Queen's Guard 01 The Queen's Guard: Violet

by Traci E Hall

  “I will go and say all that you need to say.”

  Eleanor’s eyes welled. “If you are caught, I cannot save you.”

  Bella didn’t so much as tremble. “I know.”

  “Be persuasive. The salvation of the Holy Land depends on my uncle uniting all four Christian states.”

  Larissa adjusted the crown while Bella memorized the directions to Manuel’s private chapel, which was in the same wing as Raoul’s room. At the last instant, she remembered the knife. “I found this,” she said, giving the lily-embossed eating dagger to the queen.

  “Lily. Where was this?” Eleanor turned it over, running her thumb across the blade.

  “Empress Irene used it tonight and left it on the table.” Bella exhaled, one mystery solved, though there was nothing they could do about the answer. “Keep it. Perhaps it will help.”

  “I am sorry for my temper,” Eleanor said, the skin beneath her eyes so dark it looked bruised in the dim candlelight of the hall. “You make me proud.”

  “No apologies are necessary. This is what we were trained to do.”

  “Not to be me. To protect me.”

  “That’s what I am doing.”

  The queen kissed both of Bella’s cheeks. “Be wise. If you are caught, I will do what I can.”

  “The emperor will think I am you until we are in his private chapel. I will do my best to share Raymond’s plan. Then I have to rely on his kindness to see me back to my chamber.” Bella swallowed.

  “I will be awake until you return.”

  Bella breathed a sigh of relief. “Until then.”

  She left, knowing she gambled her life for her queen, who risked everything for a man she loved. Her uncle. The queen didn’t see that Raymond was a brutal, power-hungry man, a charming manipulator who ruled his niece with love and false promises, even from afar.

  Raoul paced between his chamber and the emperor’s. From what he could hear, Empress Irene was making sure the man had nothing left to give anyone else for a fortnight or more.

  There was no sign of the queen, so perhaps Bella had stopped her from coming. He could always tell Manuel the queen had tired of waiting and gone back to her room.

  He acknowledged that he was helping the queen for Lady Isabella. He had to show her he cared before she left. Forever.

  He punched his left hand, wishing for a good old-fashioned brawl.

  Bella eased the desolation he lived with, offering him hope of something better. Forgiveness. It had been days since he’d swum out to greet death, beaten up soldiers in hand-to-hand combat, or slaked his lust with whores who looked nothing like Bella or his dead wife.

  Raymond deserved to be murdered in his bed like a sniveling coward. Maybe once Bella was back in France, safe from her adventures on Crusade, he would sneak into Antioch and do just that. Maybe that would at least ease the new pain flowing through his veins.

  He heard the slip of a secret panel in the door and reached for his dagger. Skilled at throwing, almost as accurate as Bella, he could decapitate a man from across the hall.

  He saw the jeweled hem of the queen’s robe, and his heart sank. Small hands found the indent to shut the door behind her. It had at last quieted in the emperor’s rooms, so he hoped Manuel fell asleep afterward with the empress holding him tight.

  It would be awkward to tell the queen that the emperor was busy doing what Louis should be doing, but Raoul was not a man to back down.

  He bowed, ready to do his distasteful duty. Where was Bella? She was supposed to come with the queen. And he hadn’t given the queen directions to the secret passageway. Raoul noticed the violet tips on the queen’s shoes and straightened slowly.

  “You should never try to be someone you are not. You have no skill for it.” He crossed his arms and scowled.

  “Raoul,” Bella whispered. “Where is the emperor?”

  “Sleeping, as you should be. Go back to your chamber before you are caught. What foolish tricks are you up to?” His heart hammered as he considered all the ramifications of Bella, a member of the Queen’s Guard, impersonating the queen in the emperor’s wing of the palace.

  He heard the door to Manuel’s chamber open and turned.

  Manuel leaned against the doorframe, his robe open to show his naked chest. “What is going on out here?”

  Irene crowded behind him, a royal purple robe hastily tied at her waist. The look of fury on her face answered a question for Raoul, one he’d been hoping would go away with the Crusaders.

