Rose

by Traci E Hall

  “Hold!” a man shouted.

  Mamie turned, smiling bright.

  The knight, about forty years of age, was not impressed. “This is Templar House, madame. No women are allowed on the property.”

  Mamie thought of, and discarded, plans to take the man down and tie him to a tree. Instead, she decided it was not worth the risk to either her or Dominus. “I was looking for the blacksmith.”

  The man jerked a thumb in the opposite direction, then waited until she left.

  Rude.

  She returned to the palace just as it was time for a late meal in the hall.

  “Where were you?” Fay asked as she met them by the giant doors leading toward the laden tables.

  Mamie was not sure if she should tell them just yet what she’d heard or found in the stable. The note with the bishop she was certain had to be shared. But the private letters from Dominus and his Meggie? Well, she was on rocky terrain. “We will talk later.”

  Eleanor gave her a sharp glance before nodding once. The page announced them and then led them to the front of the room. Eleanor was escorted up to the table on the dais, while Fay and Mamie were seated below.

  Wine was poured, and servers waited for Prince Raymond to lead them in a blessing.

  Once the prayer was over, sumptuous dishes came from the kitchens—steaming hot vegetables and meats, all arrayed in artistic fashion.

  Mamie speared an olive with her knife and popped it in her mouth. “I love these. The dark brown ones are my favorite.”

  “They taste too salty.” Fay tore off a hunk of bread. “I would rather eat the oil and herbs on this.”

  “You realize that these will cost a small fortune back home?” Mamie bowed her head. She hadn’t thought of France as home in months. Did that mean she, too, sensed the end of adventure?

  “You were off somewhere while we conversed with Constance and Hortencia. Both women say that olive oil is nourishing for your skin as well.”

  “They are beauties,” Mamie said. “Perhaps that is their secret.”

  “They wanted to know ours.” Fay laughed. “Especially since we’d been in the elements.”

  “Fresh air, water, fruit, fish.” Mamie shrugged and leaned back as a server offered a display of sliced meats. She scrunched up her nose. “Lots of fish.” She chose a dark, juicy morsel of partridge while Fay took a portion of white.

  Mamie chewed and swallowed. “Rosemary and sage. Delicious.” She speared another bite with her dagger. “I am grateful for this adventure. What if the queen is right and we are bored out of our minds once we return home?”

  Fay leaned in. “I fear the same for her. Now that she has traveled the world, how can she fit back in that narrow royal box?”

  “We will have to help her be happy. Make her court of love brighter and more renowned. We will invite scholars and entertainers to match wits with her and make her laugh.” Mamie planned to be with the queen in whatever fashion her liege needed for as long as she was wanted.

  The two guards looked at one another and sighed.

  “When she was a girl, Eleanor always laughed and smiled. Paris stifled her, becoming queen so young. I still believe it was good that she married well. She needs strength, and who is more powerful than a king?”

  Mamie thought of the slight King Louis, with his boyish looks and pious demeanor. She bit her tongue and looked up at the dais, where the queen, looking magnificent, exuded charm as she laughed with her uncle, a very powerful man.

  Eleanor put a hand on her uncle’s arm, leaning in to tell him something. He tossed back his head and chuckled. Louis, on Eleanor’s other side, was not invited in on the jest, and his face was solemn.

  She could not mend this problem, and she wished they would hurry away from Antioch. Edessa be damned.

  “What else did Constance say?”

  “She has planned the tournament for the day after tomorrow. It takes time to get everything together, but she said we will be amazed. I told her that we already were.”

  Mamie drank her wine, observing the royals above. “She loves her husband.”

  “Constance and Raymond? Oui, I believe so. Though she was ten when they married.”

  “Royal strategies.” Mamie shook her head.

  “She does not seem to mind. Her mother, Alice, had thought to wed Raymond and keep control of Antioch, but”—Fay lowered her voice and whispered—“the Patriarch of Antioch, Ralph of Domfront, publicly supported Alice but privately conspired with Raymond. If Raymond would pay homage to Ralph, then Ralph would help Raymond rule Antioch.”

