“Guy …” She nearly choked as she spied him seated almost at the center of the head table, and her giddy excitement evaporated.
How strange and surreal everything suddenly became. Here she was sitting beside the man Guy had taken great pains to warn her about while he was up there engrossed in conversation with one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.
“Who … who is that lady?” she asked, seized by sickening jealousy. It was an emotion she had never experienced before arid, oh, she didn’t like it. It was wretched, horrible, and miserably overwhelming. She hadn’t felt like this about Refaiyeh. Why now?
“Eleanor of Castile, wife to Edward,” Roger answered. “On the morrow, she will be queen.”
Leila felt her cheeks burn from embarrassment. Of course, the queen. How silly of her not to have known, and why should she care anyway? Yet, her mind intoned, thank God … thank God.
“That is Lord Edward beside her. The man on Lady Eleanor’s right you already know, though I would that it had been any other knight who escorted you to England.”
Leila heard the venom in Roger’s voice and glanced at him, but he was staring at Guy, a tic working in his stubbled cheek.
She saw it then, the cold hatred reflected in her brother’s hard gray-blue eyes; she had seen the same in Guy’s gaze whenever he spoke of Roger. She sensed at once that there was probably much truth in what Guy had told her, and her sense of unease returned. But she shoved it away defiantly. Their mutual enmity had nothing to do with her!
“I suppose I should be thankful the bastard managed to bring you here at all,” Roger muttered more to himself than to Leila.
“My lord?” she asked, puzzled by his comment, but she received no answer as they were suddenly interrupted by a manservant who stepped between them with a basin of water and clean linen towels slung over his arm. She washed her hands, then Roger did, followed by the silent, swarthy knight seated on her left, to whom she had not yet been introduced.
“Forgive me, d’Eyvill,” Roger said to the bearded older man, as if reading her mind and realizing his oversight. “Leila, I’d like you to meet Sir Baldwin d’Eyvill, one of my most trusted knights.”
For a moment she was so stunned she could give no reply. Baldwin d’Eyvill! He had been Christine’s lover. Guy’s poor, unhappy wife had killed herself over this very man. She stared at him, thinking he was attractive in a very dark, rough-hewn way, but hardly the romantic figure she had envisioned as the impetus behind such a sad and drastic act.
“Lady Leila,” Baldwin said in a voice marked by deep gruffness. “I am most honored.”
“Sir knight.” She felt a flush crawl over her cheeks at his direct gaze, and something told her he sensed she knew all about his past indiscretion.
“D’Eyvill just returned from the Holy Land,” Roger added. “A half dozen of my men went in my place to represent our family name. I had pressing matters to attend to in Wales which prevented me from joining the crusade.”
Funny, Guy had never mentioned to her that any of Roger’s knights had been on crusade with Lord Edward. Surely he must have known. Then she shrugged. It mattered naught to her. Offering no comment to Roger’s explanation, she looked away, growing uncomfortable under Baldwin’s close scrutiny.
Leila kept her hands folded in her lap as thick trenchers of day-old bread were placed before each guest to serve as plates, a strange custom she still found revolting, especially after the stale slices were soiled by various glutinous gravies. She supposed the practice had its value, however, as she had learned from Guy that the trenchers were served to the poor after meals.
Her gaze flew back to the dais, only to find Guy still deep in conversation with Eleanor. What could they possibly be talking about for so long? But all discourse ceased, the great hall becoming hushed and amazingly silent, when a rotund bishop attired in a mitre and crimson robes stood at the head table to give the grace.
Leila bowed her head, not so much in prayer but to avoid meeting Guy’s eyes. She had no idea if he had seen her, but she didn’t want to take any chances. As far as she was concerned, their association was finished, and she wanted nothing more to do with him.
Tell that to your heart, Leila, came a gnawing inner voice.
Disturbed by the unbidden thought, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to concentrate on the bishop’s stentorian tones as he recited a lengthy prayer. After a resounding “Amen” which was repeated by a thousand voices, the boisterous din began anew until it seemed to ring from the huge rafters overhead.
Leila made a point not to look again at the dais as the feast commenced with a vengeance. Cups and mazers were filled to overflowing with wine and beer, then the first course was carried forth proudly from the palace kitchens, an array of dishes that left her bewildered. She ceased counting the varieties of roasted and heavily sauced meats that passed in front of her—beef; mutton; pork, which she had never tasted until arriving in France, since it was forbidden in Moslem households; a dressed swan, which made her sad; chicken; rabbit; and more.
“Would you like a bit of this dish, Leila?” Roger asked solicitously as a platter of spiced veal swimming in cream gravy was lowered to her eye level by a grinning servant.
“No, thank you, I’ve plenty already,” she said, practically losing her appetite at the sight of so much food. She breathed a sigh of relief as the unappetizing platter was withdrawn.
To think there were going to be four such courses, or so Maude had told her on the way to the hall. And more elaborate banquets in the days to come. It was insane.
She had always counseled her patients in Damascus to eat moderately, one of the basic tenets of her medical training. She could just imagine the belching and breaking of digestive wind that would reverberate from the palace grounds later that night. If she’d had her medicines with her, she could have made a fortune providing simple antidotes for indigestion.
