Queen Of Knights (41 page)

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Valkyrie's call brought Gwendolyn awake instantly.  She sat up, throwing off her cover quickly, and grasping the sword.  The first bands of purple and pink were on the eastern horizon, and she saw that the day would soon be here.

It was the day she had been born for.  The day she was to meet destiny.  She was sitting in the center of a small valley that was ringed with high dunes.  The Arena of Souls was aptly named.  It looked like a depression within the desert: a perfect circle of brown and coral sand.  It was a fitting place for Eldwin to meet the challenge.

Gwendolyn lifted her sword and looked at the sleeping forms surrounding her.  Roweena slept within the comfort of a quilted covering, while Arthur and James slept upon mantles spread on the sandy earth.  The fire they had lighted the night before was gone; the horses were tied together twenty feet away.

They had ridden from Ascalon two days before and had stopped the first night in an oasis halfway to the Arena of Souls.  Arthur, James, and she had alternated watches so that they could get some sleep, and be rested for the next leg of the journey.  Throughout the ride, Valkyrie had flown ahead, returning occasionally without warnings of danger.

The night before, they had arrived at the Arena of Souls, and Gwendolyn had released Valkyrie to scout all around the area.  When he had returned, they made camp in the center of the valley so that if any approached they would have ample warning.

"Now, my friend," Gwendolyn whispered to Valkyrie.

Closing her eyes, she called upon the sword and drew an image of the eagle in her mind.  Even as the giant bird's wings pushed the air across her face, the sword came to life in her hands, and she touched the alienness of Valkyrie's mind.  Then she was seeing the earth grow small as Valkyrie rose.  Although the sky was not yet light, she could see clearly.  Valkyrie circled above the small encampment, and Gwendolyn could see herself and the silver sword.  The glow cast from the blade pulsated around her, enveloping her within its field.  Then the first edge of the sun rose above the dunes, and a ray of sunlight struck the sword.  Gwendolyn saw herself glow with a soft yellow light that covered not only her body, but the three others who slept nearby.

Find them.  Her command to Valkyrie was but her thoughts.  The golden eagle suddenly dove toward the desert floor, and Gwendolyn's breath caught at the speed.  The sands of the arena grew larger, as she flew above her own head.  Valkyrie turned and rose effortlessly, catching current after current until he was a mile above the earth.  Yet even that high, Gwendolyn could see everything perfectly.

In the distance was another encampment.  Gwendolyn knew that Saladin would be near.  She had needed to know how far away he was, and how much time she would have to get ready.  Now she knew.  The camp was coming to life under the rising sun.  There were twenty tents spread out below Valkyrie, and Gwendolyn counted at least a hundred men.

Find Miles, she directed.  Valkyrie descended swiftly and flew above the encampment.  Gwendolyn saw everything, but could not find Miles.  The eagle circled the camp, and Gwendolyn saw that many of the Saracen knights were looking at the eagle.

Suddenly Saladin emerged from a tent and followed a man's pointing finger.  Valkyrie circled a second time in his effort to find Miles.  Then Miles came out of a tent.  His arms were free, but a chain was around his waist.  Valkyrie gave vent to a chilling scream, and Miles looked up with a smile on his face.

Valkyrie rolled in the air and dove toward Miles's head.

The guard who was next to him fell to the ground, but Miles did not move.  Valkyrie passed three inches above Miles, his hair fluttering with the eagle's passing.

Valkyrie rolled again and circled above the Saracens.

Suddenly Gwendolyn saw one of the knights raise a double- curved bow, already notched with a shaft.  She screamed her warning to Valkyrie, but the eagle was in a fixed current.  She saw Miles move, his hand dipping into his surcoat.  Everything happened with the speed of light.  Miles's arm shot outward, and Valkyrie caught another current, twisting his body, and drawing in his wings.

A dagger flew through the air, striking the bowman's arm and drawing a scream of pain.  The shaft missed its mark and Valkyrie extended his wings again.