  Royal jealousy.

  Every strand of truth he’d followed regarding the attack on Sarah had led back to Irene. The royal messenger, the money keeping the slaves’ mouths shut, and the weapon stolen from his room. Nobody but a royal slave would dare touch anything of his.

  Bella kept her head bowed, her ebony hair and face covered behind the veil. Raoul could only imagine how frightened she must be. How brave she was to impersonate Eleanor and save her queen from certain death, the price for being caught meeting with the emperor to discuss treason.

  Raoul faced the emperor, his jaw tight.

  Manuel’s eyes were as unreadable as coal.

  “Tell the emperor,” Raoul said, “Lady Isabella, why you are here.”

  “Lady Isabella?” Confusion replaced fury on the empress’s face.

  Manuel’s gaze flew toward Raoul. “What game is this?” The emperor stepped out into the hall. “A known member of the Queen’s Guard, lethal with bow and arrow, dressed in the queen’s clothing, trespassing in the emperor’s wing.”

  “Assassin,” Empress Irene hissed.

  Manuel tugged at his beard.

  Bella raised her gaze and took off the crown.

  Raoul saw the way her hands trembled and contained his fiery emotions. If he was to protect her, he would need a cool head.

  “You are safe from me. I hold no weapons.” Bella’s voice was clear, the set of her shoulders firm beneath the jeweled robe. “I come with a message on behalf of Raymond of Antioch.”

  “What?” Manuel bellowed.

  Six soldiers of the royal guard immediately filled the hall, each witnessing Bella dressed as the queen.

  Raoul knew he could not save her now, unless she was to betray her queen, which she would never do.

  “He has sent envoys to you, yet the messengers never return,” she said, folding her hands. “His desire for peace goes unheard.”

  The emperor’s anger was so hot that Raoul feared his head would explode.

  His own anger was muted by Bella’s obvious courage in the face of such wrath.

  Manuel jabbed a finger at Bella. “Raymond is an animal. He burned your lover’s village down, killing his wife and child.” He turned to Raoul. “Surely you haven’t let a pair of tits turn your head from the past?”

  Raoul clenched his fists but shook his head. “I remember quite clearly the sins visited upon me and mine by Raymond.”

  “Then why do you aid her in coming to me with this?”

  “I only just learned of the message.” He planted his feet.

  “She is here on behalf of her queen, who comes on behalf of her uncle.”

  “Non.” Bella raised her voice. “Emperor Manuel, I act on behalf of Raymond of Antioch. My queen knows nothing.”

  Raoul’s gut boiled at her obvious lie. Death. How could he save her?

  “Do these barbarians have no sense of what is honorable? What is right? Slinking around halls in the middle of the night, like a thief? Irene is right. Are you here to kill me, Lady Isabella?” Manuel’s red face turned purple with rage.

  “She is not here to kill you,” Raoul hurried to interject.

  “Again, you take a bitch’s side against mine. You are worthless to me as a bodyguard if you invite a barbarian into my private chambers.”

  The soldiers stood uncertainly at each end of the hall, spears ready. Bella and Raoul were trapped between them. Raoul had not made friends, he knew, and the men would be happy to pay him back for some of the bruise
s he’d given.

  “Manuel, please.” He held out his hand.

  “Oh, now it is please when before it was grunts. I cannot decide if I should have you thrown in a cell or killed along with her.”

  Raoul could not believe what was happening. His world was destroyed again, and there was nothing he could do. “If I could explain.”

  Bella called out to Manuel, reaching for him.

  Acting on instinct, Raoul caught her back in a tight hold.

  “Let me finish what I have come to say,” she said, squirming in Raoul’s grasp. “You can do that much before you take my head.”

  “I owe you nothing,” Manuel spat.

  “Raymond promises to give you the land he took from your father, along with more if you will aid his cause.”

  Manuel stopped, and Bella stilled.

  Raoul didn’t loosen his grip, for her sake.

  “In exchange for what?”

  “He wishes to open conversation between you. I know nothing more.”

