Rose (18 page)

“This conversation is not to be repeated,” Bartholomew said.

“But,” Everard, youthful, naïve knight, dared to say, “why would you ask Queen Eleanor to speak to the king? Why not ask King Louis? Patriarch Aimery blessed the king and the pilgrimage this morning during prayers.”

Bartholomew was quiet for some time. Finally he answered. “Men and women, in love, do things that seem irrational. King Louis is in love with the queen. We all thought that if she asked him, he might consider doing it just to make her happy.”

“He swore an oath. Should that not be enough?” Everard
asked, looking at Dominus for confirmation. “The entire Crusade
was called together to save Edessa.”

“Something has changed,” Commander Bartholomew said. “I do not know what, only that I must do whatever is in my power to keep the Crusade on course.”

Dominus kept quiet. As Bishop Clairvaux might say, it was acceptable to have a difference of opinion. It was not all right to form a rebellion. Who all were part of the commander's council?

Mamie watched the men leave, then turned toward Eleanor. “God's breath! What was that about?”

“Is the king really going to Jerusalem,” Fay said, pacing the grassy area, “without saving Edessa?”

“I do not know, exactly.” Eleanor fretted at her thumbnail. “Do I dare believe that my uncle plots with the Templars? But why wouldn't they be in accord?” She shook her head.

“I—”

Eleanor held up a hand. “Fay, I want you to uncover every
last morsel of gossip or scandal about Commander Bartholomew, and Mamie—you and Dominus have a friendship, of sorts; use it. Find out what is going on. I will confront my uncle as soon as we get back to the castle.”

“Do you think that wise?” Fay asked.

“Why not?”

Mamie interjected, “If your uncle was willing to ask for the aid of Templar, he must feel that either his actions are under watch or yours are.”

“Perhaps Constance cannot be trusted?” Eleanor mused aloud. “My political views differ from Louis's. Perhaps my uncle and she have a similar situation.”

Mamie walked the circumference of the grove, each step building power within her body and her mind. She passed the waterfall. Feeling the spray of fresh water on her skin reminded her of the boat voyage and how she and the queen had faced the danger together. Mamie, though a warrior, had fear buried deep within her heart. She felt the urge to let it go, to free what held her captive.

She stopped, staring at the water and the laurel trees rooted by the bank. “What do
you
want
,
my queen?”

Eleanor dropped her arms to her sides. “What?”

“What do you want?” Mamie put a hand out, letting the water refresh her fevered skin. She felt stretched from the inside.

“My goal was to reach Antioch. Now I am here, and there is more intrigue. Choices must be made, and not all of them
will be popular. Louis said he would not make a decision until he spoke with the advisors here in Antioch, which means my uncle as well as the patriarch. But if I am being approached in secret . . .”

Mamie closed her eyes and breathed in, all the way to her toes. She rooted herself to the earth, allowing her body and the world around her to become as one. It was not comfortable, but she felt compelled.

“I want . . .” Eleanor paused, deep in thought. “If Louis forgoes Edessa, which I know in my heart is what he wants to do, to travel directly to Jerusalem and gain absolution over Vitry and peace for his brother's soul, he will be satisfied with the journey even though it is not the original purpose of the Crusade.”

“You have told me what Louis wants,” Mamie said. “What is your heart's desire?” She waited, eyes closed. Fear of the unknown, of losing herself. She warred with something in the air
as she listened to the queen and connected to the water. Daphne?
Apollo?

“To do the honorable thing. If we go to Edessa, he risks his life and the lives of his men, our men, for what purpose? He feels the reward does not equal the risk. That we can come back after Jerusalem and gain Edessa. Is he right? Putting my pride aside, is my husband right?”

Mamie opened her eyes, seeing the grove through a haze of white. She felt fuller, wiser as she breathed. Eleanor, so beautiful, was haloed in silver and purple. When Mamie spoke, she sounded almost masculine, though she did not feel so. “It is time to choose your future, Eleanor. What you decide will bend your fate, for better or worse.”

