by Traci E Hall
“You will never know if you don’t loose the damn arrow,” Mamie said. “Go!”
Catherine released a long sigh and let go, her gaze following the flying arrow. It landed under the red turban in the center of the heathen’s forehead, just as he leaped from the top of the caravan, aiming for Payen with his sword extended.
“De Montfer!” The cry came too late, but Payen had already turned, perhaps sensing the enemy on his own. He pushed the falling dead man to the side, then shielded his eyes, looking for her.
She waved her bow.
“Stay back,” he yelled before returning to the few Turks still battling.
The Franks pushed the Turks back toward the mountains.
She wanted Payen safe. Was it too much to ask that they all reach Jerusalem?
“To the queen?” Catherine steadied her mount.
“Not yet.” Mamie laughed, her sword ready. “That was an amazing shot. Your reputation as an archer will travel.”
“Luck.” She focused ahead. “Isn’t that de Montfer leading a group of men toward the mountains? They’re annihilating the Turks.”
They watched a while longer as King Louis set a guard around the rear of the caravan, waiting to see if the Turks would return. Not a single enemy passed the halfway point in the caravan.
Mamie and Catherine rode back to report to the queen. Eleanor’s crimson velvet cloak whipped behind her as she paced, her sword at her side. Long auburn braids fell from beneath her white-and-crimson leather helmet to her waist.
“You look like an Amazon,” Catherine declared.
“I could conquer an army!” Eleanor lifted her sword, stabbed an imaginary enemy, then slid the blade back in the sheath. “Yet here I am. Alone.”
Fay snickered. “We have heard this many times. Can I go witness the battle at the rear?”
“Non, impertinent one, you can hold my helmet. It is too hot to wear.”
Fay accepted the helmet.
“I wish you would keep it on,” Sarah said.
“I agree.” Catherine dismounted. “Mamie and I watched one of the Turks running across the top of the wagons, his curved sword out.”
“Ready to cut de Montfer down,” Mamie said.
From his seat on a trunk, Gaston gasped.
“Until,” Mamie quickly added, “Catherine shot an arrow farther than I’ve ever seen an arrow go, and it landed true: between the heathen’s eyes.” She smacked her forehead.
Gaston giggled before looking to Catherine, his brows furrowed.
“Oui, it is true.” Catherine remembered the fear that Payen would be cleaved in two and the way the arrow thunked above the man’s eyes. Blood. Death.
She ran for the opposite side of the caravan, her stomach heaving.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Catherine accepted the flask, rinsed her mouth with the water, and spat. “There was nothing to hurl,” she said, wiping her mouth and looking from Mamie to Sarah. It had been too long since they’d eaten.
They stood away from the others in the barren plain, a circle of three.
Mamie patted Catherine’s shoulder and murmured soothingly.
“Feeling better?” Sarah said, rubbing her own slightly distended belly.
“I am not enceinte,” Catherine said, cheeks heating. “It’s that I’ve”—she leaned into the circle and whispered—“killed twice now. And I don’t regret shooting the Turk. It was him or Payen. And George?” She buried her head in her hands. “Self-defense but still a man is dead. I deserve to go to hell.”
“No, you don’t,” Sarah said firmly. “Not any more than any soldier does.” She stood so close her forehead almost touched Catherine’s. “We fight for God. Your soul is fine.”
“And you know how we all feel about George.” Mamie slid a finger across her throat. “I agree with Sarah. Saving Payen from a heathen was what God wanted, or why else would the pope call for a crusade?”
Catherine’s tension eased, and she could breathe.
“So how goes it with de Montfer? Has he agreed to leave you alone so you can wallow in your guilt?” Sarah’s mouth thinned.
“Sarah, you appear so angelic and have the tongue of a viper. I thought motherhood was supposed to make women soft.” Mamie shivered. “You just keep getting more poisonous.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.
Catherine awkwardly patted Sarah’s shoulder.
