Pearl Beyond Price Page 26

  “’Tis only good sense on a long ride, Katherine,” Florine declared and did the same. She cast Kira a wink. “These country folk are practical, indeed.” The other woman grimaced, but also rode astride, the two women flanking Kira as Eustache’s company left Paris.

  It was a much smaller group than had arrived in that city, for the knight’s guards no longer accompanied them. Nogai rode with them on another palfrey, his hands bound to the Frankish saddle and that creature’s reins tethered to a knight’s steed. He looked grim and Kira wished she could have spoken with him—or even played cards with him, which always raised his spirits. When they passed through the city gates, though, she saw that he was sitting straighter and his features were alight again.

  By the end of the day, Eustache unbound Nogai’s hands, telling his men that the Mongol had no place to flee. Since he did not speak their tongue, Eustache reasoned aloud, he would not survive long without them. The two warriors nodded at each other in apparent agreement, and the company rode on.

  They had been traveling for a week when they spent a long day in the saddle, not even halting at midday. It seemed that Eustache was driven toward some destination, for they passed through many villages where they might have halted. He even urged his destrier to greater speed after one, calling to the company to remain close together for fear of bandits.

  Darkness had fallen and Kira shivered in the chill, yet still the knights continued onward. They passed a monastery, its chapel radiant with candlelight and the sound of the monk’s prayers carrying to their ears. They rode without shouting or even speaking after that, their passage through the quiet countryside almost soundless in itself. It seemed all were filled with Eustache’s grim resolve, and Kira wondered at their destination. There was only the hoofbeats of the horses on the dirt, the occasional cough, the periodic jingle of the trap. The moon rose and shone full overhead. Kira huddled in her cloak, not daring to hope for a reprieve, when the lights of a gatehouse appeared in the distance.

  She saw the town walls then, etched against the night. The gates were closed already, but Eustache himself conferred with the keeper. Kira knew she did not imagine the flash of coin changing hands. Nary a word was uttered as the company filed through the gate and into the town. Kira heard the gate drop virtually on their heels as the town was secured once more. They passed like wraiths in the shadows and she wondered whether any who saw them would wonder on the morrow whether their eyes had deceived them.

  They were within an open space that must have held the market, a tall building to one side, and a well in the middle. There were lights shining from a low building on the right, and a man called a query. The horses milled in the space, slowed to a walk as they cooled, and Eustache dismounted to speak to the man, who had to be the proprietor of an inn. Golden light and the scent of roasted meat spilled out of the building when the door was opened wide, and Kira was glad to see Eustache and the man shake hands in agreement.

  The man called for the stables to be opened and the entire company dismounted. Kira slipped to the ground with relief. The horses stamped, their breath making white plumes in the air as the young boys tended them, some from the company and some from the inn. The men spoke quietly to each other as the horses were led into the stables and Eustache followed. He returned to the courtyard with a broad grin and escorted Florine into the tavern. Kira followed with the other woman by her side, wondering what had pleased him so much.

  Someone touched her elbow and she turned to find Nogai’s expression surprisingly sympathetic. He said something she knew to be a joke by his manner, even though she could not understand, and winked reassuringly.

  Indeed, Nogai must feel even more alone than she.

  Kira smiled, recalling that she was supposed to be mute, and curtseyed to him. She caught the twinkle in his eyes before he turned to follow the horses into the stable, then called out to a boy leading one of the Mongol ponies. He shook a finger at the boy, who had been tugging the bridle of one of the ponies who declined to move. Nogai lifted the reins from the boy’s hands, then cast them over the pony’s back. The boy exclaimed but Nogai walked toward the stable himself, as if the pony was forgotten. The pony, and its six fellows, immediately followed Nogai.

  Kira smiled at the boy’s astonishment, then Nogai’s laughter, before entering the hall. Eustache was gestured toward a table at one end of the tavern, and the keeper clapped for cups of ale and bowls of stew. It was just as their accommodation had been for the past week, though Eustache seemed uncommonly pleased with this establishment. Kira could not guess why. It was no finer than any of the others had been, and indeed, she thought the stew was less savory and the floor a bit more dirty.

