Rose

by Traci E Hall

  Dominus sat back down, his heart beating fast. Bartholomew came in, his arms heavy with a folded crisp white robe, a lance and cover, a sword, a silver helmet, and boots. The Templars did not espouse wealth, but they also had a reputation to maintain.

  “Win. But do not gloat in your victory. Do not smile at any woman, including the princess. Look to the side of her face and avoid temptation. You may not drink wine or take food until you come back here, where you will pray for your sins.”

  Dominus bristled. What shaped Bartholomew? Power? Greed? Thwarted desire?

  “I will do my best.”

  “Wear the helmet at all times. We don’t want rumors spread that you have some sort of disease. The Templar House is run by donation, not pity.”

  Dominus accepted the items. “Thank you.”

  “Thank the princess. If it were up to me, I would keep you in prayer and chores until your pride was broken. I think you have forgotten how to be humble, if indeed you ever learned. Who accepted your oath?”

  Perhaps it was pride, but Dominus met the commander’s gaze. “Bishop Clairvaux.”

  Commander Bartholomew gritted his teeth. “Go get ready. Everard will act as your squire.”

  Dominus and Everard rode their broad-chested destriers into the cleared yard for the tournament. The excitement in the air was palpable, and the scents of grilled chicken and roasted goat made his stomach rumble.

  Everard looked at him and grinned, a reminder of his youth that had been absent as of late. “We will have to dream of tender chicken morsels. The commander said we may not eat—”

  “Until we return to the monastery.” Dominus shrugged. “Bartholomew is dedicated to our spiritual well-being. And your weapons training?”

  Everard moved his mount to the left, closer to Dominus. “Oui. I am to be part of a superior army.”

  “Superior to the Templars or part of the Templars?”

  “Is there a difference? We work in tandem with secular knights, as we did on the caravan. Integrating as one unit.”

  “For what purpose?”

  Everard’s face, framed by the metal helmet, remained innocent of intrigue. “To be the best warriors we can.”

  “Can I join?”

  “Can you stay out of trouble?”

  Dominus chuckled. “Let me start by winning this joust.”

  They neared the benches set up in an oval around the center of the yard. The area was open, and numerous shields were already placed along the grandstand. The tallest raised stage seated the royal nobles. Dominus looked up and saw Mamie dressed in her signature red with deep-pink trim.

  As if she felt his look, she turned his way and smiled in greeting. She lifted a hand, the lace sleeve so long it fell from sight behind the railing.

  He knew he was not supposed to respond and felt Everard’s gaze on him, so he turned away before he did something foolish like wave back.

  “I know we are not to notice, but Fay looks very pretty.” Everard sighed deeply.

  “We will both be fasting until eternity if a certain commander hears your words.” Dominus edged closer to the other knights, waiting for instruction.

  “At least your lady knows you exist. Mine does not see me.” Another melodramatic sigh followed.

  “Pray that it stays that way, else you will not have a chance to forget the longing in your heart.” Dominus stayed on his mount, though Everard jumped down.

  “You have been a good friend to me. It is my honor to serve you today,” Everard said. “Is there anything you need before I tell them you are here?”

  “No.” Besides, they were forbidden to eat, drink, or be merry.

  Everard left, having made a sacrifice of his own by forgoing the white robe of a Templar for the brown robe of a squire. Bartholomew saw the sin of pride everywhere, Dominus thought. Perhaps he saw his own sin in others? Was there a way, perhaps, to use that against him?

  “Psst.”

  Dominus turned toward the whisper coming from the shadow of benches to his left. He ambled his horse away from the four other knights.

  “Oui?” He assumed it was Mamie. Who else could it be?

  “What did you find? Did you search the commander’s chamber?”

  Amused, Dominus leaned over, as if to swat a fly off his horse’s nose. He peered into the shadow, seeing the gleam of Mamie’s green eyes. “There was nothing.”

  “Sainted Mary’s toes.” She stamped her foot, the elaborate beading on her pointed shoe catching the light.

  “Cursing?”

  “You have no idea. When can we meet? I have missed you.”

