Warrior's Song (32 page)

    The heat and smoke were choking her, and she whipped about. She grabbed the thick embroidered cloth that had fallen from the small table, clutched it about her, and lunged toward the veiled entrance of the chamber.

    The roaring flames blazed over her head, spreading across the roof with amazing speed. She crouched over in the dense smoke, pressing the edge of the cloth against her face, and struggled forward. She heard women screaming, saw shadows of men running toward the entrance. She dashed past two of al-Afdal's soldiers, but they paid her no heed. They were rushing back to his chamber, intent upon saving their master.

    She fell forward onto her knees in the cool night. For a moment, she could not move as she gulped in the clean night air. Even outside the crumbling tent, she could feel the raging heat gushing outward. She struggled to her feet and looked wildly about her. Frenzied horses were screaming at the towering flames, and Saracen men and women ran past her, intent upon saving themselves and their belongings.

    She had to find Graelam. She looked back at the blazing tent, but remembered that al-Afdal had ordered him taken to Munza's tent. The flames were leaping from the tent roof, orange embers and burning swatches of cloth falling onto the smaller tents around it.

    "Graelam!" She yelled out his name as she rushed from one tent to another until her voice was a hoarse whisper. Saracen men slammed into her, but paid her no attention. She pulled back the flap of an outer tent and rushed inside, Graelam's name on her lips. She found him there, struggling frantically against the ropes.

    He saw her, a white apparition, and a strange laugh broke from his throat. "By Christ's blood, Chandra, I should have known that it would be you to bring the heathen to their knees."

    She dropped down beside him and quickly unfastened the knots on the rope that bound him. When his arms were free, he worked at the knots at his ankles.

    He jumped to his feet, then stood a moment, staring down at her. "Thank you," he said. "Now, I do not wish to join the devil in a heathen camp."

    "The horses— they are behind this tent. Hurry, hurry."

    They both whirled about at a cry of rage. Munza stood in the entrance, his eyes burning red from the flames, his scimitar raised. "You," he yelled at her. "You have killed my master." He lunged forward, readying his scimitar to strike her.

    Graelam flung Chandra out of the way. She lurched to her feet, grabbing a clay pot that lay on the earthen floor.

    "No!" she screamed, bringing Munza's eyes toward her. She flung the pot at his chest. As Munza stumbled backward, Graelam lunged at him, his fist smashing the side of his head. The scimitar went flying and Munza fell to the ground.

    "Graelam!" she yelled, pulling at his arm. For a moment, his mind was locked against her, and he smashed his fist again against the Saracen's face.

    "The tent is on fire!"

    Graelam smelled the bitter smoke and tore himself away from the Saracen. He grabbed the scimitar, and together he and Chandra rushed from the flaming tent.

    The horses had broken free and were galloping from the camp through the masses of men and women. Chandra saw a man with his clothes aflame running in blind frenzy and pain. Graelam jerked her back as a maddened stallion galloped in front of them, flinging clots of dirt in their faces. He tried to clear his mind of the raging spectacle about them, and plan their escape. He grabbed Chandra's hand and pulled her with him toward the cliffs, away from the people and the trampling horses.

    Jerval felt a numbing band of pain in his chest. His eyes followed Payn's shout and pointing finger.

    The dark sky was cast in orange. "By God, it is the Saracen camp."

    "We are too late!"

    Jerval did not hear Roger de Clifford's voice. He kicked his spurs into his destrier's side and pushed him across the plain toward the eerie orange glow in the sky. He heard Payn's shouts behind him, a battle cry to the fifty men that followed.

    They thundered into the camp, their swords ready to strike, but the Saracens fled away from them, leaving whatever they could not carry.

    Jerval pulled his destrier to a halt in the center of the camp, his eyes burning from the acrid smoke, straining to find Chandra. He saw the huge tent, collapsed on itself. He spurred his horse toward it.

