Shadows on a Sword (12 page)

Friend.
As Theo looked at Emma, he knew that what he felt for her was much more than friendship.

Baldwin did come, but only in time to watch his wife die. The children followed soon after. Theo saw him standing, tall and sombre, beside their gravesides as the priests said mass over them. Emma stood slightly behind him. As Theo watched, Baldwin turned to her and said something. They were too far away for Theo to make out the words, but he saw a quick flush rise to Emma’s cheeks.

The next morning, he hurried over to Baldwin’s camp, determined to talk to Emma. Now that Godvere and the children were gone, he feared for her safety alone with that man. When he walked into the clearing where the tents had been, however, they were gone. He stopped, shocked and uncomprehending for a moment, then raced to Godfrey’s encampment.

“My Lord Baldwin,” he gasped out to the first sentry he came upon. “Know you where he is?”

“He and all his entourage left with the first light,” the man replied. “Stricken with grief over the death of his lady and children, no doubt.” Sarcasm lay heavy over the words.

“Where did they go?”

The guard looked at Theo, surprised at the intensity of his questioning.

“To the east, where there is more to be gained, rumors say. He is more anxious to carve out his own kingdom, I am told, than to remain with the crusade.” As if suddenly aware that he was speaking unwisely, the guard snapped his mouth shut and would say no more.

Theo turned away, a sickness in his stomach. What about Emma? For a moment, he thought wildly about saddling Centurion and riding after them, but even as the thought formed itself, he heard the trumpets sounding and the bugles calling. They were to march today—on to Antioch.

Theo saddled his palfrey and made Centurion ready for the trip without any awareness of what he was doing. His mind was reeling. It was inconceivable that Emma should disappear from his life in such a manner. It was impossible! And with Baldwin … He hadn’t the slightest doubt about the treatment she would receive at his hands. Why had she gone? Why hadn’t she at least contrived to tell him she was going and to say farewell? Didn’t she care for him at all? She had called him friend—even if she felt no more than that, how could she have left him in such a way?

He finished his preparations, swung into the saddle and rode to join his foster father. To the east, the guard had said. He scanned the horizon. Where in the east? Where had she gone?

“Why so glum, my son?” the count asked as he rode up. “Are you not excited? Once we liberate Antioch, the way southward to the Holy Land will be open to us. Our journey goes well!”

Theo didn’t answer. He swung his horse alongside the count as they took their places in the train. Centurion stomped behind on a lead rope that Theo held loosely in one hand.

“We must see about finding you another groom,” the count said as Centurion edged forward and irritably tried to shoulder Garnier’s horse out of the way. The slight nudge was powerful enough to cause the animal to stagger off the path. The count gathered his reins and brought his horse back to Theo’s side with difficulty. It eyed Centurion nervously. Centurion bared his teeth and tried to nip the unfortunate animal’s flank. Theo only just managed to haul on the lead rope and forestall him.

“I’m sorry for poor William, but he must be replaced,” the count said. “That warhorse of yours is a menace.”

“He dislikes sharing the path,” Theo said, but his mind was not on the horse. He rode in silence for a while, but finally could keep quiet no longer.

“Know you where went Baldwin, my lord?” he asked.

Count Garnier’s mouth twisted and his normally open face closed. “Tarsus, the rumor is. He wants the city for himself. Bohemond has sent a troop of Normans after him to keep control in crusader hands.” He paused for a moment. “It seems sometimes there is more fighting and jealousy among ourselves than between us and the enemy. It is disheartening.”

When they camped that night, Theo refused Amalric’s offer to drink and make merry at his campsite.

“There are wenches galore who will make you forget that little servant girl of Godvere’s instantly,” Amalric teased.

Theo flushed. “I had not given her a thought,” he snapped. “I was hardly even aware she had gone.”

“And is that why you have been so intent on discovering Baldwin’s whereabouts?”

Theo turned abruptly and left.

He boiled water for soup, threw in a few turnips and a bone with meat on it, and then just sat, staring into the flames. He had no appetite for food. A rustle in the bushes startled him into awareness.

“Who goes there?” he demanded, springing to his feet.

