Beloved Pilgrim

by Nan Hawthorne

  One of those let his spear slant away from his armored body to block her way.

  "Stand aside. I have business without," Elisabeth demanded, her hand now on the hilt of her sword.

  "Not so fast, my lord. You must state your business," the man demanded as firmly. He spoke in Frankish, just understandable to Elisabeth.

  She pulled her sword out of its sheath an inch but thought better of it. Letting it slide back home, she relaxed. "I seek a woman in the Turkish sector."

  The guard's eyebrow shot up. "If you desire a woman, there are cleaner women in the city."

  "I don't desire a woman. I seek one woman in particular. Her name is Maliha."

  Grinning, the man scoffed, "I don't know their names!"

  Elisabeth remembered what the manservant said. "Show me to the street of the laundresses." She felt in her pouch for a coin. Of the three she found, she proffered the silver one.

  The guard stared at her for a few moments. He nodded slowly, took the coin, and walked her to the wicket in the gate. "I will need your name, my lord."

  "The Ritter Elias von Winterkirche," she stated haughtily.

  The guard made her repeat it twice, then as she went through the open gate called after her, "Be careful. These hell-spawn would just as soon slit your gullet as look at you."

  Elisabeth did not look back but headed in the direction the man had pointed. If the slum in the city was bad, the makeshift shanties were foul. There was barely room for one person to pass down the streets. Naked children, many with sores, stood with huge bellies staring empty-eyed at her as she went by. Their lassitude was such that they did not even stretch out their arms to beg. She strode down the passageways, keeping her eyes moving from straight ahead to dart up and over to guard against ambush. She heard women's voices up ahead and the splashing of water and slap of wet cloth. She all but ran the rest of the way.

  When she emerged into a small wide area with a circular well surrounded by women who were soaked themselves with dirty water, she stopped and looked around. One woman dropped a heavy pile of wet clothing in the mud and screamed. The others whirled and seeing a Frankish knight in their midst they too began to scream, to snatch up children, and to back away.

  "Where can I find Maliha?" Elisabeth shouted.

  The women stood clumped together staring, some weeping.

  Elisabeth frantically surveyed them. "Maliha? Where can I find Maliha?"

  "I am here," came a familiar voice from the door to a slanting shack. "What the hell do you think coming here?"

  Elisabeth shot her eyes toward the sound. "Maliha! There you are! I came to find you!"

  "Why? What would you want with me?"

  The honey-colored eyes glared at her, full of affronted pride. If Elisabeth had despised the meekness and subservience, her heart pounded at the defiance and fire in those eyes. Her jaw dropped, she felt heat rise in her body, starting in her belly and creeping up. She strode to the woman. "Where can we be alone?" she spat through her teeth.

  The honey eyes burned into her dark angry ones. They darted to the other women who were now chattering among themselves. "Come in here, away from those hens." Maliha led her through the flap over the entry and into darkness.

  As she turned to face Elisabeth, she found herself clasped hard, strong hands biting into her upper arms. Her cry of protest was cut off as the knight's lips found hers in the darkness and pressed hard. Elisabeth's tongue forced its way into her mouth. She bit it.

  Elisabeth jumped back, putting her hand to her mouth and tasting blood. "Why did you do that?"

  "Why do you think? Do you think I should want you to force your way into my home and rape me?" Maliha punched her square in the chest. "You wanted me to stop being meek. Well, doesn't this please you, Excellency," she shot, with a sneer in her voice. She hauled off and slugged Elisabeth in the chest with both fists.

  "Ow, that hurt!" Elisabeth exclaimed. Then she felt silly. Why should a knight cry out that a mere woman punched him in his chest. But the woman had connected with her nipples, which were already tender with her monthly flux.

  She stood a moment, perplexed. Maliha had gone still. Elisabeth's eyes were adjusting and she could see the woman's head-covering had slipped askew, letting the long black hair loose on the right side of her head. Her impulse was to reach toward Maliha and take her into her arms. But instead the dark beauty came forward and placed herself there. The chin tipped up, the lips parted. Her own eyes wide, Elisabeth lowered her head and sank into a kiss of such poignant sweetness she thought she would swoon.

