The Falcons of Montabard (35 page)

Sabin digested the news thoughtfully. By the time Balak was ready to assault the Franks with any purpose, Baldwin would be free. That was if everything went to plan.

'There is talk of raising a ransom,' the Templar said. 'That is one of the reasons I go to Jerusalem. Queen Morphia has been very busy.'

'From what I have heard and seen of the lady, she is not one to sit at home and wring her hands,' Sabin murmured, recalling the flashing dark eyes beneath the pearl-fringed headdress when he had seen her in Jerusalem. Being Armenian herself, she probably knew of the rescue plan, but it was always wise to divide eggs between baskets.

Having eaten his fill the Templar excused himself, pinned his cloak and went out.

Sabin turned to Annais. Her portion of food on the trencher was still untouched and she was as pale as whey. 'I know this is difficult for you,' he said quietly.

'Is it not for you?' she asked.

He pushed the congealing food away. 'Of course it is.'

252

'You do not show it.'

'Well, that is because I have grown accustomed to either running away from problems or brazening them out if it is too late to run. Believe me, I am neither smiling nor calm behind the face I wear.'

'Then what are you?'

'Terrified,' he said. 'And that is something you are more than privileged to hear.' Now he did drain his cup, but when offered a refill by an attendant, accepted less than a half-measure. 'But then there should be no secrets between husband and wife.'

Abruptly he excused himself from the high table and went to talk with the Serjeants and soldiers. Annais watched him pausing here and there to listen. Once he laughed at a jest and seemed genuinely amused. Was that part of the facade, she wondered? Gerbert had always talked to the men too, but in a paternal or avuncular way. Sabin's manner was more brother to brother - it was bound to be so when he was a younger man; however, there was still no doubt as to who held the command.

He did the rounds of the hall and returned to her. Sighing, pushing his free hand through his hair, he said, 'Do you want to make an end of this and retire?'

An end or a beginning? She inclined her head and summoned her women. Her heart was thundering and her stomach was clamped to her spine.

'I have told the men that, under the circumstances, there will be no bedding ceremony,' he added as he summoned Amalric. 'Although Father Jerome will bless the bed.'

'I do not know if I can sleep in it,' Annais said.

'With me?'

She made a small gesture. 'So much joy and grief has been heaped upon it that it is like a mountain. It is already so high that I fear I will never reach the top and see what lies beyond.'

He studied her.

'You think I am being fanciful,' she said.

'Not at all. I was wondering how I would sleep tonight in a bed that is only mine by default. Not well, I suspect.'

253

Father Jerome arrived with an attendant bearing a casket of holy water and oils. Sabin held out his arm and Annais took it. Soraya picked up the hem of Annais's gown so that it would not trail on the floor and they moved in procession to the foot of the stairs.

Once above, Sabin waited patiently for Father Jerome to perform the blessing rites on the bed and themselves, although Annais could tell from the very stillness of his face that the patience was part of the mask he wore. However, that stillness was a source of strength and she drew on it, attuning her breathing to the slowness of his, even while her heart continued to pound and cold sweat made her palms clammy.

Father Jerome concluded his task, wished them well, and departed the room with his attendant. Sabin followed them to the door, ushering out the women and Amalric. Then he shut out the world and secured the bolt. Once it was done, he wandered the chamber, restless as a dog in new territory. He unlatched his swordbelt and cast it across a chest ... a chest that was filled with Gerbert's tunics and hose. It was too soon, too painful for Annais to distribute them among the poor or make them into new garments.

'Will you transfer your things to this chamber?' she asked him as she moved to the embrasure. His own coffer was still in the small room he kept above the guardhouse.

'Do you want me to?'

Dusk was falling and a scattering of stars shone in the sky outlined by the open shutters. She inhaled the scents of spicy cooking and dusty heat beginning to cool. A bowl of lemons stood on a side table; picking one up she rubbed her thumb over the porous yellow skin, then pressed her nail beneath the surface. An almost invisible spray shot from the wound and a sharp tang filled the air. 'There is room for them,' she said without looking round.