  Then a man approached Eustache. He must have been hidden in the shadows, perhaps already taking a meal at the board, and seen their arrival. He was a knight, by his garb, tall and well-wrought. Kira returned her attention to her meal, thinking he came for tidings. He bent his head and bowed before the older knight, his manner deferential. Kira would have ignored him, but then he spoke.

  “Sir, I wonder if you might have employ for an honest knight,” he said to Eustache and Kira’s heart leaped.

  Thierry!

  ’Twas Thierry but not Thierry. This knight was of the same height and coloring, but his hair was cropped shorter. He wore the mail of the Frankish knights and his face was clean-shaven. He might have been Thierry’s twin brother—for he did not so much as glance her way. His attention was fixed upon Eustache and Kira turned away, uncertain whether to be disappointed or not.

  Eustache had said he would give Thierry clothing that he might hide in plain sight. But if this was Thierry, why did he not notice her? She feared the worst in the endless duration of their discussion.

  They talked rapidly, the pair of them, Eustache asking a number of questions that the knight answered in Thierry’s measured tones.

  Then Eustache stood and shook his hand, gesturing to the spot on the bench opposite him and beside Kira. “Come. Eat with me and tell me of yourself,” he said, his voice booming over the company. “Keeper! Bring wine! I have a new knight in my service!” The other men cheered and raised their cups in salute, but the knight did not smile. He took his place beside Kira and she could feel the tension emanating from him. He was as taut as the string of a bow. And he had a bow slung over his back, one that looked very familiar to her.

  Eustache glanced at her and smiled. “I would wager that you have not had a woman in a while,” he said, then nodded at Kira. “Do you like the small ones? Her service is past due.”

  Kira bristled with fury that he could suggest such a feat. Had Thierry not entrusted her welfare to this man, a man he thought honorable? She parted her lips, forgetting Florine’s counsel, but the knight’s hand landed heavily over hers.

  “I would cherish this one,” he said with soft conviction. “She reminds me of a woman I knew once,” he continued then turned to look at her. There could be no doubting the heat in his silver gaze then, or his identity. Kira’s heart stopped and then it raced and her mouth went dry. She fairly melted beneath the weight of his hand on hers.

  Thierry was hale and with her again—and he still desired her. Relief left her weak, until she remembered.

  Thierry had bought an aljofar and not told her of it.

  She pulled her hand from beneath his and lifted her chin, only to find Eustache watching her. That man glanced between the pair of them. “You must eat, then we will talk.” He spoke to Thierry. “Then I will ensure you have privacy for your pleasure.”

  Kira inhaled sharply, not troubling to hide her irritation. Aye, ’twould be best to argue about the gem and learn his plans in privacy.

  Thierry dropped his hand to the back of her waist and pulled her closer when she would have moved away. She flicked a glance up at him, letting him see her anger, but he bent and touched his lips to her temple. Just that fleeting kiss sent yearning through Kira, a yearning she would have preferred to have ignored.

 
“Beauty and fire,” he murmured. “A man can ask for no more.”

  Truly, it was difficult to be certain where the ruse ended and the truth began. Kira wished they could retreat to that private chamber immediately, but Eustache had another scheme.

  “Can you see that there is music, Florine?” he asked and the other women left the board. There were only the three of them remaining, and they were silent as the wine was served to the men. Kira was content with her small cup of ale. Eustache toasted Thierry and the men drank. A woman began to sing, and Kira saw that it was Florine. The verses were obviously ribald and well-known, for the men in the tavern began to sing along.

  “You do not know precisely why the king feared your mark, do you?” Eustache asked, looking between Kira and Thierry. His question distracted Kira from her annoyance, for she had wondered about this herself.

