Queen Of Knights (31 page)

"What price did you pay Morgan to be your spy?" The question was spoken in a low voice, but Miles was aware of the Moor's sudden flash of anger.

"That price was you.  I have already said as much.  I have no further dealings with that man!"

"If you hate him so, why do you not offer me for ransom?"

"Miles of England, I have told you on more than one occasion that I respect you.  And I have also told you that my word is sacred.  I cannot release you, no matter what the circumstance.  Yet," Saladin whispered in a faraway voice that brought Miles's nerves to the screaming point, "there is one other way.  Take up the true faith.  Join with me completely, and I promise you a rich and full life.  I will not ask you to fight your own.  I would but have you join the highest ranks of my counsel.  I respect and admire you, Miles of England, and would welcome you at my side and in my family.  Join me so that you may be free."

A hush had swept across the chamber.  The music had stopped, and not a single person moved.  Saladin's words echoed from the stone walls, and everyone—slave, petitioners, and advisors waited to hear the Frankish knight's answer.

Miles was aware of the great honor Saladin was offering him, but knew that anything less than freedom to do as he chose would be unthinkable.

"We are too different, you and I.  Perhaps if we had met at a different time, a different place.  But we are too different."

"I offer you power and wealth, and the knowledge you are not a prisoner.  I have treated you as an honored guest since the moment of your capture.  I do not take kindly to your arrogant and foolish dismissal of my offer!"

"Then treat me as a prisoner, not as a guest.  For I have asked for nothing more!" Miles anger flared heatedly and he stood, his entire body shaking.

"Be careful, Frank," Saladin said in a low voice.

"I fear not for my life, oh Master of Deceit!" With that, Miles spun and walked away.  He did not see the signal Saladin flashed to stop his bodyguard from drawing the scimitar and striking Miles dead.  Saladin knew the English knight cared not what happened to him, but Saladin himself did.  Honor was important.  And the price he had to pay in order to keep his word to the Frankish knight who had aided him was a festering sore within his mind.

"It is as I said.  You have made a bargain with the spawn of the devil," Borka-al-Salu whispered.

"Yet I must see it through.  I will give our prisoner his wish.  Have the Englishman prepared for battle.  It will anger Richard to see his knight humiliated before him."

The grand vizier nodded his acceptance of his ruler's words, but he did not fail to see the look that Saladin tried to hide.  Although he would hold Miles up to humiliation before Richard, he knew Saladin did not like doing so.  But this was a war that must be fought, and any method affording a victory must be employed.

<><><>

Two days later, the battle for Jerusalem was joined.  Saladin was well-prepared for the fight and, acting the astute general he was, had deployed three thousand troops to the rocky hills outside of the walled city.  Richard, with his thousands of men, had planned well, too, but his plans called for a different battle.

He had planned to lay siege to the city, attacking it constantly, until Saladin would be forced to negotiate a surrender.

Richard, having received more messages from home, was chafing at his inability to end this crusade.  He was needed at home if he were to maintain his kingdom.  He, thus, made the fatal mistake of not being prepared for every contingency.

Before the Christian army reached the walls of Jerusalem, Saladin, leading two thousand men, met him on the hill before the walled city.  They fought fiercely; arrows covered the sky like a dark blanket.  Longsword and scimitar met, lance and spear found the weaknesses in the armor, and the cries of the wounded mingled with the screams of the dying.

Yet the battle went on, and Richard's army pushed forward until they were at the very gates of the city.  It was then that one of the knights yelled to Richard, his sword pointing to the top of the white stone wall.  Richard paused to look up, and what he saw froze him to the spot.  Tied to a wooden cross suspended from the wall was Miles Delong.  The Earl of Radstock was naked, his long dark hair blown about by the cold wind.  A terrible rage filled Richard, his blood burning hotly, and his mind turned black with anger and humiliation for his friend.  At first he thought Miles dead, but a bare second later, he saw Miles's lips move.

He then realized what the knight was mouthing.  Retreat!

