"Will you get paid for bringing me back?" she asked.
"I am not sure. The king will likely reward my loyalty and determination."
"And my father?"
Hugo shrugged. "I don't know why he seeks your return," he admitted honestly.
"He has no claim on me. He annulled the marriage, along with my legitimacy."
"I don't know what is on his mind."
"Perhaps he had no heir and must acknowledge me."
"He does." As far as Hugo knew, Lord Chanderling's three sons from his subsequent marriage were still alive.
"I had heard as much," she said. "I don't understand why he's doing this."
"Perhaps he just wants to see his child."
"He didn't want to see me when I officially was. Why does he want to see me now?"
Hugo shrugged. Lord Chanderling's motives were none of his affair.
"The annulment still stands," she said pointedly. "You cannot unannul an annulment because you change your mind. Officially, he is not my father."
"He can still claim you as his child."
"Doesn't mean I'm legitimate. And as I recall, he put some doubt on my even being his child. He has no claim over me."
"I'm still not letting you go so you can run back to your Saracen lover."
"You're an awful, pig-headed man, Hugo Beauford."
"I am a knight and I do as my king commands." Clean shaven, he soothed his skin with his hands and dressed, pulling the undershirt on, then the mail over top. "Time to go."
"Where are we going?"
"To the jetty."
She looked down at her lap, a frown drawing her brows together. He kept a keen ear to her activities as he retrieved his surcoat.
"Do you have children?" she asked when he returned.
"No," Hugo said, tension stealing through his body.
"You're a bit old to be without an heir. Are you infertile?"
"I am a knight at war. It doesn't give much time to family life." Dark thoughts threatened, but he pushed them away.
"Or obligations, apparently."
Hugo's jaw clenched. "I do not wish to discuss my family situation with you."
"But it's fine to discuss mine?"
"I don't wish to discuss that either, but since you mention it, you seem remarkably infertile yourself being as you've been living with a lover. Guess that makes a pair of us. Or is it the Saracen who is incapable?"
Eloise lifted her nose in the air. He had offended her now—not that he cared. Her infertility was her own cross to bear. "His name is Malik, and he is a wonderful person."
Hugo rolled his eyes, like he gave a damn what her lover was called. "Out," he said, taking her by the elbow and leading her to the door.
The ship was a decent size, made of polished wood and red sails like the spines of a fish. He negotiated a cabin to confine her and he communicated clearly that the door must be locked at all times. That way, she had no escape and he could keep her in there as if it were a cell. It also gave him the run of the ship, away from her. He would not be sleeping in the cabin, instead finding a hammock somewhere—giving her privacy and himself distance from her.
With her safely locked in the cabin, for which he'd paid handsomely with the paper currency he carried, he watched as they pulled away from the jetty and sailed smoothly down the muddy river. He still couldn't believe that he had traveled all the way to Cathay, having seen multitudes of cultures and places getting here. But all he wanted was to return home. He was sick and tired of being in strange lands, with incomprehensible customs and dangers. On the battlefield, he knew what the dangers were—here he had to watch his back every moment.
The next few weeks would be calm as they sailed the length of the river. It would be a very different landscape when they would get off this boat again, and the great desert loomed in front of them—another thing he didn't look forward to, but it was the only way to get back to Europe, provided the desert didn't claim them as it had so many others.
Chapter 9:
* * *
Eloise hadn't been let out of the cabin for weeks. She was going mad in there, but she had a young Cathayan girl acting as a ladies maid, bringing her meals, while a guard kept the door locked at all times. She was being treated like a high-born lady and it was Hugo's doing. But Eloise would readily trade these privileges for freedom, any day.
There was only a small round hole to give her a view of the outside, but invariably there was little to see other than the muddy river and the gray landscape.
It was getting warmer and the cabin was often stifling. She saw very little of Hugo and for that, she was grateful. All she wanted to do was hit him, not that it seemed to make a bit of difference. Sometimes, she wished she was inhumanly strong, so she could really hit him—she even wished she truly was a witch so she could curse him. Of all the people they could have sent, it had to be Hugo Beauford. They could have sent someone nice and charming. Hugo was a brute with the manners of a stick. Although, mostly, she was just upset that they had sent someone at all. She was happy in Cathay. She'd known she would eventually have to make the journey back to Europe, but she hadn't expected she'd be forced to.
The scenery out her porthole changed little. The river was the same, although the landscape was growing more barren. This had to be the longest river in the world.
They were pulling into port again, some stop along the river like the hundreds before, but this time her door swung open, and Hugo crowded the doorway. "Let's go."
She hated how he just ordered her around, like she was obligated to take his orders, but she also knew he had no manners and would carry her if she refused. "I hate you."
"As you please," he said, completely uncaring. He walked ahead of her and Eloise stared daggers into his back. The sun was bright when she reached the deck and it stung her eyes. The winds were warm. They were close to the desert, while the city of Lanzhou stretched in front of her. Behind the city's defensive walls, she could see the pagodas and the Buddhist temples, even the massive waterwheel by the river.
