by Traci E Hall
“Cautiously.” Catherine cleared her throat. “You speak of going against the wishes of the Holy Roman Church. What does the king think of this plan of your uncle’s?”
Eleanor tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Louis thinks only of reaching Jerusalem to fulfill his older brother Philip’s vow and doesn’t listen to me. But I am trying.” She leaned in. “My hope is to have his full support by the time we reach Antioch. Yet for every step I make, Odo and Thierry are pushing Louis the other direction.”
Bella and Catherine exchanged a furtive look. It was no secret that King Louis, while a capable soldier and excellent horseman, was looking for redemption for past battles. Brought from the church, some wondered if the king was too tenderhearted to be a warrior.
“I will speak to Raoul,” Bella said. “He can be trusted to keep a secret.” He’d trusted her with one; now she would ask the same of him. “Maybe he knows of a way. If you are certain this is what you want.”
“Oui.” Eleanor rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms to her sides, her restless nature not giving her any peace as she strode toward the window overlooking the water. “Go then. I’ll send Larissa to Sarah when I’m ready to depart for the Hippodrome. I’m looking forward to seeing such a historic venue still in use today. We are a part of that history, ladies.”
Bella stood, the drying lily rustling like paper in her shawl. “Did you think more on the lily found outside our door this morning?”
Eleanor’s expression grew thoughtful. “I prayed about it but without clarity. I would see the person responsible pay dearly for harming one of my guards.”
“Perhaps it’s a member of the emperor’s court, infatuated with Sarah’s beauty.” Misgiving trickled down Bella’s spine like a wayward water drop. “What if it’s a royal someone responsible?”
The queen hefted her chin, a stance familiar to Bella. It meant there would be no backing down.
“Especially then.”
Raoul’s earlier irritation climbed to impossible heights the longer he waited outside without word from Lady Isabella.
Men were not allowed in the royal women’s wing of the palace, and because it was during the day, he couldn’t risk using the secret passage. He had to rely on a royal messenger, another reason for his expanding annoyance. He preferred to do things himself.
Raoul was a man of action. Waiting gave him too much time to think.
Ever since last night, the lady had taken up residence in the lodgings of his mind and refused to be evicted. Seeing her dressed so beautifully at church this morning reminded him she was a lady to the tips of her embroidered shoes and not one to engage in trysts.
Her shy kiss had been no more than a token of thanks for helping Sarah, not an invitation to tumble.
Where was she?
Once he’d caught her staring, she’d shuttered her expression, giving away nothing of how she felt.
Christ’s bones. What did he care about feelings? Perhaps a lady in the Queen’s Guard went around kissing men—strangers—all the time. Chivalry, honor, and all that drivel Queen Eleanor taught in her court.
Raoul paced outside the palace gate leading to the bridge below. If he went left, down the road, he would reach the leopard pens. Would Bella like to meet the cats? Probably not, since he’d offered to feed her dead body to them.
Emperor Manuel had told him to offer his services as a guide and escort again today. He and a few reliable soldiers could guard the entire Queen’s Guard. He grunted. Might be redundant.
The way to Bella’s trust would not be moonlight and roses, as with other women. What would a guard do? Arm wrestle? Get drunk?
No. What he knew of Lady Isabella showed her to be a woman of honor and character. A woman more like his wife than his sister.
The thought felt as lethal as a sword slicing through flesh. Raoul turned to leave. To hell with what the emperor wanted! A small voice in his head asked if he didn’t want to spend time with the lady too.
Her slight build held a surprising strength, as he’d witnessed when she had helped carry Sarah. Her slender arms around his neck could have done serious harm, if he had been unaware. The idea held a small thrill. To be with a woman and not rein in his passion.
The sound of a feminine heel against the paved walkway outside the gate brought his attention to the present moment. The air held the smallest hint of violet perfume, something he’d come to associate with Bella. What would she wear? Would she come alone or drag that idiot knight with her?