“I know how I sound. It’s awful.” Tears traveled down Sarah’s thin cheeks. “I can’t sleep, I feel sick all the time, and Jonathon keeps talking about getting married. What if he isn’t the one?”
“You should have thought of that before you lay with him,” Mamie said.
“That is not the least bit helpful, and there is not enough love in the world to justify the men you’ve lain with! Oh, merde. My apologies!” She pushed her knuckles to her mouth.
Mamie shook her head and turned toward the vanguard. “Let’s go.”
Catherine and Sarah followed.
Eleanor and de Montfer’s men assigned to the queen held court, discussing warfare.
“They all wish they were at the front. There is something about the heat of battle that calls the beast within.” Catherine tapped her leather-plated chest, remembering the thrill. “Payen is an excellent soldier.”
“He’s shown that fortitude in his pursuit of you.” Mamie slowed.
“And now he has won. I admit I thought you would hold out longer,” Sarah said.
“What are you saying?” Catherine’s heart pounded.
“As soon as you left to scout the battle, Gaston announced that de Montfer asked for your hand in marriage and you agreed.” Sarah shrugged. “You should have seen the smile on the queen’s face.”
Mamie stopped and shook Catherine’s shoulders. “What? You didn’t think to tell me this?”
“It’s not. Well. We were all to survive, no losses, and he had to keep all the Turks away from the queen, and—”
“What kind of proposal was this?” Mamie’s eyes twinkled.
“The kind a desperate man makes on his way into battle.” Catherine elbowed Mamie. “I didn’t take it seriously. You know I would have told you. You know how I feel about getting to Jerusalem.”
“You will have to break it gently to Queen Eleanor,” Sarah said. “I think she said something to the effect of it being an answer to a prayer.”
“That doesn’t bode well.”
“Non. Perhaps you’d better pray for casualties.” Mamie ran ahead.
As if she needed another black mark against her soul. Catherine pursued. “That is not funny!”
They reached the edge of the half circle, and Catherine took a seat on the trunk next to Gaston, who coughed uncontrollably. His eyes were glassy as he attempted a smile for her. It wasn’t fair the boy had gone through so much in his young life. If she had her way, she would see his burdens eased.
“When are we going to leave?” Gaston said, leaning against her. Even through his clothing, she felt the heat of his skinny body.
Eleanor overheard the boy’s question. “As soon as King Louis gives us the word. Laodicea is but half a day’s ride away.” She walked toward Gaston. “It is a Christian city, sure to have ample supplies to get us through the fifteen-day journey to Attalia. From there, ships to Antioch! No more mountains!”
There was a lot of cheering at that.
“This pilgrimage has been trying,” Eleanor said. “But thanks to loyal subjects such as yourselves, we have made it through with hardly any losses.”
“The worst of it was the flood,” one of de Montfer’s men said. “I lost two horses.”
“Oui, but what could we do against nature? King Louis prayed about the disaster, and he believes God was cleansing the area of the Turkish attempt to kill us as we slept. Evil pagans.” She made the sign of the cross. “And we’ve had no more rain, once we needed to get through the mountains. This pilgrimage is for God. We are blessed.”
The men cheered.
Catherine heard the pounding of hooves and quickly stood.
The queen smiled, so Catherine knew it had to be Louis.
And Payen.
Brushing her hair out of her face and smoothing the wrinkles from her tunic, Catherine looked for de Montfer, who easily stood out from the rest. His dark hair, shiny with sweat, his straight posture giving no hint to his fatigue.
And Jacques too. The young man’s shoulders drooped, but his face was proud. Twice now, he’d held strong against the Turks. He should be proud.
Her heart warmed as she witnessed Gaston reaching up to Jacques, offering to hold his shield as the squire dismounted. Jacques handed over his dagger next, then went to assist Payen.
