Chapter 21 #3
“What’s this?” Thibaut said aloud to Jean, casting glances at the knights and grinning. “Why does your cousin ride like a peasant woman?” A few of his companions chuckled, and Jean’s knights frowned. “Should I regret not adding a confessor to our party?” Thibaut added to the cheers of the others.
“This is the riding fashion among the ladies of Cilicia, your Royal Highness,” replied Jean, casting an encouraging look at me.
“As my cousin is used to this style, she felt ill at ease riding in the manner of our ladies, and I permitted her to ride as she wished.” I clenched my jaw so as not to smile at the word permitted.
Thibaut muttered something I did not catch, then clicked his tongue at his horse and broke once more into a light gallop.
His men continued after him. The Templar knights, careful not to look at me directly through their menacing helmets, joined them.
The villagers began walking. Jean’s men cocked their heads at him.
“Accompany his Royal Highness, men,” Jean said curtly and then turned to one of them and said, “Seigneur Amaury, you will be so kind as to stay within shouting distance. For whatever may be.” The man, who bore a faint resemblance to Hugh but, I thought to myself, was older and seemed nicer, nodded.
Jean’s men began galloping to catch up with Thibaut’s group, and Amaury opened at a swift trot. For the length of the trip, he remained more or less equidistant between us and Thibaut’s entourage.
“What could happen?” I asked Jean when we resumed trotting fast and steady. I tried to ask lightly.
“We are in relatively safe territory, Lady édith,” said Jean and looked at me, “but it is not entirely avoidable that the Saracens might attack our group.” He said this as one might say, “A rainstorm is not out of the question.”
“So, how do they typically attack? Charge with swords? Shoot arrows?” I tried to match his relaxed tone, but I surveyed the surroundings with increasing anxiety.
Jean chuckled. “Don’t look so concerned, my lady. You are riding with the most skilled warriors, and what’s more, there are four Templar knights riding with us. The chance of danger is very low—we are, after all, in the heart of the kingdom, and its boundaries are well guarded.”
He looked totally calm and not like someone who anticipated an attack at any moment.
I concentrated on the physical pleasure of the ride, even if I had the feeling that soon all of my muscles would be sore. I saw Jean smiling broadly at me.
“Is this really, truly your first time riding a horse, Lady édith?” he asked softly, still incredulous, as if both sympathetic and happy for me at the same time.
I nodded, and a laugh bubbled up through me.
I looked around—the figures of Thibaut and the rest looked small in the distance, and Seigneur Amaury was in “shouting distance.” I blew Jean a coquettish kiss.
He chuckled and shook his head, even as he reached out to stroke my arm.
Then, he pulled back and brought his eyes back to the road.
I sighed and resumed focus on the ride and the remarkable landscape all around us.
We stopped several times along the way: once in order to eat and drink and stretch our bones—Thibaut’s men supplied pies, roast chicken, cheese, bread, root vegetables, and fruit; another time because the Templars, who were riding up front most of the time, warned of a convoy in the distance.
Thibaut, Jean, and the knights surrounded me, and the Templar knights positioned themselves at the front.
It turned out to be a convoy of pilgrims from Normandy on their way from Acre to Jerusalem, three families jostled in oxcarts, themselves accompanied by three Templar knights and a priest. The Templar knights of the two groups whispered among themselves for a few minutes.
Then, everyone got down on their knees and prayed together under the direction of the priest, after which the whole group continued on its way.
On both stops, I tried as best I could not to stand out and sat modestly to the side, hoping my burning curiosity was not apparent.
I was hypnotized by the beauty along the road.
Blue, yellow, pink, and white flowers bloomed all along the desolate limestone hills.
I knew most of them, even if I couldn’t think of their names, apart from the sea lavender, which I would sometimes pick to put in a vase at home.
Now, too, I picked a few flowers for myself at the food stop.
The carob and acacia trees, turpentine and olive trees poked out here and there in stands, spreading their shade around them.
As we rode past small villages, some residents passed by, returning from the fields and plantations.
They always stopped by the side of the road and bowed their heads at the passing convoy.
After what seemed to me like hours of riding—I had entirely lost any sense of time—I could hardly sit straight anymore. I was twisted and sore when, crossing the road, we came upon the sight of a huge bay.
We passed by the ruins of a fortress in Haifa without stopping, and Jean told me that his wife’s father was Count of Haifa (he pronounced it “Caiphas”) in name only, as he possessed neither the resources nor the will to run a large estate.
Moreover, the fortress had been destroyed by Saladin at the end of the previous century and had not been rebuilt.
Acre was visible from the gateway to the Bay of Haifa.
We arrived there after sundown. The feeble light of dusk still dimly illuminated the huge city walls.
They were spectacular, surrounding the city all the way to the port.
The two iron wings of a large gate in the wall were wide open, with guards standing beside them, and when they saw our entourage, they let us enter immediately.
“A moment before closing!” one of the guards shouted congenially to us. I took in the sights. It was not at all similar to the Acre from my time, with which I was somewhat familiar.
A well-paved path led from the gate to large stone buildings that looked like palaces of several levels, with ornamented windows, porticoes, and turrets, and on the rooftops, flags bearing symbols that I could not make out in the deepening gloom.
Beyond them, the domes of farther churches and palaces could be seen, as well as smaller houses closer to the bay, where, in the last light of dusk, the ships anchored there were revealed.
Many people passed us by, and a steady hubbub rose up from the city, as did columns of smoke curling upward, while bells chimed here and there. I felt more exhilarated than when I had passed through the spring this morning, which felt like years ago.