Rose Page 7

  “Ah, yes,” Raymond chuckled. “Wasn’t the title ‘How the Count of Poitiers Pretended to be Mute’?”

  “About the two pious women bringing a poor man home and keeping him there for days for their own nefarious purposes.” She tilted her head and laughed.

  Mamie looked to King Louis, whose mouth seemed strained around the edges.

  “Did you know the old man spent time in Antioch? It is right that you are here. It is becoming a family tradition to fight for Christianity far from Poitiers.” Raymond hugged his wife to him, kissing her rosy cheek. “Constance, we must make sure our guests are well taken care of.” Returning to Eleanor on his other arm, he said, “I have a banquet planned this evening in your honor and the king’s.”

  Mamie watched Louis’s gaze narrow before the king nodded. “We are honored.” He too wore a fresh robe of blue velvet with a gold surcoat that swept the floor. His fair hair seemed dull next to Raymond’s dark locks, his cheeks thin due to the rough voyage while Raymond was in the peak of health.

  Raymond clasped one of Fay’s hands and one of Mamie’s. “My good wife has new gowns laid out for you, small gifts. Whatever you need. If it is not there, tell me and I will get it for you.”

  Mamie believed he would, which was probably part of his appeal.

  He kissed Eleanor’s cheeks. “A private female bodyguard?” Mamie heard the whisper because she was meant to. He winked, as if sharing a naughty secret. “Oh, Eleanor, I’d heard rumors.” He laughed. “Your audacity knows no bounds.”

  “Should it?” She tapped his arm, coquettish as a girl.

  “No, you are a duchess and a queen. I say you should do as you please. Devil take it.”

  “Another family trait?” Mamie asked. “Singing, poetry, and tossing things to the devil?”

  Raymond gave Mamie an appraising look, his voice deepening. “Are you always so witty?”

  Mamie read the challenge in his gaze and responded, lowering her eyelids half-mast. He embodied raw masculinity.

  “Non,” Eleanor mouthed.

  Mamie blushed and averted her eyes.

  “Rest before our meal,” Raymond instructed them all. “We will have dancing,”

  “Dancing!” Eleanor clapped her hands together.

  Mamie heard Louis groan.

  “Wine and as much food as you can stuff in your belly. Which, from the look of you, you need.”

  Eleanor put her hands to her cheeks. “Am I so terrible?”

  Raymond shook his head. “Your beauty shines like a beacon in the night. You are thin, though. I would fatten you up.”

  “I look forward to being pampered. The journey has been long, and I am tired.”

  “Then go with my wife, and she will see you settled. Eleanor, I am so happy you are here.” Raymond nodded to each of them. “Louis. Welcome. Until later.”

  They left the room, and the last bit of energy Mamie had drained from her body. Suddenly, Mamie wanted rest more than wine or a wash. They walked up the wide marble stairs, following Princess Constance. Mamie looked out a narrow window, paned with real glass, on the second floor of the palace and saw Dominus speaking with a very tanned Knight Templar. The older man’s tonsured white head bent toward him. Dominus’s shoulders were stiff, his back straight, his hands behind his back, curled into fists as he listened to whatever the man had to say. Unable to stay and stare out the window, Mamie followed their procession down the hall.

  Strange. What were they talking about?

  Dominus leaned closer. Commander Bartholomew gripped his shoulder and pressed his fingers into the muscle, hard. “I saw you riding with two beautiful women. Laughing as you entered the palace gates.”

  “You told me to see them to the palace.”

  “I said to escort the pilgrims.”

  “They were part of the caravan.” Dominus bit his cheek, unused to someone telling him his business. “The queen’s guard, to be exact.”

  “Tales of the queen’s slatternly ladies reached us months ago. Women are not to be trusted, brother. Many a good man has lost his way over a pair of tits. I fear the king might be one of those.”

  Dominus bristled at the commander’s disrespect. Self-preservation caused him to mind his tongue. “Commander.” He cleared his throat. “Is the danger so great here in Antioch? I offer my sword, where you need it.”