Everything happened swiftly.  Yet, Gwendolyn, far away, saw it all.  She watched as Miles's guard stood and yanked on her husband's chains.  She sat frozen, unable to help, when the guard took the free end of the chain, and using it like a whip, struck it across Miles's back.

But Valkyrie heard her anguish, and even as the guard drew back the chain again, he dove, his two-inch talons extended fully.  He struck the guard's neck, but did not try to hold.  Instead, his talons raked upwards along the man's neck and head, but he did not slow his flight.  A heartbeat later, Valkyrie was poised in the air, ready to dive again.

Gwendolyn stopped him with a powerful thought as she saw Saladin help Miles from the ground.  The injured guard was held by two others, and Saladin nodded to Valkyrie.

The giant eagle screamed once, and then Gwendolyn called him back.  A moment later, the sword's glow departed, and Gwendolyn opened her eyes.  Her breathing was forced and ragged, as if she'd already faced her enemy and had fought him physically.  But she forced what she witnessed from her mind and put down the sword.

Descending slowly, Valkyrie came to rest on the pommel of the sword.  His amber eyes locked on Gwendolyn's.  Thank you, my friend.

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Pandemonium reigned in Saladin's camp for several moments after the eagle had gone.  The bowman was being held by two others, as Saladin had ordered, and the guard who had whipped Miles with the chain was lying on the ground staring at the emir.  Two of Saladin's bodyguards held their scimitars at the hapless man's throat while Saladin supported Miles.

"You are like a magician," Saladin said, with a shake of his head.  "But instead of drawing jewels from the air, you find daggers to fling at my men."

Miles stared silently at Saladin.

"I believe I must thank your eagle.  For if it were not for him, I feel that blade would have sought yet another target." Saladin held Miles's gaze and smiled at him.  "Where did you get this one?"

"Does it matter?"

"I would hear it from your lips."

"So that I may condemn one of your people to death?"

"My word to you that it shall not happen."

"Your word?" The sarcasm within Miles's voice struck Saladin harshly.

"As Allah is my witness, and Muhammad his prophet, nothing shall befall the one who gave you the blade."

"Your word is meaningless.  You plan to kill me this day.  I will not have you do the same to the one who helped me."

"I admire you.  No harm shall come to Aliya."

"You do not know she was the one who aided me."

"There is no one else who would dare.  You inspire love and loyalty, Miles of England.  I would not destroy anyone who acted because of that, no matter how misguided."

"You are a man of many contradictions," Miles admitted.

"No, Miles, that is where you are wrong.  I have nothing to contradict.  What I say is law.  What I do is right.  I am the ruler of all I survey, and what I do, I do with the guidance of Allah."

"If my blade had reached the target it was meant for, would you still feel the same?"

Saladin laughed loudly and shook his head.  "Would I not be dead? How could I punish her then?"

"You amaze me," Miles said.  "And now what happens?"

"Everything," Saladin declared.  He turned and signaled two men forward, speaking so rapidly that Miles could not understand what he said.  A few minutes later a cart was brought to them.  The knights whom Saladin had spoken to grabbed Miles and carried him to it.  Three other men came to them, chains and manacles in their hands.

Then Miles knew what would happen.  He twisted his face to Saladin and stared at him, hatred pouring from his eyes.

"It must be this way," Saladin said with finality.

Two men held Miles while he fought against them, but he was no match for the five knights.  Several minutes later they were done, and Miles was suspended within the cart.  His wrists were manacled tightly, and he hung on outstretched arms from a beam above his head.  His ankles were likewise manacled and his legs were spread.  The chains holding them were attached to another beam on the base of the cart.

When he was secured, Saladin looked at him hanging between four lengths of chain.  "The dagger would have done you no good, Miles, be happy you found a use for it before it was too late."

Then Saladin clapped his hands.  Miles watched, ignoring the pain in his wrists, as the crowd surrounding Saladin parted.  Walking down the center of the parted crowd was the largest Saracen knight Miles had ever seen.  He wore only the split voluminous pants of his race, with a deep blue sash securing them.  His chest was a myriad of well-defined muscles, and his shoulders were wide spread and powerful.  The knight's neck was as thick as a small tree, and his shaven head gleamed under the morning sun.  In his hand he held a large scimitar, its curved length looking sharp and dangerous.