A figure emerged, leading a decrepit nag. It was a young boy, hair chopped off short in the Norman fashion. In the gathering darkness, Theo had difficulty making out his features.

“You are in need of a groom, my lord?” the boy said.

At the sound of the words, Theo’s heart took a great leap. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Then he found his tongue.

“Emma?” It was barely a whisper. “Come closer to the fire!”

The figure emerged into the flame’s light. Theo looked at him incredulously. The boy bore a slight resemblance to the girl, but the short hair changed the look of the face completely. He was dressed in a belted tunic and leggings; a small dagger such as the servants carried was tucked in at his waist.

“Emma?” Theo repeated, not daring to breathe.

The boy smiled, and in that instant became recognizable.

“Emma! What are you doing here? And in that garb?”

“You need a groom, do you not? Then, I am here to be your groom.”

“I
mpossible!”

“Why?” Emma was defiant.

“Because … because you’ll be recognized.”

“Not now that my lord Baldwin’s gone. No one else in the camp except you knows me well, and even you didn’t recognize me until I spoke. I’ll just not talk when others are around.”

“It can’t possibly work. Besides, you can’t be a groom!”

“It
can
work. I’ve given it thought. And why could I not be a groom? I know much about horses. At home, I helped my father many a time. What I don’t know, you can teach me.”

“But why, Emma? Why do you want to do this?”

Her brows drew together. Her mouth set. “I do not want to be with Baldwin now that my lady is no longer alive. I am not really his servant. You said so yourself. I have the right to do as I wish.”

“But to travel with me as my groom—it is impossible!” Theo repeated. He realized he was blustering.

“Do you not want me here?” Emma’s chin tilted. “Would you rather that I traveled with Lord Baldwin?”

“No, of course not! I trust the man not at all and I am very glad you are not with him.” Theo stopped short. The fact that Emma had
not
gone with Baldwin finally sank in, and a singing lightness began to bubble up through his veins.

“I got the clothes from a groom who was anxious to rid himself of extra weight on the trek over the mountains. I thought they might be useful, although at the time I wasn’t really certain what for. It was good I did so, though, wasn’t it?”

The situation was impossible. What would the count say if he found out? He would send her back to Baldwin, of course. One thought after another tumbled into Theo’s mind. But over all the joy within him rose, and in spite of himself he broke into a broad smile.

“You make a comely lad, I must say,” he said.

Emma answered his smile with one of her own.“The night before my lord Baldwin left, I stole the least of his horses, snuck out of his camp and have been trailing you ever since.” She sounded extremely pleased with herself.

“So, a horse thief as well.”

“I brought a mule with me when I joined Lady Godvere,” Emma answered quickly. “Baldwin has the better bargain, for it was a far better animal than this nag, but I dared not steal the mule back, nor take the sweet mare I usually rode, which belonged to my lord. This half-dead beast will not even be missed.” She looked full at Theo. The smile died and her face became serious once more. “I cannot come back to this crusade if you do not take me in, Theo. A woman alone … It is not possible. I would have to return to Baldwin.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She took a deep breath. “May I stay? May I be your groom?”

“I know not how … If anyone should find out—”

“I have thought that out, too,” she broke in. “Say I am an Armenian, from one of the villages we passed through. That I wished to join the crusade. And say that I am a mute. Then I need not speak at all. My voice is most likely to give me away.” She stopped.

“I have a small tent that William used,” Theo said slowly, getting used to the idea. “You could have that. It would be best if you always set it up close to mine. You would have to avoid the other grooms—they will think you strange for doing so, but you must not let them get too close to you.”

“Strange they may think me, and strange I will be.” She bit her lip and looked down at the fire, then raised her eyes back to Theo. “You understand, Theo, that I will be your groom. Nothing else.”

Theo felt the blood rising to his cheeks. “Of course.” The words came out more brusquely than he had intended.

“I did not mean to insult you,” Emma said. “It was just … I had to make it clear.”

“Of course,” Theo repeated stiffly. “I would never have thought of anything else.” But the racing of his blood belied his words.