  Commander Bartholomew stepped back, his eyes like flint. “You offer me your sword? Your sword belongs to me. You have sworn an oath as a Knight Templar, and I am your commander here in Antioch. You will do what I tell you, when I tell you. My word is final.”

  Dominus shifted. “I did not argue.”

  “Silence!” The old man raised a hand to the sky, as if calling on God to smite this sinner in front of him. “You have had too much leniency, traveling with the king and his caravan. Too many privileges. You have forgotten how to be humble.”

  Damn it. Dominus bowed his head. “I am sorry, Commander. Forgive me.”

  The commander closed his eyes in direct communion with Jesus Christ. After a moment, he said, “You will be forgiven. You must fast for a full day and spend this evening on your knees in prayer.”

  How was he supposed to do Bishop Clairvaux’s bidding from his chamber? How was he supposed to see Mamie in all her new clothes? She intrigued him—so perhaps spending his night in prayer was a better idea, anyhow.

  “A just punishment,” Dominus said.

  Pleased, the commander asked, “Do you have a horse or any other worldly goods?”

  “I had two horses, but they died in Laodicea. There was no food, and one took an arrow to the chest. The other starved.”

  Commander Bartholomew exhaled, seemingly more saddened by the steeds’ demise than the warriors’. “Go to the stable, and pick one of the finest. And a spare. God believes in our strength for his cause against evil. How are your weapons?”

  “I lost a short sword, though my other is in good repair.” Dominus opted to keep his coin to himself.

  “God will provide, brother.” The Templar put his arm across Dominus’s shoulders in camaraderie now instead of dominance. “Welcome to Antioch. Beware of those outside our brotherhood. There are few men who deserve trust. Stay in our fraternity whenever possible. We eat together, pray together, and stand guard against evil.”

  “I am assigned to King Louis’s army. Do I still check in with his captain?”

  Commander Bartholomew scowled. “Sergeants will want you to drill with them, which is acceptable. Leave a note with the secretary when you go in and out of the Templar House. We prefer you to be with another Templar whenever possible.”

  “Everard de Charney and I have been working together well.”

  “I met him already. How is it the two of you became separated now?”

  It had taken some deception on Dominus’s part to get Everard to return the horses so he could scout the area. Unfortunately, he’d found the commander. “I required some privacy,” Dominus said, gesturing to the outdoor latrine by the soldier’s practice field.

  The commander grunted. “The stable is that way. I will have the chaplain bring you weapons after you have been given a room assignment.” He paused. “The armorer is nearby, though, and he could take your measurements.”

  “I will finish my personal business and then find the Templar House. Thank you for your assistance and patience.”

  The older man gave a stern nod.

  Dominus bowed his head as he left. As he made his way to the stables, his belly growled, but he ignored it.

  He chose a fine gray stallion with good teeth and strong, muscled legs. The stable master then pointed him toward the armorer, where he was fitted for chain mail and battle gear, paid for by the Templars.

  The area inside the walls around the palace was like many others, bustling with business, from metalwork to foodstuff. Dominus passed by a booth selling meat pastries. He bought two and pushed them into his pocket, saving them until he could eat them in private. The scent of brown
gravy made his mouth water.

  He had never been fond of fasting, even if it was good for his soul. He wondered how Mamie fared in this new place. What was Prince Raymond like? His palace was well tended, with a patrol keeping the peace. Not as big as Constantinople—or as Greek. Most of the people spoke French or something close enough to it that he could understand.

  The clash of metal against metal caught his ear, and he wandered toward the end of the field, watching the Antioch foot soldiers practice lunges. A team of men worked together, alternating offensive and defensive positions. None of the men wore the white tunic of a Templar. Dominus stretched his sword arm, feeling out of practice. He needed a few days of exercise before tackling the Turks and kicking their arses out of Edessa. Commander Bartholomew did not seem to like him, which could prove problematic once Dominus received his orders.

  “Do not borrow trouble,” he told himself, stuffing a bite of flaky beef pastry into his mouth, savoring the small bits of carrots and peas. “Wait for it to find you first.” He finished the meat pie, saving the other for later. “It always does.”