Soon, Leila, soon, she assured herself, her thoughts jumping ahead to when she would be treating her patients again at the Hospital of Nureddine and in wealthy harems. She was so engrossed in her daydream, staring blindly at the food heaped high on her trencher, that she scarcely noticed when Roger and Baldwin suddenly rose from the table.
“What do you want, de Warenne?”
Leila started at Roger’s angry voice. She plopped the roasted pheasant leg she was holding into a puddle of brown gravy and twisted around to find Guy standing almost directly behind her, Roger and Baldwin flanking him. Her mouth flew open in surprise.
How could she have forgotten how truly handsome he was? she wondered crazily. Her wide gaze quickly took in every pleasing aspect of his appearance, from the snug fit of his dark blue tunic across his massive chest, a heavy gold medallion dangling around his neck, to his polished black leather boots. Now that he was this close to her, it seemed everyone else in the hall had fallen away, leaving only the two of them.
“My lady,” Guy greeted her, an appreciative warmth in his eyes though his expression remained serious. But the minute he turned back to Roger, the warmth faded. “Lord Gervais, Lady Eleanor has requested that I accompany your sister to the dais for a personal introduction. You need have no fear. I shall return the young lady to your table shortly.”
Leila’s attention was drawn to Roger as he visibly tensed, his scarred hand straying to his sword belt. She glanced back at Guy, who did the same, and for the first time she noted that they were almost matched in size, although Roger was perhaps an inch or two shorter. She thought fleetingly of mythic titans preparing to do battle and was certain these two knights were their perfect embodiment here on earth.
“You forget, de Warenne. Fear is unknown to me, especially when it comes to you,” Roger grated. “If my sister is to be introduced to Lady Eleanor, it is I who shall escort her to the dais. Is that understood?”
“Is there some slight problem here, my lords?”
Leila gasped as Lord Edward strolled casually into their midst.
“Yes, my lord,” Roger muttered.
“As you say,” came Guy’s terse response.
“Good.” Edward turned to Leila, his eyes moving over her in a manner common to all men. Not a leer, just open appreciation, much as Guy had done. “I believe my wife would like to make your acquaintance, my lady.” He offered her his arm and she took it, rising dazedly from the bench. Her fingers were trembling from this unexpected attention as she settled her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Leila, isn’t it?”
She nodded, nervousness bubbling up within her as she realized the hall was virtually silent, just as it had been in prayer. Except this time no one’s head was bowed. The guests were all looking right at her. She was certain her hot cheeks matched the deep rose of her gown.
“A beautiful name for a most enchanting beauty.” Edward shot a glance at Roger over his shoulder. “Sit down and enjoy the meal, Lord Gervais, and have your knights do the same. I trust you grant me the right to escort your fair sister?”
“Of course, my lord.”
Edward didn’t deign a reply. “Lead the way, de Warenne.”
Leila kept her eyes focused on Guy’s broad back as he strode toward the dais, not daring to look to the left or right for fear she would find everyone still staring at her. She could not measure her relief when the clamor of conversation began building anew in the hall, but as she overheard bits and pieces along the way she soon realized that she was the topic of furtive discussion.
“Have you ever seen such hair? Like fine watered silk—”
“Aye, a man could find himself ensnared in it easy enough. I’d die for such a fate.”
“I’ve already heard about this wench from one of Gervais’s knights. He said she grew up in Damascus among the infidels … in a harem!”
“By God, it makes a man hard just thinking about it! All that female flesh, just lying there for the taking …”
Leila had never felt so mortified. Was that what these barbarians truly thought? That harems were no more than mere brothels instead of an ordered way of life for a vastly superior civilization? Close to tears, she felt a light squeeze on her arm and met Edward’s eyes. They were astonishingly kind.
“Forgive any ignorant and rude remarks on the part of my guests, my lady,” he said in a low voice meant for her ears alone. “Though I went to the Holy Land to strike a blow against the infidels, I came away knowing we could learn much from them. My life was once saved by your Arabic medicine, much as you saved Guy’s.”
She was so startled she could not speak, and she didn’t have time to reply, for they had reached the front of the huge hall. In one bewildering instant she was handed over to Guy. He took her arm, the warm pressure of his hand spinning her senses as he led her up the steps and across the dais toward Lady Eleanor, who was smiling in welcome.
“How absolutely lovely,” she said, rising from her chair and taking Leila’s hands in her own. “Oh, Guy, I can see now why you are so anxious to w—”
“Harumph!” Edward came up behind them, clearing his throat and saying in a low-spoken aside to his wife, “My dearest Eleanor, you must take care. Remember, things have not yet been settled …”
“Ah, yes, forgive me.”
Leila saw Eleanor flash Guy a look of apology and caught his wry smile in return. Whatever were they talking about? What things hadn’t been settled? Unless …
She drew herself up slightly, her flustered nervousness vanishing as indignation reared hotly at her vexing realization.
Bastard! Guy had obviously told them much about her. But had he shared everything … what had happened in Provins, in Canterbury? She feared so. She was also convinced from Eleanor’s hasty words that they assumed the wedding was as good as done. How preposterous! They couldn’t be more wrong.