  Thierry shook his head. “I know my father has one the same.” His thigh was pressing against Kira’s own and she wondered if he could feel his own dagger, hanging from its scabbard beneath her kirtle. His heat was already searing her skin, making her want to press herself against him. Her anger was fading, just because of his presence, and she disliked her own weakness.

  Kira frowned. “A birthmark is not inherited,” she said, forgetting that she was to be mute.

  “But this one is, my lady,” Eustache said with conviction. He raised a finger. “This one is.” He eyed Thierry. “Your father has not told you of it?”

  Kira watched Thierry shake his head. “It is years since I saw him last.”

  Eustache studied the younger man. “You said you argued.”

  Thierry nodded, looking as if he regretted that.

  “This tale is not mine to share, but I believe you must know of it, and sooner rather than later.” Eustache frowned and seemed to consider his course for a moment before he nodded. “Let me tell you,” he began, speaking softly so his words were inaudible above the music. “Of the lost kings of Rhedae.”

  Kira and Thierry leaned closer as one, lest they miss a single word.

  Eustache told an incredible tale, one that Thierry had difficulty believing to be connected to himself. The older knight told of a line of kings, each and every one of them marked by the will of the divine, much as he was marked himself. He told of the kings governing most of the continent, healing the sick with the touch of their hands, ensuring that the people never forgot to serve the divine purpose. He said their rule had been a time of prosperity and learning, of wealth and expansion. He talked of the kings becoming reclusive and drawing away from the matters of men, better to unite their purpose with that of God. He lowered his voice when he spoke of a family of servants who assumed more and more of the king’s administrative duties to ensure that worldly matters were addressed and Thierry felt an increment of dread.

  Eustache told of the administrators deciding they had no use of the kings and their plan to see the race of kings deposed, so they could rule instead of those divinely chosen to do so. He said a king had been murdered, as had his brothers and cousins and sons, to ensure the usurpers could not be challenged. He told of one son escaping the wrath of those who should have defended him, of that lost king being sheltered by believers in Languedoc and raised to manhood in the hope he could reclaim his stolen legacy. He took the name of the holding where he was sheltered, becoming the lost king of Rhedae.

  Thierry had no clear sense of time, save that this struggle to return the true king to the throne had been underway for centuries. Eustache knew every detail. Each attempt was defeated. Each true king was betrayed. Each time, their supporters retreated to the south and schemed anew with another child born to be king. In time, the believers feared that the blood of the kings was too dilute for success. They chose to buttress it, by pairing a king from the west, from this lineage divinely chosen, with a bride from the East, who carried the blood of Ghengis Khan who ruled all of Asia. From this union would come a son and warrior destined to rule twice over, a king who could not be denied.

  Eustache paused as he met Thierry’s gaze and Thierry caught his breath.

  It could not be so.

  Kira glanced up at him. “Both lines of kings?” she asked, her eyes widening as Eustache nodded.

  Eustache turned his cup on the board. “The plan was all good. The maiden was wed to a knight of good family allied to those of the lost kings. Then matters went awry. He was killed and she disappeared, the babe in her belly. I served your grandfather in those days, and your father after him. We feared all was lost. A knight and a mercenary named Guibert was our salvation. In the assault upon Pamiers, of which he was a part, a woman entrusted him with an infant girl. And thus Guibert joined the great tale, though he was unaware of it at the time. He said the woman was slaughtered before his very eyes, and he knew he had to defend the babe with his life. He did not know her name. He did not know her family or her destiny. But he raised her, and I know he loved her as if she had been his own daughter.” He nodded. “And I found him. I found him and that lost bride, and I brought them both to Montsalvat so she would be wedded to Dagobert de Pereille, the Lord of Montsalvat, just as planned.”

  Thierry caught his breath at his father’s name and knew then who the woman must have been.

  Eustache continued. “The child Guibert had named Alienor was the daughter of the family of Genghis Khan and she had been promised in marriage to Dagobert at her birth.” He smiled a little, remembering. “She was so much more than we had hoped, a maiden of wit and charm, and more than a measure of resolve.”

