Rose (7 page)

“No sign of Raymond yet,” Fay said, her voice just above a whisper. “The Patriarch of Antioch, Aimery of Limoges, is offering his blessing to all as they pass off the ship. That's nice, but it is why we are stuck here.”

A few tense moments passed. Mamie, out of habit, searched the area around them for anything out of the ordinary. A Turkish plume, or the glint of steel in the distance. Dominus stood, his palm resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He had some
how managed to keep his white tunic clean. His profile reminded
her of an antique coin she'd seen once. Yes, the break in his nose gave him a Roman look.

Mamie saw a flurry of banners round a bend in the river. She turned to Eleanor. “Is that him?”

“
Oui
!” Eleanor cried, her face lighting up with affection.

Fay stood next to Mamie, her eyes wide. “Drama must be a family trait. Are those flaming torches?”

“Probably. Doesn't he look handsome?” Eleanor gushed, clasping her hands to her chest once she realized she'd been pointing.

Fay hummed her agreement, while Mamie nodded. Raymond was everything Eleanor said he was. At least a head taller than the courtiers around him, broad of shoulder, he had an easy, inviting laugh that traveled across the water.

“This is the Orontes River, plenty deep enough for a galley,”
the queen's captain said. “I wonder if we will all sail to the Prince of Antioch's palace?”

“Go find out,” Eleanor ordered. “Come straight back. I dislike standing about.”

Eleanor's demeanor became haughty the longer she had to wait. Mamie understood the slight and whispered, “Should we make our way to the front anyway? I have sharp elbows.”

As if sensing his niece's presence, Raymond looked across the expanse of people, including King Louis, whom he did not even pause to acknowledge, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Eleanor, what took you so long?”

The boisterous greeting made everyone laugh. The band played louder, and the people cheered.

Eleanor, cheeks flushed, waved back, her dignity restored at being favored. “No need to crush forward,” she said, relaxing her shoulders. “I will wait for a private audience.”

“Not too private?” Fay reminded. “We are here to watch over you—as you told us.”

“I need fear nothing in my uncle's palace.”

Mamie shivered at the queen's statement. She rarely prayed with intent or expected results, but she whispered a quick Hail Mary to ensure the queen's fiery words did not bring on the worst. She lifted her head, catching the glint of light flash from the bell.
What was that?

“Fay,” Mamie said. “The queen!” She saw nothing, but her senses were alert. She scanned the ocean, the villas clinging to the side of the mountain. Where was the danger coming from?

Fay stepped next to the queen. “Mamie? What's wrong?”

An arrow sounded from her right and she turned, reaching for her sword, her fingers grabbing fabric instead of metal. She clutched Fay's shoulder, shoved Larissa and the queen together, and looked for Dominus. A second arrow skidded across the deck. “We are under attack!”

Dominus and Everard stayed at the edges of the patrol around the queen. He did not anticipate trouble this close to the city. Not from the Turks, anyway.

“Will we check in with the patriarch?” Dominus asked Everard.

“No.” He kept a steady pace with Dominus. “Since I have not been to Antioch before either, I asked one of the other Templars. He said we go to the Templar House and see Commander Bartholomew. He will give us fresh horses and gear.”

“Dominus, to me!”

He heard Mamie's shout and turned, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. He recognized her tone from Laodicea, where the caravan had been under constant Turkish fire.

“Come,” she said, her full mouth in a straight rose-colored
line. Her cheeks were bright, her stature stiff as a soldier's. “Stand here.” She pulled him across the deck, where the queen
covered a servant with her body as the servant struggled to protect
the queen.

Everard followed at his heels.

“What is going on?” Years of battle experience brought calm to a strange situation. He didn't know what was happening, but he was prepared to fight, or protect, whichever was needed.

Mamie kicked a red-shafted arrow and pointed to the giant cross on the mountain. “Turkish archers coming from the hill below there. Guard the queen with your life.”

Dominus pulled his sword free, searching the mountains
until he saw a glint of iron in the distance. Another arrow landed
in the water.