King Louis took Queen Eleanor’s hand and stood in front of the wagon. He looked at each of the soldiers, the nobles. “We have won a great battle today. I know you wanted to be part of the fighting, but you followed orders and did your duty to keep my queen safe. I thank you.”
The king was getting better at speaking to the men. Perhaps learning from Eleanor? “To my dismay, there were Greek bodies among the dead. Christian bodies.” He briefly bowed his head. “We must take precaution as we pass through smaller towns. The local Greeks have sided with the Turkish enemy rather than ally with us. We caught an emir, who warned us that our friends are not really our friends.” King Louis maintained his stoic expression. “And then we killed him.”
Eleanor beamed while the soldiers cheered.
Payen handed his shield to Jacques, then walked toward Catherine. “That was an excellent shot,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
“Shh.” Catherine tried not to react to his physical nearness but flushed with anticipation. The gold necklace at her throat heated, and she sighed.
It would be a relief to set Ragenard free.
Eleanor whispered in Louis’s ear, and the king nodded, smiling.
Suspicious, Catherine stilled.
Louis searched the crowd until he settled his gaze on Catherine and Payen. He beckoned them.
Catherine trembled.
“Today we fought hard, and we won. I have no doubt the Turks will come at us again and that again we will prevail. We did not lose a single soldier! In that spirit of celebration, I am pleased to announce the betrothal of Lady Catherine le Rochefort and Lord Payen de Montfer.” He snapped his fingers. “Non! Baron of—what did you decide, Odo?”
The slightly built advisor lifted his lip as if in pain. “You have overgenerously gifted the previous lord with the Barony of Bidleiex, my king.”
Catherine’s breath caught, and she felt Payen tense.
“Odo is correct. That is too generous, my liege.” Payen bowed over Louis’s hand.
“The barony is to go with your new position as ambassador to the crown. To me.”
“You don’t need a wife,” Catherine whispered to Payen, offering him a way to escape.
Louis overheard. “You are so right, Lady Catherine. He does not need a boring wife or plain children, or do I have that backward?” Louis shrugged and linked his arm through Eleanor’s. “The glorious position of ambassador requires a beautiful wife with charm and intelligence.”
“We did not lose a man, you say?” Payen said to the king, clearly holding back laughter. He was so enjoying this victory! Did he not see it could be awful?
“Payen, please.” She touched his hand.
“As it happened, Lady Catherine agreed to be my wife earlier today on the condition that I fight valiantly for the caravan and the queen.” Payen bowed, and it was all she could do to keep from knocking him over. “Which I valiantly did.”
Catherine crossed her arms. He had lost his mind.
Payen contained his elation the best he could, but his heart thrummed. Ambassador to the crown, with a barony? His father dare not say a word against Catherine, who would be a baroness and untouchable, wearing men’s hose and a sword or no.
He’d forced her agreement earlier in the heat of battle. If only he was certain Catherine would have no regrets.
He knew she loved him. She’d saved his life. If it weren’t for her arrow, the Turk would have lopped off his head with that curved sword.
But love wasn’t enough. She was determined to set her past straight first.
Hadn’t he done the same?
Perhaps he’d offer her a long betrothal—before she could say no. Each day brought them closer to Jerusalem and absolution.
Payen watched the king and queen whisper together. Louis looked up, and Payen saw him mouth for Thierry to find a priest. His nape prickled.
He tugged at Catherine’s hand, trying to get her attention, but she stubbornly ignored him. He pulled; she ground her heel on his toes.
If the queen and king ordered them to marry, she would do it and possibly resent it for the rest of her days. Come to think of it, he would never know if she chose him or merely put up with him out of duty.
He wanted her passion; he wanted her consent. Without thought to the consequences, he whirled her around and lifted her over his shoulder and away from the royal pair.
He felt Louis’s gaze follow him, but he didn’t stop. He thought he heard Eleanor call but pretended to have something in his ear. Catherine struggled against him until he stopped outside the empty food wagon, where he put her down. He dropped to one knee before her.
