Rose (11 page)

“I am like a lizard on a rock. Content.” Fay kept her eyes closed, the water coming up to her neck. “Mamie, what do you want that requires secrets?”

“Not I, Madame Lizard, but our liege. She is fair to bursting with wanting to discuss secret things.”

Eleanor nudged Mamie's shoulder. “Hush now, impertinent Rose. Everyone has secrets or things they want to hide. Even your Templar, Dominus. He serves beneath the cross, but there is more to it than that.”

“I have thought the same,” Mamie said. She was glad to hear that Eleanor noticed it as well. What was Dominus hiding?

“Not Everard.” Fay exhaled, ruffling the water near her mouth. “He is a true innocent.”

“Perhaps.” The queen lowered her voice further still. “If you mean to carry on as my spies, then I have duties for each of you.”

“We just arrived in Antioch,” Fay said, cracking open one eye. “You have the same amount of time we do. How is it I can barely think and you already have a strategy?”

Eleanor dismissed Fay's complaint. “Mamie, I want you to find out how much support my uncle has among his men.”

Mamie released a breath, anticipation of a mission breaking her calm. “Simple. What else?”

“You must not get caught or Louis will be very upset. I promised him that we would stay free of intrigue.”

“And he believed you?”

“Enough. That will keep you busy until I decide the next step. Fay, I will have you learn everything there is to know about
the Patriarch. Aimery of Limoges. I want to know if he is as pious
as he appears. Look for inconsistencies, in the event we need a favor. No doubt he and Louis will become the best of allies. I will befriend Constance.”

“I like her,” Fay said. “She reminds me, in the tiniest way, of you as a girl. Mayhap more of your sister, Petronilla.”

“I haven't thought of Pet in ages,” Eleanor said with a smile.
“You realize that Louis is still upset over what happened in Vitry?”
She put a hand over her heart. “As am I. But sometimes battle is ugly, war is not fair, and innocents are harmed. I pray for their souls, and I've paid for their souls to be prayed for. He wants absolution.”

“Which he will receive from the King of Jerusalem once we arrive.” Mamie nodded, understanding at last some of what drove the king.

“After Edessa!”

Her proclamation ended the conversation, and the three ladies
helped one another wash their hair, rinsing with clean water from a smaller pool.

At last, Eleanor held up her hands, showing her wrinkled fingers. “I think we should get out before our skin falls off and we are nothing but bone.”

Mamie dragged herself to the edge and climbed out. “I would like to try that rose-scented lotion.”

Fay, after wringing out her chemise, picked up various bottles on a crowded counter and sniffed. “Mmm. Violet—how I miss our Isabella. Peony—Catherine, a baroness.” She laughed. “It suits her I think.” Fay wiped a sudden tear from her eye.
“And Lily—Sarah. How strong she was, and in the end so fragile.
The only one of us to leave your service in death.”

“And you called me maudlin?” Eleanor wrapped her hair in a length of absorbent cloth.

Mamie rubbed her locks vigorously until they were close to dry.

Fay shrugged, choosing a lotion that smelled faintly of sandalwood.

Eleanor finally decided on a lemon and gingerroot concoction.
“Look at how this makes my skin feel—so soft! I will have to buy more of this before we leave for Jerusalem.”

Mamie dried the queen's hair, combing the lengths free of tangles. Fay cheated, braiding her own while it was still damp.

They heard the sound of someone knocking, and then Constance's cheery voice called out a greeting. “It is just I,” she said. “Oh! I wasn't certain if you would be out of the water yet.”

“I was turning into a prune,” Eleanor laughed. “Mamie is part fish. We had to force her out.”

Constance looked at each of them. “Queen Eleanor, your
beauty is renowned, and I see for myself there is no exaggeration
to the tales. And your ladies are a perfect adornment. Shall I help you dress?”

Mamie sighed with sensual pleasure as she shimmied into a new linen undergown trimmed with delicate lace. The stockings were thinner than any she'd worn before. “What are these?”

“Silk, made here in Antioch.”

“Soft,” Fay said in wonderment. “Will they tear easily?”