  Raoul thanked God that Bella was being stingy with her choice of truths, thereby protecting the queen as well as herself. Raymond as king of Outremer? Never. Manuel could never let that happen. It would be disaster for everybody. Manuel would rather set Jerusalem on fire and watch it burn.

  Bella’s arms hurt in Raoul’s grip. If he let go, she would fall to Manuel’s knees and beg him to listen, so perhaps it was for the best that Raoul held her back. Begging was not part of the guard code.

  Eleanor would have to forgive her for deciding which parts of the tale to share. Bella hoped to spare the queen grief in the long run by denying the queen’s part in the discussion, by accepting all blame.

  She finally dared to look at Manuel, who exchanged a glance with his wife. She’d not missed the hatred in Irene’s eyes when she’d thought Eleanor had come calling. Jealousy. She thought of the eating dagger the queen now had in her possession.

  Bella had been looking at the wrong sex in her search for the one who had attacked Sarah in the emperor’s name. She of all people should know better than to judge someone’s abilities by whether they had breasts or not.

  Eleanor had been right. Manuel was sorely tempted by Raymond’s offer.

  “Is this land worth forgiving your father’s death?” Empress Irene reached out and gently touched her husband’s face.

  “No.”

  “Tell that to your whore of a queen and her damned uncle. Raymond will not gain succor or support from this city. Ever.” Irene spoke from the doorway for both of them.

  “My queen is innocent.” Bella had to defend her liege’s honor, if only by word since she had no weapon.

  Manuel sneered at Bella. “Innocent? I think not.” He turned to Raoul. “You wound me with this. It feels like a betrayal, yet I know you to be an honorable man. I will need to pray about consequences for your behavior.”

  “I did nothing that would harm you, Manuel.” Raoul held up his hand. “I swear by everything that is holy.”

  “I know.” Manuel nodded. “But for the first time in our friendship, you chose someone else over me.”

  It was not hard to imagine Raoul’s torment, as she had just gone through a similar scenario with her liege. His grip on her arms loosened but not by much—just enough to let the blood sting as feeling returned.

  “Will you send him to prison, Manuel?” Irene stared with satisfaction at the demise of her husband’s trusted man of affairs.

  “No.” He looked over his shoulder and scowled. “And do not push me, woman. I must go to the chapel and pray.” He paused, then focused on Raoul. “Give the lady to the soldiers and put her in a cell. Alone. I will decide the manner of her death come morning.”

  Bella heard Raoul grit his teeth and cringed. He’d stood up to his emperor for her. She expected nothing from him. They’d been doing their duty, after all.

  In a state of calm, Bella accepted that the worst had happened. She wouldn’t struggle and throw away her dignity as a member of the Queen’s Guard.

  “I won’t fight, Raoul. Please let me go.”

  Raoul handed her roughly to a royal soldier. At the last second she looked at him, imploring him to give her one last kiss. Raoul’s eyes narrowed with pain, and he leaned in to brush his lips against hers.

  She whispered, “Irene stole Sarah’s knife from your room. The queen has it.”

  The soldier tore her away, and she strained to look back.

  He gave a single nod, then turned to his friend and liege. “Emperor Manuel, I would pray with you.”

  Manuel solemnly nodded.

  CHAPTER 28

  By the third day, Bella wondered if she’d been forgotten. Bread was tossed into her cell and water dumped in a bucket once a day. A hole for bodily functions was cut through the floor, which led God knew where. It wasn’t big enough to escape through. She’d already tried.

  She’d imagined all the different ways she could die. Beheaded, hanged, drawn and quartered, an arrow to the jugular, a dagger to the ribs. Poison would be too kind for the message they wanted to send.

  The Crusaders were heathens with no respect for God’s law or decency. Oui, she had each death planned out to the finest detail. She’d thought it would happen immediately, but here it was the third sunrise, as she could see through the cracks in the stone, and she still had her head.

  Maybe it was time to think of something besides how she would die. There might be a way to live.