  Maliha had had a sudden revelation. There was something about this knight, something that did not fit what she knew of men. The bearing was right but the look in the man's eyes was wrong. Men did not look with such intensity into a woman's eyes, she thought. The kiss had been hard but something was different there too. A man would force the kiss, devouring her. And then there was an odd sense of lumps on the knight's breast, even through the chain mail. Her mind raced back over their encounters in the past few days and certain things presented themselves in a new light. Could it be?

  She decided to collect more information, and thus leaned into the man to invite him to kiss her. This time the kiss was softer, more sensual, and Maliha started to explore with her tongue. The feel was much like a ripe peach, soft, yielding, but ardent. It reminded Maliha of an exquisite night she had spent with a female cousin when they were still girls.

  Maliha raised her arms and put them around the knight's neck. Elisabeth's own mailed arms slowly snaked around the soft yielding body in her arms. She felt Maliha press her body along her own. She could not think to wonder what had changed. Their tongues met in each other's mouths and sweetly slid across and under each other. She felt Maliha's tongue slide along inside her teeth. She felt as if the juices in her most private place were flowing out of her and down her britches.

  A shrill voice came from the doorway. Maliha jumped back and spun. She screamed something angry in Turkish. The older woman who had a small child in her arms returned vituperation for vituperation.

  Elisabeth stood, stunned, unable to understand a word. The exchange continued with growing heat. Finally Maliha snatched the child out of the woman's arms, turned to Elisabeth and, grabbing her elbow, pushed her out a back doorway.

  Outside the three were not alone. Other women and several children squatted in the mud at various activities.

  "Get out of here!" Maliha shouted and gave Elisabeth a shove that nearly knocked her over.

  "Maliha, I love you! I am going to get your position back in Andronikos's house. It was my fault they let you go."

  Maliha stood holding the child on her hip. Her face changed to an expression of revelation. "I wondered if you had gotten me sacked. Why did you do that?"

  The shrill voice came from within the shack. Maliha's face turned in the voice's direction. "You have to go. Yes, please try to get my position back. See if you can get them to let me bring my son."

  "Your son?" Elisabeth was astonished. The voice shrilled again. "Yes, yes, I will do that. Come to the house tomorrow. I will see to it that . . . "

  "Just go! You are putting us in danger already. I will be there."

  Elisabeth turned and dashed away. When she got to the gate and saw the smirk on the guard's face, she hauled off and slugged him as hard as she could in the mouth. "Don't you say a single word. Not a breath!" she growled, then passed him and strode away up the miserable street of the slum.

  Elisabeth slipped into Andronikos's villa and went straight to her chamber. She slammed the door shut, went to her bed and threw herself on it, chain mail, sword and all. She was miserable. And she had a dilemma. She would beg the eunuch to take back Maliha and let her bring the boy, but then what? How would she break the news to Maliha that she herself was a woman? Would she make a scene and tell everyone? She kept playing a scene in her head, over and over, of a horrified pair of honey-colored eyes screaming at her, "Unnatural! Abomination!"

 
; She heard the door slide open and shut quietly. "I thought I said to ask first!" she spat.

  A pause, then Albrecht's voice. "May I come in, my lord?"

  Elisabeth sat up on the edge of the bed. She swiped across her eyes with a corner of the counterpane. Albrecht stood and stared at her. Elisabeth had wept before him in the past, but nothing like this. He looked her up and down. "My lord! You are bleeding! What happened?" He dashed to her and knelt to examine the blood on her britches. "Are you cut?"

  She looked down and saw the spots of blood on her britches. She jumped up and turned around. Seeing the stain on the counterpane, she wailed. "Damn it, I suppose everyone in Constantinople saw the bloodstains down my legs as I went through the streets. I have my flux, that's all."

  He stared at her. "You don't usually get like this when you are . . . well . . . on the rag. Here, let me help you. Would a bath make you feel better?"

  Still weeping, she nodded her head. "Thank you. There is no better place to feel miserable than in a hot bath."

