Beloved Pilgrim (22 page)

Elisabeth accepted the pipe's mouthpiece and
sucked while her host clapped his hands and ordered his servant to
bring in the food. She coughed. "If the water takes out the bite, I
hate to taste it without the filtering."

The older man reassured, "One gets used to
it. Take the smoke into your lungs and hold it there for a while.
That hastens the effect."

"And what is that effect?" she asked, taking
in a deep breath and holding it longer.

"Not unlike inebriation, and like
inebriation, its impact depends on the quantity you take in."

The servants came in with platters and bowls
of what seemed as rich a variety of delicacies as the Basileus's
great reception. Andronikos had them put the dishes on a low table
placed in front of the two reclining on the pillows. "Have some
oysters," the eunuch suggested.

Elisabeth reached into the plate and picked
out an oyster that simmered in a rich garlicky sauce and popped one
of them into her mouth. Andronikos did the same, looking into her
face as he bit his oyster in half, ate the rest and sensually
licked the sauce from his lips.

"I thank you, your Excellency, for your
generosity in providing me and my servant such a magnificent
lodging."

Andronikos proffered different bowls and
platters, and asked, "And you are being served well, my lord, by my
own servants?"

She nodded vigorously. Around a mouthful of
rice and fruit wrapped in a dark green leaf and cooked, she said
"Indeed, most satisfactory."

"And the girl. She pleases you?"

Elisabeth looked up sharply. Blushing, she
said, "Maliha? Well enough, my lord. I have not had much for her to
do. She is willing enough."

The older man looked down as if trying to
think how to say something. "You do not take her to your bed?"

Elisabeth reddened further. Telling herself
it might be a proper question for a host in this part of the world,
she counseled herself to calm. "M-my lord, no. It is not necessary.
I have no need of that . . . her."

A pleased smile spirited across the eunuch's
lips. "If there is anything at all you require, my lord, do not
hesitate to ask."

"I did ask the young woman to make herself
known and wait for invitation to enter the chamber. I should like
all the servants to do the same," she asserted.

"I shall make it known. Never fear. Now let
us enjoy this modest fare so we can relax and . . . talk . . .
after."

The meal was pleasing but did not leave one
over-full. The older man continued to press wine and the hookah on
Elisabeth. Though the air in the tent was not hot, it was warm and
fragrant. She took her cup and leaned back on the cushions, feeling
more than a little somnolent.

"My lord, may I call you Elias? I insist you
call me by my given name." The eunuch said softly.

"But of course, Andronikos," she replied and
toasted him with wine.

Andronikos smiled and gazed up at the roof of
the tent. The sun was creeping behind a thick tree, muting the
light within. "In Germany, in your home, did you have a
betrothed?"

"I did. I left . . . her behind."

"Did you have anyone . . . special? Besides
her, of course."

Elisabeth thought about Elias. "There was one
. . . fellow, like a brother to me, really."

"A brother?"

"Yes, very much like a brother. He is no
longer with us."

"You mean he left the pilgrimage?"

"No." Her voice trailed off. "He passed on.
He died."

Andronikos lifted himself on his elbow and
leaned closer. "Oh my dear, how sad. I grieve for his loss, for
your loss."

Elisabeth smiled gratefully. "I miss him
terribly. So does Albre . . . so does my squire."

Andronikos's eyebrows lifted. "So?"

Elisabeth closed her eyes. A languor had
stolen over her. She thought she might drift off, but lacked the
volition to fight it. She felt the older man shift on the cushions.
All at once, he was lying lightly on her, his arms on the cushions
on either side of her waist. Her eyes shot open to find the man's
face inches from her own. His eyes were so full of longing that it
took her breath away.

"Andronikos!" she breathed when she could
speak again. The languor, the sensuality of the food, the drink,
the scented air, the muted light and soft pillows made her want to
let the man sink down into her.

"My sweet, do not fear. I know the truth,
your secret. It is safe with me." He lifted his hand and stroked
her cheek. "So soft, so smooth."

"You know? How can you know?"

