Lionheart (3 page)

Abbess Blanche was in full agreement; she shared William’s admiration for the Templars. Their deaths seemed all the more tragic because their sacrifice had been needless. The galley had not gone down as quickly as all feared, and once the storm passed, the local people rowed out in small boats and ferried the stranded survivors to shore, charging exorbitant fees for that service. Only then did the
San Niccolò
break up and sink quietly beneath the waves.

“Our costs have been minimal, my lord, for only three of the women passengers were injured. One broke her arm when she was flung against the tiller, and the second sprained her ankle when she jumped out of the longboat. But the third . . .” The abbess shook her head and sighed. “We know very little about her, for the other passengers say she kept to herself. They could tell me only her name—Alicia de Sezanne—and that she is the sister of one of the drowned Templars. She is just a child and I fear that she is all alone in the world now, may Our Blessed Mother pity her plight.”

“She has no family?” William frowned. “Poor little lass. If her brother was a Templar, she must be gently born. Surely she has kin somewhere? What did she tell you?”

“Nothing, my lord. She has not spoken a word for a fortnight. Indeed, I am not even sure if she hears what we say to her, and if the passengers had not told me otherwise, I’d think she was a deaf-mute. It has been a struggle to get her to eat even a few swallows of soup. She just lies there.... I do not know what will become of the child, truly I do not. What if her grief has driven her mad?”

She paused then, hoping that William would come up with a solution, and he did not disappoint her. “Suppose I ask my wife to come and see the lass?” he said thoughtfully. “She may be able to break through the girl’s shell. She is very good at that, you know.”

“What a wonderful idea, my lord! Do you think the Lady Joanna would be willing?”

His smile was both indulgent and affectionate. “My wife has never been able to resist a bird with a broken wing.”

JOANNA PAUSED in the doorway of the infirmary, beset by sudden doubts. What was she to say to the child? What comfort could she offer? “How old did you say she was, Sister Heloise?”

“We cannot be sure, Madame, but we think she looks to be about ten years or so, mayhap eleven.”

Too young to understand why God had taken her brother,
Joanna thought, and then smiled, without any humor. She was nigh on twenty-four, and she did not understand, either. “Take me to her,” she said, and followed the young nun across the chamber toward a corner bed. She was touched by her first sight of that small, forlorn figure, lying so still that it was a relief to see the faint rise and fall of her chest. The girl seemed pathetically fragile and frail, her face turned toward the wall, and when Joanna spoke her name, she did not respond. Signaling for Sister Heloise to bring a chair over, Joanna sat beside the bed and pondered what to say.

“I am so very sorry for your brother’s death, Alicia. You can be proud of his courage, and . . . and it must be some comfort to know that he is in the Almighty’s Embrace. My confessor assured me that one of God’s Knights would be spared Purgatory, that Heaven’s Gates would be opened wide to him. . . .” There was no indication that Alicia had even heard her, and Joanna’s words trailed off. How could she expect the lass to find consolation in theology? All Alicia knew was that her brother was dead and she was abandoned and alone.

“I would not presume to say I know what you are feeling, Alicia. I can tell you this, though, that I know what it is like to lose a brother. I have grieved for three of mine, and for a sister, too. . . .” Despite herself, her voice wavered at the last, for the death of her sister was still a raw wound. “I wish I could tell you that the pain will eventually heal. But that would be a lie. This is a sorrow you will take to your grave. In time, though, you’ll learn to live with it, and that is all we can hope for.”

She waited then, to no avail. Trying a new tack, she said quietly, “The world must be a very frightening place to you now. I cannot begin to imagine how alone you must feel. But you are not as alone as you think, Alicia. I promise you that.”

Again her words were swallowed up in silence. She was usually good with children. Of course she’d never dealt with one so damaged before. “We share something else in common, lass. I was your age when I first came to Sicily, just eleven years old. I remember the journey all too well, for I had never been so wretched.” She was following her instincts now, speaking in the soothing tones she’d have used to calm a nervous filly. “I was so sick, Alicia, feeding the fish day and night. Were you seasick, too? It got so bad for me that we had to put into port at Naples and continue our journey on land. For years I had dreadful dreams about that trip and my husband had great difficulty in coaxing me to set foot on a ship again. I remember arguing with him that the Almighty had not intended man to fly, or else he’d have given us wings, and since we did not have gills like fish, clearly we were not meant to venture out onto the sea, either. He just laughed, but then he’s never been seasick a day in his life. . . .”

She continued on in that vein for a while, speaking lightly of inconsequential matters in the hope of forging a connection, however tenuous, with this mute, motionless little girl. At last she had to concede defeat, and after exchanging regretful looks with Sister Heloise, she started to rise from the chair. It was then that Alicia spoke. Her words were mumbled, inaudible, but they were words, the first anyone had heard her utter since her brother drowned.

Trying to hide her excitement, Joanna said as calmly as she could, “I am sorry, Alicia. I could not hear you. Can you repeat yourself?”

“I am twelve,” Alicia said, softly but distinctly, “not eleven.”

Joanna almost laughed, remembering how affronted she’d been to be taken for younger than she was, a mortal insult for most children. “
Mea culpa
,” she said. “But in my defense, it is not easy to tell how old you are when you will not look at me.” She waited, then, holding her breath, until the bed creaked and Alicia slowly turned away from the wall. Joanna could see why the nuns had mistaken her age. She had round cheeks, a rosebud mouth, and freckles sprinkled over an upturned nose, a child’s face, innocent and open to hurt. Joanna doubted that she’d begun her flux yet, for her lean and angular little body showed no signs of approaching womanhood.

