Hawk Quest (92 page)
Vallon smiled. ‘You look like a queen.’
She hurried towards him. ‘Is it true that the Emir’s going to war?’
‘I need to talk privately.’
Caitlin gestured and the maids went out. She sat on a divan. Vallon remained standing.
‘Yes, the Emir’s mobilising his army. Alp Arslan is dead. Suleyman intends to take control of Rum while the Sultan’s rivals squabble over the succession.’
Caitlin patted the divan. ‘Sit beside me. Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry? You look tired.’
Bowls of fruit and vases of flowers stood on a table. Finely knotted silk carpets covered the floor.
Vallon sat and picked a grape from a bunch. He could smell Caitlin’s heady perfume.
‘I’ve heard so many rumours. One of my maids told me that the Emir had offered you a senior position in his army.’
Vallon popped the grape into his mouth. ‘It’s true. Captain of a hundred, with a grant of land and a house in Konya where trumpeters will serenade me each sunset.’
She eyed him uncertainly. ‘That’s wonderful. I’ve heard that Konya is a beautiful city, full of palaces.’
‘I turned it down.’
Her smoky green eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘Suleyman’s a Turk; I’m a Christian. Sooner or later the two faiths will clash and I don’t want to find myself fighting men who wear the cross.’
Caitlin let go of his hand. ‘So you still mean to join the Emperor’s guard?’
Vallon was sick of being asked what he would do. He’d spent the last year
doing.
What he wanted was time and space to think. He picked up an orange, turned it in his hands, put it back.
‘I didn’t come here to talk about my plans.’
‘
Our
plans. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.’
‘I’ll probably be posted overseas. I might not see you for years.’
‘I can wait.’
Vallon reached for her hand. ‘You told me a witch prophesied that a foreign prince would steal your heart. I’m not a prince. Suleyman is. The jewels you’re wearing come from him, not me.’
Caitlin pressed his hand to her lips. ‘I don’t want Suleyman. I want you.’
‘Come with me and you face years of lonely uncertainty. Stay here and become Suleyman’s wife—’
Caitlin slapped his face and jumped up. ‘Is he paying you to act as a pander?’
‘Caitlin—’
She rained blows on his head. He managed to grasp her hands. She toppled on to him and the next moment they were kissing.
Caitlin pulled her lips away. ‘I love you. How much more proof do you need?’
‘Hear me out. If you become Suleyman’s wife—’
‘One of twelve.’
‘And the most beautiful. Your son might be Emir one day, perhaps even Sultan.’
Caitlin shivered. ‘I’m not a brood mare. I want a husband who’ll cherish me as much as I cherish him. I know you’re that man.’
‘Suleyman offered me five pounds of gold if I left you here.’
Caitlin’s face turned white. ‘Five pounds of gold?’
‘Enough to buy a broad and fertile estate. I refused the offer. The choice must be yours.’
‘I’ve already made it.’
Vallon looked into her eyes. ‘Tomorrow, Hero and I are leaving alone. No, listen to me. We have one last piece of business to conclude. If we’re successful, it could make us richer than if I’d taken Suleyman’s gold.’
‘What business? Tell me.’
‘I can’t. If we find what we’re looking for, I’ll return for you the day after tomorrow. I promise.’
‘By then I’ll be in Konya.’
‘Then I’ll look for you in Konya.’
‘Once you’ve left, the Emir might hide me away. Let me come with you.’
‘No. It’s too risky.’ He rose.
‘What if you don’t find what you’re looking for?’
He was already walking towards the entrance. ‘While I’m gone, consider what’s best for your future.’
She rose in a rustle of silk. ‘Don’t go.’
‘I think it would be better if I did.’
An orange flew past his head. ‘Is that another of the Emir’s orders?’
Vallon stopped. ‘At our first audience, I told him we were lovers. I did it to protect you. He knows it’s a lie. Your maids spy on you.’
‘Then stay and make it true.’
He turned. A tear sparkled on Caitlin’s lashes. ‘Did you reject his gold because you set my value at nought? Do you hate me? Am I so repugnant? Are you so bound to chastity?’
‘No to all your questions.’
‘Then what do I have to do to persuade you?’
He took one step towards her.
Caitlin removed a layer of silk and let it fall. It floated down as light as a cobweb. ‘Is that enough or must I do more?’
Vallon’s throat pulsed.
