Passionate Brood by Margaret Campbell Barnes

Author:Margaret Campbell Barnes [Barnes, Margaret Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9780848807825
Publisher: Amereon Limited
Published: 1943-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Part VI

The Holy Land

Chapter Twenty

Berengaria’s honeymoon lasted for only a week. For seven days Richard held up his crusade and forgot everything in the world but her. They rode together to the snow-capped mountains where goats and peasants cared nothing for their rank, and rested in valleys where bright-green lizards scuttled between the sun-baked rocks. He teased and worshipped her by turns, and she made him talk about Oxford and how he sometimes hated himself for the way he had quarrelled with his father, and about Henry and Robin and Hodierna until she knew him, the way women must, right backwards to his boyhood. They were utterly sufficient to each other, and because they were war-time lovers each moment was precious with the poignancy of parting. “Whatever happens, this one short week will have spoiled us both for any lesser loves,” Berengaria consoled herself, when it was over.

That last evening at Limassol she felt as if she were deliberately releasing him from her enchantment and giving him back to his world. He seemed to have forgotten his grief for Robin in the manifest happiness of a man possessing both the woman and the work he loves. During their brief honeymoon he had discussed with her the advisability of leaving Guy de Lusignon in charge of Cyprus until Jerusalem should be retaken, and all that last afternoon she had willingly played her part in the formal ceremony of handing over the island. Immediately after a hasty supper Richard was off to the harbour with Mercadier preparing for embarkation and Berengaria loyally slipped away. Having married a public hero she must school herself to share him. But when they were up in her rooms packing Yvette, glancing down at the busy quay, exclaimed: “Just look at the Cypriot princess hanging about barefoot like any peasant!”

Berengaria’s heart warmed to the antipathy in her voice, but she treated the youthful criticism much as she used to treat the uncharitable remarks of Isabella and Henrietta. “If we lived in this climate and had such lovely feet I expect we should want to go barefoot too,” she said, moving to the window.

And Johanna, sorting out some gay Syrian embroideries, remarked good-naturedly, “With her mother dead and her father in prison, Ida is little better than an orphan. I expect she is waiting to say ‘good-bye’ to Richard.”

She evidently was. She lurked in the shadow of the harbour wall until he left Mercadier and waylaid him as he came up the slipway alone. Berengaria saw her sudden tears, her feigned start of surprise, and the appealing gesture of her clutching hands. She couldn’t hear what either of them said, of course, but she saw Richard bend to comfort the girl. “How can men be fooled by that baby stuff after the way she danced!” she marvelled. She watched them cross the quay, dodging the burdens of the laden sailors. Ida was all vivacity now, laughing back at him as they climbed a flight of slippery stone steps.

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