  Albrecht went to the door to summon a servant to arrange the bath. He helped Elisabeth remove her soiled clothing and wrapped her in a robe. He gathered up the counterpane and threw it in a heap on the floor. "I will wash them out myself. No one ever needs to know."

  "Oh Albrecht, I am so miserable! That girl, that woman, Maliha. I got her let go."

  He looked at her. "Why did you do that, my lord?"

  Elisabeth's eyes brimmed over again. "I didn't mean to. I dismissed her from serving me, that's all, but Andronikos sent her away completely. I went to find her, to bring her back."

  Taking the soiled items to a basin, he poured cold water over them and started to scrub and rinse. "Did you find her?"

  "Yes, I did. I told her to come back here and I would have her position back."

  He paused and turned to look at her. "I don't understand why you are . . . " He held his tongue at the sound of scratching at the door.

  Elisabeth called, "Come," and then averted her eyes so the servants coming in with the large tub and screen would not see her tearstained cheeks.

  When the door was firmly shut behind them she put her face in her hands. "Albrecht, I love her."

  He stood perplexed. "But, the worst that can happen when she comes back is that you remain aloof. She doesn't need to know you love her. "

  "But when I kissed her she kissed me back!"

  "Oh," was all Albrecht could say.

  "She will expect me to take her to my bed, but how can I do that? She would find out I am a woman too."

  Albrecht grasped the situation at last. "You will simply have to keep her at arm's distance, my lord."

  She turned a miserable face to him. "I know," she moaned.

  Albrecht suggested, "Andronikos must have other work, other houses. You could ask him to send her there. Or just say you changed your mind."

  Sparks flew from her eyes as she regarded him. "I won't do that! I love the woman, but even did I not I would never do such a thing. She told me her and her son's lives are in danger because of me. I would rather die."

  "All right, all right!" he protested. "It was just a suggestion."

  She continued to glare at him. Then her shoulders dropped again and she leaned forward, and put her face in her hands. "It's hopeless."

  When the bath was ready, he took her robe and held her steady as she lowered herself into the tub. "Drape a sheet over the tub, would you? There's a little chill in here," she asked.

  Elisabeth lay sunk into the tub with the hot fragrantly oiled water up to and covering her chin. Albrecht looked at her face. She did look broken hearted. How well he knew what that felt like. He thought, "At least I had Elias. Will she ever have someone like that?" Aloud he asked her, "Would you like me to wash your hair?"

  Elisabeth stretched languidly in the water. "Yes, I would. And can you get me some wine?" She knew she was being childish or, rather, womanish. A derisive chuckle escaped her throat.

  Albrecht heard a tap at the door. He pulled the screen around the tub more securely. "That is probably more hot water. I will order the wine and some food as well." He heard an inarticulate sound from the tub that he took as acknowledgement.

  When he opened the door a crack, he saw Maliha standing outside in the corridor holding a large heavy ewer of hot water. She quickly shook her head, her eyes communicating for him not to say anything.

  "You can't," he whispered.

  "I know," she mouthed. She gestured for him to take the ewer. She pointed toward the screen and cupped her own breasts. She put her lips to his ear and said in a breath, "Let me go to her."

  Albrecht's mind was racing. She had said "her" and it was apparent from the mime that indeed she somehow knew that his pilgrim knight was a woman. And there was nothing but a smile and tenderness on the maidservant's face. His eyes rounded. His own lips curved up at the edges. He radiated thankfulness as he nodded and gave her back the hot water ewer. He made a gesture of farewell and slipped past her through the door to make himself scarce.

  Maliha set the ewer on a table while she shut and latched the door after him.

  "Was that the servant?" came Elisabeth's voice from the other side of the ornate screen.

  Not answering, Maliha walked around the edge of the screen and leaned to pour the water into the bath. The woman in it had her eyes closed.

  "Ah, thank you, Albrecht. You read my mind. Can you wash my hair now while we wait for the wine?"