“More than one archer,” he told them in a steady voice. “They are far away.”

“Not far enough,” Mamie said, sword out. “Turks!” she shouted toward the king's soldiers, who were oblivious to the danger until her warning.

The other passengers waiting to get off the ship shouted, a woman screamed, and people began pushing one another.

Fay positioned Everard to the right of the queen so that the four of them had their backs together, the queen and Larissa hunched down in the center.

“The first arrow landed at my feet.” Mamie had a large tear in the side of her red skirt, the ivory-and-white undergown showing.

Was she hurt? Dominus's heart sped, but he saw no injury. She held a sword in one hand, smaller than the average sword a knight such as himself carried, but it seemed perfectly suited to her stature.

“What is going on?” Eleanor asked.

Dominus was surprised at first by the lack of hysterics, but then reminded himself that these women had been to war. As much as he disapproved of women wielding weapons, they knew how to handle themselves when under attack.

“Turkish archers,” Mamie said, holding her position as people
jostled one another. She gave an elbow to a noble who veered too close. A wet thunk sounded, and a soldier yelled, pulling at the arrow embedded in his leg.

“We have to get out of here,” Mamie said, eyes searching, alert.

The queen's captain rushed back, his face pale. He whistled, and the king's men fell into position with them.

“Make way,” the captain shouted. “To the front.”

Dominus, Everard, Fay, and Mamie shuffled forward with the king's men, the queen protected at all times in their center.

Once they finally reached the gangplank, Eleanor and Larissa
were whisked on board Raymond's ship with Louis. They sailed away.

“
Mon Dieu
,” Mamie said, her brow furrowed as she stared at the receding ship. “She should have waited for us.”

Fay, scrubbing her nose with the back of her hand, looked ready to spit nails.

Nothing angelic about her now
, Dominus thought.

“We got separated when she gave Raymond a hug,” Fay said. “I've never seen anyone so furious. God's blood!”

Everard stared at Fay, concern on his face, likely for her cursing more than her menace with a sword. Fighting together on the caravan had changed his perspective on what was the bigger sin. It had changed them all, Dominus observed.

“Templars!”

He heard the shout as he was jerked to the left, a hand on his arm. “
Oui
?”

A gray-bearded man with tanned skin, white hair, and a strong grip said, “Well done, saving the queen. I'm Commander Bartholomew. Escort these people to the palace, and then find me there. Your name?”

“Dominus Brochard, and this is Everard de Charney.”

“Welcome to Antioch. As you can see, we need your aid against the infidel.” He pointed to the cross on the mountain. “I'll send a regiment of soldiers to check on the monks.”

The man melted away into the crowd—his order given with the full expectation it would be followed.

Mamie smacked Dominus's arm. “
Oui
, we thank
you
for saving the queen.”

Dominus brushed at the spot where she'd touched him. “He did not give me the chance to explain.” He looked to Everard. “Find
us horses. We're supposed to escort these people to the palace.”

“We are women,” Mamie snipped, “and do not need your escort. We saved the queen.”

“You saw the arrow first.” Fay kicked at a rock. “I cannot believe I missed it.”

“What if it had hit the queen? I should have seen it sooner.” She shrugged, her mouth turned downward.

Everard came to the women's defense. “They were hiding. I had looked at the mountains before and seen nothing. Do not blame yourselves.”

Dominus pushed Everard toward Fay and Mamie. “Fine. You three stay right here, and
I
will go get the horses.”

“Horses?” a passing Templar asked. “If you are going to the
palace, then you simply need to sign in with the priest at the table
there. You will get horses to be returned to the royal stable.”

“What of
our
horses?” Mamie appeared at Dominus's side. “From the galley? I want my own mount. To see that she is all right.”

The knight's patience slipped. “Madame, everything will be sorted out later. If you wish to avoid the crowd, I suggest borrowing a horse.”

He left, and Mamie gritted her teeth. “There was no need to be rude.”

