Blaze of Silver (2 page)

Amal pressed his lips together. A journey to England! Now he cursed the day he had seen the silver horse and thought only of his wife and the increasing frailty of his mother. His sons never bowed to him now, and to his daughter, just flowering into the beauty of early womanhood, he was a distant stranger. Retirement among the lemon groves might be a dream, but surely, surely he deserved to lay his head for a month or two on his own pillow?

Yet he never thought of refusing. It was not possible to refuse the Old Man and Amal's habit of obedience was so strong that he would not have known how. His only protest was to bow so low that he could scrunch up his bleary eyes without being observed and to shake the dust from his feet with a little more vigor than usual when he left the Old Man's presence.

At dawn, he rolled his belongings inside a blanket, carefully placing right in the middle a small, roughly sewn booklet, his most treasured possession. His wife, now snoring in another room, had given it to him in happiness and hope on the day of their marriage when she was still young and beautiful and her new husband the apple of her eye. Amal grimaced. Those days were long gone. But he loved this book. A commendation from the Old Man together with several verses from the Koran were inscribed inside it and, at the birth of his babies, Amal had written their names with pride, each on a different page. Underneath, when they learned to write, he had encouraged the children to inscribe something
themselves—anything—that would remind him of them when he was far away doing the Old Man's business. They had obliged him, drawing childish pictures of assassins' daggers and Arab horses under sentiments sweet and dutiful. It was hard to believe that the hearts of the children who had written such things were now, when they thought of their father at all, as dry as the ink.

Amal sighed as he secured the roll, saddled up his own horse and put a halter on his silver charge. The animals were reluctant to leave the horse lines and whinnied to their friends.

From his silken pillows, the Old Man was listening. When Amal had gone, he called for parchment and wrote a letter to the German emperor. At the bottom, he inscribed King Richard's name and, over it, carefully drew a skull. He liked the skull, but it would not do. He deftly changed it to look like a silver piece and found himself so pleased with the letter that he read it out loud. Then he smiled, his smile pretty as a cherub's, before settling himself to sleep as he always did, bolt upright and with a dagger in his hand.

Hartslove, August 1193

In the jousting field at Hartslove, everybody was laughing except Elric, Will Ravensgarth's new squire, who was lying facedown amid the fallen leaves, biting his lip and trying not to cry. It was the fifth time that day he had fallen off Dargent, unbalanced by a lance that was too heavy for him but that he was determined to master. The bay horse waited patiently, as he had been taught, for his young rider to get up. He shook his head as Hal, Will's previous squire, approached and hauled Elric to his feet.

“Don't let the lance drop once you have scored a hit,” Hal admonished, his freckled face full of kindly anxiety. “You let it swing about and in the end it pushes you off your own horse. The point is to unseat your opponent, you know.” Hal patted Dargent and the horse rubbed his head on his shoulder as Elric wiped his face, spreading the dirt until it hid the redness flushing his cheeks. Hal's last remark about unseating his opponent had riled him. “I know what I'm supposed to be doing,”
he muttered, “I'll do it again.” He seized the stirrup to remount.

Hal looked up at the rough stands erected on the side of the field and saw Will shake his head. Hal nodded back. “But not today, Elric,” he said, adding reassuringly, “it's not a disgrace to fall off, you know. We've all done it. When the earl first got Hosanna he fell off dozens of times and he had been riding all his life. You've only been riding for just over six months. You can't expect miracles.”

Elric would not be comforted. “But everybody is here, looking. Listen to them laughing. They think I'm stupid. Not Marie, perhaps, because she's nice, and not Mistress Ellie because she's nice too, but that spiteful Marissa and that snooty Kamil, although it won't show in his face because nothing ever does. And then Old Nurse—” The boy groaned. “Oh no! I know just what she'll do. She'll grab me, shove me in a bath, and plaster my bruises with one of her stinking potions so that everybody will point and hold their noses.”