Whirling his mount, Richard looked at the hills.  In that moment he saw thousands of mounted Saracens charging toward him.

He turned back to Miles, sadness washing through him for his friend, and lifted his sword high in salute before ordering a retreat.  The Christian knights fought well, but with the addition of the new Saracen cavalry, there was no chance for victory.  Richard's army had been defeated, and he withdrew as quickly as possible.

Miles watched his king leave, ignoring the pain in his wrists as well as the cold winds that whipped across his body.  He had done something to help Richard, although he was a prisoner.

Yet the shame of what had happened this day would spread, and it added yet another item to the long list that Morgan would one day pay for.

Chapter Twenty

A
mile outside of Ascalon, the site of Richard's winter encampment, three riders sped across the sandy ground.  A hooded knight led two squires toward the gates of the fortified city that Richard was now using as his headquarters.  As she pushed the mounts onward, Gwendolyn breathed deeply of the hot, arid air and readied herself for the next step of her plan.

It had been three months since she'd left Portsmouth.

Three months of chafing at the inactivity of life on board ship.  Three months of impatience to be in the Holy Land and be close to her husband.

Her journey to Palestine had been the hard undertaking she had expected.  The complications of being two people had taken its toll on her, but the deception of Gwendolyn and Eldwin had been the easiest part.  The hardest had been getting the ship's captain to sail in the middle of the winter and go directly to the Holy Land.  The costs had been extraordinary, but a combination of King Richard's authority that Arthur had brought with him, a huge payment of gold, and the fierce threats from the Duke of Devonshire had convinced the ship's captain that sailing in winter was far more agreeable than dying on land, in a cold, damp dungeon.

To ease the minds of the curious, Gwendolyn had sent James ahead, supposedly accompanying Eldwin to Portsmouth to arrange for transportation.  This way she was able to ride openly with her knights, going first to Kildrake, where her grandfather and his knights joined them on the final leg of the journey.

For most of the journey, the men of Radstock were sick from the heavy swells of the sea, and few questioned the whereabouts of Eldwin.  Only Gwendolyn seemed unaffected by the journey, and all who saw her saw only her impatience and determination.  And both, the knights she had brought with her, and the men who manned the ship, wondered at the sight of the Lady Delong and her golden eagle, Valkyrie, who, like its mistress, seemed unaffected by the ocean voyage.

By the time they reached Jaffa it was April.  The weather had calmed, and the air had grown hot.  They stayed in Jaffa only a day before leaving for Ascalon.  It was in Jaffa that Gwendolyn purchased the Moorish conveyance that would protect her identity.  It was a wooden-wheeled carrier, supported by two horses, and completely encased by layers of diaphanous material.  All that could be seen were the shapes within it, and Roweena became Gwendolyn once again.  Aiding her disguise, Valkyrie rode behind the curtains, too.

When Eldwin, with Arthur and James, rode ahead, she pushed the horses to the edge of their ability, and when the sun began to burn down fiercely, she called a halt.

In the desert-like country, with none around to see, Gwendolyn took off the mask of Eldwin, and ordered James and Arthur to stand guard.  Then she drew her silver sword and sank to the sandy ground.

She closed her eyes, and moments later let the trance take her.  The silver sword came alive, and its surging power flooded her every sense.  Then, opening the channel in her mind, she built within it a picture of Miles.  Concentrating on this, she formed a simple message and, building up a sphere of energy, she sent it surging heavenward.

A moment later the sword lost its glow and Gwendolyn opened her eyes.  She knew that at that instant, Miles had heard the message: "I am here!"

After that, the three riders continued on to Ascalon to put into full effect the plan that she, James, and Arthur had devised during the long journey from England to the sandy land of Palestine.

They stopped at the gate of the city, and James called out their identification.  A moment later the gate opened, and the three rode in.  Sir Eldwin was met with cries of welcome, and dismounted in front of a line of knights headed by Hugo.

"We welcome you to our ranks," he declared, grasping Eldwin's gauntleted hand in his.