Caitlin removed the second gossamer layer. ‘Still not enough?’
Vallon massaged his throat. ‘I’ll tell you when.’
She gave him a sharp look. ‘I’ve not done this for any other man.’
‘I imagine that in Iceland you tear off your homespun and dive under the fleeces before the frost can nip your tender parts.’
She laughed and discarded another veil. Beneath it she wore a gown so flimsy that he could see every curve and cranny against the lamplight. She slipped it from her shoulders and it slithered to the floor with a sigh and pooled around her feet. All she wore was a gold girdle with a jade pendant hanging below her navel. A gift from the Emir. Her hand felt for the clasp.
He took her in his arms. ‘Keep it on,’ he said, voice congested.
She lolled against him, ‘What was it you said about seeing me naked? “It was no hardship on the eyes.”’
Vallon buried his mouth in the hollow of her shoulder. ‘Forgive a rough and ready soldier. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
She led him into her bedchamber through curtains embroidered with
birds amid fruiting vines. Lamps flickered around her bed. She slipped under the cover and spread her arms and gave a long expiring sigh.
Vallon undressed and slid in beside her. He put his arm around her and she rested her face against his. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. He breathed in her fragrance and closed his eyes. It was like returning to a blissful place he thought he’d never visit again.
He murmured into the soft curve of her jaw. ‘I haven’t lain with a woman for three years.’
She sat up, her breasts jiggling. ‘Is there something wrong with you?’
Vallon closed his lips around her nipple. ‘The Moors don’t provide prisoners with women.’
‘Who was the last woman you made love to?’
‘My wife.’
She subsided on top of him. ‘Were you faithful to her?’
‘Why do women ask so many questions?’
‘Because we’re interested in the answers. So … were you faithful?’
‘I was.’
She wriggled up so she could see his face. ‘I don’t believe you. All those years campaigning and you never gave in to temptation?’
‘I must be a bloodless soul.’
She settled back and her hand crept down his belly, pausing on the scar, moving lower. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
He rolled her onto her back, raised himself up and looked down into her eyes. She looped her arms around his neck. ‘You’ll always be my prince,’ she said, and then gasped and arched her neck back as he entered.
He woke to utter stillness. The lamps around the bed burned without the slightest tremor and the drapes hung motionless. Wincing with the effort imposed by stealth, he extricated his arm from under Caitlin’s neck. She moaned and nuzzled her forearm. He dressed and stood looking down at her. He extended a hand towards her face, drew it back without touching. She sighed and slid an arm into the space he’d left. Was that sleep?
He nipped out the lamps by the bed, parted the curtain and crossed to her dressing table. Reaching into his tunic, he removed one of the bags of silver and placed it next to her shrine of powders and scents. He heard her turn over and he held his breath, wondering what he’d do if she called out. She gave a purring snore and he relaxed his lungs. He took a last look, then he left, stealing down the empty corridor and out into the hushed night. He stood for a moment, his face tilted to the firmament.
The Seljuks had all but cleared the site. A column of riders trotted away in a silent line to the east. Teams of menials were still working on the Emir’s pavilion, pulling down the antechambers. This time tomorrow it would stand proud in the centre of Konya.
The throne room was the last piece of the web still standing. Vallon asked one of the guards if he could speak to Suleyman and after a while Chinua appeared to escort him inside. Only half a dozen officers and advisors remained with the Emir. He waved them away when he saw Vallon.
‘You’ve changed your mind. Good.’
‘I’ve just come from Caitlin.’
Suleyman took his elbow and walked him out of earshot of his men. ‘From her bed.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes.’
Suleyman’s face tightened in a snarl. ‘You interrupt me fresh from your rut. I can smell her on you. I can smell you both. If you came here to rub my nose in it—’
‘I want Caitlin more than anything, but I know that love isn’t enough. I can’t provide for her in the way that you can, the way I know she wants. I’ve told her what advantages will fall her way if she stays and set them against my own poor prospects. I came here to confirm that I’ll keep my side of the bargain and to implore you to honour yours. I’ll be gone before she wakes, leaving her to reach a decision. I intend to return to hear what she’s decided the day after tomorrow. If she’s chosen you, so be it. If she wants to come with me, will you allow her to leave?’
Suleyman cast about as if he’d been accosted by a madman. ‘If you desire her, why don’t you just take her?’