    Jerval yelled over his shoulder as he pointed toward Chandra and Graelam, "Stay close to me, and then fan out!"

    Graelam saw a crazed horse veering toward them. He slammed Chandra against the cliff, covering her body with his. He splayed his hands on either side of her, flattening her against the rocks to protect her. He felt her heart pounding against his breast.

    "If we are to die, Chandra," he said, pressing his cheek against her temple, "I would say that we have given life a fine ride."

    "We won't die," she said. And he knew she believed it.

    Graelam laughed. "It has come to me, my lady, that had I succeeded in claiming you, we would have likely killed each other. You are not a restful woman, Chandra."

    Graelam pressed her tightly against him, closing out the din about them. Chandra struggled to look beyond him. He heard her say in a strangely calm voice, "I knew he would come. I knew we wouldn't die. Jerval is here. We will be all right now."

    He jerked about to see Jerval and a dozen men forming a barrier around them. "Aye, Chandra," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You were quite right."

    He stepped back, allowing Chandra to see what was happening. She did not move, even now that the danger was past, merely stared toward her husband as he shouted orders and rode toward them.

    "Chandra?"

    She ran to him. As he caught her in his arms, he looked over her head at Graelam, who stood silently, watching.

    To his surprise, Graelam smiled. "Your wife and I," he said, "are very pleased to see you."

    Jerval looked down into her beloved face, blackened with soot, and couldn't believe his eyes. She was crying. He said nothing, just tightened his arms about her back and felt the cloth that covered her begin to slip.

    "I cannot have you naked, love." He forced himself to release her for a moment, pulled off his mantle and wrapped it about her. She hiccuped as she tried to swallow her tears, and he laughed, deep and rich, a laugh filled with relief.

    "Come, Chandra, there will be no fighting here tonight. Let us go home." He lifted her into his arms and set her upon his destrier. He turned back to Graelam. "You have saved what I hold dearest on this earth. I thank you, my lord. I am forever in your debt."

    Graelam grinned, just shaking his head. "Even though you see her crying now, like a weak woman, my hide would be naught but fodder for desert vermin if not for her. It galls me, but it is she who has saved me twice. I will never raise my sword against you."

    Chandra said, "It is all the smoke that is making my eyes water."

    "Aye," Jerval said. "The smoke. I feel my eyes beginning to water as well. Come, let us all get out of this place. I wish to come no closer to hell."

    Graelam said, "The devil of this hell died in his own flames this night."

EPILOGUE

Chandra stood beside Jerval at the harbor mole, a thick breakwater of sandstone, watching their provisions being hauled aboard the ships. The sun was a bright white ball overhead, and the day, as always, was unmercifully hot.

    "You do not look very happy," he said.

    "I am afraid I will be ill again."

    He reached inside his tunic and drew out a small parchment square. "Sir Elvan gave me some medicine for you, just in case."

    "Ah, I think he is the one I will miss. He is a kind man."

    "He accompanied Edward, with his own physicians in tow, to Caesarea for the signing of the treaty."

    "I saw Edward this morning. He seems to have thrown off his depression and looks stronger."

    "Edward has realized that the treaty is not so meaningless an accomplishment." He suddenly pulled her to him and gave her a great hug. "Do not," he whispered fiercely, "ever again get yourself abducted. I found a gray hair in my head this morning, doubtless there from worry."

    "I swear," she said, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder, "I know of no other Alan Durwalds to take me by force from Camberley."

    He held her silently, then gave a tug on her hair to make her look up at him. "If Mary's letter is to be believed, you, my love, will not even have anyone to fight with. Mother, it seems, has grown positively benign under Lady Faye's influence."

    "Give her one day with me," Chandra said, laughing.

    "Perhaps by the time we reach Camberley, your belly will not be so flat. Your carrying my heir would make her more than pleasant toward you."

    "But there will be no privacy aboard our ship."