  Mamie wiped her fingers on the edge of the cloth. “Why would he do that?”

  “Constance says it was the only way to win.”

  Mamie nodded. “Accept a minor loss for a bigger prize later?”

  “Which obviously came.” Fay chuckled. “Ralph married Raymond and Constance, which angered Alice, of course.”

  “Of course,” Mamie said, signaling for more wine from a passing server. “Poor Constance was a pawn.”

  “I do not think she sees herself that way.” Fay took her knife and pared an apple. The engraved daisy on the handle was worn almost smooth. “She said she and Raymond discuss strategies. You can imagine our queen’s response to that.”

  “Yes. Eleanor is too intelligent to stand idly by with no opinion.”

  “There are women, like Lady Hortencia, who are content for their husbands to manage the business while they manage the home. I suppose, if I were to marry, it might depend on what my husband did. Taking care of the children would be preferable to making soap.”

  “Soap?”

  Fay waved a hand. “I am simply saying that taking part in the strategy of operating a business, if my husband was capable, might not interest me.”

  “Two of my husbands were competent; the other required more help. I found out that I could run my home, the accounts for the manor, and act as judge when the situation required it.” Mamie bowed her head, remembering her last marriage with real affection.

  “You did it all,” Fay said. “What became of them?”

  “I raised his children until they came of age, and then they, quite politely, asked me to move on.”

  “No . . .”

  “Oui.” She shrugged. “So I did, joining the queen’s court. I had spent time there before, in between my first and second marriages.”

  “What were those like?”

  Mamie sighed. “The first marriage was arranged—to a wealthy man who had sons older than I, but no daughters. He took me to court and taught me much of the delights in the bedchamber, to know my own body and mind. He liked for me to read out loud, which we did each night. Then we would discuss what we’d learned. I loved him, with all my young heart.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.” Mamie smiled fondly.

  “And when he died?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “What happened?”

  “The oldest son wanted to keep me on as his lover, but I declined. Fortunately for me, my husband had provided a small cottage of my own, near Troyes. Next, I fell in love with a burgher, a very minor nobleman. He had children who needed a mother, and I stepped in. Worst job of my life, though I loved the man and his babes. He did not believe in being faithful, however. And though his lovers quickened, I never did. I began to worry that I would never have children.”

  Fay put a hand over one of Mamie’s and squeezed.

  “He was stabbed in the heart by an angry woman.” Mamie was surprised at the tears in her eyes. “A woman scorned?”

  “Here. Have some of my wine since yours is empty,” Fay said, handing the cup to Mamie.

  Mamie gratefully drank. “So his brother moved in, with his wife and children, taking over our home. I was asked to move on.”

  Fay’s gentle gray eyes turned to steel.

  “I did. I have been lucky in love, Fay. I do not regret a moment with the men I’ve chosen.” Mamie held a hand to her belly. “I ha
ve tried telling myself that it is God’s will that I am barren, but it does not help my aching heart. I loved those children, and they were taken from me because they did not come from my body.”

  “Those people were fools.”

  “Non. They were trying to make a family. I understood even then why they did it.” It hurt. Even after all this time.

  “Have you discussed this with a physician?”

  “I have been poked and prodded. I’ve even gone to a witch.”

  Fay’s eyes rounded. “And what did she say?”

  “My womb is empty.” Mamie blinked, refusing to cry. “Gave me a mandrake charm, told me to eat figs, and pushed me out of her hut.”

  “Witch. What of a seer?”

  Mamie put a finger to her lips. “Careful, Fay.”

  “Well?”

  “I went to the fair in Champagne. It is huge and lots of fun. Almost as fun as the bazaars.”

  “And?”

  “I stopped near a woman selling herbs and asked her about what I might take to quicken.”

  Mamie sighed and finished Fay’s wine too.

