Dance of Love by Anna Markland

Author:Anna Markland
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2012-11-02T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Despite the beauty of the flat, forested terrain over which they rode for many days, Farah’s heart and body were in agony. The old saddle that Elenor de Giroux had evidently not used for many a year proved a torment. Learning to ride had not been a necessity in a harem. Georges de Giroux had never owned a horse in Jerusalem, and during the journey from the Holy City to Normandie, she had ridden in the cart with the baggage.

After five days, her thighs and bottom were raw when they arrived in Tours, where Berthold planned to join the Path followed by pilgrims bound for Santiago de Compostela. The church that provided hospitality for pilgrims, built over the tomb of Saint Martin of Tours, offered no chance for relief, except to lie on her belly on the cold stone floor, biting into her wrist to muffle her sobs.

The pilgrims on their way to visit the tomb of Saint James in far off Spain were impressed that Hospitaller Knights of Saint John had joined their pilgrimage. Berthold soaked up the attention, and paid little mind to Farah.

For the next two days, Farah drifted in and out of a mindless fog as they wound their way to Poitiers. They slept in the Baptistère de Saint-Jean, amid the tombs of Merovingian monarchs. Someone was painting a fresco of Christ’s ascension and the air was heavy with the smell of lime and wet plaster. She shivered, her teeth chattering, unable to get warm, sick at heart.

When they rode away from the ancient building, she looked up at the carved corbels of comical faces on the exterior wall, feeling their mockery. Why had she not confessed her love and stood up to Berthold? What was she doing in the middle of nowhere, bound for a place she did not want to go? She conjured an image of Izzy finding the shamshir. How glad she was that she had left it. It was made for him.

~~~

After ten more grueling days crossing endless plains and fording countless rivers, the terrain changed to rolling hills as they entered Oloron. The Pyrenees loomed in the distance. She shuddered. On the other side of that divide lay an uncertain future. She had not spoken Aragonese since her mother’s death. Berthold had assured her Alfonso awaited her arrival with great anticipation, but his descriptions of her half-brother’s warrior-like nature intimidated her. Aragón and Navarra were in a constant state of war with the Moors. Normandie had its dangerous intrigues, but the holy war Alfonso waged against the infidels would be a bloody fight to the death. She feared many in his kingdom would not welcome her.

The cathedral monks of Oloron extended their hospitality to the Knights. A sense of foreboding swept over her as she entered the church’s ornate portal.

On the morrow, the mighty Perinés.

~~~

Izzy had not been able to dissuade Amadour from accompanying him. “I need you to remain at Giroux to watch over the dissidents.”

Amadour had shrugged. “There are other loyal men capable of doing that.

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