    "We will have sufficient privacy so you should not forget the pleasures of lying with your husband."

    "I like the sound of that." Suddenly, she frowned and said, "Oh, dear."

    "What bothers you?"

    "What will happen to me when we are home again?"

    "I will bully you and love you. Can you ever doubt that?'

    "No, but our life has been so different here."

    "When you are not heavy with child, we will doubtless argue about what is proper for you and what is not." He saw that she was still frowning and added quietly, "I believe that at least you and I have learned that we can disagree, and not rant at each other. You may be certain, Chandra, that our children will know that my wife saved my worthless hide in the Holy Land."

    "I never wish to look upon blood and death again. I shall never forget the horror of it, and my fear for you."

    It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her how pleased he was that she had finally come to her senses, but he was wiser with her now. Nor did he tell her that he loved to fight, if his opponents were soldiers, and not innocent women and children. Aloud, he said only, "Always fear for me, Chandra. It will make me all the more careful."

    "Have you decided what we will say about Eustace?"

    "That he died honorably. There is no reason to let his treachery be known."

    "But it is Graelam who is now our friend. Life is very strange."

    "Aye, it is. I thank God that Mary birthed a daughter. Did you hear? Graelam will be the only noble to leave Palestine with great wealth. Al-Afdal's treasure trove, what remained from the fire, was an unbelievable find."

    "You accepted the jewels he offered you?"

    "Aye, and the rubies will adorn your white neck."

    "Look yon, Jerval," Chandra said, pointing toward the open seaward gates of Acre.

    "The Christians of the city are gathering to bid us farewell."

    It was probably the only time, Chandra thought, that Templars had stood next to Hospitalers in temporary truce, and Genoese next to Venetians. Now, thanks to Edward, they would have ten years to bicker and fight among themselves, without threat from the Saracens.

    She saw Payn de Chaworth limp aboard his ship, Roger de Clifford at his side. Jerval laced his fingers through hers. "Lambert is waving to us, Chandra. It is time to leave."

    She looked one last time toward Acre and saw a veiled woman atop the wall, her hand raised. Beri? She could not be certain. Aye, she thought, smiling sadly to herself, I am the lucky one. I am free.

    Chandra turned to see Eleanor smiling at her, the babe, Joan, in her arms.

    "You will take care, Chandra," Eleanor said. "It will be some time before I see you again. As you know, my lord has no wish to return to England immediately. We are to see more of the world."

    "I will write to you, Eleanor."

    "I pray that you will. My lord's heart is heavy, and I will need happy news to cheer him."

    "I trust that I will have only happy news to tell you," Chandra said, smiling toward her husband. She hugged Eleanor, touched her fingertip lightly beneath the baby's dimpled chin, and straightened.

    "Chandra."

    "Good-bye," she said to the future queen of England, laughed, and ran to Jerval. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.

    She stepped back, took his hand, and tugged him forward. "Let us go home, Jerval, to England and to Camberley."

    "Aye," he said, kissing her ear, the tip of her nose. "Just think of all the warm evenings we'll spend together on deck."

    She ran her fingers lightly over his chest. "You will hold my hand and tell me how beautiful you believe me to be?"

    "Well, not exactly. I learned more about the stars from Sir Waymer, a Templar who studies astronomy. We will be on the deck of our vessel and I will tell you about the stars and how they all got their names."

    She poked him in the belly, and as he was laughing, hugging her, she whispered against his ear, "I believe I carry your heir now, my lord."

    And Jerval, who couldn't even blink he was so overwhelmed, saw the gleam of laughter in his wife's eyes, and said in a very bland voice, "It is a very warm day. The sun is bright overhead. Ah, do you think we're ready to sail yet?"

    "Aye, my lord, Payn is waving to us. We're ready to sail. Both of us."

    She carried his babe. He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He grinned like a fool.

    It was possibly one of the last times in her life that Chandra de Vernon had the last word.