Chapter 21 #2
Several minutes passed until we heard galloping and saw a cloud of dust rising and then, what appeared at first glance to be a small army.
There were about fifteen riders, some in varying shades of Ibelin red and yellow, and others decorated with the light blue, silver, and gold of Champagne.
There were a few other colors that I did not recognize; maybe they had no meaning.
Among them were four Templar knights with lowered helmets and white cloaks with large red crosses on them that widened toward their edges, protected by chain mail from head to toe; their stately horses were armored too.
Four members of the party held the reins of additional horses, and a few moments later, a group of loaded mules appeared from behind, some of them ridden by villagers, and some of them roped to their companions.
Several of the villagers were wearing clothes that I recognized as Muslim: cotton djellabas, and their heads wrapped in light-colored cloths. But how could that be? I thought. After all, the Crusaders were the bitter enemies of the Muslims. I noted to myself to ask Jean about this later.
“Arsur!” called Thibaut as he stopped his beautiful black horse beside us.
He was dressed lavishly, his robe so blue that it was almost painful to look at, with silver and gold embroidery sewn into it.
He had a thin, golden crown on his head and looked utterly majestic.
I was overcome with paralyzing humility.
Cedrique and Brunette greeted each other, barking and sniffing.
Two more hunting dogs joined them, lowering their heads and wagging their tails.
“Your Majesty,” Jean bowed his head in respect.
“The fairy is here again?” he thundered.
Behind me, I felt Jean wince slightly, but he dryly replied, “Your Majesty, it is my wish that Cousin édith ride with us to Acre. I have mementos from my mother that I would like her to pass along to my sister.” He and Thibaut looked at each other for several moments.
Thibaut winked at me almost imperceptibly, then clapped Jean on the back.
“Certainly!” he declared loudly, and I saw some heads turning to look at him as they spoke among themselves. Thibaut went on in the same tone of proclamation, “Additionally, you found a pleasant way to spend the tedious hours of riding!”
Several of the knights smiled, and some of them returned to their conversations. I shot Jean a look that I hoped expressed both protest and amusement, and he gave me a subtle nod of reassurance.
“Your Royal Highness, you’re incorrigible,” Jean said, shaking his head at Thibaut with a tone of loving rebuke.
Thibaut approached on his horse and took my hand (I was gripping the horn of the saddle tightly in my other hand).
He kissed it with great ceremony, his beard and mustache tickling me, and looked up at me with a meaningful wink.
“My lady,” he said.
“Your Majesty.” I bowed my head humbly and, with the hand that he released, held the end of my dress. I did not dare let go of the saddle.
Jean got down off the horse with a graceful leap (I grabbed the saddle with both hands in response) and approached one of the other horses, a chestnut mare smaller than éclair, which one of his men was holding. Jean took the reins, and the youth bowed his head enthusiastically.
“Come here, Cousin,” he said to me as he brought the horse closer. “This is Rosette, my lovely mare. I brought her along to let her gallop a little and so that I could have a spare horse to alternate with, but she fits you perfectly.”
I was wondering how exactly I would dismount from éclair without completely humiliating myself in front of the group when strong hands gripped me, and only afterward did I understand that Thibaut, astride his horse, had lifted me and handed me to Jean, who caught me and set me down on the ground.
“Good God,” I mumbled. Seriously, so embarrassing. I must have blushed all over.
Jean gave Thibaut another look of reproach. “Thank you, your Royal Majesty,” he said grudgingly.
“My pleasure, my dear boy,” Thibaut thundered again, then said in a quieter voice, “Now, present your fair relative to the people.”
With the pleasant sensation that I already knew Jean’s manner well enough, I could tell that he was flustered by the instruction, but his voice and body language were lighthearted when he said, “Good people, allow me to introduce my cousin from my mother’s side, the Lady édith of Cilicia, daughter of the illustrious Baberon family.
She has traveled a great distance in order to make the pilgrimage to all the sacred places in the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
” The knights nodded their heads, and Jean introduced each one by name, most of which I forgot at once.