'That is not what I asked.'

'I would have refused if I objected,' she said. Her nail dug past the pith into the flesh of the fruit, and she felt it yield and

254

burst. The scent grew stronger. How could she want him to when Gerbert had not been dead a week? Sabin's question engendered feelings of guilt and self-loathing. Standing beside him in the chapel, she had longed for nothing more than to lean on him, to put her arms around him and feel his healthy, living flesh. To make the world go away. 'By all means move your things,' she said wearily. 'People will expect to see them. Gerbert always conducted his business from here and it is the seat of the lord's authority.'

He was silent and she did not have to turn around to know that he was grimacing.

'There is not sufficient space in your chamber,' she said.

'I know that. You do not need to convince me, but neither do I have to like this one.' He drew off his tunic, then sat down on the bed to remove his boots. The disrobing went no further than that. Shirt, hose and braies remained.

'Since there are no witnesses and we are not expected to display a bloody bridal sheet on the morrow, there is no need for all the rituals of a wedding night. Besides,' he added wryly, 'I am not sure that I would be capable of performing the deed, even if required.'

'With your reputation?' The words were out before she could bite them back. Turning from the window, she faced him, her face bleached of colour. 'I am sorry. That was unfair of me.'

He gave her a steady look. 'Sometimes a little reputation goes a long way,' he said.

She swallowed. 'But you are still scarcely a washed lamb.'

He conceded the point with a gesture. 'I admit that I was one of the wilder youths at court, especially after my father died. It was easier to futter and brawl than to think . . . and at court, if you had silver in your hand and on your tongue, and you were the foster son of a prince, then the court whores were accommodating . . . some of the barons' wives too.' His expression became sombre. 'If I used them for my escape and to assuage the rampant lusts of adolescence, then they used me because of my youth and stamina. I developed a reputation

255

when I started reaching for the higher apples on the tree, the ones that were harder to pick and better guarded . . . not out of carnal desire, but for the challenge.'

'Until you were caught.'

'Until Lora died for it, yes,' he said.

'And what of my stepmother? Was she a challenge too?' She waited for him to deny it vehemently. It was another blow below the belt, but she wanted to see how he handled it.

He shifted uncomfortably. 'I was a youth of sixteen again,' he said, 'and she was the baron's wife. Old habits die hard when you are pushed up against a wall and threatened with everything that you desire and loathe.' He gave an involuntary shudder. 'Ye?, she was a challenge, but 'twas a lesson in refusal not seduction.' He looked at her. 'I am not a monk. There have been women since Tel Namir ■- you would be blind not to know that - but if not abstinence, I have learned restraint.'

Annais absorbed the information without a flicker of emotion. 'What arrangements will you make if our marriage is to be in name only?' she asked. 'What happens when need goes beyond restraint? Do you make a fool of me in my own household, or do you go on discreet "hunting trips" and find yourself a gentle doe or a plump partridge to assuage your hunger?'

'I would hope that before it came to such a pass, our marriage would be one to suit all needs,' he said. 'But if not, then I would do my best not to bring scandal into the household.'

'Let us hope you have more success than of yore,' she said tartly.

He looked bleakly amused. 'Your trust commends you.' He rose from the bed. 'I can sleep on the floor if you wish. It will be no burden.'

'No, I would feel guilty, and if you are telling the truth about your condition, I have nothing to fear, do I?'

He made an open-handed gesture of acknowledgement. 'No,' he said. 'Not at the moment.' Drawing back the sheets, he got into bed, pulled the covers back over and arranged the bolsters at his back.

256

Annais swallowed. She felt queasy and tired; she could not remember what it was like to have a night of unbroken sleep and not awaken to feelings of dread and grief.

'Come.' Sabin beckoned her with his forefinger. 'I give you my promise I will not touch you. You cannot stand there all night.'

