Captive Rose (38 page)

As Leila settled into the deliciously warm water, two
serving women who had been waiting patiently near the door came forward to assist
her. One began to bathe her with a soft sponge while the other expertly soaped
her hair. Strangely, their gentle ministrations reminded her of
Nittia
and
Ayhan
, so instead of
protesting she decided to enjoy it.

"Leila, which gown would you like to wear today?"
came
the countess's voice from the bed.

Leila squinted to keep any errant soap suds from
stinging her eyes. But she forgot all about any possible discomfort when she
spied the five beautiful kirtles with matching silk veils
laid
out upon the newly made bed. The garments made a vivid rainbow of color: royal
blue, peacock, scarlet, deep lilac, and silvery peach.

"Where did they come from?" she asked,
stunned.

"Your husband kept Queen Eleanor's seamstresses up
most of the night making these gowns for you so they would be ready this
morning," Matilda replied with a smile. "Didn't you hear him
discussing what he wanted with one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting during the
coronation feast?"

"No," Leila murmured.

In truth, she hadn't been paying attention to much at
all last night, her mind lost to anxious thoughts of what was yet to come. How
could she have known then that the wedding night she feared would prove so
distressingly wonderful? Her skin puckered with
goosebumps
as passionate memories pressed in upon her, but the stirring images vanished
when Matilda spoke again.

"Guy chose the colors, saying the more vibrant the
better. He wanted to show off your beauty to its best advantage. He's very
proud of you, my dear."

"Lord de
Warenne
sent
several of his own knights to London to buy this for you," Margaret added
excitedly, holding up a finely linked silver girdle inlaid with creamy pearls.

"And this," Blanche said, showing Leila a
delicate silver fillet studded with glittering amethysts.

"Oh, my," Leila said softly.

"You are a lucky young woman," Matilda said,
fingering the fine damask fabric of one gown. "Guy has done well for
himself with what he inherited from his father and
Ranulf
de
Lusignan
. He has become a wealthy man and can well
provide for your needs." She glanced pointedly at Leila. "He must
love you very deeply. He adorns you like a queen. And to think you were willing
to forgo all of this in hopes of returning to Damascus. I'm glad you came to
your senses."

Leila caught her breath, the color draining from her
face.

Guy must have told Matilda all about her, as he had
told Edward and Eleanor. Either
that,
or the news had
spread directly from their majesties to the rest of the court. She must have
been the subject of some intense gossip indeed.

"It was not my intent to criticize you, Leila,"
Matilda said more gently. "You've had to make a very difficult adjustment
to a land wholly foreign to you, and you've accommodated yourself well, I must
say. One would never know you had grown up in a heathen country. I'm sure you
will discover you've made the right choice in marrying Guy. He is a courageous
and loyal knight. What more could any woman want?"

It was hardly a choice, Leila thought, her resentment
at Guy flaring anew, though now it was strangely tempered by the passion they
had shared last night. Guy might be a brave knight, but he was still a
barbarian in her eyes.

She glanced at the gowns upon the bed, sighing. Would a
coarse barbarian have put such care and thought into clothing his wife? That
premise was being shaken with each passing day. But worst of all, the same
swamping sense of unease that had plagued her until she fell asleep in Guy's
arms was assailing her again.

Whatever was the matter with her? She had to admit she
was utterly baffled by her emotions, and frightened by them, too. How could she
possibly be falling in love with a man she hated? A man she was determined to
leave as soon as she found the means?

"Please close your eyes, my lady, so I may rinse
your hair," the serving maid requested.

Leila did so, leaning her head back and vainly hoping
the warm water would flush from her brain any absurd notion of being in love
with the man who had ruined her life as surely as the soap suds were falling
from her hair. She rose from the tub, agonizing over a solution to this
unexpected dilemma as the serving women buffed her dry with soft towels.

"You didn't tell us which gown, Leila."

Matilda's innocent statement startled Leila from her
troubled musings and gave her an idea.

