For Love And Honor (17 page)

And yet he did not desire her with the sudden
hot flare of passion he had from time to time known with other
women. What he felt for Yolande during that first evening in her
company was the beginning of friendship. The thought came to him
that she would be a dependable, loyal friend. In her presence,
listening to her talk or ask remarkably intelligent questions, it
did not strike him as odd that he should so regard a woman, when he
had never considered a female as a friend before. Only years later
did he understand why he felt that way. It was because something
within him had recognized her at once for what she was.

It was
near to midnight and a full moon lit the Tyrrhenian Sea with
s
ilver, touching the terrace outside the home of George of
Antioch with a
luminescent
white glow. There Yolande found her guardian standing beside the
carved balustrade.

“Are you dreaming again of ships and the
sea?” she teased, linking her arm through his.

“I thought you had retired.” When she leaned
her head against his shoulder George pressed an affectionate kiss
on her forehead. “I should have known you would want to discuss our
guests before you sleep.”

“Will they stay in Palermo?”

“I believe so. I have offered Father Ambrose
the use of my own library, as well as introductions to the Greek
and Moslem scholars I know. He seems to be remarkably tolerant for
a Latin priest, unlike most Northerners I have known. As for Alain,
I like that young man.”

“Because he is interested in your ships,”
Yolande said with a little laugh.

“Because he has a mind open to new ideas,
because he is willing to learn what he does not know, a trait sadly
missing in many Norman nobles,” George corrected gently. He added
in a dry tone, “And because he is interested in my ships.”

Silence lengthened between them until
Yolande, knowing he expected her to speak, asked, “And what of Sir
Piers?”

“
He
is
not
interested
in my ships.” Still the same dry voice.

“Oh, Theo Georgios, that’s not what I
meant!”

“I noticed your interest in him,” said
George, and he waited to hear her next comment. He showed neither
surprise nor disappointment at what she said.

“I could love a man like that,” Yolande
murmured. “Married to a man like that, I could be happy all my
life.”

“
You
appear to have made a serious decision based on remarkably short
acquaintance,” he noted. When she did not answer at once George
spoke again.
‘‘Poulaki mou,
my dear little bird, you know I want your
happiness, for you are my niece in my heart, if not by blood. But
have you never heard the rule that no man appreciates good fortune
if he has not earned it by his own efforts?”

“I know you too well to take that for an idle
remark. What are you suggesting, Theo Georgios?”

“
The
Norman nobles in Apulia who hold land from Roger are conspiring
among themselves once more,” George told her. “Of all Roger’s
vassals, they are the most disruptive. This time they seek to play
Roger against the Holy Roman Emperor, hoping to weaken Roger and
thus increase their own powers. I suppose we will have to teach
them yet another lesson in respect for their liege lord. And
so,
poulaki mou,
if the reports my spies send me from the Italian mainland
are confirmed, b
oth Alain and Piers will soon have an
opportunity to do great
things.”

Yolande
thought about the possibility of war. It did not frighten her.
Every year or two King Roger found it necessary to travel to the
mainland to put down another revolt and either execute or forgive
the leaders. She thought it was strange that his Norman subjects in
Italy, the people in all his kingdom most beholden to Roger for
their lands and wealth, should be the most treacherous, continually
thwarting Roger’s attempts to create a united and peaceful kingdom,
while in Sicily the non-Christian Saracens were the most loyal of
all his subjects, with the schismatic Greek Christians ranking
close behind. George had told her this peaceful situation in Sicily
existed because Roger would
interfere
with no man’s religion so long as he was loyal to
the king, and that all of Roger’s subjects were treated with
fairness according to their own customs.

“
Do you
believe,” Yolande asked, “that Piers and Alain will win honors if
there is fightin
g to
be
done this coming summer?”

“Honors indeed, for brave men,” George said,
kissing her forehead again, “and, for the most fortunate, treasures
beyond price.”

*
* * * *

The following day George’s three guests
accepted his formal invitation to stay with him for an extended
visit.