Eleanor and Fay both stared at Mamie, which Mamie saw, but somehow from above it all.

She pointed, her finger dripping water. “Decide, Eleanor. Either Destiny will bring you contentment, but one will allow passion to match your own. A chance to raise kings.”

Eleanor's cheeks flushed, and her eyes gleamed. “Who are you?”

Mamie struggled to answer, to give her name, but she couldn't say a word. Instead, the tenuous feeling burst like a bubble within her, and the world returned to its duller colors.

She fell to her knees, not in pain, but because what had held her up was gone, leaving her boneless and unable to stand. Water from the stream splashed her face, the waterfall behind her smacking the rocks in the pool below.

“Mamie!”

She heard Fay's voice.

“Mamie?”

Eleanor's too.

She couldn't form words. Her mind felt as broken as a dropped egg. Her secret fear rose, but she fought against the revelation. Better to focus on the queen.

Fay's hand gripped her shoulder. Eleanor turned her to her side.

Blinking as the thoughts came at her, snowflakes in a blizzard, she felt as if she should catch them and hold them close, but they were leaving as quickly as they'd arrived. “I am one,” Mamie whispered in awe.

Fay's brows quirked. “With what?”

“All. As are you. And you,” she told Eleanor. “Nobody is better than another, there is just”—she struggled to sit up, not caring that her gown was soaked through—“us.” Peasant, noble. It did not matter. Male or female, Muslim or Christian.

“What of God?” Eleanor queried.

“There is God but not a vengeful God or a hateful God. He is love. We are his creatures, and we are all loved.”
Sarah and the baby. Me
.

Fay searched her face. “You have received very powerful messages.” Her gray eyes remained serious, very unlike Fay. “But what choice will the queen have to make? How can she make the right one, if we don't know what they are?”

“I do not know. Just that it was important to be true to oneself. It is a feeling. The easiest choice is not always the best.”

Eleanor's eyes were large, her face pale.

The mist from the waterfall covered them all, drops forming on their hair and lashes.

The queen said, “We need to return to the palace and find out what is happening with Raymond and Bartholomew. It seems as if there is a council of some sort and—”

The women sounded afraid, and somehow Mamie understood that was not the intent of the messages. To empower, not frighten. She tried to stand and lost her footing on the slippery bank, her gown catching on an exposed root. She fell backward, grabbing Fay and Eleanor with her. They landed in the stream with a splash, beneath the spill from the waterfall.

Laughing released fear, and the showering water washed it away
for good. “We've been baptized,” Mamie said, teeth chattering.

“A blessing.” Eleanor wore a contemplative expression as
they waded toward the bank. “A chance to know ourselves better.
Fay, how are you?”

Fay, having pulled herself from the water, offered a hand to the queen. “Fine. As long as you are safe.”

The queen said nothing, climbing to the grass and shaking water from her hands.

Fay reached out her hand to Mamie. “Your freckles are blue.”

“The water is as cold as it looks,” Mamie said, getting to her feet and hugging her arms around her middle. “Refreshing.”

“Glacial,” Fay countered. She wrung the hem of her skirt, dripping water over the rocks and grass. “I prefer the bathhouse and all of that hot, hot steam.” She rubbed her arms. “Warmth to the bone.”

Eleanor, teeth chattering, while still looking ethereal, twisted
her long tail of hair and then knotted it atop her head. Her gown, weighted and damp, trailed the ground.

Mamie pointed to a spot in the clearing where the sun beamed. “We could dry, as nature made us.” She bit her tongue as her teeth clacked together. “Or die of a chill. I would rather risk someone walking in on us than death.”

Fay was already stripping off her gown, dragging the blanket
from earlier into the rays of sun. Down to her chemise, she scooted to the edge. “Come on. There is plenty of room.”

Mamie and Eleanor followed, with Eleanor in the middle and Mamie on the opposite edge. Mamie kept her sword at her fingertips, in the instance someone entered the grove. Content to let her body dry, Mamie stood guard of her mind, too concerned she might lose control once more. “It is a mystical place,” Fay finally said.

