Chapter 16 #3
“Do you feel a little better, my lady?” Jean asked after I had finished several wonderful apple and raisin pastries and washed down my dessert with a glass of wine mixed with water.
I nodded, and he added, “You are reaping the benefits of the important meeting we held here. For the most part, the food produced by the Pilgrim Castle kitchens is ascetic and rationed in a most depressing way.”
I laughed and took another swig of the diluted wine. Now that it was not as potent, it was delicious.
“In that case, please change your clothes,” said Jean, a light urgency seeping into his words.
“The fact that I brought you into the citadel without seeking Périgord’s permission is bad enough.
If someone should come in here and see you in your strange clothes, with your hair showing and no escort, they would accuse both of us of adultery, apostasy, and God knows what else. ”
“But …” I felt suffocated with panic. “Everyone already saw me when I came in.”
“Nonsense.” Jean waved his hand dismissively.
“A few laundresses and junior knights do not mean a thing. But if the head of the order or some other senior official comes sniffing around, we might get into trouble. Well, come on.” He held out the pile to me and gestured with his head toward the curtain through which he had emerged previously.
It was a heavy tapestry, a kind of wall carpet that was hard to move.
I pushed it with my elbows, as my hands were full of clothes, and entered the bedroom of Jean d’Ibelin.
It was smaller than the sitting room, but more brightly lit.
It was a corner room, with long windows in two directions, which looked out at the sea.
Now I saw that it faced the southern bay, which was crowded with boats and small ships.
There were two or three big ships anchored at some distance.
The southern shore was bustling and appeared to be used by the village fishermen.
I sat down on Jean’s bed. For several seconds, I restrained myself before putting my head under the blanket and taking a deep breath. The scent of Jean’s body filled my nostrils. Brunette, who had come in with me, tilted her head toward me.
“What, do you never sniff someone in his absence?” I asked her in a whisper. Brunette blinked and lay down, her head on her front legs, stretched out ahead.
I took off my clothes and put on the thin slip, soft to the touch, as quickly as possible, and over it a yellow silk dress with wide sleeves.
It was embellished with red embroidery at the neck and wrists.
I tied the narrow fabric, also yellow and red, around my waist like Jean had.
I gathered my hair into a braid. Very carefully I wrapped the white cloth band around my chin and head and fastened it with pins that had been stuck in it.
I wrapped my head with the stiffer cotton fabric and placed the longer, thin strip such that its ends would dangle on both sides of my face.
“How do I look?” I asked Brunette. She blinked in approval.
“Wonderful,” said Jean when I came out, scanning me in wonder, until his eyes landed on my feet.
“Ah, the monsters,” he said in disgust, referring to my sneakers, and went to another corner of the room. He returned bearing soft leather shoes in light brown, pointy at the toes, very pretty in fact. I would not object to wearing them forever.
He handed me a pair of thick cotton socks, and after putting them on my feet, I looked helplessly at the way they rolled down my shins. He knelt down beside me and tightened each sock with a band of silk underneath each knee and then placed the shoes on my feet and laced them. I stopped breathing.
Then, a knock was heard, and Jean hurried to throw my sneakers behind the tapestry of his bedroom. He made a swift gesture to me with his head, and I hurried to straighten up in the armchair, trying to portray a convincing modest Armenian noblewoman on a pilgrimage.
“Yes?” Jean said aloud.
“Sir,” Hugh’s head poked inside. His eyes gaped at the sight of me. “His Majesty is here.”
“Show him in,” said Jean, calmly. He poured wine into two carved wooden goblets.
At the threshold appeared the ample body of Thibaut, Count of Champagne and King of Navarre, wrapped in blue velvet decorated with yellow and silver.
Beside him strode his beautiful black dog.
Brunette greeted him with a skip, her tail wagging.
Behind him walked a young man, dressed in blue and yellow.
“Stay outside with Hugh, Philip,” said Thibaut. “Arsur will serve me.”
Philip nodded once, allowing his eyes to take me in for a split second, and then disappeared behind the door.
“Oh ho!” Thibaut clapped when he saw me.
“So, it was not the invention of the laundresses’ feverish imaginations when they were babbling about the green-eyed witch who you dragged away to your private rooms.” He snarled contentedly at Jean.
