Chapter 16
I tossed and turned all night. It was too hot with the wool blanket, then too cold without it.
Halimi snored on his side. The faint hum of a springtime mosquito startled me awake each time I dozed off.
Eventually, I got up. The clock in the kitchen showed four in the morning.
I poured myself a glass of cold water and went out onto the balcony.
On the table, a package of Camel cigarettes was moist with dew. I took one out but didn’t light it. I leaned on the railing. I inhaled the cool, salty air deep into my lungs. I put the cigarette back in its package.
My thoughts came quickly, chasing each other, colliding.
Every few moments, I glanced back into the house, as if to be sure it was possible that that same day, I had both lived my regular life, with Lily, who had worn me out in the evening, asking me over and over to join her in the bath, and the French book that I had to finish reading soon, and a supper of scrambled eggs and cottage cheese—and had also ridden an exquisite horse named éclair with a Crusader nobleman down a rocky ditch, waves breaking from both sides.
When he met me on the other side of the wall, Jean was dressed more beautifully than the previous times.
He was outfitted entirely in silk in shades of red and yellow, with a kind of dark velvet vest embroidered with large gold Greek crosses with perpendicular edges and smaller crosses between them, an emblem that I already recognized as the symbol of the Holy Kingdom of Jerusalem.
“What’s this, did you dress up for my sake?
” I said teasingly, after the embarrassed guard led me to him via the tower steps and parted from us, giving me another look of apology.
Jean let out a whoop of laughter, which made his horse stomp nervously on the cobbled ground of the rampart. Brunette barked happily.
“Actually no, my lady, although perhaps I should have.” His eyes shone with triumphant cheer. Clearly, it had nothing to do with me, which was a little discouraging.
“We agreed to meet,” I said quietly, hoping that I didn’t sound like a spoiled child.
“Indeed,” said Jean. “At midday.” He gave me a puzzled look, then added, “Were you waiting long?”
“A little,” I said.
“I was in a very important congress,” said Jean, not entirely apologetic—but in a conciliatory tone. “This assembly may dictate the fate of our kingdom and … other things.” I looked down at the ground. I did not want to make demands of him, but I was a little offended. I couldn’t deny it.
“I was going to ride over to meet you as soon as our assembly concluded,” said Jean and suddenly held my chin.
He turned my head to him, and I saw that he could not control the happiness bubbling up in him.
“I could not have imagined that you would simply come here. I presumed that you would wait there until I arrived, like any lady engaging in a rendezvous.” His smile grew, and I smiled too.
“But you are not like other ladies, are you, Lady édith?”
“It would seem I am not,” I replied, and any remaining irritation disappeared, and also from my face, evidently. My smile spread, and I bowed deeply, holding the hem of my gray tunic.
“I would kiss you,” he said suddenly, “if we were not within sight of countless sentries, guards, and other interested parties. I will do so yet in some more private place.”
I looked up at him in surprise. He glanced around the walls, the towers, and the citadel looming before us and said, “We must dress you in a more suitable manner before some disaster should befall us.”
He leaped up onto his horse and held a hand out to me, which resulted in some fumbling and embarrassment for me and amusement for him, as I tried to climb onto the horse and struggled greatly.
Then, I tried to sit in front of him with my legs apart—he shook his head in disbelief and directed me to sit sideways before him, with both of my legs on the horse’s left flank.
Brunette followed this little farce with barks of encouragement, after which she strode at our side with her head held high.
We left the tower, heading toward the end of the wall, from which a path sloped down the reinforced moat, toward a large gate in the citadel.
The clatter of the horse’s hooves on the sandy path were swallowed by the crashing of the waves from both sides. The fortress was getting closer. The open gate looked like a gaping maw, and suddenly I was filled with fear again. What am I doing here, in the year of our savior 1240?
“I will introduce you as the Lady édith from Cilicia, an Armenian noble,” Jean directed me matter-of-factly as we got nearer.
“I will say that you are a family member from my mother Melisende’s side, the daughter of some anonymous cousin of hers.
You were on a pilgrimage and on your way to visit my sister at the convent where she lives, and you managed to escape an attack by the Saracens on your entourage, but you lost all of your companions.