  Mamie’s senses awakened with pleasure at the subtle fragrances from oil lamps and candles that permeated the second-floor hall. Lavender, rose, jasmine. Sun found its way through many thin windows from the vaulted ceiling, shining on the cool marble floor. Pots of indoor plants provided a crisp green contrast to the bright mosaics and murals covering the walls, combined to create a lovely atmosphere that spoke to all of her—mind, body, and spirit.

  Constance opened a door to an airy chamber that seemed even more spacious after the small tent on board the ship. “Come inside, mesdames. This suite has an inner chamber that I thought Queen Eleanor might like. There is a trundle bed for your maid.”

  Eleanor peeked through the door between the two rooms. “Wonderful.”

  Larissa nodded, edging to the chamber as Mamie and Fay turned toward a bed big enough for ten. Mamie could almost feel the smooth slide of silk linens over her skin.

  “No straying to my side,” Mamie said.

  “I might get lost!” Fay laughed.

  Constance pointed toward two gigantic wooden trunks. One painted yellow, the other red. “There is a trunk for each of you with clothing, assorted shoes, and hairbrushes. Some creams. Scarves, belts, gloves—I tried to think of what I would need after such a long and dangerous voyage. I am so sorry about what happened in port today. I know Raymond will make sure his soldiers are punished for their thoughtlessness.”

  “Thank you.” Mamie said, with Fay echoing the words behind her.

  Constance smiled, turning from pretty to beautiful. “I admire your courage and bravery traveling all this way.” The princess took Eleanor’s hands in hers. “Your trunks are in the other room. I have kept you in my prayers every day. The longer you were out to sea, the more we worried, but I knew that God had blessed this pilgrimage and that you would arrive.” She spoke from the heart.

  Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears at such sincerity.

  Constance gave a last squeeze, then released her hands. “There is a tray with wine, sliced fruit, olives, and cheese. I imagine you must be hungry after such an ordeal. Tonight we will have a feast! Raymond insisted that we spare no expense to make you feel welcome. He loves you so; it is my honor to be as a sister to you. Is there anything else I can get for you? Oh! I forgot. I am having water sent up so you may wash, although there are Roman-style baths here, if you’d prefer.”

  Mamie looked at Eleanor, her exhausted body itching and in need of a soak. And to wash her hair? Heaven.

  “I would love a bath,” Mamie said, her aches and pains surfacing.

  Fay stifled a yawn. “I’ll go.”

  “Larissa?”

  Larissa shook her head. “I will wash here, thank you, Queen Eleanor.”

  Constance put one hand on a hip, a princess in charge of her castle. “Wait here while I prepare everything.”

  “Is it private?” Eleanor asked.

  “Only the noblewomen living in the palace use this bath. It is not as large as the one on the other side of the castle. Everything you need is there—soap and lotion, scented oils. There are robes, too, and a room to dress. You will love it,” Constance promised. “I will come back in a little bit for you. Until then, sit, relax, and drink some wine!”

  She left, and Mamie sank onto a cushioned stool. “I have forgotten such comforts!” She lifted a stockinged foot and wiggled the toes. “I think Constance is an angel.”

  “Pour us wine, will you, Fay?” Eleanor said, opening the trunk of rich fabrics. She pulled out a gown in red and brown. “Mamie, this will be beautiful against your skin. What happened to your shoe? I never noticed it was gone. You met my uncle wearing one shoe?” Eleanor sucked in her bottom lip, her eyes wide.

  “Laugh if you must.” Mamie accepted the gown, admiring the beaded bodice and inset silk on the sleeves. “I lost it on the way.” Too tired to stand up before she had to, Mamie stayed on the stool. “I do not understand how Dominus could give up silk and linen.”

  “Not Brother Dominus?” Fay jested. “Or Sir Dominus?”

  Mamie’s cheeks flushed, and she blamed the lapse on lack of sleep. “To willingly give up good food, coin, your home . . .” Physical pleasures of any kind.

  “King Louis would wear a hair shirt if he thought it would bring him closer to God. For all I know, he has one on now.” Eleanor shook her head and accepted a cup of wine from Fay.