“To the Pilgrim Castle, no less. You were always a bold one.” He sat grandly down beside me on a luxurious chair padded with many pillows.
“Your Royal Highness,” said Jean. “Please, may I introduce my family relation, the Lady édith. Though in fact, you have already met—but at the time, she was suffering from sunstroke.”
“Quit the nonsense, Arsur,” said Thibaut and looked at me with a pleased expression. “This is the fairy from the spring, and judging by your increasingly questionable decisions, she has indeed ensorcelled you entirely.”
“Since when do you stoop to listening to the laundresses’ gossip, your Royal Highness?” Jean asked as he offered Thibaut the carved wooden goblet. He did not dilute his wine with water.
“Your arrogance may be your undoing,” Thibaut replied and winked at me, swirling the wine in his goblet and not taking his eyes off me for a moment. “Laundresses know more than anyone about everything, certainly in a place as gloomy and devoid of secrets as the Pilgrim Castle.”
Thibaut was plump and haughty, but his eyes were curious and full of life. Now, after I had read about him online and heard the songs he had written and composed, I felt a greater awe in his presence.
“I believe some three weeks have passed since our encounter at the holy spring, my lady,” Thibaut said to me. “And it seems you have had an attack of reticence and exaggerated modesty since then.”
“Your Royal Highness,” I began, lowering my eyes.
“I was not myself that day. I was unsettled following an attack by Saracens; parched and with sunstroke, alone, I seem to have permitted myself a degree of inappropriate language. I ask your forgiveness and beg that you not judge my character by my comportment that day.” I had gone into character completely and did not dare raise my eyes to Jean.
“Good for you,” said Thibaut. “You instructed her perfectly, Arsur. Of course, it would not be difficult for a real fairy to present such a convincing character of a low-spirited pilgrim.”
“Did you come for some particular reason, your Royal Highness?” asked Jean, trying to divert his friend’s attention.
“Your insolence grows from one moment to the next,” said Thibaut, finally turning to look at Jean.
“There are countless subjects that I must discuss with you, as you well know. We must discuss the agreement, and the damned orders, and the Genoese cheaters, and the lying Venetians, and the flattering Pisans, and all of our allies who are in such a hurry to change their minds every day.”
Jean began to reply, but Thibaut went on, raising his voice ever so slightly.
“There is also a vineyard that I wanted to check with you, about a day’s ride from here, and yes, I wanted to finish the pastoral that we tried in vain to compose on the day that your fairy appeared.
But she seems determined to thwart any collaboration between us,” said Thibaut, returning his gaze to me.
There was no note of reproach in his voice—in fact, it seemed that he was holding back a laugh.
“I am not determined of anything, your Majesty,” I was quick to promise.
“Apart from the vow I made to arrive to the place where our Lord suffered and was crucified and resurrected,” I added in a voice oozing devotion.
All of the materials that I had read on the Crusaders in recent days had, evidently, made an impact on me.
“Certainly, certainly,” Thibaut grew serious, the hint of a smile still hiding at the left edge of his mouth. “Lady Alice will certainly be most pleased to hear of the piety of her husband’s distant cousin.”
Jean sighed and shook his head lightly. I did not know how to react and just nodded my head slightly toward Thibaut.
“Your Highness, please,” said Jean, and I heard a pleading tone in his voice.
This must not have come easily to him. “My cousin has several important and personal bits of news about our family in Antioch, and I wish to devote some short time to her. After which, I shall join you, and we will discuss all the things that must not be delayed.”
“I’ll be dashed if you exchange even one word about your imaginary family in Antioch,” Thibaut said with a booming laugh. “But far be it from me to stand in the way of youth, springtime, passion …” he finished, placing his hand dramatically on his chest.
Jean smiled and nodded his head in gratitude.
“Don’t tarry long, young man,” said Thibaut in a more serious tone. “The fate of many men depends on what we are able or unable to accomplish.”
“I know, your Majesty,” Jean bowed his head. Intuitively, I rose from the armchair and bowed deeply.
“I am most grateful to you, your Majesty,” I said quietly, my eyes on the floor.