"This is al-Nasir.  He is our mightiest knight.  He has never been defeated in war, or in the arena.  Do you think your puny champion will defeat him?" asked Saladin.

Miles studied al-Nasir.  He was indeed the largest man he had ever seen.  Miles remembered, too, having seen this knight on the battlefield several times, but he was always on the far side, and they had never met.  Instead of answering Saladin, Miles merely smiled.

"Very well, we shall see." Turning abruptly, Saladin spoke to the grand vizier.  "Have the fifty men I have chosen follow when we crest the dunes.  Have them wait for the signal.  They are not to be seen until then."

"As you wish, Master of Life," Borka-al-Salu whispered.

"When you have given my orders, I would have you drive the wagon.  Only you, I, and the prisoner shall enter the Arena of Souls."

"Is that wise?"

"It is the only way.  We do not want to chase away the Frank knight and the woman.  They must believe the bargain to be as they see."

Borka-al-Salu nodded slowly, but he could not force away the feeling of wrongness from his mind.  He prayed to his God, but knew that his prayers would be wasted.  No matter what Saladin had said, the emir wanted the two knights dead and the woman in his harem.

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"It is time," Gwendolyn stated.  Her three companions stood silently.  Roweena lifted a jewel-encrusted coif and veil and placed it on her head.  She hoped the fine mesh would hide her features so that her image would not give Gwendolyn away.  Then she placed the golden rope that held Gwendolyn's Saracen dagger over the maille so that the rope would hold the veil in place.  The dagger's tip rested in the center of her breasts.

While she did this, James, acting as Gwendolyn's squire again, removed her tunic.  Gwendolyn stood naked in the center of the Arena of Souls and accepted the heated rays of the sun on her body.  Then James held out the only two pieces of clothing she would wear beneath her surcoat.  The padded breast bindings and loincloth.  She allowed him to put on the breast binds and then turned to give him easy access to secure it.  "Tighter," she said when he closed it the first time.  "No one must see the outline of my breasts beneath the surcoat." A moment later she was satisfied.  James then strapped the loincloth around her hips and secured it tightly.

"The boots," she said.  James lifted one of the kid boots and held it for Gwendolyn to step into.  The boots were important.  She must stay disguised, and her legs and feet might give her away.  She was permitted no armor, but nothing was said of coverings for feet, legs, and hands.

When both boots were on, and secured above her knees, she nodded again.  Arthur joined James, and together they began to wrap Gwendolyn's arms in thin lengths of cloth, binding her skin efficiently, and hiding its porcelain luster.  She would wear no gloves, but her arms, hands, and fingers would be bound and somewhat protected by the strips.

"A coif-de-maille?" James asked.

"No armor."

"It is wrong," Arthur stated when he handed James Gwendolyn's surcoat.  Together, they held it up so that Gwendolyn could step under it.  When it was settled on her shoulders, and her arms were free, she smiled at the twins.

"You have done so much more than was ever expected.  You have proven yourselves to be special.  Today marks a change in our lives.  James, before you place the mask over my head, give me my sword."

James did as he was bid, and when she was holding the blade, she looked first at James, and then at Arthur.  "James, son of Harold, squire of Eldwin, kneel.  Arthur," she called as she gazed at the other blonde-haired squire.  "Arthur, son of Harold, squire of Miles, Earl of Radstock, kneel."

When the twins were kneeling before her, she stepped back.  Closing her eyes, she invoked the power of the sword and raised it high.  A bolt of light shot from the tip of the silver blade, spreading outward, covering them like a cloud.  The blade was still glowing when she lowered it over their heads.

"By the powers given me as a knight of England, by Miles, Earl of Radstock, and by the hand of Richard I, King of England, I do hereby formally dub you a knight of the realm," she said as she lowered the blade and touched James with the triple dubbing of knighthood.  Then she stepped before Arthur.  "And you, Arthur," she said, slowly touching his shoulders solemnly with the sword and repeating the words she had spoken to James.