Hounds of God (50 page)

Aidan eased by an effort of will: not the feat some might
have taken it for, who knew him only by reputation. He could understand
goodwill, however much it might owe to expedience. He could not smile, but he
could nod, bowing his head to courtesy. “I shall remember,” he said.

Gilles looked like a man granted reprieve from hanging. He
knew it; he laughed at himself, though his words were somber. “Yes; remember
us.” He paused. His tone had changed. “And you, sir? What will you be doing in
our country beyond the sea?”

Avenging Gereint.
Aidan
did not say it. He answered as he had answered every other inquirer, though
more warmly to this one than to some. “I came to fight the infidel. It has been
in my mind to journey to Jerusalem, to look on its king, and if he will have me”
—
and if I will have him
— ”to be his liege
man. What higher lord can there be, than the holder of the throne of David?”

“A worthy ambition,” said the Hospitaller. “You’ve never
considered any other of our princes?”

Aidan knew a test when he scented one. He shook it from his
shoulders. “Raymond of Tripoli, perhaps: there is a great lord and gentleman.
But he is a count, and I am royal born. I should look first to a king.”

“Such a king,” said Gilles, sighing. There was no irony in
it. “Young, little more than a child, and yet a great warrior, a gifted
general, a scholar of no small accomplishment, a paragon of grace and courtesy.
And for all of that — ” His voice caught. “For all of that, God has exacted a
price of surpassing cruelty. He has seen fit to make our lord a leper.”

“Yet he is king,” said Aidan. “No one has ever contested his
right to the crown.”

“No one is so great a fool. He
is
king. He was meant for it from his birth. Even when he was grown to boyhood and
his malady was known, he was our king who would be.”

“He inspires remarkable devotion.”

Gilles shook his head and smiled wryly. “Am I so
transparent? So, then: you will go to Jerusalem. I think you will find our lord
worthy of your service. He will be most glad of you. Every knight is precious
here on the sword’s edge between Christendom and the House of Islam. A knight
of your proven skill is thrice and four times welcome.”

Aidan shrugged. He was not modest; he had never seen the use
in it. But he had other purposes that this man could not see. They came clear
as he stood there: a bitter clarity.

Its embodiment came toward him across the sunstruck
courtyard, slight and dark and fixed on him as a moth on a candle’s flame.
Thibaut had proper reverence for the soldier of God, but for the Prince of Caer
Gwent he had his whole heart and soul.

It was not in Aidan to refuse such a gift. The pain was its
price. He held out his hand to the boy and smiled, and that smile was the
beginning of acceptance.

Alamut

Book View Café edition September 2010

ISBN: 978-1-61138-026-2

Copyright © 1989 Judith Tarr

www.bookviewcafe.com