand had been sent to Timurtash together with a promise to cede five towns in the vicinity of Aleppo and an assurance that the Frankish army would aid the Emir to be rid of his Bedouin enemy, Dubais ibn Sadaqa.

Sabin watched the last baggage mules being led into line and donned his spurs. There were seven children all told, and eight

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adults. Joscelin of Edessa's son was the eldest child at eleven years old, and sat his own small Arabian horse with the confidence of an accomplished rider. His tawny hair gleamed in the sun and anticipation of adventure shone in his dark blue eyes. Sabin strolled over to the back of a covered wain. The younger children were travelling in this, since riding any distance was not practical for them and their guardians. Leaning his arm on one of the curved willow struts, he peered under the canvas at its occupants.

Princess Joveta grinned cheekily at him from her place between Annais and Letice. The latter's presence had been requested by the Queen because Letice was steady in all circumstances and Morphia felt that all the children would benefit from her influence.

Guillaume scrambled across two six-year-old boys and their nurse with the eager clumsiness of a puppy and held out his arms to Sabin. 'Papa!' he cried.

Sabin swung him up in his arms. 'I'll take him awhile on Lucifer,' he said and turned to find Strongfist standing behind him.

'God keep you all,' Strongfist said, his throat working. He lifted Guillaume out of Sabin's arms and gave the child a fierce hug. 'I'll spend not just every coin I have, but every drop of blood in my body to see you all home safely.' He kissed Guillaume who wriggled and squealed in protest.

'Horse,' he demanded, clenching and unclenching his fists. 'Want horse.'

Strongfist handed him back to Sabin and swiped his forefinger beneath his eyes. 'Oh for the innocence of the young,' he said, clasping Sabin's hand in a fierce grip. 'Bring them back whole . . . and yourself too.'

Sabin forced a smile. 'Do you doubt it?'

'I try not to ... but like you I wear the scars of other battles.' He did not mention Kharpurt by name, but it was there in his eyes. As Sabin had done before him, he went to the cart and leaned within. 'I'll be praying for all of you,' he said.

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Annais came to the end of the cart and embraced him tenderly. 'God willing, we'll be free before summer's end,' she said. 'And we have been promised great hospitality at Shaizar. I do not say that you fear needlessly, but neither should you build mountains from a grain of sand.'

'I am your father, give me leave to fear,' he replied in a constricted voice and squeezed her hard for a moment. Then he released her and she drew back so that Letice could take her place.

Strongfist's words were a hard knot in his throat. He swallowed, for they were choking him, yet he could not unravel them to speak.

Letice reached out and cupped the side of his face. 'I will miss you,' she said, her own voice lacking in the steadiness for which she was famed. 'Do not let Fergus lead you into misdemeanour, and take care of yourself. I do not want to greet a worried shadow on my return, but a whole man . . .'

He gave her a haunted look and took her hand, moving it so that it was across his lips. The ache in his throat was unbearable by now. He kissed her fingers.

'Find a scribe,' she said. 'Write to me. Even if your letters do not arrive, it will be a comfort to know that you have done so.'

He nodded. 'And you,' he croaked. In his mind's eye he saw himself dragging her out of the cart, throwing her across his horse and galloping home to Tel Namir, then shutting the gates and sending the rest of the world to perdition. But that was only the dream. In reality he pulled her towards him, replaced her fingers with her mouth for one last kiss, and then let her go. Somehow, he found the strength to leave her, to walk across the courtyard and join the other onlookers. He had not wept since Kharpurt, and that was over a dead woman, but he knew he was going to weep over a living one with considerably more anguish.

The party of hostages set out from Turbessel, their departure waved off by the entire court, and it seemed almost like a

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feast day parade, for everyone was clad in their finest robes for the occasion and the Saracen deputation in their turbans and silks, with their hunting dogs and cheetahs, gave the entourage an exotic air. A closer glimpse showed the sharpened steel in scabbards, the watchful eyes, and the tension like a taut wire strung with bright glass beads. Surrounded by the trappings of wealth, afforded every courtesy, the Frankish delegation were still hostages and heading for an uncertain captivity.

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Chapter 32

The fortress of Shaizar crowned a steep ridge that bound the eastern side of the Orontcs valley. The river guarded its north and east approaches and the castle itself was cut off from the plateau continuing the ridge by a deep moat. The only passage across the river was over a stone bridge manned by guards and defended by a small citadel.

The fortress had three entrances: two serving the town and one leading over the bridge that went directly into the castle itself. As the Emirs of Shaizar had boasted, so the Franks now saw for themselves: the place was indeed impregnable, except perhaps to treachery. When Sabin mentioned this to Usamah, the Saracen smiled.

'No one in Shaizar would yield up its secrets to a Frank, whatever the temptation,' he said. 'Try my people if you will, I do not mind.'

'That depends upon how restless I become,' Sabin replied as he handed over his sword and hunting knife to a courteous but watchful steward, retaining only the short blade he used for eating.

Usamah shrugged. 'I see no reason why we cannot spend some time hunting,' he said. 'You are scarce likely to abscond while your dependants are still within the castle, and you volunteered yourself to be a hostage after all.'

Sabin flicked a wry look at Annais who was descending from

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the baggage cart, a child clinging to each hand. 'I had no choice,' he said.

They were given their own apartments separate from the Saracen household, the chambers well appointed with skilfully woven rugs on the walls and even on the tiled floors. The beds had coverlets of silk; the bolsters and sheets were of the finest woven cotton perfumed with oils of rose and lavender. Fine robes of linen and silk had been laid out for the guests and indoor shoes of gilded kidskin. There were ornate brass ewers of scented water in which to wash hands and face.

Sabin ran his fingers over the exquisite embroidery on one of the silk robes. 'At least we are to be held hostage in luxury.'

'I have seen few enough guards,' Annais said, stifling a yawn. The time of her flux was due and she felt heavy, achy and out of sorts.

'When there is only one way in and out and sheer drops around, you don't need to stand over your captives with a sword.' He gave her an assessing look. 'You should sleep. Your eyes are darker than caverns.'

'I am all right.' She rallied and raised her chin. Moments later though, another yawn almost cracked her jaw.

Sabin gave her a look of exasperated amusement and drew her down onto the bed. 'Sleep,' he said. 'Let someone else be responsible for a short while. I will wake you if there is need.'

Usually she would have protested, but she really was beginning to feel unwell and all she needed to convince her was the pressure of his arm refusing to yield. After a moment she relaxed against him and allowed him to swing her legs onto the bed and slip off her shoes. 'You promise to wake me?'

'On my honour.'

She felt his thumb at her ankle gently smoothing over the point of the bone, then his lips at her brow. Then nothing as she sank down into a sleep so deep that it was fathomless.

Sabin stood over her for a while, looking at her, unconsciously biting his thumbnail. She had seemed more tired than

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usual these last few days. He had not been unduly concerned. Even if she had done no more than sit in a baggage wain, the bumping and jarring of the journey was a discomfort and the company of small children could be exhausting. But surely not exhausting enough to set such dark rings beneath her eyes, or cause her to fall asleep the moment she lay down.

'How is she?'

He turned to face Letice.

'Sleeping,' he said with a brief gesture and a frown. 'You sat at her side in the cart. Did you notice a change in her?'

Letice gave him a thoughtful look from her dark hazel eyes. 'Only the changes that are a woman's lot to bear.'

His frown deepened and then realisation struck. It must be the time of her flux, although usually the visitation was a minor inconvenience and when they had made the journey between England and Jerusalem, she had been robust at every phase of the moon. 'Ah,' he said and rubbed the back of his neck.