“Now, if we have concluded with the decorum,” said Thibaut a little pointedly, which struck me as unfair since it was he who had commanded Jean to make the introductions, “we shall continue on our way.”
Thibaut turned his horse around magnificently and then cried in a booming voice, “Onward, good men! By the grace of God!” He took off along the seaside road to the north, his companions and the Templars breaking into a gallop after him.
The group with the mules began to trudge along behind.
Cedrique and the other dogs joined the entourage, and Brunette’s eyes hung on Jean.
He must have somehow signaled to her that she had full freedom of movement, and she ran toward the pack.
A few of the knights remained at Jean’s side, waiting on their horses.
Jean helped me up to mount Rosette, whispering instructions in my ear at the same time.
The mare was calm and good-natured. I felt stupid sitting with both of my legs on one side instead of straddling the horse like a human being.
The saddle was designed for male riders, and I had to tense several muscles I didn’t know existed so as not to slip off.
Jean held Rosette’s reins at first, marching her back and forth (“You have to get used to each other”) and then gave them to me. I stared at him in horror.
Jean smiled, shook his head, and walked over to éclair, mounting him with an ease that looked like downright showing off.
He began at a fast clip and then picked up the pace, suddenly speeding away.
He clearly did not understand or was unable to conceive that I had never ridden a horse on my own.
Hugh joined him at once, as did another rider, then two.
I remained in my spot, beside two of Jean’s other companions, who were clearly embarrassed.
Finally, one of them pulled on Rosette’s reins, and she began to trot.
I gripped the saddle with both hands, trying to remain steady in this senseless position, until the man handed me the reins.
Immediately, he and his friend increased their pace and pressed ahead.
The mules and their riders looked at me, puzzled, and kept shuffling slowly forward.
The mare trotted at an easy pace, but I knew that any moment, I could fall off and crack my head. I pulled lightly on the reins, and the mare stopped calmly. I saw Jean trot back on his own.
“I told the others to join Thibaut,” he said as he neared. “All is well, my lady?”
“Not in the slightest!” I barked. One of the villagers turned around on his mule and at once turned back away from us. “I can’t ride like this!” I said more quietly. I did not look up at him.
I don’t have to keep going, my spring is right here, I told myself, and I can always go back.
“Lady édith, dear lady!” cried Jean. His voice was full of empathy and compassion, but it seemed as though he was actually holding back laughter.
I felt as though I would soon slip from the saddle, and instinctively, I raised my right leg and moved it to the other side so that I was sitting astride the horse.
I adjusted my position until I felt stable, and the mare let out a snort that I interpreted as agreement.
I resumed breathing. I could feel Rosette better beneath me now, patient but tense.
“Either I will ride like this, or I will go back to the spring,” I said, more resolved than threatening. “What do you say?”
Jean smiled broadly and ran his hand along the back of his neck.
“Are you able to gallop like that?” he asked, and I nodded without conviction.
He took a long breath and made a circle around Rosette with éclair, pulling the ends of my dress from every side so that they covered the ribbons that fastened the socks to my legs.
Jean raised his head, looking around for a moment—it was just the two of us, still several meters from the junction; even the mules had already put some distance between us—and kissed me tenderly.
Even in my new position, I nearly succumbed to pleasure and slid off the mare.
He moved away, squinted and scanned me, smiled, and said, “Onward,” urging his horse ahead.
I stuck my feet lightly into the mare—it came totally naturally; evidently my subconscious had absorbed something from all the movies I’d seen—and Rosette began to walk.
After a few meters, I squeezed the horse again, a little harder this time, and she began to trot.
Jean d’Ibelin, Count of Arsur, and I rode alongside each other.
The wind blew around me, and I removed the delicate uppermost piece of the head covering and tucked it into my bag so it wouldn’t fly away.
My butt thumped along wildly, but I felt supreme pleasure at the mastering of this basic skill—riding a horse without falling off.
Not a few minutes had passed, and we saw the main group in the distance, with the mules bringing up the rear.
Thibaut waved as we approached, and when we stopped, he scanned me in exaggerated wonder and then gaped at Jean. A few of the younger knights chuckled among themselves. I assumed my most confident, arrogant face befitting a lady.