James stepped forward to speak for Eldwin.  "My lord would speak with the king."

"And he shall," came the shout from behind the knights.

Richard, wearing only his surcoat, stepped forward.  Eldwin, James, and Arthur went to their knees before the king, but Richard clasped Eldwin's shoulder and ordered the knight to rise.

"I see you have heard of Miles's capture."

"As I promised, Your Majesty, I have brought Sir Eldwin," Arthur stated.

"Have you no other knights?" he asked.

This time it was James who spoke.  "Twenty-five knights are coming with the Lady Gwendolyn."

"What!" roared Richard, his eyes glaring fiercely not at James or Eldwin, but at Arthur.  "I gave you our permission to seek the aid of Eldwin and the other knights.  I said nothing about bringing your mistress."

"Sire, we could not stop her, not even the duke was able to hold her back," whispered Arthur.

"This is madness.  She does not belong here." Richard shook his head and issued orders that rooms be prepared for the Lady Delong.  Only then did Richard gaze at the masked face of Eldwin.  "There is much I would tell you about the earl.  Come with me," he ordered.

Eldwin motioned James to join them.  As they followed Richard, Arthur went to see about their quarters.  Inside the king's rooms, Richard waved Eldwin to a seat.  But Richard himself did not sit; instead, he paced back and forth while he explained what had befallen Miles, and the ensuing battles with Saladin.  When he finished, he stared directly at Eldwin.

"And you would find a way to free the earl?"

Eldwin nodded her head and signaled James.  The night before, Gwendolyn had written a missive to Richard, stating that Sir Eldwin and all the knights she had brought with her were at his disposal until the time came to free Miles.

James removed a scroll from the pouch on his side and handed it to Richard.  A moment later Richard spoke again.

"I do not know how you plan to accomplish your mission, but until you do, I will be glad to have you at my side in battle.  You will take Miles's place on my right.  I will also accept your mistress's wishes and make sure that no man disturbs her peace."

Eldwin rose and bowed to Richard, signifying acceptance of the king's wishes.  Before she left, Richard called out again.  "Tell your mistress I would join her for the evening meal." With that, Eldwin and James left and went directly to the rooms that were being prepared.

Once the servants and slaves had left them, James undressed Gwendolyn, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Everything is as you said it would be."

"So far, James, but we still have much to do.  Arthur, what have you heard?"

Arthur detailed what he'd learned, including the Christmas battle at Jerusalem, and Miles's humiliation upon the walls.  But as for Sir Morgan, he was not around.

"He will be when he hears I have arrived," she stated.  An hour later, the rest of her party arrived, and, in the privacy of the bedchamber, Roweena dressed Gwendolyn for the king's visit.

When Richard arrived, the room was ready, and a meal laid out.  Gwendolyn bowed before Richard, but he pulled her quickly to her feet.  "We are in private, Madame, and I would be treated as a friend, not a king."

"As you desire," Gwendolyn acceded, guiding Richard to his seat.

"My heart is heavy with the loss of your husband."

"He is not dead, Sire, but a prisoner." Her flashing eyes were enough to make Richard nod his head in agreement.

"Yet he is still lost to us.  I thought his squire made it clear that Saladin refuses to ransom him."

"But he is alive.  As long as he breathes, there is hope."

"You are a good woman, but you should not have come.

This is no place for a woman of your breeding."

"Breeding?" Gwendolyn laughed at Richard's words, but saw a frown crease his brow.  "Know you not of my breeding? I am bastard born."

"As are many," Richard said quickly.  "I speak not of your birth, but of your carriage and your bravery."

"I apologize, my lord."

"You are forgiven."

"Sire, when will you meet the enemy again?"

"Word is that Saladin is gathering his army for a new assault against us.  I expect it to happen within the week."

"Then my arrival is timely, for Eldwin and the other knights will help you."

"That is so.  Philip's French troops have all but deserted.

Those who remain are but a handful.  Our losses have been heavy, but I sense a victory soon."

"Eldwin and my knights are totally at your disposal until such time as we can free my husband."