  Fay sipped hers and sighed with pleasure. “This is superior wine. I have not tasted any this rich since Aquitaine.”

  “We shall see if Raymond has his own vineyard, though I am certain he would.” Eleanor took a drink, easing her head back as she swallowed. “This grape might be from Poitier.”

  Fay opened her trunk, taking out a yellow gown the exact shade of a daisy petal.

  Larissa came from the inner chamber, a new brown gown and apron in her hands. “She remembered things for me, aussi.” The handmaiden sniffed.

  Eleanor’s eyes glittered over the gold rim of her goblet. “Constance thought of everything.”

  “How did she know?” Larissa asked.

  The wine mellowed Mamie so it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. “If I were in her position, I would have paid for the information.”

  Eleanor arched an auburn brow. “She more than likely had a contact on our boat. She knew our colors, our sizes.” Nodding, Eleanor said, “Constance is a fitting wife for my uncle. Tell me, what do you think of him?”

  Mamie lifted her cup, pulled from her thoughts of Dominus and whether his sleeping arrangements were comfortable. Why couldn’t she think of anything else? “Charming, as you said.”

  “How is it we never met?” Fay asked. “I would have remembered. There are few men such as he—bigger than one of the statues of Apollo in the front of the palace.”

  Eleanor laughed. “He is a rare man of honor, quite unlike his sire. My grandfather was a self-proclaimed hound, but women did not care. He was charming and amusing. His mistress, Dangereuse, was my grandmother. Did you know that?”

  Mamie sat up. “What a wonderful name. Was she incredibly beautiful?”

  “But of course,” Eleanor said. “There are no ugly ducklings in our family. My grandfather built a tower and kept her there.” She lowered her voice. “From all accounts, she liked it.”

  Mamie put her empty cup on the floor. “My grandmother had so many wrinkles you could not see her eyes in her face.”

  Fay burst out laughing.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Constance entered with a smile. “You are having fun without me. I wish I could join you in the baths, but there is much to do yet. My son, Bohemond, has discovered how to play hide and seek. Which means he runs away from his nurses, which makes us all worried. You ladies understand how it is with children.”

  She did not pause for an answer, and Mamie chose not to enlighten her as she went blithely on.

  Of the three women, four includ
ing Larissa, only the queen had a daughter, left back in Paris in the nursery to be cared for until her mother and father’s return.

  Fay had devoted her life to the queen without seeking a man or family. Larissa was betrothed. And Mamie was, well, broken.

  Chapter Six

  Mamie was the last one from the chamber into the hall. Just stepping onto the marble tile was enough to elevate her somber mood. “The sun makes everything glitter as if the walls and floors are made of gemstone,” Mamie said, skipping across a cherub. “I have a nice manor near Troyes. Do you think I should decorate when I get back?”

  “One mosaic tile at a time,” Constance suggested with a laugh. “They are heavy. Sturdy, though. We found ruins from Roman times, and the colors are just as bright today as they must have been a thousand years ago.”

  “Are they stories?” Fay asked, slowing down to study the images.

  “Greek myths, some of them, with a few Roman tales tossed in for good measure.” Constance paused and pointed at a figure near a lake. “This water nymph here? She is supposed to be Daphne. She’s got your hair, Mamie. There is a grove dedicated to her, and Apollo, not far from here. Come this way,” she said, turning right to a smaller hall.

  “I recognize Aphrodite and Athena,” Mamie said. “But not some of the others.”

  “I have a few scrolls in the library with stories. Later, we can bring them out, if you would like. Oh my.” Constance stopped. “This one looks like you, Fay.”

  The women stopped and peered closer.

  “Who is that?” Fay asked.

  Mamie agreed with Constance. The thin, dark-blonde-haired goddess with wings and a gigantic sword twice her body size did have the look of Fay. She stood behind a set of scales. “I like her.”

  “Her name is Nemesis,” Constance said. “She balances justice.”

  Mamie and Fay exchanged a look with the queen. “It could be you,” Mamie said. “Almost there.” Constance kept walking ahead. “You were smart, wearing your old gowns and bringing your new. Nothing feels as good as clean clothes after a bath.”