She felt extremely warm all of a sudden and longed to leave the dais. But she stayed, not wanting to humiliate her brother any further by causing another scene. He had been subtly insulted by Guy and Lord Edward; she could see that now. But for what purpose she could not guess.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” she murmured, feigning a sweet and gracious tone.
“And I you, dear girl,” Lady Eleanor said warmly. “I hope that in the future we will have a chance to get to know each other better.”
“I would have liked that, my lady,” Leila continued smoothly, her heart beating hard against her breast, “but I don’t think it will be possible given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Guy queried, a frown appearing on his brow.
“Why, I will be leaving for Damascus at the end of the month, my lord de Warenne. My brother and I spoke this afternoon, and it has all been arranged.”
Her revelation was greeted by a soft gasp from Eleanor and dead silence from Guy and Edward, who met each other’s eyes.
At last it was done, Leila thought. Now that Guy knew she would be returning home, her long ordeal with him was finally over. There would be no more talk of weddings.
She hazarded another glance at Guy. His face was hard, his gaze even harder as it fell upon her, and she quickly looked away. Strangely, now that she had won she did not feel triumphant as she had imagined she would. She just felt weary and curiously unsettled, her victory like ashes in her mouth.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Guy said, taking her arm again, more tightly this time. He spoke over her head as if she were a naughty child. “I’ll escort the lady back to her table.”
“Yes, of course, my lord,” Edward replied, a subdued Eleanor granting them no more than a slight nod before she turned away with a troubled expression on her face.
“You’re hurting my arm!” Leila hissed as he hustled her from the dais and down the stairs, her gaze darting around the raucous hall. The second course was being passed around with much fanfare among the guests, distracting most of them from recognizing her discomfort.
“Are you always so rude to people who show you kindness?” Guy hissed back angrily. “A queen offering you her friendship, no less!”
“It was not my intention to be rude. I was only speaking the truth!”
“You are blind to the truth, Leila. You won’t know it until it slaps you hard across the face, and maybe even then you won’t admit it. For an intelligent woman, you are playing the fool remarkably well!”
She wanted to retort, but they were nearing her brother’s table. From Roger’s hard glare she imagined he hadn’t taken his eyes from her since Lord Edward had led her away. Maude looked none too happy, either. There was a coldness in her eyes that chilled Leila to the bone. Strangely, it was not so much directed at Guy as at her. But why would that be?
“Take care, my love,” came Guy’s cryptic warning just before they reached the table. “You tread within a pit of vipers. If you allow yourself to be bitten, even I may not be able to save you, though I pray to God we’re both spared such agony. Just remember what I told you in Canterbury.” Then he raised his voice, addressing Roger. “My lord Gervais, it seems your sister has charmed the court.”
“So I see,” Roger said, his gaze moving slowly from Leila’s flushed face to Guy’s. “So I see.”
“My lady. Enjoy the feast.”
Leila watched as Guy strode away, only turning her head when Roger touched her arm.
“Stay away from him, Leila. Suffice it to say he is my greatest enemy. That makes him yours as well.”
A shiver raced up her spine at his harsh voice, but she answered him steadily, “I fully intend to, my lord.”
Chapter 18
It did not prove difficult to avoid Guy the next day. Leila scarcely saw him.
>
During the lengthy coronation ceremony she was seated in the back of the congested abbey with her brother and his wife, their poor location barely affording her a view of the glittering pomp and circumstance taking place in front of the distant altar, let alone a glimpse of Guy. Not that she was looking for him. She wasn’t.
By chance she did spy him later in the long train of sumptuously dressed nobles, ladies, and knights who filed out of the cathedral after the newly crowned King Edward and Queen Eleanor. Guy stood a good head taller than anyone else around him and looked devastatingly handsome in a tunic of forest green and gold. She quickly feigned interest in the stained glass windows to her right until he had passed, her cheeks hot and her heart fluttering because she sensed he had seen her, too.
The feasting and revelry that followed the coronation was on a much grander scale than the feast of the night before, and with twice as many guests crammed into the great hall. She noted at once that Guy was not seated on the raised dais, but there were so many people still milling about when their party found a table that she had no clue as to where he might be. She tried to give him little thought after that, which for some reason proved virtually impossible.
She was astounded at the inscribed menu placed in the center of the table promising hundreds of oxen, cows, sheep, and pigs, sixteen fat boars, and thousands of capons and other poultry. But even more surprising was the aqueduct that had been erected overnight down the middle of the hall and poured forth both red and white wine for everyone to drink. The guests gathered around like greedy pigs at a trough, draining their goblets as quickly as they could fill them.
As the coronation feast progressed there was such a constant swirl of bustling servants, jesters on painted hobby horses, jugglers, acrobats, players reciting poems, harpers, and minstrels that the room soon spun around Leila in a wild kaleidoscope of color, sound, and motion. She began to feel overwhelmingly dizzy. Perhaps it was because the food was too rich, the wine too sweet, or the hall too warm. Smoking torches and acrid smelling candles were ablaze everywhere, despite the beautiful autumn afternoon outside.
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