Pay no attention to this trickster. Whatever he’s doing, tune it out and focus on Evremar.
She dabbed at her nose before the blood could trickle again and raised an eyebrow at the Grand Master. “For the last time: where’s my father?”
“Perhaps you’re bluffing?” Evremar observed. “Why shouldn’t I just take you prisoner now, and search your vessels for the caskets?”
“I’m not sure what all this is about,” Guy said, “but you’ll not be taking anyone in this room prisoner, Evremar.”
“Ah, well played, my dear,” Evremar said with a shrug. He reached for his fourth lamb shank and tore into it. Between saliva-drenched bites he told her, “We’re at an impasse for now, but you’ve goaded me to action. I don’t want our guests to think me uncaring. I’ll send some scouts out tomorrow morning to start a search for your father. Then we’ll see what we shall see.”
“You’ve got some wits about you, Lady Clarinda,” Kenezki admitted, more seagull wings snapping in the winds of his words. “Almost witch-like, those wits — like three hags around a bubbling cauldron, stirring things up and always interfering in places they’ve no right to be. Be careful, though, that your words don’t lead you to a worse fate than losing a father.”
“That sounds like a threat, Kenezki,” Alex said quietly from his end of the table.
Clarinda just stared at the pirate.
Three witches? He didn’t just say three witches, did he?
“Not at all,” Kenezki replied. “I’m merely referring to the fact that some girls get into more trouble than they expect when speaking...tartly about Fate.”
The nausea returned and she daubed at her nose again, trying to casually deal with the distorted, tattooed pirate who shifted in and out of her vision.
Clarinda didn’t want to hear anything else from this man and let her mind wander as Monachus began telling a ghost story to Genevieve and the others at that end of the table. She stared at the plate with mostly uneaten food in front of her, and found that she was thinking about Santini again.
Suddenly, the table, the plates, the people — all receded from Clarinda’s mind as she had another vision, this time in an underground grotto filled with hot bathing springs. She and the young Hospitaller had recently bathed and she was rushing into his arms for a long embrace! There were others in the cavern, but no one said anything as the two young people hugged, and for a moment Clarinda felt the safest she’d ever felt in a world increasingly filled with peril.
The archbishop was finishing his brief tale, “…so, Gengoult was buried, but the priest-lover didn’t live long afterwards to enjoy the fruits of murder.”
“Fruits of murder?” Genevieve gasped. Clarinda heard a change in her tone of voice that promised a sobering up.
Clarinda smiled. Perhaps Genie will learn some lessons on this trip.
“That’s a horrible phrase,” Genevieve said. “What kind of priest are you?”
“You wanted a ghost story, Milady,” Monachus sniffed. “You have to take these as they come.” He looked around, gratified to see that some attention remained on him. “Those who fall from the faith are less than dung on the road, and deserve no mercy, claim they the benefit of the priestly robes or kingly ones.”
He tittered at his own words, raised a calming hand to his lips, cleared his throat, and continued, his sermon turning to the importance of tending to Holy Sites and keeping the Pilgrim Road cleared of infidels.
The Pilgrim Road. Pilgrims still stop by the ruined castle of Mecina, Urd’s voice observed in her mind, but Clarinda realized that it wasn’t the Norn herself. No, instead, the Norn’s voice was becoming her own!
No one here has seen Santini, but they treat his death-site as a shrine. Of course, they do. There were few enough victories in this land for the westerners to celebrate, so wherever a defeat had been enjoyed against the Muslims, there would be Christians gathered to remember and venerate.
Santini’s handsome, Clarinda, she thought to herself, but in all this talk about husbands and wives, do you honestly think that could ever happen with your mysterious Hospitaller knight? With all that blood on his hands? What do you expect? That he just washes the blood off, and moves to Venice with you? Is he even alive, or a splintered fragment of these dreams?
The archbishop was finally finishing whatever he’d been discussing and Clarinda looked at him with poorly hidden contempt. “It’s time,” she whispered to Pasquale, who, after glancing across at Alex as if to confirm a prearranged signal, turned to his host.