  She had? Dominus made as if to stretch out his arms and back, adjusting his seat on the saddle. “After supper? But before dinner prayers.”

  “Non,” she said. “I expect this will last all day. Tomorrow?”

  “I will try.” He leaned over and into the dark. “Mamie?”

  “Oui?”

  “I am not married.”

  Not married?

  Her body fired up from within, and she touched her lower lip. “How dare he say such a thing and canter away?”

  Mamie watched as he turned his horse around, not using the reins but merely the muscles in his legs. She’d learned how to do that with her fellow guards to impress the queen’s followers. It was harder than it seemed.

  She went up the rickety wooden stairs to the top stage and looked out at the pandemonium below. It felt like a fair day, and her mood lightened. She refused to attribute her giggles to Dominus and his news.

  Fay tapped Mamie’s shoulder. “What? Why are you so happy?” Dipping her head, Fay whispered in Mamie’s ear. “I have got the queen seated next to Louis. Pray with all your might that we make it through the day without a public argument.”

  Mamie elbowed Fay. “Do not waste your prayers! Smell the air? That, dearest Fay, is a hot berry pastry dusted with cinnamon. I brought two bottles of crisp white Aquitanian wine. We shall feed our king and queen until they are too full to disagree.”

  “Louis never takes more than a goblet or two.”

  “Fill his cup, then. Keep it filled.”

  “We shall get him tipsy; then Eleanor can take him back to the palace and have her way with him.” Fay snickered. “I approve.”

  “We must get rid of Odo.”

  “Wishful thinking,” Fay said as King Louis and Odo walked onto the stage. “Greetings, my liege.” Fay guided him by the elbow to the chair she’d chosen. “Sit here, and your wife will be next to you.”

  Odo looked around for another seat. He pulled a high, three-legged stool as close as he could.

  Fay did not budge, ensuring the seats were saved.

  Eleanor arrived with Constance, Raymond, and Lady Hortencia. Her husband, Herbert, followed with Jocelyn de Courtney, disposed Count of Edessa. Mamie held on to her good mood with both hands. Sometimes the hardest battles were fought with words. A sword made a cleaner cut.

  Fay steered Eleanor next to Louis. She smiled as he rose and kissed both of her cheeks in greeting.

  The ladies had dressed with intent this day, wanting to shine in a garden of beauty. Eleanor would be the brightest star; her guards, capable accessories.

  “You look lovely,” the king said. He seemed hesitant, as if she would take his compliment and turn it around.

  Eleanor leaned close to her husband and whispered, “You look quite handsome, Louis. Mon cher.”

  Mamie noticed Odo looking very put out at the kind exchange between husband and wife. Where was Thierry?

  Raymond sat next to Eleanor, and then Constance with Bo. Behind them, on a padded bench, sat Lady Hortencia and her husband.

  Mamie and Fay would sit on the bench behind the queen and king. Odo gave his stool to Jocelyn, who moved it to the other side of Louis. The king’s advisor was forced to sit next to Mamie. She gave him a wink, knowing how he loathed her.

  And all women—but especially strong ones.

  The trumpet sounded, and Prince Raymond announced th
e tournament. “In honor of our royal guests, Louis, King of France, and Eleanor, Queen of France and Duchess of Aquitaine.”

  Mamie saw Louis’s shoulders stiffen as Raymond gave his niece the longer title. Louis was Duke of Aquitaine, by marriage. The first time Raymond had done so, Mamie had thought it a harmless mistake. Now she knew more of Raymond’s cunning and wondered at the slight.

  Eleanor put her hand on the armrest, her fingers touching Louis’s. He relaxed, and Mamie took a deep breath.

  The jousting began, with men challenging one another in the open field. As each opponent was knocked off, the shields were removed from the place of honor against the wooden stand and the knight was finished for the day. Hours passed, and finally there were but four knights left.