“Quiet.” Dominus took her elbow—breaking the rules—and pushed her through the people. He signed his name for four horses.

He was not a stupid man, and he felt the heat of Mamie's temper through her clothes. There was no point in placating her, so he said nothing at all.

Fay and Everard chatted about the finer points of an arrowhead as they waited for the horses to be brought to them.

Everard arched his brow at the obvious silent argument going on between Dominus and Mamie but did not comment. Praise be to God.

The road toward the palace was not to be ridden in silence, however. Mamie, behaving as if Dominus did not exist, set aside her anger to talk to Fay and Everard. She wore her sword sheathed on the outside of her skirt, not bothering to hide it. Now he understood the reason for the rip in her clothing.

Fay patted her hip. “I wish I had done the same, but I foolishly did not want to ruin another gown. I assumed there would be no real threat from the Turks this close to Antioch.”

“We all did,” Dominus admitted.

“The alteration was easy enough. Now I see how I could make it stronger. I will show you. I wager that Larissa could sew them without anyone the wiser.”

Dominus bit the inside of his cheek. Women's gowns and secret pockets. Perhaps there were Templar rules for a reason. He kept glancing at the lace hem at Mamie's ankle. Shoes were to be hidden, but hers, silver and delicate, were visible to any who looked. “Cover your shoe. It shines and could be a target.”

He could not think on the fact she might have been killed by an arrow, not without packing her over his horse and racing for the hills. Dominus knew she would not appreciate his desire to keep her safe.

Mamie glared at him before tucking her hem over the silver heel. Mamie's posture was perfect as she sat astride her mount. She held her head high, her pert nose and full mouth beautiful in profile—even if she was angry.

“Look how tall that tower is!” Fay sat up, squinting against the sun. “It reaches the clouds.”

Everard rode next to Fay. “There are three hundred sixty towers, at least. I asked. All still used in defense of the city.”

Mamie patted her horse's neck as it stumbled on a loose stone. “I wonder if there will be constant fighting. I'd hoped
to relax my guard—against the Turks, anyway—while we were here.”

Dominus answered, having given this some thought since they'd left the ship. “I think that Antioch is under no immedi
ate threat or they wouldn't have had a parade by the pier, welcoming us. I wager there will be some soldiers in Prince Raymond's
army getting their backs whipped for not patrolling well enough.”

Everard nodded, his expression thoughtful.

“Ouch,” Fay said, rubbing her lower back.

“Edessa being held by the Turks means Antioch is without an ally to one side. Prince Raymond will feel much more secure with Edessa back in Christian hands.” Bishop Clairvaux wanted Outremer to be Roman Catholic and safe for pilgrims journeying toward the Holy Land.

“Save Edessa, then finish the quest.” Mamie stretched her fingers, her palms red.

“Where are your gloves?” Dominus asked.

“Ruined. The salt water finished off most of what I had left from the flood.” She wriggled her foot in the stirrup, lifting her hem for the blink of an eye. “I have my silver shoes, though, so I shall still be able to dance.”

Switching topics, from danger to dancing. Dominus was beginning to realize his temptation did not care to linger over the unpleasant aspects of life.

“Would you like mine?” They were worn thin and too big for her hands. An unworthy gift.

She shook her head, the silver veil slipping slightly forward on her forehead. “Queen Eleanor has promised us each a new wardrobe. I doubt you care much about fashions . . .” She glanced at him.

“No.”

“Well, our queen has a gift for putting together colors. She can see immediately what color is best for anyone. You would not think that I would look good in red, with my hair.” She tugged at a coil, “But there are certain shades that show my pale skin to advantage—” She stopped talking as she apparently remembered who she spoke to. Her cheeks turned pink. “I, er. I will have gloves soon.”

He did not want to laugh, but he couldn't prevent the chuckle escaping from his belly.

With her customary show of spirit, Mamie urged her mount forward. “We shall see who is laughing, sir, once you see me in my new gown.” Hair flouncing behind her, she made her way toward Fay.