Andronikos reached his hand to her throat and
caressed it, letting his finger slip under the collar of her tunic.
"I sense it. If you know what to look for, it is easy to see."

She glanced down at her tunic to see if her
breasts were defying the cloth that bound them. "Ah," she
sighed.

He let his lips just brush hers. "So sweet.
So fair. I have never seen a man so seductively soft yet fully a
man." He stopped astonished as Elisabeth jerked and pushed him
away.

"No, no, you don't understand. I am not . . .
you are not . . . I can't!" She had lifted one knee to push herself
with her heel and barely missed kneeing the man in his groin. She
felt the stiffness there. "I am sorry. You are such a good-looking
man. It's just . . . "

Andronikos, his eyes lowered and a sardonic
smile on his lips, pulled himself to a sitting position. "No, no,
my lord, do not apologize. It is for me to do so. I misread the
signals, I am sorry. I hope you will not despise me now."

Elisabeth sat up and shifted to her knees.
Her head was still fuzzy, but the sudden awareness was bringing her
back to her senses. "No, no, I shall not despise you. I never
would. Love is love. Pleasure is pleasure. I don't care what anyone
says. It's just that you and I are not . . . "

The man's chin lifted and he smiled ruefully.
"Meant to be?" he suggested.

She gazed at him. "That's it. We were not
meant to be. But . . . " She smiled. "It is not without some
regret, your Excellency."

His eyes reflected relief and gratitude. He
started to his feet. "I thank you, young lord, for your excellent
company. Now I must beg your leave. I am afraid I have an
appointment."

Elisabeth sprang to her own feet and bowed.
"I understand. Thank you as well for this lovely afternoon and the
succulent supper." She backed away, while Andronikos looked
regretfully after her.

Outside the pavilion the eunuch's servant
gave her one wondering look, then fell back into inscrutability.
She glanced at him, mumbled something, and made her way quickly
into the villa.

For the rest of that day and much of the
next, Elisabeth had little time to dwell on the awkwardness of any
encounters with Andronikos.

The honey-eyed woman did not appear that same
evening nor in the morning. Elisabeth realized she had not seen her
anywhere. She found herself looking for Maliha as she moved through
the house, longing to catch a glimpse of her.

"Where is the woman who was serving me, you
know, Maliha?" she finally asked the man who seemed to be a sort of
chamberlain to Andronikos.

"Who, my lord? Oh, the half-Turkish woman? We
let her go. She was not working out in the house."

"You did what?" she cried. "Why?"

The man looked annoyed. Pulling himself up to
his full height, he replied in a dignified way, "She did not fit.
She had no understanding of what was required of her. You yourself
said . . . "

"I said nothing of the kind. Where did she
go?" Elisabeth was frantic. She felt responsible for the young
woman's departure. "Where does she live?"

The man pressed his thin lips tight together.
"I am sure I do not know."

Growing ever angrier and more frustrated,
Elisabeth put her hand to where her sword would normally be. The
fact that it was in her chamber just fueled her irritation. She
glanced about. "I shall speak to your master about your
insolence!"

The manservant's face paled. "Please, my
lord, do not. I can only tell you that the girl must live outside
the city walls. Turks are not allowed to live within unless they
have some employment with a Greek household."

"But she's only half Turkish!"

The man's lips curled almost imperceptibly.
"Is she? That is what they all claim."

Elisabeth moved close to the man to use her
superior height to intimidate him. "Has it ever occurred to you
that there are lots of children in this city who are the product of
Greek cocks not caring where they leave their seed?" She stood
glaring and breathing hard on the man whose face was still pale and
averted. "Where do I find the Turkish sector?"

The man tried to ease away. She stepped
forward to keep her face above his. "Your Excellency, you should go
to the Gate of St. Romanus and ask there. It is just outside. Ask
for the street of the laundresses."

"And where might that gate be?" she
demanded.

"North and west. On the other side of the
city. Ask anyone on the street. But, my lord, you will have to go
through some rough sectors. Stay on the main avenue."