Hugo held out his hand for her, to help her down the gangway. She wanted to refuse, but she did need some stability, and it would be far more embarrassing falling in the river to have to be rescued by him. She took his outstretched hand. It was firm and warm, and she was almost surprised to realize he was an actual human being.
Lanzhou wasn't large and there was nowhere for her to go. He would find her eventually if she escaped. They walked through the main gates, and the Mongol guards checked Hugo's tablet, which allowed him passage through the land. They gave her no consideration, assuming she belonged to him. She burned with embarrassment and anger. She did not belong to him and she resented anyone assuming so, but she was a lone woman, and as such, she was more or less invisible.
"Come," he said, leading her through the busy streets. Lanzhou was at the heart Cathayan, but there was a stronger mix of cultures as it was a trading post between east, west, north and south. Eloise saw Mohammedeans with their covered heads and dark eyes—a thought of Malik pierced through her. There were also darker faces from India, a place she had been planning to explore once she left Cambeluc, and the round cheeks of the Mongol traders.
No one batted an eyelid at seeing Europeans, who likely passed through the town on a regular basis, but she garnered some sly looks in her red dress. The European travelers who came through here were more often than not men.
"I have to send a message to Malik," she said. He would be beyond worried about her now. She had hoped he would rescue her, but it hadn't happened—truthfully, she'd known he wouldn't. A stab of disappointment pierced her, but she knew his ways and beliefs. Hugo ignored her. "You are cruel and inconsiderate of others’ suffering," she said loudly.
Finally he stopped. "Am I to encourage you to send a note to your lover?"
"He will be sick of worry. It is ungenerous to be so uncaring of anyone's suffering."
Hugo, with his hand resting on his sword hilt, turned back
and kept walking. Eloise kicked him in the leg, which made him stop again and turn back to her. "I'm warning you."
"What? You're going to be cruel and heartless? How extraordinary," she said sarcastically. He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her in front of him, pushing her along if she slowed down, until they reached a building with red lettering down the side. Hugo urged her into the building. He obviously knew where he was going.
The inside was calm stone—a church, seemingly empty. It was cool inside Eloise could see the altar at the front, and pews on either side of the room. It looked both familiar and foreign. The script everywhere was in Cathayan script, but it was apparently a church—Nestorian. Nestorian churches existed all over Cathay, allowed free worship by the tolerance of the Mongols. It provided sanctuary to all Christians, even if the Nestorian church was not recognized by the papacy.
An older man appeared, dressed in heavier robes similar to the Greek Churches. "Welcome," he said in Persian.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Eloise said back and the man smiled. He bowed to them and showed them to a side door, where travelers were welcomed to stay. Meanwhile, Hugo was staring at her as if she'd spoken in tongues. "Persian," she said.
"I wasn't aware that you speak Persian."
"I speak a bit of everything. Enough to get by." Malik had of course taught her.
The room they were allowed to stay in was nothing but an empty room with a dirt floor and a rounded, stone ceiling. "We need some blankets," Hugo said. "It is cold in the desert. I would go on my own, but I know you would have some hare-brained idea and go running off, and I cannot be bothered chasing you around this town, so you're coming with me."
Eloise was offended. Even she knew that this place was too small to get away. The only escape would be by boat and she had no means to organize it. He really did think her an idiot. Eloise ground her teeth together in annoyance and frustration. Please God, strike him down with a bolt of lightning, she prayed. As she was in a church, maybe God would hear her prayer.
She followed him back out into the street and toward the market place. "We'll buy two camels tomorrow. You are aware that if you run off in the desert, you'll die."
"I'm not entirely as stupid as you think. I survived this journey once before, you know. And I've survived in these lands a lot longer than you have."
Hugo threw her a glance, but let the comment go unnoticed. Eloise looked up at the sky, hoping to see a thunder cloud forming, but there was nothing but pink and purple dusk. It would be dark soon.
Hugo bought blankets and water pouches. "We'll have to get the rest of the supplies in the morning." He turned back to the street, but now looked uncertain. It wasn't often he looked uncertain.
"What?" she asked.
"Where shall we eat?"
"What do you wish for?"
"Something hearty—a stew, maybe. This will be the last proper meal in days."
Eloise tried to think. There was nothing like an English stew anywhere around here as far as she’d ever seen, but the Mongols liked their stewed meat.
"Alright. Perhaps best to find somewhere serving the Mongols." They walked for a while before they found a place with a sign in Mongol Cyrillic. Eloise couldn't read it or even speak a word of Mongol, but she could recognize their unique script.
The restaurant was tiny, tended by a small woman with rosy, red cheeks. She was clearly a Mongol. Eloise could only communicate in sign language and they would get whatever food the woman cared to serve them. For being a conquering horde, the Mongols were surprisingly hospitable. There was a duality in their character. They were insistent on their rule, but also tolerant of others. As long as you didn't break their rules or threaten them, they didn't care what you got up to.
"You don't speak all languages, then."
Eloise ignored him and watched the woman, who retreated to the back where a large pot was cooking over a fire. It smelled delicious and Eloise's stomach was sensing that food was near. The woman took the lid off the pot and stirred it before scooping portions into a clay pot, which she brought to them, placing it between them, along with wooden bowls and spoons, skewers and Cathayan sticks.