“I am Joanna,” she said, for she’d found that with children, the simplest approach was often the best. “I am here to help you.”

Alicia had to squint, for she’d not looked into direct light for days and sun was flooding into the chamber, enveloping Joanna in a golden glow. She was the most beautiful woman Alicia had ever seen, and the most glamorous, with flawless, fair skin, copper-color hair covered by an embroidered silk veil, emerald-green eyes, and graceful white fingers adorned with jewels. Alicia was dumbfounded, not sure if this glorious vision was a figment of her fevered imagination. “Are you real?” she blurted out, and the vision laughed, revealing a deep dimple that flashed like a shooting star, and assured her she was very much a flesh-and-blood woman.

The flesh-and-blood women in Alicia’s world did not look like this one. “May I . . . may I ask you a question? Did you truly lose three brothers?”

“I spoke the truth, Alicia. My eldest brother died ere I was even born, but my other brothers had reached manhood when death claimed them. Hal was stricken with the bloody flux, and Geoffrey was killed in a French tournament. And this summer my elder sister Tilda died of a fever. Indeed, I only learned of her death a few weeks ago.” Joanna bit her lip, for the shock of Tilda’s death had yet to abate; her sister had been just thirty-three.

Alicia regarded her solemnly. “You said the hurt never goes away. Will I grieve for Arnaud to the end of my days?” She was reassured when Joanna gave her the same straightforward answer, telling her the truth rather than what she wanted to hear. “Did you love your brothers?”

“Very much, Alicia. They were all older than me, except for my brother Johnny, and they spoiled me outrageously, as I imagine Arnaud did with you.”

“No . . .” Alicia hesitated, but with gentle encouragement, she continued and eventually Joanna learned the history of this woebegone orphan. She came from Champagne, where her father had served as steward for one of the count’s vassals. He’d died that past spring, leaving Alicia and two older brothers, Odo, his eldest and heir, and Arnaud, who’d been long gone from their lives, serving God in distant lands. Odo had not wanted to be burdened with her, she confided to Joanna, and he and his wife had arranged to marry her off to a neighbor, a widower who was willing to overlook her lack of a marriage portion. She had not wanted to wed him, for his breath reeked and he was very old, “even older than my papa! And I did not think I was ready to be a wife. Odo and Yvette paid me no heed, though, and were making ready to post the banns when Arnaud arrived from Paris.”

Arnaud had been outraged by the match, and he quarreled bitterly with Odo, demanding that he provide a marriage portion so they could find her a suitable husband when she was of a proper age to wed. But Odo had turned a deaf ear. Arnaud knew Odo would wed her to the neighbor as soon as he was gone, and so he took her with him. “I think he had a nunnery in mind. He promised, though, to look after me, to make sure that I was always safe. . . .”

Tears had begun to well in Alicia’s eyes, the first she’d shed since that awful day on the beach. Joanna gathered the child into her arms and held Alicia as she wept. But she had a practical streak, too, and glancing over Alicia’s heaving shoulder, she caught the nun’s eye and mouthed a silent command to fetch food from the abbey kitchen. Sister Heloise gladly obeyed, first hastening to find the abbess and give her the good news that the Lady Joanna had succeeded where everyone else had failed. She’d coaxed this unhappy child from the shadows back into the light.

AFTER A FORTNIGHT in bed, Alicia was surprised by how weak she felt when she first ventured outside. Tiring quickly, she sank down on a bench in the cloisters, taking pleasure in the warmth of the Sicilian sun upon her face. Brightly colored birds flitted from bush to bush and she tracked their passage with interest. It helped, she had discovered, to focus only upon the moment, and she resolutely refused to let herself dwell upon her fears, to think of the future she so dreaded. For now, the kindness of the nuns and her beautiful benefactor was enough.

Growing drowsy, she stretched out on the bench and soon fell asleep. When she awoke, she got hastily to her feet and greeted the abbess in the deferential manner that she’d copied from the nuns. Smiling, Blanche bade her sit back down again, saying she needed to regain her strength for the journey, and Alicia went suddenly cold. “A journey?” she whispered. “I am leaving here?”

“In two days’ time. I do not suppose you can ride a mule? No matter, I am sure Lady Joanna can provide a horse litter for you. Her lord husband has already returned to Palermo, but she remained behind, waiting till you were well enough to travel.”

Alicia didn’t understand. “Why is she taking me to Palermo?”

“Well, that is where she and Lord William live, child. They have a palace here in Messina, too, but their favorite home is in Palermo.”

“Am I . . . am I to live with her?” That seemed too much to hope for, though. “Why would she want me?”

That was a question some of Blanche’s nuns had been asking, too. But not the abbess. She had no doubt that this bedraggled, pitiful kitten had stirred Joanna’s thwarted maternal instincts. “Why not? There is always room for young women in the royal household, and taking you in would be a way to honor your brother, too. He died a martyr’s death, for he was on his way to the Holy Land and he sacrificed himself to save his fellow Christians.”

By now Alicia was thoroughly confused. “Does the Lady Joanna live in the royal household, then?”

The abbess looked at her in surprise. “You do not know who she is?”

Alicia flushed, taking those incredulous words as an implied rebuke. “I thought of her as my guardian angel,” she said, staring down at the ground.