  Maliha came around behind her head and picked up the bottle with the oils used to wash hair. She poured some into her palm and reached for the dark head. All the while, she gazed at what she could see of Elisabeth's naked body. There was a sheet covering her from about the waist down, but the woman's small breasts she could see. They were slippery with oiled water and the nipples were taut and hard. She had to repress a sigh so as not to give herself away. She wanted to enjoy this as long as she could. She was afraid that when Elias learned who was with her, he, no, she would be angry and order her out of the chamber.

  Elisabeth was drowsy enough to dismiss the impression that Albrecht's fingers were shorter and gentler on her scalp. She luxuriated in his touch. Just now she needed to feel petted and stroked. Her body still felt the fire that had rocketed up into her when the woman had leaned unexpectedly into her and kissed her so deeply she felt it in her soul. And other places. She thought that this was probably when her bloods leaked out of the rags she used. Her womanhood filled with her own juices and there was just too much for the rags to soak up.

  "Mmm," she sighed. "I really needed this. I do love her so. I wish Maliha was the one washing my hair."

  The honey-eyed woman started. "Dear God," she thought. "She meant what she said, she loves me?" She reached for the ewer, filled it with water from the tub, and rinsed out Elisabeth's hair. She set the ewer on the floor and, kneeling, reached out both arms and put them around the German woman's neck and put her hands on her wet breasts. She began to stroke and knead.

  Elisabeth jerked her eyes open. "What are you doing?" She looked at the arms and hands. They were most definitely not Albrecht's. "Who is it?" She struggled to sit up.

  "It is I, my beloved, Maliha." The voice was husky and right next to her ear.

  She froze for just a heartbeat, but then managed to pull herself up and twist her torso to look behind her. Her eyes were wide, her full lips parted, and the effect was somewhere between humorous and poignant. "Maliha," she breathed.

  Maliha leaned forward and took her face in her hands. She put her lips to Elisabeth's. The mouth under her lips opened, and she slipped in her tongue, only to be met and matched by her beloved's own.

  Elisabeth turned all the way to kneel in the bathtub. Her arms went around Maliha. She cupped the back of the woman's head with one hand, and stroked down her back to her waist with the other. Maliha put her own arms around the wet, naked woman and held her tight. She felt the hand stroking her back come around and stop just shy of cupping a breast. She sighed
, encouraging the hand to do as it sought. Elisabeth's palm touched the generous roundness and felt the stiff nipple pressing into it through her clothes. She pulled out of the kiss and nuzzled Maliha's throat, while the darker woman sighed.

  All of a sudden, Maliha felt herself clasped tight in the naked woman's arms. They were strong and pulled her forward. She was lifted off her knees and powerfully pulled sideways and over the tub's rim. With a splash she found herself in the water resting on her side on the naked woman's body. She laughed and squealed and every delighted sound echoed in the pilgrim knight's voice.

  In Elisabeth's chamber she lay on her bed, a naked Maliha lying in her arms. She traced the outline of each nipple with her finger, making the luscious body quiver. She looked at Maliha, devouring the ample breasts with their large dark areolae, the rounded belly that was as soft as velvet. The dark tangle of hair in her groin was beaded with moisture that came in part from Elisabeth's own mouth. Maliha had brought her to climax in the tub. "I do love you, my lioness," she sighed.

  Maliha nestled into her long lanky body. She put a hand to a muscular shoulder and kneaded it. "I love you, Elias. Is that really your name?"

  Elisabeth chuckled. "No, it's Elisabeth. But you should keep calling me Elias. It's safer."

  "You must hide your sex?" Maliha asked, putting her mouth on one of Elisabeth's breasts.

  Elisabeth's voice was unsteady as she replied, "Not from you, and I shall never believe how wonderful that is. But I do, yes, from others. They must not know I am a woman." She wriggled with the sensation of fire that leapt from her nipple straight into her nether lips.

  Maliha did not push for more explanation. Instead she let her hand stray across her beloved's flat belly and slipped two fingers into the cleft at its base. She began to stroke the hard nib between the inner petals. Elisabeth writhed and made a deep moan. She surrendered herself to the woman who stroked her to climax, all the while nipping and kissing whatever of the woman she could reach.

  When they basked in the warmth of their lovemaking she thought suddenly of the child. "But what of your son?"