What if she could prove to Guy that their backgrounds
were just too dissimilar for their marriage to succeed? Surely he would then be
all too happy to allow her to go back to Damascus. It was obvious from the
countess's earlier words that she had given in far too easily to the customs of
this culture. Well, no more! She would show Guy and everyone else just how
different she was!

"I'll wear the scarlet gown," she stated.

"Splendid. You will look absolutely lovely."

It seemed that in mere moments she was dressed, her
damp tresses brushed dry and plaited down her back with silver ribbons. But
when Blanche draped the short matching veil over her head, Leila snatched it
from her hair.

"This will not do. Where I come from, women cloak
themselves in long head
scarfs
and face veils out of
modesty. It is indecent for a woman to flaunt her beauty to the world. If you
don't mind, I will finish dressing by myself." Receiving startled looks
from every woman in the room, Leila felt a twinge of guilt for spurning their
kindnesses, but she quickly shrugged it off. She was determined to prove that
she was no more like them than a fish to fowl.

"What are you going to do?" Matilda asked,
rushing to her side as Leila grabbed a small knife from a food tray and picked
up the royal-blue kirtle.

"Make myself a proper head scarf, one that reaches
almost to the floor. I plan to use this scarlet veil to cover my face."

"But
its
a new gown!" the countess exclaimed incredulously.

Leila lifted her chin stubbornly. "I will not
leave this room without a proper
kufiyya
."

Glancing at Margaret and Blanche, who looked just as
bewildered, Matilda shook her head and threw up her hands. "Very well, my
dear. Do what you must. All I ask is that you hurry."

Leila smiled to herself as she cut the gown in two at
the waist. She could hardly wait to see Guy's face.

***

Walking toward the covered pavilion a short while
later, Leila felt smug satisfaction. She knew with amusing certainty that her
choice of clothing was creating quite a stir.

No sooner had she emerged from her bedchamber, with the
hastily constructed head scarf wrapped around her body like a blue silk cocoon
and the scarlet veil covering her face below her eyes, when a serving
woman—bearing a large tray and gaping at Leila in open-mouthed
surprise—collided around a corner with a manservant carrying buckets of
steaming water. The palace hall had echoed with a loud crash of crockery,
high-pitched shrieking, and disgruntled male cursing, while behind her opaque
veil Leila had merely smiled.

Activity had ceased in each room she and her three
female companions passed: servants' brushes and brooms fell still; ladies
stared aghast and whispered like buzzing bees; several knights watched her with
a fascinated gleam in their eyes. It had been all she could do not to laugh aloud
at the silly exclamations she overheard.

"God's teeth, will you look at that? For a moment
I thought I was back in the Holy Land—on crusade! I wouldn't be surprised if
next a camel crossed our path!"

"Who is she?"

"I believe Lady de
Warenne
,
and oh, just look at the poor countess of Surrey. I've never seen Matilda's
face so red! It's shocking, I tell you. Such a heathen display—shocking!"

Then, once outside the palace, Leila's exotic attire
spooked a horse which tumbled its hapless rider into a bed of russet
chrysanthemums. She didn't bother to stop, though Margaret rushed over to
inquire after the poor man's health. Leila kept fight on walking until she
reached the pavilion, where she gracefully climbed the steps and followed
Blanche to a bench in the second row.

Leila swept a glance across the assembled lords and
ladies, who had suddenly grown silent with her appearance among them. She could
see that virtually every pair of eyes was upon her. To Leila, they resembled so
many gaping fish, almost as strange a sight to her as she must appear to them.
With a surge of defiance, she faced front and sat down—determined not to give
their astonished scrutiny a second thought. It was they who were dressed
inappropriately, not she! Drawing her
kufiyya
more
closely around her, Leila looked out across a dirt field cluttered with a half
dozen long, boarded enclosures. She was amazed by the hundreds of spectators
ringing the rough-hewn fence that had been constructed along the field's
perimeter. The air of excitement was incredible, the crowd's roar deafening. It
seemed the common folk on the field were so busy jostling one
another,
they had paid her little notice.

