Peony Read online

  He kept his arms loose at his sides, answering in clipped tones, “I think, as was the case with Aphrodite and Hera, that goddesses lead decent women down the wrong path, giving false hopes of beauty triumphing over all and of love worth dying for.”

  Catherine snapped her mouth closed.

  The queen’s eyes widened.

  Had he really insulted the queen and her retinue of courtiers, her Court of Love? He needn’t have been so honest. She’d thought him more cunning.

  “Monsieur,” Sarah said, her blue eyes fierce, “explain.”

  The other noblemen stood back, murmuring.

  Catherine almost felt sorry for de Montfer. Almost.

  “It is my opinion,” he said, “that the average person is ill equipped to accept life’s hard road. They pray for a boon, they pray for a child, and they pray for a good crop, not understanding that the good crop will come if they merely work hard. Children spring from a healthy marriage, not sacrificing a rabbit to the Moon Goddess.”

  Catherine brought her thumbnail to her teeth. He should just be quiet.

  But no.

  “Women are not meant to be warriors. They are caretakers of hearth and home. Mothers. Wives.” Payen straightened his shoulders, his jaw set.

  Mamie put her hand to her sword.

  Catherine stepped in front of her friend, then met the queen’s angry eyes. “One of the things we have learned in your court, my liege, is that everyone is entitled to an opinion. Even when they are wrong.” She smiled at Eleanor, uncomfortable at being placed in the position of peacemaker.”

  A few of the nobles laughed nervously.

  Turning, Catherine faced the man she did not mean to desire. The man she’d set up to fail by asking the question. “Lord de Montfer,” she said, “I challenge you to a fight.”

  De Montfer swiped his hair from his forehead. “I told you, I will never fight you.”

  She withdrew an arrow from her quiver. “Not a physical fight but an archery contest.”

  “My talent does not lie with the bow and arrow.”

  “Humph.” She played to the crowd and tried to lighten his and the queen’s moods. “So no physical fighting and no archery. What can we possibly do to solve this problem?”

  The queen, her gaze narrowed, nodded to Catherine.

  “I know,” Fay said. “The rock game.”

  “I don’t understand.” De Montfer crossed his arms.

  “It is like falconry.” Catherine made flying motions with her arms.

  “You want to chase a piece of dead meat tied to a training string?”

  A few from the crowd laughed.

  “Non, monsieur, since we were not allowed to bring our falcons with us on pilgrimage, I have been honing my skills with target practice.”

  Mamie and Sarah each gathered small stones.

  With a threatening scowl, Sarah handed five to Payen.

  Mamie grinned and gave Catherine her five small rocks. “Let him have it.” She swaggered away.

  “As the female falcon is a huntress, so was Goddess Athena,” Catherine said, rotating her shoulder. “As was Boadicea, Diana, and so on. Women are more than caretakers of the hearth.”

  Fay led Payen, the queen, and the nobles to a slumbering winter garden.

  “So what are we to do? Use this rock to knock a bird from the sky? Our caravan might leave without us before we ever hit one.”

  The queen’s mouth lifted in amusement.

  “I’m ready,” Catherine said to Fay. “Throw!”

  Payen knew he would win. He was a master falconer. Not only did he have access to the royal mews, but his family had an extensive collection of hunting birds. Whatever moves Catherine thought she had, he would have them too.

  Not only had he offended the queen and everyone in her party, but Catherine had deliberately set him up. Games. If the lady hadn’t enamored him, he would have eased his way past the inciting question: “You don’t believe, de Montfer?”

  No, he didn’t believe in beauty or love worth dying for. He’d wanted Catherine to know his true feelings regarding women warriors, for God’s sake. What did women know of fighting? And why this little game of rock throwing?

  Fay tossed the first of the rocks in the air, then another and another. Catherine knocked all five back to the ground.

  “Lord de Montfer,” Catherine said, winking, “I offer you a truce: applaud my skills and leave it as a debt settled. In all fairness, I have practiced these particular moves so I could keep my eye sharp while away from the mews. Nobody here expects you to do better than one of five.”