The gate latch clicked, and she slipped through, a wraith in silvery light blue. Her gown covered every inch of arm, neck, and leg. Not even her shoes were visible beneath the embroidered hem. Her hair, pulled back in an ebony bun, was covered with a silvery veil as thin as a butterfly wing.
“You came.”
She nodded but said nothing, walking down the grassy slope until she reached his side.
He shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to apologize for his gruff tone. He’d apologized once before to the lady; he refused to make a habit of it. It was the way he talked.
“We’d agreed to meet.” She stopped, her gaze boldly raking across his chest before her eyes returned to his. “Your message said the matter was urgent.”
“Yes.”
Bella waited as if she had all the time in the world.
He crossed his arms, forced to speak first. “How is the girl?”
“Sarah is a woman. And she is doing better.” Bella took a breath. “She’d just woken up when your messenger arrived.”
He blinked. “I was wondering if you might need an escort to the Hippodrome this afternoon.”
This took her back a step, and her lips fought a smile. “A guard for the Queen’s Guard?” She shook her head. “How redundant.”
Ah, yes, he’d thought the same. “You will wear your armor then?” He remembered Louis assuring Manuel that the women would be dressed appropriately.
Bella’s chin jerked. “Empress Irene requested it.”
At least they’d had the courtesy to gain permission beforehand. Raoul struggled to find something else to say, something important enough to bind Bella to him for the duration of the Crusaders’ stay. “I located the slave who gave Sarah the message yesterday.”
”Why did you not say so to begin with?” She placed her hand on his arm but quickly dropped it. “What did he say? Who sent him?”
Raoul’s disappointment was keen. Hers would be too. “He didn’t remember. As is custom, he was given a few messages at once by the royal secretary. It could, quite literally, be one of hundreds of people living inside this palace.”
Her shoulders sank. “So we are no closer to finding the villain.”
He didn’t like seeing her defeated. “Unless Sarah tells you.”
“I must return to the room. If it’s possible to speak to you without detection sometime today, I will tell you what she knows. As proper thanks for your help.” Her cheeks turned a rose red as she turned to look back over her shoulder. “I will not compromise the safety of the queen.”
Her blush let him know that her kiss had not been a token of thanks but a brave move as she explored her new freedom. He’d made a mistake in brushing her aside. According her the respect of one guard to another, he said, “I would not ask you to.”
She gave him a single nod and walked away.
Damn my impatience, he thought, heading toward the structure where the leopards lived. At least Sarah was awake. Hell’s fire, alive was a blessing too. Surprised to find it unlocked, Raoul pushed open the door. Odo de Deuil, King Louis’s favorite chaplain, walked around the inside, shadowed by the slave boy from the steppes who helped care for the cats. Arthur or Art or something.
“Can I help you?” Raoul asked in a low tone. He didn’t like Odo, probably because the chaplain was a sneaky bastard, always praying, writing, or hunting for secrets. “What are you doing here?” Raoul put his hand on the hilt of his sword, knowing he looked especially intimidating when he added his sc
owl.
Odo’s slick smile wavered as he looked up at Raoul. He might have been able to intimidate the slave, but the emperor’s soldier was another matter. “As you know, I am chronicling the events of the Crusade for King Louis and Abbot Suger.”
“In the emperor’s leopard pen?” Raoul stared at Odo, holding the smaller man hostage with a look that often had grown men quaking in their boots.
Odo looked away, his knees visibly trembling beneath his brown robe. “I am documenting the beauty of these fine cats. Leopards?”
“Yes.”
“Are they”—he swallowed, looking into the dark pen at the sleeping leopards—”vicious?”
Raoul lowered his voice. “If they sense danger, they forget all my extensive training and go for the kill.”
“Oh!” The chaplain made the sign of the cross.
Raoul rolled his eyes at the man’s idiocy. “Will you be at the Hippodrome this afternoon?”
Odo nodded, unable to turn his gaze from the pen, where Serena flicked her tail. “I heard you will bring your animals.”