  “My mother,” Thierry said, his voice husky. Kira glanced up at him. “’Twas why Abaqa despised me,” he confided. “As one of the blooded, I was a threat to him so long as I drew breath.”

  Kira frowned. “Then why were you in Tiflis?”

  “I was sent to gather tribute. It was expected that I would fail and be discredited.”

  “The pearls were the tribute,” she breathed. “And you knew there were false ones.”

  “I suspected.” Thierry smiled at her. “You knew.”

  Kira smiled a little and dropped her gaze. He knew she was pleased with his words but he only gave credit where it was due.

  “You could have been khan?” she asked.

  “Perhaps when Chinkai died, but Abaqa had more alliances within the ba’tar. I thought to prove myself that day we were to fight Berke’s army and Abaqa gave me command of a tümen of men.”

  “That day you left me at the river,” Kira recalled.

  He nodded. “But there was no battle, thus no chance to prove my skill at war.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Berke died, and his army retreated in the night to see him laid to rest in the lands they preferred. They will have conferred and chosen another leader by now.” It seemed a very distant concern.

  Kira was studying him. “Did you want to be khan?”

  “I did, though in truth, I doubt it would have given me satisfaction in the end. To be khan is precarious, for any man with more vigor or more daring might defeat the khan at any time.” He wished he could readily tell Kira how she had changed his expectations. “I find myself wishing more for peace than for endless war.” Thierry looked up to find Eustache watching him and recalled his manners. He nodded at the older man. “I was sent to the Frankish king, purportedly because I spoke the language, but truly, to be rid of me.”

  “Did Abaqa know about the import of your mark?” Kira asked.

  Thierry shook his head. “I doubt it. He was not interested in the beliefs of others. I think he merely took it as an inspiration for his choice. The Mongols see signs everywhere in the world: likely he saw me as marked for the task of liaison.”

  “It might have been a more effective strategy than this Abaqa had planned,” Eustache said.

  “Aye, the journey was long,” Thierry acknowledged, even as the older man frowned. “And we should not have made it to Paris without Kira’s understanding of towns.”

  “Not that,” Eus
tache said with a shake of his head. He lifted his cup and gestured toward Thierry’s chest. “That mark is treason.”

  Thierry stared at him.

  Kira leaned across the table. “Because that rich king is of the lineage of those who claimed the throne,” she guessed and Eustache nodded approval. He toasted her with his cup, approval in his expression.

  “If you had not been there,” Thierry guessed. “We might have been captured.”

  “Or worse,” Eustache said grimly. “You were only two against the king’s own knights.”

  “Three,” Thierry said, putting his hand over Kira’s. He remembered the fierce look in her eyes when she had claimed the knife from him.

  Instead of smiling up at him, she averted her gaze and he wondered why.

  Thierry held fast to her hand all the same, for he felt her trembling. What was amiss?

  Chapter 15

  “In fact, this very king was why your father left Montsalvat,” Eustache continued, recalling Thierry to their discussion. The name was familiar for he had heard his parents speak of it, but he had no memory of the place himself. He wished he did.

  Eustache continued. “The keep was besieged by men serving this very king in an attempt to eliminate your father. It was feared that Dagobert would assert his claim to the throne, and that he had the support of many other influential men. It was believed he might succeed.”

  “But he did not,” Kira guessed in a whisper.

  Eustache shook his head. “The alliances unraveled. Indeed, I believe that was encouraged by forces from the crown, and your father was left standing alone, with solely Montsalvat. It is an austere and isolated place, and not one where riches can be gathered. Your mother was pregnant with you, and even though the keep was surrounded and besieged, they remained until your birth. Your father wished you to be named in the keep that was his family legacy.” He shrugged. “After that, they fled to the East. They were six: Dagobert, Alienor, Dagobert’s mother, Iolande, Alienor’s true grandfather, Kado, a priest, name of Connor.” He sipped from his cup. “And you.”