Hal tried not to smile. Elric had summed up everything entirely correctly. “Look,” he said, “while you ride Dargent back into the courtyard, I'll get Marie”—Hal couldn't help blushing himself at the thought of the sweet girl whose face made his legs turn to jelly—“to distract Old Nurse. You just make sure you are busy until supper. That shouldn't be difficult. For a start, you can brush Hosanna and make him shine, for the earl sets off again tomorrow for Whitby to fetch another chunk of the king's ransom money.” He gave Elric a leg up and Dargent tossed his head, preparing to gallop down the lists once more. Hal and Elric both laughed
now. “Hold up, Dargent,” said Hal, “that's enough for today.” The horse seemed disappointed but Hal was pleased to see how Elric soothed him until he could be ridden back up the field with a loose rein.

Hal returned to the stands and Marie hurried to his side. “Is he hurt?” she asked. Marie always expected the worst.

“Of course he's not hurt,” Marissa said scornfully, and Hal wondered, not for the first time, how twins could be so different. Marie would never use such a tone of voice. Perhaps it was because of Marissa's limp that she always sounded so bitter. Hal thought it had made her character limp, too. He ignored Marissa, plucked up his courage, and took Marie's arm.

“It's his pride that's hurt more than anything, I expect.” Will's deep voice boomed out above those of the other knights standing about in groups. Hal jumped. Will sounded so like his dead father, whose voice had often boomed across this field in those carefree days before the crusade and before the terrible events earlier in the year that had resulted in the death of Will's brother, Gavin.

“That's right, sir, just his pride.” Hal nodded.

“He's really very good when you think how little practice he's had.” Ellie had left Kamil, who stood slightly apart, and joined the group around Will.

Will was glad to have Ellie by his side. He smiled at her and when she smiled back, his heart sang. “We should get the joiner to make him a lighter lance, though, don't you think, Ellie? Elric's still so skinny. The lance is heavier than he is.” He handed Ellie a spare weapon and grinned when she rocked and nearly dropped it.

“Well, he's got to learn,” said Marissa tartly, resenting that the smiles and jokes passing between Will and Ellie were not including her. The only time she was truly happy now was when Will was teaching her to ride. Then, she had his undivided attention, and his praise made her glow as much as the ruby brooch she always wore.

Ellie felt Marissa's resentment and forced herself to look away from the brooch. It had once been hers, given to her by Will on hers and Gavin's ill-fated wedding day, and she knew that Marissa wore it to annoy her. With difficulty, she stopped herself from scowling and reminded herself that, at eighteen, she had an unfair advantage. Marissa was still only fifteen and had been at Hartslove for just nine months. Old Nurse, who was the wisest woman in the castle, was always telling Ellie that she should not allow Marissa to irritate her, and Ellie tried, she really did. But Marissa drove her mad, particularly when she clung to Will's side like a leech and even accentuated her limp, just to get Will's sympathy. Ellie began to walk quickly back to the castle before she said something she would later regret. As was her habit, she stopped under the chestnut tree to tidy up Gavin's grave and as she knelt to brush some early-falling leaves from the headstone, her sharp words faded. Gavin's presence was still so strong. It was hard for her to think of him folded into the earth beneath and she could not imagine the day when she would be able to tend his grave without her heart feeling squeezed like an apple in a cider press. Her tears fell onto the stone and trickled down among the flowers.

Gradually she became aware that Will was behind her. She said nothing at first, just dried her tears and tried to show how welcome he was. She knew that he still found his brother's grave a difficult place to be. It upset Ellie dreadfully that Gavin and Will's final parting had been so bitter. Often, from afar, Ellie would see Will here, sitting without moving for hours, with Hosanna grazing beside him. Sometimes the horse would rub his nose on the headstone as he relaxed in the shade, peacefully swishing the flies from his smooth coat. Then some of the lines on Will's face would soften as he murmured to the red horse, leaning on him and touching the star between his eyes before caressing again and again Hosanna's two crusading scars.