“Yes.” Now where had the worm gotten that information? “Romans used lions to tear apart the guilty, limb by bloody limb as the citizens cheered them on.”
“That—that was a long time ago,” Odo said, his voice regaining some strength. “Hundreds of years ago, surely. And besides, you are Greek.”
“We Greeks are proud of our Roman lineage. It would take only a small suggestion from me to the emperor to stage a reenactment. Perhaps you could pick the victim. For example, one of the undisciplined soldiers in your army camped outside the golden gate.” What had started as a way to nick the Frank’s hide had turned into an actual threat. Odo backed away, right into the bars of the pen.
A large, spotted paw poked through the slats, claws extended. Odo screamed and jumped away.
Raoul grinned.
The slave boy turned his face to hide a forbidden smile.
“Barbarians!” Odo hurried out of the building toward the safety of the palace.
“How did you know our special nickname for you?” Raoul said, knowing the question wouldn’t even be heard.
He turned to the boy, who stared up at him with wide brown eyes. “Arturo, is that your name?”
The boy nodded.
“What was Odo doing in here?”
Arturo bowed his head. “He came a few moments before you. He didn’t touch anything.”
For a man chronicling the Crusades, the chaplain had neither pen nor tablet. Nor the king’s army, when it came right down to it.
Raoul dismissed the boy and reached between the slats to scratch behind Serena’s ear.
The big cat purred her pleasure, surely not understanding why the brown-robed man had run from their game.
”Has anybody else been in to see you before our performance this afternoon?”
“No, sir,” Arturo said.
As Serena enjoyed her ear rub, Star ambled up, his rumble louder, masculine. He bared his teeth in greeting before licking Raoul’s palm.
“The cats don’t seem frightened, so I won’t kill the bastard. But if I see him in here again, it will be another tale.” He looked at the slave boy and winked.
Arturo walked back into the shadows of the leopard pen.
The door opened, and Raoul dropped his hands to his sides. Had Odo returned? Had he forgotten his Bible? He tensed.
Bella slipped inside the dim enclosure, covered in a plain brown hooded cloak, which hid her from head to toe. Nothing but her eyes were visible. Those violet eyes that haunted his sleep.
He couldn’t speak. Not out of rudeness but out of uncertainty. She made him question his feelings about things in general but specifically about how he could make up for his previous bad behavior and gain another chance at a kiss.
“I can stay for a moment and no more, or I will be late for the queen. Sarah doesn’t remember who attacked her last eve. She drank the poisoned wine before her attacker ever arrived. You have her dagger, the one with the lily engraved on the handle. She didn’t bring another.”
Raoul closed his eyes to hide his impotent fury. When he opened them to ask questions, she was gone. Only the scent of violets remained.
CHAPTER 14
Bella barely made it back to the room before Larissa arrived with a basket of embroidery on her arm. Hanging her cloak on the peg, Bella greeted the queen’s handmaiden. Normally the queen’s closest servant would be of royal lineage. However, for the Crusade, Eleanor had opted to raise a palace maid in rank rather than risk an innocent young royal’s life.
Good fortune for Larissa. Eleanor was so pleased with her service, given without want of any future political favors, that she often said she would consider the arrangement again.
“Is it time then?” Bella reached for her quiver.
“Oui, you know how anxious she gets. She has more energy than five people combined. How is la fifille?”
Sarah leaned on her elbow from her place the couch. “I am fine, thank you, and not a little girl at all. I wish to go with the others. It will take a moment to get clothed—”
“The queen warned you would try and give me trouble, but I’m not falling for any tricks. I raised five sisters, each of them brighter than the last. The queen says you are to stay abed, and so you will.” Larissa lifted the basket. “If you want something useful to do, you may darn the queen’s stockings.”
Mamie laughed but stopped at the murderous look on Sarah’s face.
Bella stepped forward, adjusting the leather and metal breastplate she’d worn beneath the cloak so she would be ready for the queen. She’d risked seeing Raoul so soon because she’d realized the more information she could give him, the faster he could help find the attacker.
