Courageous

by Dina L. Sleiman

  “Do not worry, though. Father says our troops may not go beyond Jezeer, but we shall see about that. I shall fight for your cause, I promise you, and I shall win the others to our side.”

  He took Sapphira’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. And for some reason she did not mind one bit.

  She liked the way he took control, and the way he spoke of “our” side. Her tension began to drain away, and a warm comfort took its place. This boy would support her. And it seemed others from this region would as well.

  A servant leaned over to place a platter of pastries in front of them.

  “Try one,” Philippe instructed.

  She reached out and picked one up, turning it over in her hand to study it. It seemed to be made of grain and crushed nuts, not so different from home. A sticky substance, lighter and clearer than the honey of Britannia, covered the top.

  “Go on.”

  She took a bite into the concoction, which was sweeter and more delicate than anything she had ever tasted in her life. Her eyes grew wide.

  “Oh, Sadie, try this.” She turned and offered a bite to her friend.

  “Heaven must taste like this!” Sadie exclaimed. Finally looking more at ease, she scooped up her own pastry.

  Philippe grinned. “I have heard there is nothing like our sugar cane in all of Europe. And few have tried our cinnamon.”

  “You almost sound proud of your heritage.” Sapphira raised a brow to Philippe, who claimed such interest in all things European.

  “I suppose it has its merits.”

  Sapphira let go of the last of her anger and smiled now too. She took another bite of the pastry and savored the sweet and spicy flavor in her mouth. “After sampling this, I can almost forgive your father for being more concerned with his sweets than our crusade.”

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  At least Count Bohemond would help them with this first step. Perhaps by then they would be acclimated to this new land and ready to strike out on their own deeper into the area held by the Saracens. Or perhaps Philippe would prevail in his quest to assist them. Either way, this mission was in the hands of God.

  Ultimately their success or failure would depend on Him.

  Chapter 11

  After their languid months at sea, the next few days passed in a whirlwind, first heading farther down the coast to the southern edge of the County of Tripoli, then transporting people, horses, supplies, and weapons from the ships and setting up camp.

  Before she knew it, Rosalind found herself upon a horse leading the children down a trail behind the Cyprian soldiers as they wove their way through the steep, jagged mountain passages with only a few small tenacious trees clinging to the sand-colored rock. At least the temperature had dropped from sweltering near the coast to merely warm with a cool breeze.

  “I cannot believe we are truly on crusade,” observed young Garrett from his smaller mount just behind her.

  “We have been on crusade this entire time, you dunderhead,” Jervais said.

  “Not like this.” Garrett patted his crusader tunic. They had considered wearing their nondescript clothing for a while longer, but with such a large caravan, they were unlikely to fool anyone, so better to make their intentions clear. The boy sat up a little taller on his mount. “I will feel like it is real when we face our first battle.”

  “I agree,” Philippe said from his self-appointed place next to Sapphira. “I have lived here all my life, but I have never seen a battle.”

  “We shall not battle,” Lillian reminded them.

  “But we are ready if we must,” Sadie said, concluding the issue.

  Rosalind still could not believe it had all transpired so quickly. It seemed that once Count Bohemond made up his mind about something, matters moved of their own accord. Much like Leo had mentioned to her, they did not waste time in this volatile land.

  The crusaders had been assured that they would meet little resistance as they crossed through the Christian villages scattered throughout the mountains. And if they were careful, they would reach their first prison at Jezeer before the Saracens found them out.

  As they turned a bend in the trail, Rosalind discovered a grinning Leo waiting for her upon his horse. “There you are,” he said.

  She had barely seen him since the feast at the castle. “I have been basically right here all day.”

  He chuckled. “I know, but I have not been able to break away until now. I thought we might ride together for a time.”

  Rosalind scanned her group. All seemed in order. Fifteen-year-old Philippe rode rather close to Sapphira, but she did not seem to mind the older boy’s proximity, and Rosalind would not make a fuss over their budding romance when voicing concern might cause an international incident. The others were settled into companionable little groups, and Randel waved to her from where he brought up the rear with young Humphrey.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Leo. She did enjoy his playful banter, and she still had so many questions about this place. He leaned closer and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “It seems we have the all clear from your rear guard.”

  She reached over and gave him a little shove. “’Tis not like that. Randel trusts me. I just wouldn’t wish to hurt his feelings.”

  “Your friend looks perfectly content. So what say you?”

  “Of course you may ride with me. But only if you continue to enlighten me about your culture.”

  “At your service, m’lady.”

  She grimaced at him, for she had told him repeatedly she was not a lady. “’Twas quite warm along the coast. Is that typical?”

  “The summers are our dry season, and a bit warmer here than in France.”

  “So definitely warmer than Northern England.”

  “I would think so.”

  Rosalind was glad they had made the crusader tunics of light fabrics. She wondered how the knights with their chain mail would manage in the heat but imagined crusaders must have been doing so for a very long time. “Why do your soldiers ride horses and not the camels we have seen?”

  He patted his steady mount. “Camels are for the desert. Horses do better in the mountains.”