“
I shall
begin my work this very morning,” Ambrose said to him. “I have seen
your library, and I’ve had a note from a Greek friend of yours, who
says he will call on me this afternoon.” With that, Ambrose took
himself off to the library, from which, in the weeks to come, he
was seldom to emerge, though he was not lonely there, being
frequently joined by a steady stream of vis
itors
from among George’s contacts in the
community of scholars in Sicily. Even Abu Amid ibn Amid came to
call, and he and Ambrose were soon on close terms.

“Alain, if you will join me today,” George
said after Ambrose had left the room, “we will begin your education
in naval matters at once.”

“I would like nothing better,” Alain replied,
pleased to find a distraction from his constantly tormenting
thoughts of Joanna, incarcerated and believing he had willingly
deserted her. “What about Piers? He has not the taste for a
sailor’s life.”

“I think Piers would do well to attach
himself to King Roger,” George replied. “But, because the king is
in seclusion, it will take a few days for me to arrange an
interview with him. Piers, perhaps in the meantime you would like
my niece Yolande to show you the city and the countryside near
Palermo?”

“I would be honored to have so lovely a
guide,” Piers responded. “I guarantee Lady Yolande every protection
while she is with me.” Having quickly discerned that there were
many levels of meaning to most of George’s comments, Piers
understood that he was being given a rare opportunity to know
Yolande better, but he believed he was also being tested, to
discover if he would dare to take advantage of the chance to be
private with the girl to press his attentions on her. The idea
intrigued him, making him look at her with greater interest.

On that
first day she led him on a tour of the city, from George’s palatial
home on its western side to the docks, the markets, the
he
avily built
Norman
churches, the more delicately constructed mosques, the numerous
gardens.

“
I have
never seen any city like this before,” Piers exclaimed in wonder.
“It is so rich
– I can
tell as much from the buildings – so clean, and so peaceful. I
haven’t seen a single street fight all day,” he finished, recalling
sailors’ brawls in Bordeaux and a knife fight he had witnessed in
Toulouse.

“There is violence now and then,” Yolande
said, “but it is always quickly put down. The king watches over
every detail. Even now, though in seclusion, he receives reports
each day from his ministers. Roger is a great king, as you will
learn when you meet him.”

Believing Yolande’s comments about Roger were
influenced by George’s opinion of the king, Piers did not
respond.

*
* * * *

That evening, George offered Alain a
permanent assignment as his aide. With protestations of gratitude,
Alain asked for a day or two to think over the proposal. Later, in
their own chambers, Alain and Ambrose came near to quarreling over
what his answer should be.

“I cannot accept the offer,” Alain said. “As
soon as possible, I must return to England, to Joanna.”

“
Alain,
Alain,” sighed Ambrose, “when will you accept the truth? Now that
Joanna is a widow, Radulf will marry her off again. Any father
would do the same. Radulf will wait just long enough to be certain
she is not with child and then he’ll chose another husband for
her.
Or, if she is with child by Crispin, he’ll wait until
it’s born before
he sees her
marry again. Either way, Joanna is not for you, my boy. She never
was, and in your heart you must know it.”

“
I
do
not
know it! I
will never stop loving her. Never!”

“We cannot return to England yet,” Piers put
in. “If we do, the instant we are recognized, we will be killed.
Much good our return will do Joanna then.”

“We?” Alain stared at him.

“Do you think I would let you go alone?”
Piers put a hand on Alain’s shoulder. “Uncle Ambrose is right. For
the present, at least, we must stay away from England. So, while we
are in Sicily, seize this opportunity. Take the commission George
offers. You know you will enjoy the shipboard work.”

Alain pulled away from him to stand at the
window, looking out toward the harbor in the distance. When Piers
would have followed him Ambrose shook his head. After a while,
without turning around, Alain spoke.

“
I have
always found your advice to be good, old Sir Piers. You are right
once again.” Now he did turn, looking toward Ambrose. “I am sorry I
was so sharp with you. I know you want only good fortune for me.
But nothing,
nothing,
will ever make me stop loving Joanna.”