That squeezed Ellie's heart, too. She often thought how much Gavin would have liked to see his brother and Hosanna, peaceful and thoughtful in the sunshine. But she never said as much to Will, for part of Ellie's terrible sadness was that it was she who had been at the center of the brothers' last, most disastrous quarrel and it had set up an awkwardness between herself and Will, which she seemed powerless to dispel. She traced the letters on the stone with her finger:

Gavin de Granville, Count of Hartslove
and crusader
died most bravely
21
^st
March 1193

It was Will who broke the silence. “I've had a message from Prince John about King Richard's ransom,” he said, watching Ellie's finger but not kneeling down.
“At least one hundred thousand silver marks will have been collected by the end of the year but Richard thinks it would be folly to risk the whole ransom in one baggage train. He suggests that Queen Eleanor, for all her great age, should take the bulk of it and I'm to take three wagons' worth on a different route to Speyer. If there is a disaster at least one of us should get through.” Ellie got up. Will's face was troubled. “I'm nervous, Ellie, because it seems that the German emperor's going to make us responsible for the safety of the ransom until it gets to his border.” He put both hands on the headstone. “Every greedy prince in Christendom will know that there is a fortune on the move, yet the imperial guards only take it over when the danger is lowest.” His brow furrowed. “I wish there was a less risky way to get the silver to Speyer but if there is I can't think of it.”

Ellie observed him carefully. “If you are trying to put me off coming with you,” she said, “you won't succeed. In fact, I don't see how you can manage without me. People are bound to fall sick on the way—perhaps even you—and I've been studying about herbs and medicines so hard that I think I can deal with even more illnesses than Old Nurse.”

“I know, Ellie. I know we need you.” Will found that he did not know what tone to use. Sometimes everything he said seemed to be wrong. He wanted Ellie to come to Speyer, not just because of her growing knowledge of doctoring but because he did not like to be without her. Yet the awkwardness that they both recognized got in the way of his ever telling her this. Will could hardly understand what had happened. How
could Gavin now appear to be more of an obstacle than he had ever been when he was alive? Where once Will would have been confident of Ellie's feelings toward him, now he was unsure. Perhaps when Ellie slipped her arm through his, it was not because she loved him but because he was the only de Granville left. The thought that he would never, now, be sure, tortured Will. What was more, sometimes he saw Kamil looking at Ellie in a way that made his scalp prickle. Was it Kamil who filled Ellie's dreams? He did not dare to ask.

When they got back to the castle, Hosanna was standing in the courtyard loosely tied to an iron ring. With patient good humor, he allowed Elric to wash his mane, then, when he thought things had taken long enough, delicately undid the rope and took a small piece of the boy's jerkin between his teeth. Elric stretched his hand backward to tickle Hosanna's lips until he let go. Will went at once to his horse's head. “Ho there, Hosanna,” he said softly before looking over the chestnut withers at Kamil leaning against the wall. “We'll leave for Whitby at dawn,” he told Kamil, trying not to betray any of his thoughts in his voice. “We need to count the ransom silver already there and collect more from towns farther north. Germany before Christmas! Are you ready?”

Kamil immediately went to Sacramenta, Hosanna's mother, who was also tied up outside, and bent over to dig some mud out of her feet using the little triangular blade that he had had the smith fashion and that he always wore at his belt. “I'm ready,” he said. Both young men were the same age but Kamil looked older
than Will for his face was darker and leaner, and although he had been in England for a number of months, he retained the aloofness of a stranger. If Elric thought this was snooty, Kamil could not help it. It was just how he was, and recently he knew his aloofness had got worse.

For all the Hartslove hospitality, Kamil could not belong and some days he missed his homeland acutely, not just the dry smell of the desert or the warm explosion of fresh figs on his tongue but the chatter of the market and the sense of being wordlessly understood. Sometimes he hated the tolling of the great abbey bell across the Hartslove valley, not because he disliked the sound, but because it reminded him how much he longed to hear the pulsating call of the muezzin. Every day, he felt his Saracen blood running a little thinner. Yet he stayed, partly because, with Saladin dead, it was too dangerous for him to return home, partly for love of Will and Hosanna, and partly because of Ellie. She was the only person to whom he had ever opened his soul. It had happened just once. But he wondered—no, he hoped—there might be another time. Although Ellie gave him no encouragement, he could not shake off this hope and when he stood in the stable with Hosanna beside him and Ellie in front, he could sometimes believe he was happy.