  Payen bowed. “I, with much regret, do not accept your offer, though I commend your ability. I would try.” How hard could it be?

  “Would you care to practice first?”

  “I am ready.”

  Fay threw a rock in the air, and the sunlight forced him to squint. With careful calculation, he threw his rock. And missed. Once, twice. Three times. Sweat cooled his brow.

  “You should have taken the truce, de Montfer.” The queen smiled.

  And because it was a royal suggestion, he gathered his bruised pride and gracefully bowed out of the competition.

  “You were very close,” Fay said, her gray eyes shining.

  Sarah sneered.

  Mamie grinned and tossed her red curls.

  The queen clapped, her courtiers joining in. “Very entertaining,” she said before walking back toward Athena’s Sanctuary.

  Had he ruined his chance to be in Eleanor’s graces?

  Payen turned and found Catherine smiling at him. A real smile, not goading.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said. “Another one.”

  “Not me,” Catherine said. “The queen strives to raise the standard of women’s lives. Men like you set her back, until she proves her point.”

  He had to be sure she understood. “I still don’t believe women should be warriors.”

  Catherine gestured toward Eleanor. The queen balanced on a broken column. A ray of sun lit her beautiful face, her auburn hair streaming behind her. She drew a sword, threw back her head, and laughed.

  Payen was entranced.

  “Or goddesses?” Catherine nudged his arm. “Queen Eleanor is the epitome of feminine beauty and strength.”

  “Must I be wrong all afternoon?”

  “You have your beliefs. The queen has hers: bringing chivalry and respect for women back into society instead of keeping us tucked behind castle walls.”

  “You were held there for a reason. A woman was a bargaining tool, one that could be stolen and impregnated with the enemy’s child.”

  Catherine pulled her cloak back so he could see the short yet sharp sword at her side. “I can protect myself.”

  “War is not fair. A man does not come at you in one-on-one combat. Usually there are many men.” All determined to gain a single prize.

  “I hear your concern for a woman’s well-being, and I can’t fault you for that.” She rested a hand on his forearm. She’d removed her gloves for the rock throwing and neglected to put them back on.

  Payen relaxed and watched her slender fingers curl over his wrist, imagining her caress.

  “All I ask is that you open your mind to more than one way to the truth.”

  “I listen and observe. I make sound decisions.” He brushed his hair from his face.

  “You think you are funny.”

  Her half smile teased him. In more ways than one. He bowed his head, wondering what it would take to get past her loving memories of marriage so that she would see him instead of Ragenard. “I make myself laugh. That should count for something.”

  Mamie called from behind collapsed columns. “I found the well. Remember, Catherine, you promised to read my fortune!”

  Catherine looked up, her hand still over his wrist, her lips curved in a smile. “Shall we go ask Athena for a boon? A wish? I will ask for sleep. What will you ask for?”

  “Why would a goddess of women grant a man’s wish?
”

  “Athena is concerned over right versus wrong. Contrary to what you may believe, breasts and a womb do not indicate wrong.”

  “You sound very certain.” Payen would rather research the well before making any wish. “It seems frivolous.”

  “You lost my challenge, de Montfer,” Catherine said, her eyes daring him.

  He had lost. Indeed.

  The challenge.

  His rationalization.

  His pride.

  Would he lose his heart?

  He followed Catherine through the dried grass.

  Queen Eleanor stood among the queen’s guards, who circled the well. They bowed their heads over the rock-and-shell walls, making their wishes. Though they dressed as men, they exuded feminine beauty.

  Each of them was clearly a noblewoman pledged to finish the crusade. Why? What made them decide to add chausses and split gowns to their arsenal of formidable weapons? As individuals, the ladies were unique. As the queen’s guard, they were more so.

  “The well is too low to scry,” Catherine told him as he took his place next to her. “I can try later, if you want me to read your fortune. With a dish of water.”