  “She took my hand, rubbing her thumb over my palm. Studied the lines. She told me not to waste my coin on herbs, that I would be mother to others but none of my own.”

  “Did you go to the priests? What did they say?”

  “It is my fault, for somewhere I must have sinned. Woman has one holy contribution to society—bearing children—and since I cannot do that? It is for me to pray over what crimes I am surely guilty of.”

  She stood, pushing back from the table. “That is when I decided that I would not marry again. What was the point? I have enough money, I have my cottage should I ever need it, and I have my freedom. Queen Eleanor has assured me of that.”

  “I am sorry,” Fay said, standing too.

  “It is the way of the world. I have prayed without answer, and now I go through the motions, but I do not really believe God cares about what happens to me.”

  Dominus made the sign of the cross, finishing another round of Pater Nosters with a few Ave Marias tossed in for good measure.

  Praying soothed his outer body, which allowed his mind to wander. His biggest concern was how to get out of this chamber and find Mamie, who, praise God, hopefully had his wallet. And the letters from the bishop. Never again would he wait to read the missives. If that was his lesson to learn from this, he took it and determined to never make the same mistake again.

  Everard returned from supper with a small loaf of bread and a jug of watered wine. “Good evening, brother.”

  Dominus, still on his knees as he faced the door to the room, nodded. If he rushed Everard, he could break free of the room, but that would mean giving up his identity as a fellow knight. It would ruin everything.

  “Brother.”

  Everard set the tray on the table next to Dominus. “I am not supposed to speak with you much. Unless there is some sin you would like to confess, in which case I am to listen and report back to the commander.”

  Dominus got off his knees, sitting back on his haunches. “You would make a terrible spy.”

  “I do not care for deceit, and though I cannot control what others do, I must be able to speak to God with a pure heart.” He tapped his chest and sat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is there anything you would like to confess?”

  “Non. But I thank you for asking.”

  Everard grinned. “Eat your bread.” He lowered his voice. “I noticed earlier a certain guard of the queen walking back and forth beyond the gate. Old Wallace turned her back. She is no longer there.”

  Dominus nodded and tore off a hunk of bread, which he offered to Everard.

  “I am full of bean-and-onion soup, thank you.” Again, he lowered his voice. “Are you in love with Mamille de Rou?”

  Coughing, Dominus raised his wine cup, then took a sip to get the bread down his throat. “Non. Why do you ask that?”

  “Commander Bartholomew gave a long lecture before supper about temptation and the evil of fallen women. Especially those with red hair.”

  “Do not look so sad,” Dominus told Everard.

  “I do not believe that women are evil, and it was hard to keep from speaking my mind. My sisters are not evil, nor is my mother.” He shrugged. “After he shared his story about his love for his wife, I found it odd that he would be so adamant against them now.”

  “He lives a different life, one he believes brings him closer to God.” Dominus did not agree with the sect, though he saw the good the warrior-monks did—most of the time.

  “Oui, I understand. I am confused, perhaps, being here among the fraternity. I was clearer of mind and felt closer to God when we were on the caravan. I wish we were leaving tomorrow.”

  Not yet. He had work to do, specifically here in Antioch. He doubted it would take much time, and then he could throw off the white mantle with the red cross and be himself again.

  With a better appreciation for the power of prayer and his freedom.

  “We will be on the road again soon, and I will remind you, Everard, of your wish as you shake the dirt of the road from your boots.”

  “I will not complain,” Everard promised. “I am leaving now for compline, as will most of the others. Once I return, there will be no more talking until morning. Also, Commander Bartholomew wants me to take you to the barber personally, to renew your tonsure. He said it was one thing to let it go while we were on the road but an affront to God while sitting in his church.”

  He rubbed his newly shaved head, the dark brown fringe an inch above his brows, making him look like he wore a ferret around his forehead.

  “All right.” How on earth was he going to avoid that awful haircut?

  “Pride is a sin,” Everard said with a shrug. “It is only hair.”