  Each time Dominus took a hit, Mamie felt it in her toes. He was an excellent warrior. She’d seen him fight firsthand. This was different. He showed real courage, facing his opponent lance to lance. The true bravery in a joust was waiting, preparing as the opponent came right for you. There was no ducking out of the way, but as the knight aimed his lance for your shield, you were to hit his shield and somehow avoid injury while hanging on to all of your weapons. Mamie was exhausted just watching.

  Dominus took each blow in stride, taking each man’s shield until just two remained.

  Dominus and a knight from Germany. The sun had passed noon, and the rays heated the metal armor. Mamie waved a lace fan in front of her face, not knowing how Dominus could stand it inside the helmet. She had not seen him take any water.

  Concerned but proud of his ability to wield a lance at an opponent while riding at full speed, Mamie kept her seat, though her knees trembled.

  “He is magnificent,” Fay said, putting a hand on Mamie’s leg.

  “Oui. But the German’s horse is slightly bigger.” She squinted. “He and his mount have the same size chest, and I think Dominus is favoring his right arm.”

  Fay nodded at the men. “This is a joust for entertainment, not to the death. He is no fool.”

  “What if the German is?”

  Fay snorted. “Dominus is the smarter fighter. The size of the German’s horse really does not matter, my friend.”

  Eleanor turned her head to join their conversation. “Mon fleurs, he will win. He was chosen by Princess Constance. I gave her my word that Dominus was the best knight I’d seen during our battles on the pilgrimage.”

  King Louis smiled. “The Templars kept us going over the mountains toward Attalia. They are truly blessed by God.”

  Mamie cleared her throat. She did not want to think of Dominus in any other way but male. And free of encumbrance. But he was trapped in the Templar House, and there was no way for her to offer succor if he truly was injured.

  A cool cup of wine, fruit. She imagined them beneath the waterfall in Daphne . . .

  Crack. She stood up at the noise, her hands pressed to her belly as she searched the yard. Dominus urged his mighty destrier around, while the German ran at his back, lance out.

  “Foul!” Mamie cried, warning her knight.

  Dominus finished his turn, realizing the German was coming at him. He lifted his broken weapon, then tossed it aside and kept moving, urging his horse forward. Leaning over his mount’s neck, he gathered speed and strength.

  The German barreled toward him as Dominus held out his shield and met the German’s lance with full power.

  Shoving his shield upward, he knocked the German off balance. Dominus slowed his mount and turned toward his opponent, shield raised.

  The heavily armored knight slipped off his horse. His squire ran out to the field to help him as the crowd booed his dishonorable behavior.

  Mamie’s legs wobbled, and she held Fay’s hand as she stared down at Dominus, who had blood trickling down the side of his face. “He’s hurt.”

  “He’s the champion!” Eleanor shouted with pride.

  Mamie applauded as loudly as the rest. Inside she worried whether he would survive. Was it a sword cut? Or had he been hit hard enough that his helmet sliced into his head?

  “Send word to Everard, Fay? If there is anything needed from the palace—”

  “It is done already,” King Louis said, pointing to Princess Constance, who was sending a page below to discover the extent of their champion’s injuries.

  In the meantime, Prince Raymond announced the winner. “Champion of Antioch, Dominus Brochard. Esteemed Knight Templar, brave warrior, congratulations!”

  Dominus bowed his head, remaining on his horse.

  Princess Constance stood next to her husband with a smile. “The usual prize for winning a joust is money, which you may not have, or a kiss, which you may not have.”

  The crowd of nobles and peasants alike laughed. Dominus lifted his shield in acknowledgement.

  “I will grant you a boon of your choosing,” she said.

  His mount shifted beneath him, and he looked up with a thoughtful expression. “I would ask for your prayers, Princess Constance, for the safekeeping of our Christian faith.” He lifted his shield as if rallying troops, and the crowd went wild.

  “From the Turks. The Muslims. From anybody who would see us abolished.”

  He bowed and left the field, a grinning Everard leading Dominus’s horse.

  The applause finally died away, and Mamie sat back down on the bench to endure the rest of the day. He had told the page he was fine. But was he? She sipped her wine, wishing she could help Dominus remove his armor, his helmet. Assist him in his bath. Hmm.