  Payen leaned on the stone edge of the ancient well. “I make my own fortune.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Four days after they left Pergamum, Catherine’s wish for a full night’s rest still went unanswered. She’d taken to telling her friends she’d slept already, so they wouldn’t worry.

  The temperate weather and the steady clip-clop of her horse, combined with her bone-deep weariness, made it difficult to stay alert. “I can’t look away from the tail end of Fay’s mare,” she told Mamie. “I think there are five different shades of white.”

  “Don’t complain. Somehow Sarah ended up with a flatulent horse and I downwind.” Mamie waved her gloved hand beneath her nose.

  The queen’s guards rode near the vanguard behind King Louis’s captain and several hundred mounted knights. A few dozen Knights Templar interspersed among them, and another couple hundred nobles grouped next. King Louis protected the rear guard with mounted soldiers and knights armed with arrows. The lumbering carts of provisions were protected in the center.

  It was Catherine’s duty to see to the queen’s safety, but so far there had been no danger except crossing the many swollen streams and mountain rivers. Even then, the guides said this was an uncommonly calm season.

  Emperor Conrad, who had barely survived his foray into Asia Minor, warned King Louis that the Turkish heathens were sly devils who would target them from afar. Every once in a while, a scout shouted that a Turk had been spotted, but the soldiers chased them back.

  There was too much time to think, and Catherine rarely strayed far from the subject of Payen. “The priests say that lust is wicked.” Payen made her feel wicked, for certain. “So why then,” she asked Mamie in a tired voice, “are men and women tempted to begin with?”

  Mamie paused to give this question some thought. Finally, she answered with a shrug. “Aside from the need for children? Desire is a consolation gift, because the rest of life is so dreary.” She leaned over to study Catherine. “Are you finally releasing your guilt for dead Ragenard and willing to accept Lord de Montfer as your lover?”

  “Mamie.” She shook her muddled head, needing clarity.

  Unfortunately, Payen’s hands brushing the sides of her breasts, her mouth covering his, her tongue tasting the lobe of his ear, were what came to mind.

  “I sense indecision.” Mamie chuckled. “Temptation. The devil take it, Catherine, and have fun.”

  Catherine squandered quite a few hours pulling apart the reason for being married. Mamie certainly seemed to live well without those ties.

  Procreation, as the Bible said, and creating a family: those things she understood. How could a person be enthralled with someone who didn’t even share the same values? Perhaps it was a question to pose at Queen Eleanor’s Court of Love. All manner of chivalry and codes of behavior were dissected and examined there.

  She had no reason to be drawn to Payen. She needed to keep her distance for her own safety, yet somehow she knew where he was at all times.

  Right now he rode next to the queen, entertaining the woman. By contrast, Catherine could barely put together a coherent thought.

  Eventually, by force of will, she considered the relationship between Emperor Conrad, Emperor Manuel, and Manuel’s wife. An intriguing triangle? Or an innocent happenstance?

  Unlike the emperors, King Louis wanted to do the moral thing and rescue Christian Edessa from Turkish control so he could go to Jerusalem and officially reunite the four Holy States.

  Conrad’s aide-de-camp, Hector, had let it slip that he corresponded with the pope regarding Emperor Manuel’s betrayal of the crusaders. Who else had Hector exchanged missives with on behalf of his emperor? Was it Hector who delivered the letters to Irene?

  Conrad wanted to save Edessa too, she assumed, but what if she was wrong? Did Conrad want to take Manuel’s place of power, Constantinople? If so, he would have to act without King Louis’s aid. And if Conrad chose to go against the pope and the Holy Crusade, would it be worth ruining Germany’s friendship with France?

  Fay’s mare flicked its tail.

  Power. Didn’t it come down to who wanted more? What could Manuel give Conrad that he couldn’t get from King Louis?

  She heard the queen laugh and immediately looked up from the swaying tail.

  Lord de Montfer’s broad, blue-and-gold-cloaked shoulders shook. Was he being charming? Honestly, she’d never found him that funny.