  The queen’s robe had been taken from her before they’d tossed her in the cell, leaving her in her fancy undergown and ivory shoes: what every woman should wear while languishing in a dank dungeon cell.

  Her fear of her husband was gone. Rats did not bother her, and the solitude was reminiscent of her time at the convent. So she prayed. She prayed Eleanor had gotten away safely, without consequence. She prayed Manuel would be able to forgive Raoul, though he had done no wrong but to be human. Caught in the same trap of love—or lust.

  She prayed for Sarah, Jonathon, Fay, Catherine, Mamie, and again the queen. Always the queen, that she might find something to soothe her wild heart.

  They all had secret desires. Secret wants.

  Right now she wanted out of this cell.

  She was a member of the Queen’s Guard, trained in intrigue. Certainly breaking out of prison shouldn’t be that difficult. Bella had just braided enough straw to form a sort of pick when she heard voices.

  The prison guards ignored her except to check her cell once per day, and they’d already done that. Something different was happening. A visit from someone? The queen? Fay? Sarah? Raoul?

  Wrong on all counts. Accompanied by two soldiers, it was the emperor’s steward, who held the key. “Come, let the entertainment begin.”

  “That’s a mite cruel, don’t you think?” Bella lifted her chin, remembering the queen’s advice to hold her head high.

  “You smell like you’ve been rolling in pig filth. You will have to bathe.” The steward led her to a stall where there was a bucket of relatively clean water and a towel. A simple linen gown and leather sandals were waiting on a three-legged stool. “Wash.” The steward crossed his arms over his thin chest.

  Bella raised her brows. “There is no privacy!”

  “You get none. Clean or dirty, you can face the emperor and the crowd how you wish. I would wash my face if I were you. And don’t look so appalled. I’m a eunuch and would not rape you, if I even liked women, which I don’t, so—just, ugh.” He shuddered. “Wash already.”

  It would be easier to passively let things happen. Or she could wash and wave to those brave enough to meet her eyes. She washed.

  “Better,” the steward said, taking her by the elbow when she was dressed. “This way.”

  Though the day was overcast, she blinked. She looked again, realizing the sun was almost covered by the moon. It was hard to tell what time it was. Bella, spooked, remembered stories of such things happening. Omens, miracles, curses.

  And this was the da
y the emperor had chosen to have her killed? Oui, it made sense. How often did a woman get beheaded anyway? She shivered and prayed for guidance. Not deliverance but dignity.

  The steward stayed back, letting the two soldiers take her to the emperor, who stood alone on a small stage in the center of the amphitheater. Much smaller than the Hippodrome, this was made specifically for the emperor to give his speeches to his chosen citizens.

  As she was led before him, he pointed to her and stated her crimes. “Impersonating royalty: Queen Eleanor of France. A known member of the dangerous Queen’s Guard trespassing in my private hall for an undetermined purpose.” He spoke in Latin, obviously for Bella’s benefit.

  Bella knew he could say more and waited with her head bowed. All she prayed for was to meet her death with honor. No tears.

  “I was going to pronounce death.” The crowd cheered, their bloodthirsty Roman ancestry not far from the surface.

  “But …” He paused dramatically, pleasing the people with his theatrics.

  Bella’s legs trembled.

  “But I am the mouthpiece of God on Earth, and He brought me this omen today.” Emperor Manuel pointed to the eclipse. “And I knew that we would show our godly beneficence by forgiving this heathen woman, raised up to act like a man, wearing weapons and clothes such as made for men.” He cleared his throat and stared at Bella, as if still undecided whether he should go through with God’s will. “Yes, it is the miracle of God’s love that we should forgive this misguided sinner.”

  The crowd booed, but Manuel rallied them with another shout. “She cannot go totally unpunished for her sins. I will personally break her finger so that she may never shoot an arrow again.”

  This brought the crowd to their feet, cheering.

  Bella’s stomach roiled. She had a high tolerance for pain, thanks to her dead husband’s daily dose of beatings, but could she keep her head high while the emperor crushed an appendage?

  A guard pushed her toward Manuel’s feet.

  “Kneel.”