“Master Evremar?” Pasquale said, “We’ll be departing for the ships now — we need to be back before nightfall. Thank you for the meal.”
Guy took advantage of the Venetian’s farewell and rose quickly, too. Khalil and Fatima were at their side.
“What? Everyone’s leaving now?” Kenezki asked. “I hope it wasn’t something I said…”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Evremar said, not bothering to rise, prevented either by his bulk or by disgust about how his dinner party had just ended, “I had the cook bake some wonderful baklava and stuffed dates for dessert.” He turned to one of the serving girls. “Bring those, and the coffee.”
“What a civilized lot,” Kenezki sneered to Monachus. “I suppose this means more food and drink for us, eh?”
The bedouin, Greek, and Venetian members of the dinner party made for the exit after Alex helped Genie get unsteadily to her feet.
“Farewell, Mistress Clarinda,” Kenezki said laughingly as the group departed, “You’ll hear no urds…I mean, words, from me about a ride home. I’ll find my own way, never you worry! Let’s leave the past alone, live in the present, and hope for the future — what do you say?”
Tears filling her eyes, Clarinda stayed silent and kept her fury in check until she and her companions descended the stairwell that led from of the Templar keep.
Kenezki howled with delight behind her, his voice the cackling of a madman.
Chapter 10
Sisters in Grief & the Fishermen of Caesarea
The group of departing guests — including the former king and queen — didn’t stop moving until they’d reached the edge of the shore, where they could be sure that none of the patrolling Templar guards on the quays could hear their discussion.
The sun had fallen halfway into the great sea, its reddish light puncturing great shafts through the slate grey clouds clustered above the horizon. The harbor sparkled with a brilliant light, making its waves translucent and aquamarine.
Clarinda felt momentarily entranced as she tried to rein in her own stormy thoughts.
“I fear that your father’s in serious trouble if he’s mixed in with that lot,” Fatima murmured.
“It sounds as if your family’s had a rough time of it, as well,” Clarinda said.
“Yes, but until this afternoon, I had no reason to suspect that my brother’s disappearance might mean that he’s dead,” Fatima replied quietly. “Now, I’m not so sure. Two days ago a few of our elders told us that Thaqib was acting strangely, they said that he’d mentioned taking his own life.” She grimaced and shook her head. “He would never do such a thing.”
“I’m sorry, Fatima,” Clarinda offered. “I know we’ve just met, but I’m truly sorry. I haven’t seen my father for almost two months, and I know that no words will help me until I’m holding him again.”
Fatima squeezed her arm. “We know each other, well, my friend. Better, I think, than most in this man’s world.” She choked up for a moment, and then regained her composure. “We’ll find your father and my brother — I’m sure of it. But, Shukran. Your words mean more than anything that was said back there.”
“Thaqib acted strangely after those two knights departed,” Khalil said aloud, obviously hearing their conversation and thinking about his brother-in-law. “Then he was gone and —”
“You know him as well as I do,” Fatima retorted. “Don’t be foolish.”
“I’m agreeing with you, my love,�
�� Khalil said, encompassing Clarinda now in his gaze, “but, what I was going to say is that I had the same feeling about our two ‘guests’ who disappeared with Thaqib as I do now — a pit in my stomach, and the feeling that something is very, very wrong. Evremar, Kenezki, and Monachus all seemed to be enjoying some private joke back there…a joke that might be at both of your brother’s and father’s expenses.”
Clarinda looked at the couple and smiled wanly, but strangely heartened. Again, there was that feeling of comfortable familiarity with Fatima, and a notion remained that Khalil concealed a greatness that only time would reveal.
“Most of that meal seemed to be a façade for another agenda,” Clarinda observed. “The three of them were definitely trying to do something, but it was all...oblique.”
Fatima laughed. “Until you didn’t have those caskets where they expected them to be! Make no mistake. When you made it clear that they weren’t where he anticipated, some plan started to unravel for Evremar — I’ve never seen him that flustered.”