"I can hardly believe we made it here in time,"
the countess said, glancing with annoyance at Leila as she plopped onto the
cushioned bench in the front row. She leaned toward her burly husband. "Has
there been some delay, my lord?"

"Aye, there was a dispute over the pairings for
today's round of jousting," John de
Warenne
answered in a deep voice, clearly trying but failing not to stare at Leila's
veiled figure. "But the matter has been resolved. The opening pageant
should start at any moment."

"What problem?" Matilda persisted. "I
hope nothing serious. That would truly mar the day."

"Not serious, though it could have been. It seems
Lord
Gervais
wanted to be paired with a certain
knight even though he did not draw the man's name for today's round."

Leila had not meant to eavesdrop, but now she listened
intently. She sensed Blanche and Margaret, who flanked her, were doing the
same, for they had ceased chattering with their neighbors.

"Which knight, my lord husband?"

"I'll give you one guess, Matilda."

Her heart pounding, Leila knew even before Matilda's
soft gasp that they were referring to Guy.

"And what happened?"

"Edward himself told
Gervais
that he must obey the rules of the tournament. The king said he had no doubt
Roger would meet this knight on the field at some point during the next few
days, seeing as they were both champions with the lance."

"The cheek of that wretched man!" Matilda
blurted heatedly. Her next words were drowned out as a rousing blare of
trumpets and the beating of drums sounded from the foot of the pavilion where
the heralds stood in their
particolored
tunics and
hose.

Leila's eyes widened as a long line of knights galloped
into the enclosed field on the largest horses she had ever seen. The crowd
began to roar even louder as the armored riders and their mounts formed a
thunderous procession just inside the fence.

There must have been at least three hundred knights,
each man dressed in a calf-length
surcoat
over
polished chain mail which blindingly reflected the sunlight, and a metal helmet
that completely covered the head, with only slits to allow vision and vertical
vents for breathing. Most of the helmets were flat-topped, but some had steel
wings or menacing horns projecting from the crown. All the knights held
twelve-foot-long lances raised to the sky, brightly colored pennons fluttering
at the tips, while across their opposite shoulders were slung large triangular
shields.

"How do you tell them apart?" Leila wondered
aloud, searching for Guy among the knights who were slowing to a trot as they
rode past the pavilion. She spied a few powerfully built men, one of whom might
be Guy or her brother, but she wasn't sure because of the helmets.

"It can be quite difficult unless you're able to
recognize each particular coat of arms," Margaret explained, glancing
uncomfortably over her shoulder at some women behind them who were gossiping
about Leila's strange attire. "Do you see how each knight has the same
symbols embroidered onto his
surcoat
as he has
painted on his shield?"

"Yes, I see them," Leila replied, proudly
ignoring the women. She focused instead on the myriad colorful devices represented
on the field. How would she ever find Guy? The only thing she had ever seen
emblazoned on his
surcoat
was the crusaders' crimson
cross. "The symbols are even painted on the long cloth coverings worn by
the horses," she added with a touch of exasperation.

Margaret turned to the field, expertly scanning the
circling knights riding two by two. "If you're looking for your husband,
he is . . . there, on that huge roan stallion. His coat of arms is the fierce
mythical griffin, half eagle, half lion."

Leila followed Margaret's gaze, her heart lurching in
her breast as she spied Guy at last. She could not deny she was secretly
thrilled by his magnificent appearance; it unsettled her just how thrilled she
was.

She took in every detail, from his winged helmet and
dark blue
surcoat
to the matched trappings on his
warhorse. She had thought him forbidding when she had first seen him in chain
mail. Now, seeing him like this, astride his powerful
destrier
,
she could understand why the crusader knights had always struck fear into Arab
hearts. Guy looked invincible, like a god, and she could not tear her eyes
away.