She had been facing Theo rigidly, her whole body immobile and tense. Now, suddenly, she relaxed.

“So,” she said, “I will go to war after all.” Her lips curled in a smile of pure satisfaction. “And as a man, not a mewling maid.”

“Grooms do not make war any more than women do,” Theo said. The words came out even more stiffly.

“Perhaps not,” Emma replied. “But I will be at the front, not the back. And I will be helping you prepare for your battles. It will be almost as good. Now, where is that tent?”

“You have a new groom, I see,” Amalric said as he rode up beside Theo a few days later. He was munching on one of the small, purplish fruits that the people in these parts loved.

The way was along level plains and the riding was easy. Once through the mountains, the rains had ceased and the cool autumn weather was a relief to them all. Amalric held out one of the figs, as they were called, to Theo. Theo took it, and used the opportunity of splitting it and squeezing the soft, sweet, seed-filled pulp into his mouth to marshal his thoughts. Emma rode discreetly behind, leading Centurion. She had found a loosely woven hood somewhere and wore it constantly, far down over her eyes. No one tried to ride near her. The other grooms had learned to give Centurion plenty of space and their horses knew well enough not to get within his reach. Centurion, however, was behaving himself admirably. He had taken to Emma immediately, and followed wherever she led him as docilely as a pup.

“My groom says he is none too sociable. Keeps to himself.”

“He is mute,” Theo answered quickly.

“How came you by him, then?” Amalric asked. He seemed only moderately curious, making conversation merely to help ease his impatience. His eyes searched the road ahead of them as if willing the walls of Antioch to come into view.

“He appeared in my camp one evening,” Theo answered, casting a quick, nervous glance at his friend. He had considered telling Amalric about Emma, but had decided against it. He was not altogether sure how Amalric would react. At the very least, he would laugh, and he would certainly think Theo was mad. “He is from one of the Armenian villages. He understands a little of our language and managed to make me know that he wanted to join the crusade. I thought he might do as my groom.”

Amalric was only half listening.

“Good fortune for you,” he answered, but clearly his thoughts were elsewhere. “We should arrive at the gates of Antioch in a few days’ time.” He threw the fig skin to one side. “What shall we find there, I wonder?”

What they found were fortifications that exceeded all imagining. They had a skirmish at the Iron Bridge that crossed the Orontes River but, after a sharp struggle, the army of Bishop Adhemar defeated the Turks who were defending it, and led the way across. Once past that barrier, the crusaders followed the river until, after a sharp bend, the walls of Antioch suddenly appeared ahead. Theo, riding with Amalric, drew in his breath.

On their right-hand side, to the north, the wall rose out of the low, marshy ground along the river, solid and formidable. Directly ahead, the massive fortifications towered above them. On their left, to the south, the wall followed steeply up the slopes of a mountain, then over the summit and out of sight on the far side. All along, at regular intervals, towers were built so that every meter of wall was within bowshot of one of them. At the very peak of the mountain, within the southern wall, a stone citadel stood guard, with the flag of the Turkish governor of the city, Yaghi-Siyan, flying defiantly above it. The crusaders could see that the citadel, walls and towers were heavily manned, but there was no sign of soldiers.

“He knows we are here,” Amalric muttered. “Does he have such contempt for us that he does not even bother to put his army on display?”

The city of Antioch spread itself out within these fortifications. From where he was, Theo could see houses, villas and palaces dotting the hillsides above him. Gardens stretched out luxuriously. The climate was so much milder here than in the north that they were still filled with flowers and trees in full leaf. Smoke rose from innumerable cooking fires, and the heavy scent of spices wafted down to them.

With a flourish of trumpets, the crusading army advanced. Theo could not tear his eyes away from the sight of the magnificent city sprawled out behind its walls on the mountainside before him. But something was wrong. It took him several moments to realize that, beyond the noise that surrounded him—the blaring of horns and trumpets, the neighing of horses, the shouting of men and the usual crash of arms as the foot soldiers followed—there was no sound. The city was silent. He could see no one on the streets, in the gardens or around the houses. The people were keeping themselves out of sight. Waiting.