“Hmm. Are we going to talk about Mamie not being Mamie?”
Eleanor asked.

Fay sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “Well?”

“I do not have the words.” Mamie grounded herself in Eleanor and Fay's stares. The sun on her bare arms. The scent of crushed grass. “It felt like someone else was inside me—not hurtful, just”—Mamie squirmed—“full.”

“Do you remember what you said?” Eleanor asked, in gentle tones.

“A little bit. It is fading already. The fullness used my body to speak with you. I could not tell if it was a male energy or a female one.” She shrugged, a rope of damp hair curling around her wrist. “Both, perhaps.”

“What did it mean? Me, making a decision that would alter
the course of history.” Eleanor leaned on her elbow, her face ghostly pale. “Any clue?”

Frustrated, Mamie said, “If I had, I would tell you. It was an overall feeling of love, acceptance, and being true to one's own heart. Not just now but in the future. Always.”

“Ladies?”

Mamie turned toward the entrance of the grove, springing to her feet to stand in front of the queen. Fay did the same. Their thin chemises had dried quickly in the sun, but their gowns, spread over the grass to dry, were out of reach.

“Stay where you are,” Mamie ordered. “Who are you?”

“Princess Constance has an escort waiting at the bottom of the hill, when you are ready to leave. There is no hurry,” the female voice said. “Do you require an attendant? I am Lady Hortencia. We met last evening at the banquet. I am here to offer my services.”

“I remember you well,” Mamie said.

“Welcome, Lady,” the queen called out. “If you are alone, enter.”

A tall, slender blonde woman came into the grove, her veil fluttering with her long-legged strides. She saw them on the blanket, their gowns spread in the sun. She howled. “I knew there was a reason I brought gowns. They are not fashionable, but they are dry.”

“How did you know?” Mamie asked, rising to her full height.

“There is something about the water here that is inviting. I always end up in it.” Hortencia smiled at Mamie. “Invigorating, isn't it?”

“That is one way to describe it,” Fay said, taking the bag.

“Have you experienced any odd happenings?” Eleanor stood behind Mamie, while Fay drew out a plain beige tunic with a simple braided belt.

Lady Hortencia looked amused but stayed quiet.

“Here, my queen.” Fay assisted Eleanor, then took one for herself. When they were done, they looked the same.

“We could be acolytes at a Greek temple.” Mamie chuckled, pointing at their three matching tunics.

“I do not mind at all,” Eleanor declared with typical good cheer. “We have been blessed by our time in the grove, and it seems fitting to be humbled this way. A reminder that we are all one, eh, Mamie?”

Lady Hortencia folded her hands at her waist, her brows lifted in question.

“We had an exciting afternoon,” Mamie said, not sure she wished to discuss her epiphanies with a stranger, no matter how nice of a lady.

“Princess Constance was furious that the commander of the Templars left you here alone. You are a royal guest of Antioch and her husband's dear niece. She made her opinion known.” Lady Hortencia winked. “She has quite a temper when riled, and she was quite provoked on your behalf.”

Eleanor dipped her head. “It is I who will have to apologize for sending them away. I did not intend to cause a disruption in the palace.”

“They should have waited for you on the road. It is a short journey, true, but it is a matter of respect. It is not the first time the commander and Princess Constance have had a disagreement over what is respectful and just toward women.” She looked around the grove. “There are such strong feminine energies here that it is no wonder he left. The three of you are very powerful together.”

“Sir Dominus is known to us, from his aid on the pilgrimage. Everard, too. That is why they offered to give us an escort.
I did not feel we needed it, but the commander insisted.” Mamie
did not want the knights fasting or praying on their behalf. “And at the last, he joined our party. Unplanned.”

“I remember the conversation at the table,” Hortencia said. “The Knights Templar are a strict sect. I would not be at all
surprised if he found out about your friendship and interceded
to protect his brothers. You are female and therefore”—she pinched her fingers together—“this close to evil.”

Mamie recollected his change of heart, surmising it came
around the time he decided to invite himself to get a secret message
to the queen. And who was the evil one?