Her lower lip thrust out menacingly,
Elisabeth stared into his face a few moments, then stepped back.
Without another glance or sound, she spun on her heel and dashed to
her own chamber.

When she arrived she remembered that Albrecht
was out arranging for provisions. She would have to go alone. She
found her coat of chain mail and her belt, sheath and sword. She
struggled into the coat and belted her sword atop her crusader's
tabard. Without a word to anyone, she hurried out of the house,
stood looking up and down the wide street with its rows of villas,
and turned to the west.

Elisabeth's long strides helped to make up
for the fact that she was unsure how to get to the gate. That and
the fact that at the sight of chain mail and a sword on a knight
who looked fit to kill opened a path before her as she went. She
did not look at the buildings as she threaded her way, so she did
not notice the change from marble halls to rickety wooden
tenements. Instead of more or less clean cobbled-streets the way
was muddy. During the first part of her journey, people she passed
were in various dress, from elegant to modest but neat. Here the
people she passed became ragged and dirty and their demeanor
hostile. She did not know how close she came to being pounced upon
by a gang of youths. It was only her determination that made them
fall back, that and the guards at the gate.

One of those let his spear slant away from
his armored body to block her way.

"Stand aside. I have business without,"
Elisabeth demanded, her hand now on the hilt of her sword.

"Not so fast, my lord. You must state your
business," the man demanded as firmly. He spoke in Frankish, just
understandable to Elisabeth.

She pulled her sword out of its sheath an
inch but thought better of it. Letting it slide back home, she
relaxed. "I seek a woman in the Turkish sector."

The guard's eyebrow shot up. "If you desire a
woman, there are cleaner women in the city."

"I don't desire a woman. I seek one woman in
particular. Her name is Maliha."

Grinning, the man scoffed, "I don't know
their names!"

Elisabeth remembered what the manservant
said. "Show me to the street of the laundresses." She felt in her
pouch for a coin. Of the three she found, she proffered the silver
one.

The guard stared at her for a few moments. He
nodded slowly, took the coin, and walked her to the wicket in the
gate. "I will need your name, my lord."

"The Ritter Elias von Winterkirche," she
stated haughtily.

The guard made her repeat it twice, then as
she went through the open gate called after her, "Be careful. These
hell-spawn would just as soon slit your gullet as look at you."

Elisabeth did not look back but headed in the
direction the man had pointed. If the slum in the city was bad, the
makeshift shanties were foul. There was barely room for one person
to pass down the streets. Naked children, many with sores, stood
with huge bellies staring empty-eyed at her as she went by. Their
lassitude was such that they did not even stretch out their arms to
beg. She strode down the passageways, keeping her eyes moving from
straight ahead to dart up and over to guard against ambush. She
heard women's voices up ahead and the splashing of water and slap
of wet cloth. She all but ran the rest of the way.

When she emerged into a small wide area with
a circular well surrounded by women who were soaked themselves with
dirty water, she stopped and looked around. One woman dropped a
heavy pile of wet clothing in the mud and screamed. The others
whirled and seeing a Frankish knight in their midst they too began
to scream, to snatch up children, and to back away.

"Where can I find Maliha?" Elisabeth
shouted.

The women stood clumped together staring,
some weeping.

Elisabeth frantically surveyed them. "Maliha?
Where can I find Maliha?"

"I am here," came a familiar voice from the
door to a slanting shack. "What the hell do you think coming
here?"

Elisabeth shot her eyes toward the sound.
"Maliha! There you are! I came to find you!"

"Why? What would you want with me?"

The honey-colored eyes glared at her, full of
affronted pride. If Elisabeth had despised the meekness and
subservience, her heart pounded at the defiance and fire in those
eyes. Her jaw dropped, she felt heat rise in her body, starting in
her belly and creeping up. She strode to the woman. "Where can we
be alone?" she spat through her teeth.

The honey eyes burned into her dark angry
ones. They darted to the other women who were now chattering among
themselves. "Come in here, away from those hens." Maliha led her
through the flap over the entry and into darkness.