  Disgruntled and unable to pull her gaze from the two chatting amiably just a few horse lengths in front of her, she let her mind go back to her subject of interest. Relationships. What did de Montfer want from Queen Eleanor? She had a good idea what the queen saw in the handsome lord, but she had a feeling Payen worked a different plan. To discover what it was, she would have to speak to him, which meant facing her feelings.

  Perhaps such a powerful attraction wasn’t meant to be denied.

  The air turned brisk as the sun started its descent. Trees surrounded the travelers on both sides of the two-cart-wide mountain road. The scout finally whistled, indicating that the day’s journey was through.

  “Thank you.” Mamie breathed out. “Mon derriere went numb an hour ago.”

  Dismounting on the edge of camp, Catherine leaned against her mare, patting the horse’s strong white neck while discreetly stretching her legs. A nice brisk walk along the stream would be perfect.

  “Lady Catherine! Lady Catherine!”

  Hearing Gaston so exuberant brought a smile to her face. The boy’s cheeks already seemed to be filling out, and his eyes were bright rather than bruised. He took her reins with confidence, and she sent an approving nod to Jacques, who shadowed the boy. The young man’s neck flushed.

  “Lord de Montfer asks if you will join him. It won’t take long. He has a question regarding Gaston.” Jacques puffed out his chest, and Gaston grinned.

  Sly Payen, sending the boys so she wouldn’t say no. “When?” Catherine had to find a way to defend herself from his allure.

  “Now,” Gaston answered, pulling at her hand.

  Jacques loudly cleared his throat.

  Gaston dropped her hand as if it were on fire, but Catherine knew this was how young men learned. She would commend de Montfer in private on Jacques’s deportment.

  “I’m coming,” she said, her heart racing. What would they talk about, really? Would he hound her for more answers regarding Ragenard? Would he want to question her for believing women were capable fighters?

  Ragenard hadn’t discussed decisions, ever. He’d been the kind of man to swoop in and, like a force of nature, guide the direction of their lives.

  She followed Jacques, while Gaston stayed at her side, leading her horse. Behind two large trees, Payen had set out the canvas and poles and a bulging bag of supplies.

  Dusk was an hour away, and a
ll the travelers knew what must be done before nightfall. Routine would make the work quick.

  Payen looked up from where he hobbled their horses.

  Catherine waited for him to explain why he’d asked to see her, wishing she’d had time to wash the dust from her hands and face. She ran her tongue over her teeth, certain she had dirt in the crevices.

  Conscious of her long, split gown that revealed her hose-covered legs as she walked, she realized that she and Payen almost matched. She’d chosen her blue-and-gold tunic and hose. All he ever wore was blue and gold. She had a brown cloak and a peony scarf tied around her neck. His neck was bare, the tunic open to show a hint of dark hair.

  She cleared her throat. “You had a question for me? About Gaston?” She looked to the boys, wondering if they had played a trick to get the two of them together.

  Payen brushed his hands against his thighs. “I was hoping they’d be able to find you in a timely manner. I have a favor to ask.”

  “Regarding Gaston?”

  “Of course.” He crooked his arm, giving her no choice but to accept. Since Jacques was trying to teach Gaston manners, it wouldn’t be fair for her to break the rules of etiquette.

  “This had better be good,” she said for his ears alone.

  “Boys, see that Lady Catherine’s things are taken to her tent. We will meet by the fire. If you find yourselves with nothing to do, gather kindling. I’ve got it on good authority that, if properly fed, Lady Catherine plays the fiddle.”

  Jacques and Gaston laughed. Were the boys the reason for Payen’s lighter attitude?

  “King Louis tells me we will be stopping in Smyrna for two nights. The mountains toward Ephesus are a more difficult journey, and he wants everyone to rest. Including the horses.”

  Catherine nodded. “The queen says King Louis and Emperor Conrad will join our camp tonight.”

  “Oui. The fire will need to be large. I would like it if you would sit by me.”

  She swallowed. “Oh?”

  He led her toward the river and a private nook, shielded by bushes and trees. They were within earshot of the others but out of sight.