  Dominus’s blue eyes had blazed behind the metal visor, meeting hers but briefly before he’d bowed his head once more. Not married, not a Templar . . .

  The afternoon inched by as the falconers showed off their skills. Hawks and other trained birds of prey did tricks for raw pieces of meat.

  She’d been a decent falconer, knowing the rudiments of the sport without enjoying the kill as much. She’d loved the flight of the birds as they’d headed directly upward before swooping down with such grace and speed.

  To fly such as that?

  Impossible, she knew, and the closest she’d ever come was racing the fields with her horse. Or falling in love, which was like that too. Rushing so fast, your heart racing as you dared to push the limits.

  Crashing on the rocks when love died. Physical pleasure could be relied upon without the heart’s involvement. Things were safer that way.

  Mamie loved children as if she were their mother, only to be asked to move on. As if her maternal love did not matter. She’d lost husbands, something she did not plan on risking again.

  A lover was someone she could control.

  A husband was given control over her.

  Bo had crawled over all of their laps, but Mamie did not mind when he settled on hers. His sticky hands and curly hair were just what she needed to think of something other than Dominus. Except he’d saved Bo’s life—the wanting started all over again.

  Eleanor, cheeks flushed from wine and the heat of the day, applauded as a falconer sent a ribbon toward the stage, announcing a gift for the queen.

  Princess Constance smiled, looking on in approval, though Mamie observed her hands tightening over the armrest.

  “To the most beautiful queen in all of Outremer,” the falconer said with a flourish.

  The falconer did not deliberately slight the princess with his words, for the princess could not be queen. Raymond, also merry with wine and entertainment, applauded the gift. Mamie wondered why Constance was upset.

  “We are known for our beauty and wit in the south,” Raymond said, holding a hand toward the railing. “Aquitaine.” The crowd laughed as the trained falcon plucked a ribbon from the prince’s sleeve and offered this one to Eleanor as well.

  “The falcon chooses you as the most fair,” Raymond conceded with a bow of acknowledgement. “More beautiful than I, my niece.”

  Eleanor sighed with exaggeration, obviously pleased. “Thank you, everyone, for your gracious compliments.” She took both r
ibbons and tied them loosely around the falcon’s neck.

  The falconer whistled, and the bird flew back to his padded arm.

  “I miss flying my hawk,” Eleanor said. “Such sport.”

  “We could not bring them on Crusade. Bishop Clairvaux was right to remind us of the extra work the birds would be,” Louis said, giving Eleanor’s arm a pat. “They would not have survived Laodicea.”

  “I do not need the reminder. Let us enjoy today without bringing up the past!”

  Mamie cringed at the queen’s sharp tone.

  Raymond leaned over Eleanor, speaking to Louis, Jocelyn, Odo, Fay, and Mamie. He gestured with a full goblet of wine, dripping it onto the stage. “Eleanor was always a great hunter. Better than most men.”

  He drank.

  Louis leaned back, out of Raymond’s spilling range. “My wife is most skilled in many subjects.”

  “Hard to keep up with someone like her, eh?” Raymond agreed with his own comment. “A man would never grow bored in her company.”

  Mamie cleared her throat, uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was going.

  Eleanor laughed.

  “King Louis is very busy being king. I fear he does not appreciate all my talents. I like to dance and sing, and he likes to pray.”

  Louis’s expression darkened. “I have two left feet,” he said in quiet, sober tones. “As you have remarked upon.”

  Fay gave Eleanor’s chair a kick.

  The queen startled, then leaned so that she and Louis were shoulder to shoulder. “I am sorry for that. I am impatient and quick to anger over silly things. You did not know the dance and were a good sport to even try it.”

  Mamie breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “We southerners are born dancers,” Raymond said with a shrug. “Blessed.”

  Constance rose in a sudden motion. “Bo and I are tired,” she said, waiting for Raymond to realize she was leaving.

  He did, rising as well. “Shall I go with you?”

  Clearly perturbed, she said, “Someone should stay with our guests until the tournament is over.”