  As Rosalind continued her perusal, she spotted a village up ahead. She squinted to better make out the simple rectangular stone houses. “Are we certain they are Christians?”

  “Yes. Have you heard the story of our Maronites?” The breeze teased Leo’s wavy hair over his smooth brow.

  “Not yet.”

  “They are native to this area and have been around since the time of the New Testament. But the Saracen invaders ruled for hundreds of years, and anyone who even remembered the Maronites assumed they had been converted, killed, or perhaps dispersed.”

  He gave his reins a flick to encourage his horse over a rocky patch. “Then, when the crusaders arrived to Tripoli, the Maronites poured down from the mountains to greet them.”

  “How did they survive?”

  “Most Arabs don’t know how to battle in the mountains. The Maronites hid away in the highest regions for centuries. They are a tough people, a resilient people. That is the nature of this area.”

  By now they had reached the village. Children in loose trousers and long tunics giggled and waved as they dashed between the rectangular stone houses. A few chickens pecked along the side of the trail, undeterred by the great war-horses, and a herd of goats grazed in some tall, sparse grasses not far beyond.

  Rosalind continued to ponder the story of the Maronite Christians. “But isn’t the Moslem prison we’re heading toward located in the mountains?”

  “Ah, yes. The Maronite Christians settled in the northern part of the mountains, but to the south another oppressed group, the minority Druze Moslems, learned to survive in the Shouf Mountains. They hold that region as well as the city of Beirut now.”

  Rosalind paused to really consider the people of this war-torn land. Europeans had first come here over a hundred years ago, and according to their
lessons on the ships, there had not been much peace since.

  Leo twisted sideways to study her. “What are you thinking about?”

  “You always just focus on the grand ideals of the crusades. Never the people.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, the Arab tribes are a temperamental lot. They always seem to be fighting over something. And in their prime, they slaughtered city after city full of Christians. I cannot say if the crusaders have done much good here, but I doubt they have done any worse.”

  A bird swept overhead, reminding her of Randel’s quest. A far more pleasant subject. “Have you heard of the Syrian serin?”

  He looked at her skeptically. “You mean the bird?”

  “Yes. Do you know where we might find one?”

  He smirked. “’Tis rather a plain sort of bird. Perhaps we might find a lovely lady like you a peacock instead.”

  “Randel wished to find one. His grandfather was a crusader and brought home a picture of a serin.” But noting the smug look on Leo’s face, she did not share the reason, and certainly not the private story of Randel’s falling out with his family.

  “Randel. I see. Or rather, I do not see. I do not see any evidence of this relationship you spoke of. And I have had several opportunities to observe you together over the last days. I admit that you are companionable, but the very fact that he seems so relaxed back there while I flirt with you is not compelling for your case.”

  “I need not prove myself to you.” Rosalind peered down her nose at Leo. “Randel is not the jealous sort, and he is rather affable by nature. I admire those qualities.”

  “But, you see, there is nothing to stop me from doing this.” Leo reached over and snatched up her hand before she could pull it away. He pressed a kiss to it and wiggled his brows.

  Now she did manage to pull it away. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I prefer determined. And I am determined to woo you. Nothing has changed on that account.”

  She turned back to find Randel. He watched her quizzically, not quite upset but more confused than she had seen him in some time. With a subtle gesture of her head, she indicated that he should come join them.

  It was not that she didn’t like Leo. But she had no interest in pursuing a relationship with him. Yet she could not afford to offend this man, who wielded much more power in this land than she had first suspected. Who was to say that she was not part of the reason he had come along for this rescue mission?

  She must proceed wisely. Although Leo might not like the fact that she was supposedly committed to Randel, he had not seemed surprised nor offended over the idea. Surely any gentleman, or even a partial gentlemen like Leo, would understand if another fellow had a prior claim.

  Randel did not feel certain at first that Rosalind truly needed him. He had been daydreaming of the Templar fort they had passed near the coast. How he wished he might have strayed off the path to meet with them, if only for a few moments, but he would not leave his charges for a selfish reason. There would be time aplenty to become acquainted with the Templars once their mission had finished.

  Now that he shifted his full attention to Rosalind, he was struck with an odd urge to wedge himself between her and that presumptuous Cyprian fellow. Even then he was about to ignore the impulse, for he did not wish to stir up trouble, until Jocelyn trotted her horse next to him.

  “God give you good day, Sir Randel.” The vixen smiled coyly at him. “I thought you would never part from your dear Rosalind.”

  “How funny that you should mention it, for I was just on my way to her now.”

  “Oh, please do not rush off. I feel as if we have been growing apart of late. I do so miss our conversations.”

  All the better, that. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Jocelyn, but she is waiting for me even now.”

  Jocelyn huffed.

  Manners suggested he should offer to speak with her at a different time, but he would not bow to niceties when dealing with the leader of the she-wolf pack. And although he had intended to stay to the rear of the children and keep watch over them during the journey, an entire English battalion was behind them. Surely they were safer than he was at that moment.

  Without further comment, he trotted away from a no-doubt-seething Jocelyn and past the children.

  “Ah, and here he comes now. I wondered what had taken him so long.” The Cyprian tipped back his head and chuckled.