“Making it back to the ships is going to be a trick, Clare,” Alex interrupted. “The patrols seem to be gathering on the docks over there.”
Guy followed his gaze. “That’s something of a surprise. I knew Evremar was arrogant, but I didn’t think he’d be so bold as to attack immediately.”
Clarinda glanced at Pasquale, who winked back at her. “They’re all in place, Bambina.”
“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” Clarinda said, “I’d be more worried if it weren’t for those fishermen over there.”
Alex looked blankly for a moment at the port, seeing only the usual variety of tiny boats bobbing here and there at anchor, but then Pasquale whispered something to him. The older man squinted as the group reached the waterside and said. “Si, Mario and Luigi are in the scows, and I think that’s Pocopio and Raul in the other dinghies.”
Alex chuckled, grinning at Clarinda. “You’re incredible, you know that don’t you?”
“I don’t know about that,” Clarinda said, “we’ll get out of here, but we still don’t have Padre.” She looked at the heavens. “And there is a large storm coming in. I didn’t plan on that.” She looked at Pasquale. “As we discussed, have them bring two boats, with the archers holding back to cover us.”
“Wait...wait,” Genevieve exclaimed, trying to follow Clarinda’s orders. “What’s going on? Those aren’t fishermen? Are you all saying that you think we’ll be attacked? By Evremar?”
Clarinda arched an eyebrow, and saw Fatima smile, too. Genie seemed to be sobering up rather quickly and showing awareness about the situation that neither woman would’ve thought possible back on the dining patio.
“I wouldn’t say, ‘fear,’” Guy replied, making a quick assessment. “Here, if you’d all please stop. I think that you’re right, Signorina, and now we really won’t have much time. I don’t know what made you anticipate a need for escape — those fishing craft coming closer are yours, are they? Très bien fait! That was very well done! — but Sibylla and I won’t be touched.”
“Did you plan for him to do something, too?” Clarinda said, swiftly realizing that all these people were her allies, and intent on protecting her and themselves from the Templar and his men.
Fatima squeezed her arm. “There was much said back there that needs reflecting upon, but the one thing that’s clear is the fact that Evremar and Kenezki want to kill you.”
Clarinda smiled, and looked at her new friend. “They didn’t seem too fond of you and Khalil, either — Monachus was practically foaming at the mouth because he had to sit at the table with Saracens.”
“No, he didn’t enjoy that, did he?” Fatima smiled. “I don’t think that land or water are going to be safe tonight, for any of us.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Guy said, turning on his heel and halting the group. “If I were a betting man, I’d say that you should prepare for some kind of Templar attack on your ships by tomorrow, Lady Clarinda, and a full assault on your tribe by week’s end, Khalil. The way that Evremar’s talking, he’d have attacked already if not for the fact that you outnumber the men in his garrison. He’s waiting for reinforcements, or I’m a court jester.”
“They’d do well to prepare for some Venetians coming their way,” Clarinda said, her gaze, desperation and anger suddenly filling her eyes with tears. Padre, where are you? “My father’s here somewhere, alive or dead, and I’m not leaving this city until I find him.”
Fatima noticed Clarinda’s momentary distress and held her arm briefly to her own, saying, “We’ll help you, but take our word that any actions should be done together. Don’t underestimate Evremar, Monachus, nor this Kenezki — they’re in league together.”
“You think that they’re all in on something together?” Sibylla asked. “I thought that Kenezki and Monachus despised each other.”
“There was much going on there for our benefit, I think,” Alex said.
“Agreed,” Guy added, “and much that I simply didn’t understand. This isn’t the kind of game that Evremar typically plays, and there’s something wild about Kenezki that made me very uncomfortable.”
Sibylla looked appraisingly at her husband. “Well, that’s saying something.” She looked at Fatima and Clarinda to explain. “Usually Guy is foolhardy to the point of recklessness; it’s comforting to see that even his confidence can falter a bit.”