“Sarah has kept down a cup of broth, and we’ve asked the kitchen to send another after vespers,” Catherine told Larissa.
“I’ve been stabbed.” Sarah’s voice rose. “I did not turn into a child overnight.”
“You were poisoned, and we must nourish your body so you can heal.” Bella folded her hands and pursed her lips, inadvertently mimicking the nuns who’d raised her.
Instead of taking the reprimand, Sarah giggled, then cursed when the motion hurt her side. “It’s like hot irons being poked in my flesh, Sister Mary Isabella.”
The other guard members joined in the suppressed laughter, and Bella, not knowing what else to do, smiled and stroked Sarah’s hair. “You are dear to me, so tease me if you will. I worry for you.”
“As you do always.” Sarah squeezed her hand. “Fine. You all go and have grand adventures while I wither away.”
“That will be the day,” Mamie said, quickly averting her tearful gaze.
Fay kissed the top of Sarah’s head. “I will come back and reenact the entire race for you.”
Catherine sighed. “I’ll sketch what it looks like when the queen’s chariot wins.”
“She only wagers on a known bet. Our queen does not like to lose,” Larissa said in an admiring tone.
Bella and the ladies left Sarah pouting and found the queen pacing in the deserted hall by the large marble stairs, which were wide enough for all five to walk down side by side.
“How is she?” Eleanor asked as soon as they were close enough to speak. “Sarah?”
“Awake,” Catherine answered. “But she remembers nothing.”
“God’s teeth, what will I do now? Manuel knows of the harm done to my vassal in his city, but has he acknowledged the attack in any way? Non!” The queen turned quickly, her red cloak flying out behind her, her hair braided and coiled at the back of her head.
Making sure no one was about, Bella said, “Raoul hinted that Emperor Manuel is searching for the villain in hopes of having the attacker’s head on a pike by the time you make an official complaint, if that is what you decide. Sarah was, after all, having a romantic liaison outside the palace.” She breathed out, exuding calm in the queen’s storm.
“If Manuel would dare to ca
ll my Sarah a whore, then I would tell the empress who my lady was to be fornicating with.” Queen Eleanor’s eyes narrowed, and she made a fist with one hand.
Passion. The queen was driven by it.
“This could be why Emperor Manuel says nothing while quietly investigating,” Bella suggested. “Perhaps we should follow his lead?”
“What of Sarah? I thought you would thirst for revenge on behalf of your friend.” Eleanor’s infamous temper flashed.
Fay stood next to Bella, quietly offering her support.
“Sarah lives,” Bella said, her insides quaking as she dared disagree with the queen. “Once she regains her memory, we might have more to offer in the way of accusations.”
Catherine and Mamie murmured their assent. The queen’s body slowly relaxed as she exhaled and said a Hail Mary. She nodded and met Bella’s gaze. “I know your caution is wise, yet I would rather have answers now.” She shook her head at them. “It’s not easy being queen. My way is thwarted all the time by rules and traditions.” She winked, her mood changing like the wind. “Which is why I have another plan.”
“And what plan is that?” Mamie said.
She gestured for them to gather close around her. “You ladies are going to fascinate Emperor Manuel and his empress with your style and discipline. Manuel will ask me, because I am the creator of the queen’s female guard, about you all, thus opening the passageway for a detailed conversation. I will be my most charming, and he will fall under my spell.”
Mamie nodded. “And then what?”
The queen lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Why, then he will be convinced that supporting Uncle Raymond, should he decide to rule Outremer, is the right thing to do.”
Catherine’s face paled, and her mouth seemed pinched at the corners. “This conversation is better suited for a private setting.”
Eleanor raised her hands. “And who else is around to hear?”
At Catherine’s hurt expression, the queen sighed. “You are right, of course. It’s just that I want to help, and you know how I loathe feeling powerless. In Aquitaine, I can order my vassals to do as I say or have them killed. In France, I can convince Louis to do my bidding. But here?” The queen clucked. “I must rely on wits, yours and mine combined.”