  Everard had the right temperament to be a Knights Templar. As a virgin, the young man did not have firsthand knowledge of how wonderful temptation could be. Nor did he have ideas about what was attractive to the opposite gender.

  Unlike Dominus, who could easily imagine Mamie’s expression once she got a look at the giant shaved circle over the top of his head.

  Pride. Lust. Coveting—those were just some of the sins he’d committed in the last hour, without ever leaving his chamber.

  “Pray for me,” Dominus said as Everard left with a wave.

  “Always, my brother.”

  Was it a mistake that Everard left the door slightly open?

  Chapter Twelve

  The queen and her guard were quite subdued as they walked back to their chamber after the meal and a few hours of dancing.

  Mamie opened the door to their room, grateful that Larissa had the lamps going and their nightgowns out.

  “It is silly to be so tired, after all we’ve gone through.” Mamie stretched her arms to the sides and yawned. “We have not done much.”

  “A few more days of rest, and we will be ready to do it all again,” Fay declared. “Thank you, Larissa. I brought you a sweet.”

  The queen’s handmaiden accepted it with a smile. “My pleasure. Oh, is this a lemon tart?” She licked her lower lip. “If you three do not mind, I will enjoy this on my trundle.”

  Eleanor nodded, moving from the door between the queen’s suite and where Mamie and Fay slept.

  “I will not be too long,” Eleanor told her. “You do not have to stay awake for me. Fay and Mamie can help me undress.”

  Larissa sniffed. “Even if I were to sleep, which I will not, I am a light sleeper and can be awake to complete my duties.”

  Eleanor laughed softly and partially closed the door. “I will miss her when we go back.”

  “I can hear you.”

  Mamie and Fay sat on the bed.

  Mamie patted the mattress between them. “Come. Sit. I need to tell you what I found today, in the stables.”

  “A new horse?” Eleanor asked, kicking off her pointed shoes. She climbed up onto the bed, scooting back to sit in the center
.

  “You asked that I maintain my tenuous connection with Dominus, so I waited in the stables for him to come back. He’d followed us, you know—milled with the palace guard, to ensure our safe return, as promised. My plan was to speak with him in secret while he tended to his horse.”

  “Good.”

  Fay nodded, lying on her side and propping her body against a long bolster. “Excellent plan, and could be explained as accidental, if need be.”

  “I was not the only one to think so. Commander Bartholomew entered right after me—I barely had time to hide in the loft behind a bundle of oats.”

  “Oh no.” Fay lifted up from the pillow. “Did he see you?”

  Mamie shook her head. “We were not waiting long before Everard came back, with Dominus in tow.” She’d hated how the commander had spoken to Dominus, and her heart swelled with pride at how well he’d accepted the rebuke. She knew, somehow, that he was doing it against his will.

  Perhaps the commander did too, which was why he was so hard on Dominus?

  Eleanor snapped her fingers. “And?”

  “Sorry. He punished Dominus by ordering him to consume just bread and water for the next few days, made him strip his robe and wear only a plain shirt and breeches and shoes. He must have suspected Dominus of shopping or eating or something against the order’s rules. He had gone somewhere alone, and that is forbidden.”

  “Why would he do that?” Eleanor asked.

  “I cannot find fault with that. Sometimes I need time to sit with my thoughts.”

  “Not often,” Fay said curtly.

  Mamie grinned. “Anyway, Dominus knew, somehow, that I was there in the loft. I was covered with straw and, I thought, completely hidden from view.”

  Eleanor tugged on one of Mamie’s scented curls. “Your perfume?”

  She closed her eyes. “You are probably right. I should know better . . . but in my defense, I had not expected to be hiding in a hayloft.”

  “I wish I would have been there to see it.” Fay giggled.

  “I was afraid to breathe, lest I be found out. But it worked in Dominus’s favor, for he had a wallet on him, hidden in his robes. He managed to kick it into a scrap of hay near the stall, acknowledging me, as if asking me to fetch it for him.”