“It’s got nothing to do with confidence, Sibylla,” Guy corrected, his voice sterner than hers had been. “I’m quite serious. There’s something very wrong about all of this, and we need to have a plan.”
Clarinda wiped her eyes and gave a squeeze to Fatima. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She took in each member of the group, and settled on Guy and Khalil. “I had something of a plan coming into this harbor, but now things have changed.”
“Let’s hear it,” Guy said, “because I, too, had a plan for dealing with Evremar. He knows that I’ve got a small contingent with me, but what he doesn’t know is that the rest of my army is over those hills!”
“Did our people make them comfortable?” Fatima asked.
“Your people did exactly as we expected,” Sibylla assured her. “Your tribe has grown by two hundred members in the last two nights, thanks to Guy’s instructions. Let’s just hope that the Templar guards don’t look too closely beneath the abas our men borrowed from yours!”
Alex was incredulous. “You were planning your own attack?”
Guy nodded. “Khalil and Fatima got word to us shortly after Evremar refused to give them a writ.” He raised an eyebrow. “It seems as if your predictions were correct, Fatima.”
“Even someone guessing the future wouldn’t believe that Evremar might disrupt a major trade route for some hidden agenda,” Khalil protested. “This still makes no sense to me. Why stop our entire tribe here and go out of his way to make new enemies?”
“I think that the ‘hidden agenda’ has become apparent,” Fatima said with a nod at Clarinda. “Something to do with your father and a couple of caskets, I believe?”
“I didn’t know how important until that banquet,” Clarinda confirmed.
“Evremar wants those caskets like nothing I’ve ever seen him want before,” Guy observed. “There was murder in his eyes when he spoke to you in there.”
“That’s probably the one feeling we have in common, Lord Guy,” Clarinda said, “but, for my part, I want to get my father and get out of here. Any help we can give each other, I’ll assist in, but my crews aren’t trying to take over a town.”
Sibylla looked shrewdly at Clarinda and then smiled. “Ah, but we are trying to take this town, my dear, and having naval support is the one asset we didn’t have before meeting you. Now, tell us what you were thinking before we reach that dock, and we’ll tell you our plans —” She interrupted herself with a glance at the town. “Oh, we’ll have to talk later.”
Someone had given an order on the quay, because all the guards in the area were rushing toward the group on the s
hore.
“Oui, ma chere, il n’y a pas plus de temps,” Guy said. “Evremar’s wants you in his dungeon!”
“Time to disrobe, mes filles,” Sibylla said to Clarinda and Fatima. “I’ll return your cloaks and dresses later.”
Fatima looked from the queen to Clarinda and then to the two boats that were swiftly approaching, the formerly hidden sailors from the Maritina and Calypso now upright and rowing as if their lives depended on speed.
She and Khalil exchanged glances. “So, it’s the water, then?” Khalil asked with some apprehension.
Clarinda looked questioningly at Fatima.
“He can’t swim.” Ibn-Khaldun’s daughter said simply.
“Strip, Clare, they’re onto us!” Alex said, his eyes fixed on the Templar keep. Two guards were saying something to each other and pointing at the group on the beach.
“I think Evremar killed my father, Fatima.” Clarinda said, grief-stricken. She cast aside her cloak and dropped the oversized dress to reveal her sailing and fighting togs.
“I fear as much, too,” Fatima agreed as she stepped from her own outer garments. In spite of the highly conservative notions of her culture, Fatima seemed untroubled by her near-nakedness, wearing only an underdress that she wrapped and knotted around her waist as she studiously avoiding looking at any of the men gathered at the water’s edge. She next quickly re-strapped the belt that held a long poniard to rest comfortably above her thighs so it didn’t hinder movement.
Putting her hand on the hilt of her blade, Fatima gave a promising nod to Clarinda. “There’ll be much for them to answer for, but now isn’t the time. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Clarinda said, securing her own blades on her waist and calf. Battle-ready in seconds, both women handed their bundled clothing to Sibylla and turned to help Genevieve, who’d watched them with a horrified and shocked look on her face.
The Codex Lacrimae Page 14