  Randel flinched, not certain if he should be offended. He pulled his mount next to Rosalind’s and the fellow she had spent time with at the feast. Randel had presumed the man was only being friendly, but after that possessive scene he just witnessed, he did not feel certain any longer. “I am ready for a break from Humphrey’s pining over Bohemond’s daughter,” he said by way of excuse.

  “Randel, have you met Leo?” Rosalind asked.

  “Leo of Cyprus, nephew to the king.” Leo nodded with confidence.

  Wonderful, another nobleman toying with Rosalind. Randel’s protective nature soared to high alert. “Sir Randel, son of the Earl of Penigree.”

  “I see.”

  The two stared at each other for a moment, taking each other’s measure. Randel did not like the Cyprian’s arrogance, although he must admit that he appeared to be a jovial sort and a fit soldier.

  Rosalind giggled forcibly, as if hoping to break the tension. “I asked Leo about the serin. He said they are quite common to the region.”

  “So are you a fan of birds?” Leo asked with amusement in his tone. “I personally prefer to collect weapons. But to each his own, I suppose.”

  “In truth, it is more my mother’s hobby. ’Tis something I did with her as a child.” Randel immediately regretted defending himself to this man. He need not feel embarrassed over his avian interests. “But it rather took hold of me.”

  Leo tipped his head, as if in concession. “Well, spending time with one’s mother I can appreciate. I had far too little time with my own.”

  “His mother was a Moslem,” Rosalind said. “Is that not fascinating?”

  “Oh.” Randel tensed his jaw and gripped tighter to the reins, taken off guard by this new information. “I did not realize intermarriage was permitted.”

  “It happens, although it is rare. My parents were not married, but they were most certainly in love. My mother was killed by an uncle who was determined to save the family’s honor while I was still very young.”

  “Leo! How sad. Why did you not tell me sooner?” Rosalind asked.

  He shrugged. “I did not wish to ruin our festive dinner.”

  “I have heard of these honor killings, but I confess I did not believe it possible.” Randel scratched at his chin. Back home in England illegitimate birth was common enough, especially among the peasant class.

  “Believe it. Perhaps my father would have married her if he had known what was happening, but he was off fighting near Jerusalem at the time. He took me in and raised me as his own just as soon as he found out. So never fear, I am as Christian as the rest of you.”

  “I am so sorry to hear of your loss.” Randel offered the fellow an expression of sympathy, surprised that Leo had shared so much. He could hardly hate him now.

  “It was long ago. The good news is that you need not fear my loyalties. Although . . .” Leo reached over and tugged playfully at Rosalind’s dark braid. “Much as you have dreamed of the Syrian serin, I have dreamed of marrying a blue-eyed beauty from Europe. So you might not wish to trust me completely.”

  Randel jerked in Leo’s direction, but Rosalind was yet between them.

  Rosalind pushed Leo’s hand away. “Stop that, Leo. Randel, I do believe he’s testing you. I hope you will forgive me, but I told him of our agreement, and I do not think he believes me.”

  “If I had such an agreement with a woman like Rosalind, I would keep her close at all times. In fact, I would put a ring upon her lovely finger as quickly as possible to avoid any confusion.”

  Now Randel had no idea what to think
of the fellow. He would not have expected him to be so forthright about his interest in Rosalind. And the realization struck him that if Leo was not precisely a nobleman, he might have honorable intentions after all.

  The part of Randel that was committed to Rosalind’s well-being paused to consider that this man might be willing to offer marriage and security to this dear friend. Marriage and security that Randel could not give her as a warrior monk. But a different part of him flamed at the very thought. Besides, Rosalind claimed she did not wish to marry. And clearly she had summoned him to thwart off this potential suitor.

  So thwart he would.

  Randel reached out and took Rosalind’s hand in his own. “I do thank you for being so clear on the issue, Leo. I will keep this one close by my side for the duration of the journey to prevent further confusion.”

  Rosalind smiled at him with admiration and affection. Perhaps it was only an act for Leo’s sake, but she seemed sincere, and Randel’s heart skipped a beat.

  “In that case, I suppose I will leave you both to your bird watching.” Leo trotted back toward his troop up ahead of them.

  “Thank you!” Rosalind sighed.

  “Is he truly so troublesome?”

  “Only when he speaks of marriage. You know I have no desire to marry, but I do not wish to stir up problems. He has been one of our most faithful supporters here in Tripoli.”

  Randel’s stomach twisted. Precisely as he had feared. “And I do not think he will be as easily deterred as Rumsford.”

  “No, I think we shall have to be more convincing with our ruse in the future.”

  Randel grinned at her. “I do not think that shall be too difficult.”

  Rosalind’s cheeks tinged to a sweet shade of pink. “Nor do I,” she said.

  Chapter 12

  “Lady Brigitte, if you do not plan to eat your stew, send it this way!” Sadie called across the roaring fire.

  They had set up camp in a narrow valley between two mountains, but they had nearly reached their destination now, and upon the morrow they would need to better hide their presence. However, for tonight they enjoyed one last relaxed dinner, with Randel and the boys to one side of the campfire and Rosalind and the girls to the other.