You behaved strangely on the day that Thibaut and I encountered you on account of sunstroke, but after finding yourself in one of the villages and regaining your strength, you showed me the letter from your father that explained who you are and what is your purpose. Can you remember all that, Lady édith?”
I nodded. “An Armenian lady, visit to a convent, attack by Saracens, sunstroke, letter of recommendation. Yes.” Jean pressed several centimeters closer to me, and with his lips close to my ears, whispered, “Quick-witted little demon.”
“So, were you called to come to me in the middle of your important meeting?” I asked Jean in a kind of uncertain apology as we neared the gaping maw of the fortress.
“No,” Jean chuckled. “Fortunately, the meeting ended shortly before the messenger appeared. I intended to change my clothes and ride to you, but then, to the great dismay of my servant, he appeared and asked if I knew any ‘Lady édith’ who was insolently knocking on the entrance gate to the town of the Pilgrim Castle.”
We reached a gate in the wall, over which rose another tower.
Yet another Templar knight nodded his head at Jean and moved away from the gate.
We entered a vaulted, paved tunnel, in which the horse’s footsteps sounded like the ticking of a clock.
I shivered. Jean pressed close to me from behind.
We left the tunnel into a huge, paved courtyard surrounded by buildings and towers that made up part of the inner wall.
After the dimness of the tunnel, the light and the commotion of the yard dazzled me.
Templar knights in black and white with red crosses were everywhere, and other people, too, maybe some of them servants.
Here and there, I even saw some girls carrying folded fabrics in their arms or in large woven baskets, evidently doing laundry.
I looked around in petrified wonder, but no matter how many times I shook my head, trying to shake off the shock, I was still awestruck.
“Sir,” cried a tall young man dressed in red and yellow. He approached us and took the horse’s reins. Brunette licked his hand.
Jean leaped down and extended a hand to me.
“Hugh, this is my cousin, Lady édith. I told you of her,” said Jean casually. I closed my eyes as I tried to get down easily like Jean. I landed clumsily but smiled at Hugh.
“My lady,” said the youth and bowed. I did not know exactly how I was meant to respond, so I simply nodded with what I hoped was acceptable nobility. He was courteous enough, but I thought I saw a vague hostility in his expression.
“From which side are you cousins, sir?” he asked, stealing a glance at me. I froze, but Jean said, “Mind your manners, Hugh.”
“Apologies, sir,” Hugh said humbly. He nodded his head at us and pulled éclair after him. Jean said, “When you have finished with éclair, bring refreshments to my room.”
The youth nodded, “Yes, sir,” and turned toward one of the corners of the inner courtyard wall.
Jean looked at him getting farther away and then looked back at me.
The commotion in the huge yard was overwhelming—I caught a glimpse of a stable, a smithy, a bakery at the far edge, and, judging by the enormous bell on its domed roof, a large church in the middle.
Knights, priests, monks, and artisans walked purposefully to and fro.
The laundresses—some walking around, and some bent over their work at a kind of fountain—stared at me in shock.
One of the knights in black slowed his pace and observed me with a fearful expression.
I was not certain that it was not Geoffroy of Tours.
Jean linked his arm with mine and pulled me after him toward one of the covered gateways, Brunette bounding eagerly ahead of us.
From there, we passed through a lit portico to a dim stairwell, damp and chilly, until we reached a higher level, a corridor the length of which was lit by several pale torches lining the walls and near several doors.
We went into one of the rooms with embroidered tapestries covering the stone walls, long windows with latticed panes, and a huge-looking fireplace in one of the walls; I sank into a chair with a sigh and closed my eyes.
I was drenched in cold sweat, and my heart was beating like crazy. My head fell back.
“This cannot be,” I muttered in Hebrew, my eyes still closed.
I thought I had gotten used to this improbable reality by now, but the short time I had spent in the fortress—surely less than ten minutes had passed since we had come through the gate—totally destabilized me.
I felt confused, weak, and terribly slow of thought, like the first time I traveled between the centuries, on the mushroom trip, which suddenly felt very far away. Hundreds of years away …
“Maybe I should get back …” I said in French.
I felt Brunette’s wet nose nuzzle into my palm.