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Authors: A.J. Carlisle

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“We'll leave within the hour,” Khalil told Alex. “I'll send some men over to take the crates, and I'd advise taking whatever horses you need from the Templar stocks.”

Genevieve took both Clarinda and Fatima by the arms. “Let's go – girl time. We'll sit for a while by the sea — the clean part, away from all this.”

Clarinda bowed her head, glad for the new friendship with Fatima, and surprisingly sudden maturity in Genie. She glanced at Alex to see if he needed anything. The elder brother watched his sister with a stunned expression on his face.

“Go, Clare,” Alex said distractedly when he finally turned to her, a slight smile on his lips. “I'll get word to Pasquale.”

“I want
Padre
buried at sea, Alex, even if I can't be there. Have the crew do it when the ships are some leagues south of here…I'd like Padre's remains cast into the water as close to Jerusalem as possible.”

Fatima raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You believe the waters to be holy?”

“It can't hurt, and I certainly don't want him anywhere near this place,” Clarinda replied, remaining arm in arm with the Arabian woman, trying to draw some of Fatima's strength into herself.

She finished giving Alex directions for Pasquale. “After the burial, have the ships get back north to Acre. Let the men have shore leave, but to guard the ships at full alert.”

“You're expecting trouble?” Alex asked. “At sea?”

“Trouble from all sides,” the young Norn said, “and I foresee that this is just the beginning.”

“Let's get above the blood and smoke,” Genie prodded. Fatima gave the last of instructions to the tribesmen who'd be tending to Thaqib's remains.

“She's right,” Fatima said, nodding toward the youngest of the women. “I'm unsure what all this means, but we need to stay clear-headed somehow, and sometimes that's best done apart from men and their wars.”

Khalil started to say something, thought better of it, and resumed talking to Guy as the three girls began the short walk toward the amphitheater.

Padre, non ho detto Arriverderci.
Clarinda thought.
I didn't tell you goodbye.
Then, she indicted herself again.
E oltre che
,
let's not forget that I let the one man, Kenezki, who I think knows the most about all of this get away. Worse, I think that he might have turned himself into a fish. Ah, Momma, Padre — I'm losing my mind and now you're gone.

Staying close to Fatima, she hoped that she was giving her new friend as much strength as she felt coming from the Arabian woman. Ahead of them, Genie had broken away and pointed questioningly at the stone benches on the highest tier of the curved, bowl-shaped structure.

Clarinda nodded. It would be a good place to sit for a while, to see the sea one last time with her friends before heading inland to more war and strife.

Chapter 14

A Mother's Counsel

“...
et reduxit super eos Dominus aquas maris filii autem Israel ambulaverunt per siccum in medio ejus
.
” Jacob finished the sentence, even though he saw that Marcus's eyes were closed and his breathing deep and steady.

He looked up from the massive copy of St. Jerome's
Vulgate
on his lap and stared at the sleeping boy.

Marcus still clutched the leather pouch of dice in his right hand, as unwilling now to give it to Jacob as he'd been when the time had come to clean up. The
Gluckhaus
board and jettons were neatly stowed on the table next to the bed, easily within reach of the patient for when he awakened. Jacob smiled at the memories of the many games he and his new friend had played together. Skill-wise, the boys were evenly matched, but (except for himself) Jacob had never met anyone as competitive at the game as Marcus.

“Did you just read something about Pharaoh?” Rebecca asked quietly from the doorway.


Ima
!” Jacob turned on the edge of the bed with a surprised whisper. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to get the gist that you were reading about Moses.”

Jacob nodded, then glanced again at the page and translated the last line for her. “‘For Pharaoh went in on horseback with his chariots and horsemen into the sea, and the Lord brought back upon them the waters of the sea; but, the children of Israel walked on dry ground through the midst of it.'” He closed the book and looked at her. “I love that part, where the sea magically parts and the Israelites get through while Pharaoh and his horsemen get swamped by the water. I wonder if we'll ever see such sorcerous and supernatural things again?”

“I don't know about that, but you're Latin sounds very, very good, Jacob. Your father would be proud,” Rebecca said, en
tering the room and kissing her son on the forehead before sitting down on the chair near the corner.

Even in the changing light of the aging day Jacob could see how tired she looked and the paleness of her complexion. Something hollow opened in his stomach as he watched her.

“Have you been coughing much?” he asked her.

“No, no — I'm just very tired. I didn't know you were this close down the hall. I got up to exercise a bit, and heard you reading. I'm just five doors down.”

“I'm sorry,
Ima
,
” Jacob said, genuinely contrite. “I didn't mean to be here so long, but Marcus has a
Gluckhaus
board and we got carried away.”

“No, my Sweet,” she replied, waving a hand dismissively, “I was sleeping. I'd rather you have some fun than stare at me and fret.” She looked at Marcus. “He has a nice face,” she said, “a kind face.”

“He
is
very nice,” Jacob affirmed, “and he really plays a good game of
Gluckhaus
.
We're tied now, two games to two.”

“Your sportsmanship is improving, too,” Rebecca commented. “Normally you don't take it very well when someone gives you a challenge.”

“I do, too —” Jacob started to protest and then smiled. She was right. He directed attention to Marcus. “I'm...trying to be better about that,
Ima
.
” Then he frowned. “There's something wrong with the way that Marcus speaks. He keeps repeating himself, and I'm not sure how much he hears of what I say.”

“Hmm, what did you try to talk about?”

“I don't know — things. Anything, really. He doesn't look at me much, and just seems to want to play the game.”