Constance shook her head, smiling.

Mamie accidentally kicked her other gown, freeing the straw figure of Tyche. It was as long as her pointer finger, but
with such detail, it was easy to see Antioch's walls on Tyche's crown.

Constance asked, “Where did you get that?”

“A girl and her mother outside the palace. She said she made them and gave one to me in exchange for a shoe.”

Constance stopped helping Eleanor for a moment and eyed Mamie. “A shoe? What girl?”

Mamie acted as if she had to think about the name, but she would never forget the child. “Hmm. Isla?”

“A simple child. I know of her. Her mother was a very skilled seamstress but moved out of the palace when she married her artisan husband.”

Mamie smiled.

“They did not bother you? I can have a word with them if they are assaulting people as they come to the castle.”

“Non!” Not wanting any harm to come to the girl or her mother, Mamie shrugged and said, “I was quite careless and almost ran her over. We became friends, though.”

Constance hummed with concern before returning her attention to the queen.

Mamie put on a dark brown sleeveless surcoat with a thin trim of red and brown. “I have forgotten how wonderful new things can be. My most sincere gratitude, Princess.”

Clapping her hands together, Constance twirled Mamie about. “I am so pleased you like it. You look lovely.”

Mamie peered at her reflection in a silver mirror above the table. Green eyes, fiery red curls, and a humbling upturned nose
that kept her from true beauty. The brown and red complemented
her coloring.

Fay's long gown covered her feet, with attached sleeves that hung almost to the floor. Yellows in shades of pale lemon and wild daisy blended in perfect harmony. A marigold rope belt sat low on her hips. Her chestnut hair, still braided, danced around her shoulders.

The queen changed from the emerald gown she'd worn earlier to one that was purple, royal, and stunning. The sleeves of ribbons and lace dropped in points, and a matching girdle snugged Eleanor's hips. Mamie and Fay each wore a thin circlet of gold to hold their sheer veils in place.

Constance had brought a gift for Eleanor. “Here you are, my queen.”

Eleanor demurred. “You've done so much.”

“This is a personal gift from me to you.”

“Well,” she said, pleased. Eleanor opened the cedar box and drew out an elegant gold crown, inlaid with purple and green stones, mosaic in style.

“To remind you of Antioch and this journey. You have moved through this all with such grace. It is a small token.”

“Stunning. I will wear it now.”

“Good.” Constance smiled. “My husband requested an interview with you before the banquet. Are you up to a visit?”

Mamie was impressed with the way Eleanor kept from shouting out a victory call. Instead, her liege merely dipped her head. “Of course. I can rest later.”

“Come with me, then,” she said before looking to Mamie and Fay. “You know how to get back to your rooms?”

Dismissed. Mamie looked at Eleanor, who gave the slightest bob of her head.

“Yes. We will be fine.”

“Thank you, once more,” Fay said.

“It was nothing,” Constance insisted. “Hospitality gladly given.”

She led Eleanor out of the bathhouse and to a different trail beneath a canopy of trees.

“Should we follow her?”

“Fay,” Mamie said with a scoff. “Of course we should.”

Dominus finished his prayers and the last meat pie at the same time and decided he needed a better wash than the dunking in the trough near the stable. Bishop of Clairvaux wanted an accounting of the Templar order, and he would get it. Aimery of Limoges, esteemed Patriarch of Antioch—father, priest, religious director all wrapped in one.

Not wanting to offend the local commander in charge, Dominus took great care to avoid getting caught disregarding his directive. Dominus had his own agenda.

He left the Templar House, sneaking past the sleeping chaplain in charge, and found his way into the palace, looking
for the men's wing and specifically the king. A long and beautiful
hallway dappled with sunshine showed murals—non, mosaic art—that decorated the lower walls.

A woman, trailed by a giggling child, went from one room at the end of the hall to the other.
Wrong wing
. He must have confused the map.

A servant left a chamber fifty paces away.

“Probably shouldn't be here,” he muttered, scooting behind a glazed clay urn overflowing with ivy.

The young woman passed by so close he could have touched her.