"If at all."

"It will happen, Sire."

"I pray.  Now, tell me what is happening in England during my absence."

Gwendolyn told him of the unrest, and of John's machinations to secure the ascension to the throne.  She did not spare herself of what she had been forced to pledge, but told Richard that Miles would release her from it when he returned.

"I understand and do not hold you responsible.  My brother is a greedy fool and will pay for it when I return."

By the time they finished talking, three hours had quickly passed.  After Richard left, Gwendolyn retired to her bedchamber.

There, she sat on the floor, the silver sword resting in her hand, and let herself fall into the trance of knowledge.  She opened her mind channel, and let the purity of the light fill her.  She willed her mind free from her body and soon floated in the plane above the earth, drawing peace and comfort from the otherworldly spirits, joining them in their ceaseless wanderings within the heavens.

"Soon, my child," came the soft voice of the priestess.

"Soon, Miles," she whispered in response.

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Morgan was in foul temper when he returned to Ascalon.

He had been sent out three days ago by Richard to see what Saladin's army was planning.  He had seen that the Moors were preparing for a battle and knew that he would be fighting again soon.

But that had only given him pleasure.  Morgan loved fighting and loved the feelings of exaltation that went with it.  No, his mood had darkened after he entered the walls of Ascalon and learned of the newcomers.

Eldwin was here, and with him, Gwendolyn.  Passion built within him, stimulated by the unattainable desire which had gone unsated for too many years.  He had never hoped to have her so soon and felt himself grow eager to see her.

It was midday, and his first obligation was to report to Richard.  When that was done, he returned to his rooms, and to the men who waited there.

"You know where she is?"

"In the north section, near Richard's chambers."

"Good.  I will go there tonight."

"Three knights stand guard before her chambers.  None are allowed to see her without an invitation," said one of his men.

"Do you think them enough to stop me?"

"The king has ordered that no one attend Lady Delong without her permission.  All have been instructed."

"Damn her!" Morgan spat.  "Give me quill and vellum." Ten minutes later, Morgan's squire took his message across the town and handed it to one of Gwendolyn's guards.

In the meanwhile, Morgan had dismissed his men and called for a slave to bathe him.  The Moorish habit of bathing after several days of riding had been taken up by many, but Morgan's reason was far different from most.  He cared little for the bath, but enjoyed the hands of the slave women who washed him.

And this day was no different.  The woman who entered, a Moslem slave he had bought a month before, looked at him without fright.  The one thing Morgan had found different in the east was the fatalistic acceptance the women lived by.  There was nothing he could do to them that would bring a protest from their mouths.

But although they were there for him, and he satisfied himself whenever he felt the urge, he missed the milky skin of the women of England.

Sitting in the tiled bath, Morgan let the girl wash him, closing his eyes when her hands began to play with his limp organ.  But even as she did, thoughts of Gwendolyn rose to taunt him.  He laughed harshly, and the slave girl drew away.  Instantly his hand caught her wrist in a cruel grip, forcing it back to fondle the bulging sacks of skin.

Morgan was pleased with himself.  Delong was a prisoner of Saladin and would never bother him again.  And Gwendolyn would soon be his, too.  Only one thing prevented that right now: Eldwin.

Just the thought of Eldwin brought rage surfacing madly in Morgan's mind.  He would kill the faceless bastard before he was finished in Palestine.  Perhaps in the coming battle.  It would be easy.  No one would know where the knight's death came from, but it would be done.

His thoughts brightened his mind and fed his desire.

"Enough!" he yelled.  Standing, he grabbed the girl's hair and drew her with him.  When they were on the carpet covered floor, he threw her down, yet did not release his hold on her hair.  From her knees, she looked up at him.

His now engorged member arched near her face, its swollen red tip throbbing angrily.  Slowly, he forced her face to it and pressed it against her lips.  A moment later he was engulfed in her mouth.  Then both his hands were twisted in her hair, forcing her head to move back and forth in complete obeisance to his desires.