What he said was true, but Annais could not dispel the notion that she was committing some sort of betrayal by joining him. Even though Gerbert had made them swear an oath, he had been doing it for the good of Montabard. She doubted that he would have taken joy in the sight of his wife and Sabin FitzSimon sharing the Montabard family bed. Reluctantly she came and sat on her side of the mattress. She was intensely aware of Sabin's brooding scrutiny and a shiver of apprehension danced down her spine.

He got out of bed, came around to her and, sitting at her side, removed her shoes. She tensed as his fingers explored the lacings of her gown, but having loosened them, he made no attempt to divest her of the garment. Finally, he turned his attention to her veil. His touch was butterfly light as he removed the securing pins and then lifted the gossamer silk from her hair. 'You should loosen your braids,' he said. 'It will lessen the tightness across your brow.'

When she neither spoke, nor sought to push him away, he performed the task himself. Unfastening the gold fillets that secured the ends of the braids, he combed his hands through the heavy deep-brown plaits, unwinding the strands. Annais was wary at first, but he offered no more than the performing of a service. She supposed that he was accustomed to acting the part of lady's maid. Secret assignations without the help of an attendant would call for such skills ... if of course the woman ever had the time to let down her tresses.

When he had finished, he lifted the bedclothes and tucked her in, then returned to his own side of the bed and lay down. 'Do you want me to leave the lamps burning?' he asked.

Annais shook her head. 'I do not fear the dark,' she said.

257

'There are far worse things in this world of which to be afraid.' Raising her hand, she wound a tendril of her freed hair around her forefinger. It was sticky to the touch, a little greasy. She could not remember when last she had washed it - such things did not matter when the heart faltered and almost stopped beating. In the space of two short years, she had gone from virgin, to wife, to mother, to widow and back to wife again. It was no use saying that she did not want to dance any more, because the dance went on regardless.

Sabin shrugged his shoulders against the bolsters. 'You have my permission to kick me if I snore,' he said.

From somewhere, Annais found a smile. 'Thank you,' she murmured, and touched his sleeve. It was safer than touching his hand but still managed to convey her gratitude for the way he had handled matters.

He said nothing else, but leaned over and snuffed out the lamp. She felt him settle against the bolster and heard his breathing become slow and measured. However, she sensed that he was not sleeping; instead, rather like a hound at rest across a door, he was keeping watch. The notion comforted her. She had thought that she too would lie awake all night, but at some point she slept and when she woke to the sound of Guillaume's cry from the antechamber, and one of her women shushing him, the bailey cockerels were crowing and the light through the shutters was grey.

She could tell from the slow rise and fall of his chest that Sabin was asleep, although his limbs were neatly positioned and his slumber appeared controlled rather than relaxed. She suspected that any sudden noise would galvanise him off the bed and put a sword in his hand in less time than it took her to blink. In the glimmer of dawn, she could see the dark edge of stubble surrounding his mouth and edging his jawline. Studying him, Annais felt an ache of tenderness and grief. They had survived their first night together, now all that remained was to cope with all those that followed.

258

Chapter 22

Harsh light burning down on the inner courtyard caused Strongfist to squint in pain The prisoners had been brought out for what was supposed to be the mercy of fresh air while the straw of their prison was forked out and changed. After the barely lit dark of their malodorous cell, the beat of the sun was so fierce, so blinding that it was almost like a weapon. Some men were brought to their knees, their shackles clanking and painful tears squeezing between their lids.

The yard was used to exercise horses and a turbaned groom was shovelling up collops of dung. He glanced curiously at the Franks but stayed well away from them as if their presence might contaminate him. The guards, however, patrolled close and fingered their swords, making it clear what would happen if there were trouble.

'Do they truly think we have the strength to overpower them and escape?' said Ernoul of Rethel with a wondering shake of his head. He was Baldwin's young nephew, fair-haired and red-cheeked.

Strongfist shrugged. 'I suppose they cannot afford to take the chance, no matter how remote it might be. If our news is correct and Lord Balak has ridden away to Aleppo, they are bound to be wary. Give them a few more days and they won't be quite so zealous.'