‘I need to be sure it’s what she wants.’
‘If I didn’t know that you’d travelled through the wilderness of the
world, I’d call you a coward. Serve in my army and within two years you’ll have acquired enough wealth to keep four wives in luxury.’ Suleyman examined Vallon’s face. ‘I can’t make up my mind whether you’re a trickster or a fool.’ He flicked a hand against Vallon’s chest. ‘I’m too busy to waste any more time on the matter.’ He made a quick gesture to his guards. ‘If the woman wants to go, she can go. Now leave before you exhaust my patience.’
Hands fell on Vallon’s shoulders and propelled him out of the pavilion. Faruq’s voice followed him into the night. ‘Don’t impose on his Excellency again if you have any regard for your life.’
Vallon wandered through the camp in a daze of elation and apprehension. Suleyman’s elite troops sat in firelit circles, some holding the reins of their saddled horses. A few raised a hand as he passed. He paused outside his quarters. The sky to the east held the first grey light of day. He went in and felt his way to his bed.
‘No need to tread softly,’ Hero said. ‘I was too anxious to sleep.’
‘Don’t be. It’s nearly dawn. We’ll be off soon.’
Hero rose, placed kindling on the brazier and blew life into it. Vallon joined him close to the glow, firelight and shadows playing across their faces.
Hero broke the silence. ‘I’ve been thinking. If we don’t recover the gospel today, we won’t get another chance. Perhaps we could ask Wayland to collect it and bring it to us in Konya.’
‘I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way. He’s Suleyman’s man now.’
‘Did you spend the night with Caitlin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you tell her about the gospel? Is she coming with us?’
‘No. I told her that we were looking for something and that I’d come back tomorrow if we found it.’
‘Won’t Suleyman think it strange – you travelling to the tower and then returning?’
‘He won’t be here. He’ll have left on campaign.’
Wayland and Syth arrived with bread, cheese and olives as the first light of dawn showed through the weave. Watching Syth bustle about, Vallon remembered the night he’d ordered Wayland to put her ashore.
If the falconer had obeyed, how would things have turned out? At any stage, their course might have taken a different turn.
‘Sir?’
Syth bent towards him, holding out food, bobbing her head in her inimitable way. He reached up and caressed her cheek. ‘Ah, Syth, I’ll miss you.’ He smiled at Wayland. ‘Our last meal together. It’s good of you to rise so early.’
‘We didn’t want to miss your departure.’
‘We wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.’
Syth frowned. ‘Does Caitlin know you’re leaving?’
‘Yes. We’ve made an arrangement. I hope to return for her in a day’s time.’
‘Why can’t you take her with you today?’
Wayland shook his head at her in warning.
A coarse-featured Seljuk entered and announced that it was time to leave. They went out, the mountains rising blue against a sky of steel and violet. A troop of Seljuks galloped past, headed by Suleyman. He reined in hard, his stallion pawing the air, and waved his mace. Then he and his followers rode off in a dust cloud of their own making.
Four unfamiliar and shabbily outfitted Seljuks had been detailed to escort them to the border. Boke, their commander, could hardly speak a word of Arabic and seemed dull-witted. Their poor turn-out was encouraging, suggesting that Suleyman had lost interest in his guests.
Vallon collected his horse and walked it towards Wayland and Syth. ‘For now this is where we take our leave.’ He clasped Syth close.
Her wide eyes gazed up at him. ‘You will return for Caitlin, won’t you? She loves you. I know she does.’
‘And I love her.’
Vallon kissed her and separated himself with delicacy. He laid a hand on Wayland’s shoulder. ‘Who would have thought when we set out that you’d end up in the service of an Emir?’
‘I’d rather circumstances meant I remained in your service.’
‘You’ll be a father by next summer. You have no place with a vagrant soldier.’
‘All the same, it saddens me to think that we won’t meet again.’
‘We will.’
‘I don’t mean when you come back for Caitlin.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘Where then? When?’
Vallon swung up into the saddle. ‘Here or in the hereafter.’
Seams of sunlight were spreading across the plateau. Vallon consulted the weather-wise ring as he did before each day’s journeying. As part of the same routine, he twisted it on his finger. He frowned. ‘Here’s sorcery,’ he said, holding out the ring between thumb and forefinger. ‘It’s consented to loosen its grip now that our journey’s over.’