Dressed in unadorned beige, she carried an empty tray of wine goblets, fruit rinds, and a cheese knife. He wasn't certain whom she served, but he had a good idea she'd be headed to the kitchen. From there he'd be able to find the correct wing . . .

A sound like a closing door echoed, then a scuffing of shoes, heels, came from the farthest end of the hall. Alert, he listened closely, his body pressed to the urn.

“Scolded like children,” a female voice said in disgusted tones.

“She knew we would try and follow,” another added. “We were set up to fail.”

He recognized the latter voice, giving him the clue to the first. Mamie and Fay, the queen's ladies.

Mamie. His temptation. His nemesis.

The last person he wanted to see. He prayed they would enter one of the doors before his hiding spot, but their clickety-clack grew closer. Then stopped altogether.

As if sensing his presence, Mamie hesitated before the door the servant had just exited and turned around. He peered through the ivy leaves, where a point tickled his nose. She put her hand on Fay's arm.

“What is it?” Fay asked.

Mamie narrowed her eyes, letting her gaze pass over the urn. He ducked down, not daring to breathe. The woman spotted a Turkish arrow before anyone else—there was no way she would miss his presence.

A moment passed.

“Nothing.” Mamie laughed with a shaky voice. “We've all got the spooks today.”

He heard the door opening, and she and Fay greeted someone named Larissa. The queen's handmaiden, if he remembered correctly.

The door closed, and he exhaled. Mamie set him on edge. She'd bathed and wore fresh clothes. Sumptuous clothes, unlike his borrowed brown robe. He did not mind wearing what Commander Bartholomew surely thought of as a humbling garment. It allowed him to be invisible, whereas the white cloak and red cross of the Templars were very memorable.

It eased something in him, knowing where Mamie would be sleeping. He'd gotten used to looking out for her, whether she could know it or not. The pilgrimage would not last forever, but even then, once it was over?

He had nothing to offer a lady such as Mamie. She was obviously happy, smiling and laughing all the time. Why would she give up her life in the queen's court, where she held a place of honor?

Coming around the side of the urn, he bumped into Mamie of Rou, nose-to-freckled-nose. The woman was very stealthy indeed. “You are good,” he said, sincere.

“What are you doing?” she asked, holding her short sword toward his chest.

“You knew I was here?”

“I smelled you halfway down the hall. Salt water and fish.”

He pulled back a few inches, carrying on a whispered conversation. “Sorry. I was not given permission to bathe.”

“Permission?” Mamie's expression told him what she thought of that.

They had something in common—breaking the rules—but she did not know just how. Yet. “The commander, surprisingly, does not like me. He thinks I need to eat some humble pie.” He gave a little sniff. “You smell nice. Like roses.”

Her emerald eyes danced. “Do you like it?” She leaned in, baring her white neck. “I dabbed some of the oil behind my ears.”

Dominus noticed the pale shell of her ear and how her fiery red curls swirled over the edge and down her shoulder. How could he not? He kept his hands to himself with sheer will. “Is this your new gown?”

“One of several that Princess Constance had made especially
for us. Is that robe yours?”

“It is all part of the commander's lesson to teach me humility.
Templar rules are such that he was forced to gift me two new
horses and some chain mail, despite his dislike of me personally.”

Mamie grinned. “Will you be coming to the feast?”

“Non. I must spend the evening praying for my soul.”

She burst into laughter, her curls bouncing over her arm. “And that will take all night? What have you been thinking about, Sir Dominus?”

She captured him with her gaze, challenging him to admit he was flirting. Thinking of her.
Damn his oath.

“I should be going.” He wanted to kiss her.

“You never should have been here,” Mamie said, her sword back at his chest.

He stepped back, hitting the wall. Somehow he knew she would be able to find King Louis in less time than it would take him. “I was looking for the kitchen.”

“In the ladies' section of the castle?”

“I got lost,” he said with a shrug.

“And instead of asking for help, you hid behind some ivy.” She nodded, tapping the flat of the blade against her hip. “You are not a very good liar, Dominus.”