“I do not ask you to stop loving,” Ambrose
responded. “Only to be sensible about it.”

“I will promise you this much,” Alain said.
“I will stay in service to George of Antioch until I have made
myself too powerful to be crushed by Radulf.”

“I am glad to hear you say it,” Piers told
him, “for I intend to remain in Sicily myself. I like this land
better with every day that passes.”

On the next morning Piers and Yolande rode
out of the city and along the coast, following a track that wound
through prickly pear and fragrant pine, stopping on a little rise
above the sea to eat their midday meal. Yolande had brought a rug
for them to sit on and a basket of food that was as mixed as the
cultures of her homeland.

They ate the familiar bread and cheese, but
there was also a concoction of cold mixed vegetables and rice,
aromatic with mint and garlic, packed back into the oval purple
vegetable shell, the whole carried in a special ceramic dish. They
ate this with spoons, and Piers found it remarkably tasty when
washed down with the local red wine.

“
The dish
is called
melitzanes yemistes,”
Yolande said in answer to his question about the
unfamiliar vegetable. “Theo Georgios says the Arabs brought
melitzanes
to Sicily
from India.”

They ended their meal with the inevitable
honey-and-nut pastries that Yolande so obviously loved, and dried
fruit.

“Don’t you ever eat fresh fruit?” Piers
asked, selecting a plump date.

“Of course we do.” Yolande licked honey off
her fingers, laughing at him and sending a warm glance from her
dark eyes. “It is still early in the season, so we are eating
fruits dried last year. Wait until summer, when the new fruits
ripen. Then we have fresh apricots and peaches, and wonderful figs.
Have you ever tasted melon? So sweet, so juicy, like the food of
paradise.”

At
that instant it seemed to Piers that the taste
most resembling the food of paradise would be
Yolande’s lips. How sweet it would be to kiss her, to taste the
honey from the pastry she had eaten, a drop of which still lingered
at one corner of her mouth; how lovely to inhale the fragrance and
the sweetness of the dried apricot upon which she was now
nibbling.

He was surprised at his reaction to her, and
a little shocked. Where women were concerned, he had enjoyed
whatever favors were offered, while at the same time maintaining
his self-control, even in the transports of heated passion. He had
never fallen in love in the same way in which Alain loved Joanna,
and he hoped he never would. Longing for his lost Joanna had
destroyed Alain’s spirits and his good sense, robbing him of his
zest for life. Even now, half a world away from Joanna, love for
her still tortured Alain, keeping him wakeful at night, ruining his
appetite, making him solemn before his time. Considering Alain’s
sorry condition, Piers decided he never wanted to love a woman. And
yet, Yolande was so charming.

“
This is
the way I like the sea,” she said, flinging out one hand in the
direction of the glistening blue waves. “I like it best when it is
there, beyond the beach, and I am here, safe on hi
gh
ground.”

“Don’t let your uncle hear you say that.”
Piers chuckled, sharing her feelings.

“Ah, he knows; he knows.” She turned to him,
her dark eyes sparkling, her pearly teeth showing when she smiled.
She wore her red-brown hair in a single thick braid that swung
against her shoulder when she moved. “You may kiss me if you
like.”

“
I would
like to very much,” Piers said, taken aback by the innocent
invitation. “But I won’t do it. You are too innocent, too trusting,
and I will not betray your unc
le’s confidence in me, that I
would prove an honest escort and a firm protec
tor of his niece.”

“
I refuse
to be ashamed of wanting you to kiss me, so don’t try to make me
feel that way.” She thrust out her lower lip, whether to pout or to
keep herself from weeping in embarrassment Piers could not tell. He
caught his breath. She was adorable, with her eyes open wide, her
cheeks slightly flushed, and her mouth
– heaven help him, that tempting mouth! How could
any man resist her? Before he could make a move, either to touch
her as he wanted to do, or to flee from her as he knew he should,
she was on her feet, shaking out her skirts.