“Well, there are worse things,” Rebecca commented, “and sometimes it takes awhile to get to know someone. I'm sure that he appreciated you taking the time to play some games with him. This doesn't seem to be a castle where many games are played.”

“I don't know about that,” Jacob disagreed, musing as he put the Bible on a chest of drawers next to Rebecca. He then withdrew his sword from beneath Marcus's bed. “I think that the kids here just play games out of sight. You know,” he said, grunting as he lunged forward thrusting the scabbarded blade into the body of an imaginary enemy, “what kids always do when the adults...are...busy...being...adults.”

Jacob was halfway through the beginning of his warm-up routine, speaking in gasps as he brought the blade into ever more complex positions (both offensive and defensive) that required busy, athletic footwork. He glanced at his mother. As he'd guessed, she'd fallen asleep again while sitting in the chair. He started building up a sweat as he increased the tempo of his fencing movements — lunging repeatedly in sets of twenty on each leg, then parrying slightly to his right after feinting left, and then riposting with a precise circular dip of his sword before the lunge was completed. He was intent on making the most of this time where both Marcus and his mother were asleep and he could practice. For Jacob, learning the ways of the sword was such an honor and serious commitment that he took every second he could to hone his craft.

After half an hour, he took a break and went to the cupboard to use one of the towels stowed there to dry off.

“I'm proud of you, Jacob,” his mother said, awake and smiling at him. “You know that, don't you?”

He lay the sword on the blankets at the foot of Marcus's bed.

“I know,
Ima
,
and thank you,” he said softly, walking over to her and taking a knee so that he could look up into her eyes. “Should we get you back to bed?”

“Jacob, we need to talk about something —”

“Don't,” he interrupted, knowing and hating that tone and what it meant. He clasped both his hands over hers. “Don't say it.”

“I must. I'm not sure how long I have left and there are things that must be said. Things that must be planned for.”

“We'll plan them together, and live them together. This siege won't last long — have you seen all the men-at-arms here? All the provisions and the defenses?”

“Jacob.” Rebecca withdrew one of her hands and cupped his chin so that he'd look at her. “You're going to be alone, and you need to know what to do.”

Tears filled his eyes. “I know what to do,
Ima
.
I know. You don't have to worry. I go to Jerusalem, bring the testamentary letter to King Guy, and then send for Ephrem and Rachel when accommodations are made.”

She nodded in appreciation. “Yes, yes. You'll all be taken care of — even though Baldwin is temporarily king again, he'll respect the accommodations that Guy of Lusignan made when
Aba
was an ambassador there.”

“I know all this,
Ima
,
” Jacob said confidently, and he smiled at her. “In fact,
you'll
be the one doing all the talking because you're going to be right there with me.”

“I'd like to be, Son, but I'm very tired, Jacob. So tired.”

“Master Ibn-Khaldun said that he'd tend to you after the meeting. You're going to get better.” Jacob rose to his feet and stretched out a hand, helping Rebecca rise, too. “Let's get you back to bed,
Ima
.

She assented quietly and leaned on him as they left Marcus's chamber, and moved slowly down the hallway to her room.

“It filled my heart to hear you reading again, Jacob,” she said.

He snorted. “I've got much catching up to do. Do you remember Rabbi Mordecai saying that if we ‘forsake the Torah for one day, it will abandon you for two?' By such mathematics, I...well,
Ima
,
we've been on the move for three months.”

“Let's hope there are exceptions to every rule, eh?” she said, and then looked up at him. “You worry too much, Jacob — the Torah, the synagogue,
all
will be there to resume when the time is right. Live the life you're given, Son, and spend the time you have as honorably as you know how. I want you to have adventures!”

Jacob didn't reply, tears welling in his eyes at the urgency in her voice. He led her to the bed and tucked her in beneath the sheet and rough blanket.

“Now, tell me what you've seen…,” Rebecca started to say, although the excitement in her voice induced another bout of hacking and coughing. When she had calmed down, she repeated softly, “Tell me about what you've seen.”

Jacob's eyes lit up. “
Ima
,
you should have seen the
rooms
filled with books! There were desks and tables in each chamber, and so many codexes and manuscripts, and monks working that it could have been the famed library at Alexandria!”

For the next quarter hour Jacob shared his experiences with his mother. In spite of her exhaustion and occasional coughing bouts, she seemed genuinely interested in all that he had to relate, taking the most pleasure at the fledgling friendships he'd found with Marcus and Ríg.

“With all those books and now friends to be with, it sounds as if you'll have some distractions here during the siege,” Rebecca said approvingly.

“It's still all somewhat confusing,” Jacob replied with a shake of his head. “There seem to be so many contradictory people and ideas here.”

“Contradictory?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes. Everything in this castle is directed toward warfare, yet it contains one of the best libraries in...well, in the world. It's a Christian castle, yet Ibn-Khaldun, a Muslim, runs the scriptorium. Ríg's only a few years older than me, but he's going to be a knight and a priest — something that I don't think's possible for me.” He shrugged. “I've not seen many rabbis who come armed and ready for combat to their synagogues!”

“Jacob,” Rebecca countered firmly, “
Aba...
your father used to tell me about the Holy Land. You understand that the Crusaders and Muslims both call each other ‘infidels.' Each side thinks that it has the only claim to God. You know, too, that our people used to fight on the ancient soil of Palestine, but in recent times the Hebrews just try to survive under whatever Christian or Islamic government holds power.”

BOOK: The Codex Lacrimae
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