“What is wrong with you?” Her tones were higher than normal. “You just created a scene before the king and queen and all the nobles. You don’t behave that way!” She put her hands on his shoulders. “I might, but you?”
“I think they will ask us to wed tonight.”
Her face paled, and he knew he’d done the right thing, even if the king took away his new barony. Honestly, Payen couldn’t even guess where on the map Bidleiex was located.
“I tricked you into agreeing to marry me earlier, though you know I want it more than anything.” Though she tugged at his shoulders, he remained on one knee. “If you don’t want to get married, I will tell Louis and hope he understands.”
“You were just gifted a barony.” Catherine’s pale green eyes darkened. “Ambassador to the crown! Get up!” She looked around nervously.
Why had he thought he needed a plain wife when what he’d wanted in a mate was courage and honor? Things Catherine had in abundance to go along with her beauty.
“Please?”
“Ambassador.”
He slowly stood, feeling the familiar heat as his cloak brushed hers, as his thighs barely touched hers. He nipped her earlobe. “That just means I am an official spy for the king.” He saw her shoulders stiffen and knew he’d guessed correctly about what she did for the queen. “I will need an experienced helpmate.”
She pulled back, her hands on his hips. “We would travel?”
“All over.” He licked the fluttering vein at the hollow of her throat.
“I could continue my work with the flail and sword?” She tilted her head.
He met her gaze. “If you agree to teach me how to knock a rock down from the sky.”
Her deep sigh told him she was his.
“I will marry you.” She stole his mouth and kissed him before pushing him away. “But we still need to save Ragenard’s soul.”
It crossed his mind to wonder why the royal pair wanted them married so soon, but he didn’t dwell on the matter. He and Catherine walked back to the waiting King Louis, a priest standing next to him.
He took Catherine’s trembling hand.
Catherine looked to Eleanor, who smiled at them but did not encourage a private conversation. Payen felt Catherine’s frustration, but there was nothing he could do to fix the problem. Sometimes being a friend to a royal meant not understanding why. It was their duty to simply follow orders.
His heart swelled as Catherine’s fingers curled around his. She knew. His loyalty to Louis was as hers to Eleanor.
She ti
pped her face and whispered against his cheek, “This is no duty. I agree to this out of love.” She lowered her eyes, her lashes dark where they rested against the pale crest of her cheek. “Knowing that if anything goes wrong”—she swallowed—“it will hurt worse for both of us. Is that a risk you accept?”
“My heart belongs to you, Catherine.”
“Let us get married then, oui?”
The sun cast vibrant colors across the plain as Catherine and Payen exchanged vows. The king and queen gave them away before God.
“I have it on good authority,” the king said awkwardly to Payen once the quick ceremony was over, “that the marriage has already been consummated. And that it will be all right if you wait to have some privacy. I will gift you a room in Laodicea tomorrow.”
Payen chuckled. “I told you, I swore an oath of honor. I never swore to be chaste.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Catherine had awoken that morning with a grin so wide it made her cheeks ache. Now it was noon, and the smile remained.
Sarah brought her horse next to Catherine’s. “Well, what did you think of your quick ceremony in the middle of nowhere, with sweaty soldiers as your guests of honor?”
It could have been Sarah and Jonathon’s wedding. Catherine refrained from sharing that fact. “Roasted hare by a large fire, sleeping in a blanket within the confines of the caravan, surrounded by friends? Hardly romantic, but I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”
It had felt like a family celebration. She brushed away the sad thought that she might never see her real family again.
“I can imagine at least ten better ways to spend an evening. Although”—Sarah softened her tone—“the sunset was magnificent. God’s blessing, perhaps?”
“That is a lovely thought.” Catherine stretched her back, wiggling her shoulders to loosen the kinks. It had been fairly flat traveling, without the familiar steep ups and downs of the mountains. “I didn’t realize Laodicea was so far inland. I miss the smell of the sea.”