It smelled wonderful. "It's the closest thing to a stew," Eloise said as she leaned over the pot, scooping a portion into her bowl. It was most likely goat, but it had been cooked long enough to make the meat tender. It didn't have the pungent flavors she liked, but it was a hearty, warm meal.
They spoke little over supper and Eloise watched him when she'd finished, fishing out everything in the clay pot. Again, Eloise considered how the boy she'd known had grown into a man.
"Are you married?"
"No."
He'd said he had no children, but she hadn't realized he'd never married. "What of Ritchie?"
"He died," Hugo said.
Eloise blinked, not having realized. She'd never really liked Hugo's younger brother, even if he'd been slightly less of a swine than Hugo. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."
Hugo finished eating and looked away. "We should rest now," he said and got up, paying the woman with the paper currency. She was happy with the payment and smiled at them.
"What happened to him?" she asked when they were out on the street again. Lanterns lit the way along the narrow streets, built out of the same stone as the gray hills around them.
"Who?"
"Richard."
"He died at Guines," Hugo said, continuing walking. Hugo and Richard had been inseparable growing up. It must have hurt him gravely losing his brother. She didn't know much about the French battles, but knew that some of them were brutal, and some had heavy losses. She wanted to ask if Hugo was at Guines at the time as well, but recognized by his behavior that he didn't want to discuss it.
Hugo was walking back to the Nestorian church, which was dimly lit inside. There were other people in the travelers' lodge—Latins by the look of them—dusty and exhausted as if they'd just come from the desert. That would be them before long.
Eloise heard the large doors to the church lock and turned to see the priest, who smiled modestly. "Which way have you come from?" he asked.
"Cambeluc," she said.
"How are things there? Worries seem to be growing, as is the resentment toward the Mongols. Has it reached Cambeluc as well?"
Eloise stepped closer to the priest. "There is more unrest."
"I fear the Mongols will fall," he said, echoing the things Malik had been saying. "The Cathayans have no love for us and may seek to drive us out. I can't see them welcoming foreigners after having to contend with foreign invaders for so long. We've already been driven out by the Saracens. We have nowhere to go. Can't go east or west, might have to consider north or south."
Eloise recognized the dilemma for the man. There were no Christian lands out here and they were always at the mercy of the tolerance of other peoples, and tolerance was in ever-shorter supply these days. But it wasn't only the Christians who had to worry, all others who lived here by the tolerance of the Mongols were equally at risk if the Mongols fell.
Eloise smiled at the man, having nothing else to advise him, but wishing him well. They would pay the church in the morning for its generosity in letting them stay, not that it would do anything to solve the likely turbulent future the supporters of this church would face.
Chapter 10:
* * *
They didn't speak the next morning. Hugo packed provisions onto the camels, while Eloise stood by nervously. Crossing the desert was dangerous, not something done on a whim. But there was apparently a convoy of Mohammedeans leaving that day, so they were going to link onto the back, which pleased Eloise, because they were apparently experienced traders.
Hugo ignored her, focusing on the task of getting them ready. "If you're going to send a message to your lover, this is your last chance," he said without looking at her.
Eloise felt elation soar as Malik's worry was something that weighed on her, needing an opportunity to say good bye to a man who had meant a
great deal to her. Saying that, when this was all over, she wasn't sure she would return after gaining her freedom again, because they couldn't very well keep her prisoner. A dread settled in her belly as she didn't know what her father was capable of. She knew what happened to her mother, so he was capable of quite a bit. Whatever was to come, and however she managed to gain her freedom again, because she would, she couldn't quite see herself heading back to Cathay. She might not have chosen to leave, but perhaps it was time to move on—something she'd been putting off because she'd been comfortable and happy with Malik, even knowing there was no future there.
Taking the paper currency from Hugo, she nodded, feeling slightly bashful taking the money from him, but she had none of her own. She wanted to say that she would pay him back, but he was the cause of this, so why should she feel uncomfortable about a service that wouldn't be necessary but for his actions.
She walked over to the administrator's office and managed to convey that she needed to send a letter to Cambeluc. The Mongolians ran a message service through the empire, which was incredibly useful—something they should consider in Europe.
Finding a seat, she stared at the paper, not knowing what to write, how to say good-bye to the man who had been such an important part of her life. She wasn't certain she could have brought herself to do this if it wasn't pushed on her.
Dear Malik,
I love you. My father insists on seeing me. I am fine, about to cross the desert.
She stared at it for a long time, but the words just didn't flow. What was there to say?
I wish you every happiness. We may not meet again. Thank you for everything.
Your Deepest Friend,
Eloise
It wasn't even close to what she felt, but she needed to send something. Most of all, she didn't want him worrying or fretting about her. She was going to be fine, after sorting out this set back. Sitting back, Eloise rested the stylus in her hand, looking out the window, having no idea what the future held for her. There had been a part of her that had wanted Malik to be her home for now and forever, but it just wasn't going to be. She knew that, but it still hurt.
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