A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,97

years figure out what they say, but they are fascinating to look at, aren't they? Old Magnus in the square has a son who sails the seas. Every few years he returns home loaded with strange gifts from far off lands. He brought this to me. Said for all their godlessness, the heathens are very educated and write volumes."

Elena took the book from the old man and gingerly leafed through the pages. She had heard stories of the exotic east, passed around from the time of the Crusades. Looking at the text, she thought, Even the script is exotic. Each page was intricately illuminated with vivid colors and gold leaf. Strange birds and animals shared the border space with dark-skinned men wrapped in voluminous robes, riding powerful steeds and bearing curved swords.

"Where are their ladies?" she asked the old man.

"Eh? Ladies? They don't allow them to be seen."

"Don't allow them to be seen? What do you mean?"

"Just that. Mostly the ladies stay indoor where only their male folk can see them. If they ever do go out, they are covered from head to toe in a black cloak, sometimes not even their eyes showing." The old man opened his eyes wide for emphasis and Elena noticed they were clear with vitality--there was no hazy blurring of age in them.

Her mind going back to the heathen women, she was amazed. How could you possibly flirt without your eyes? Surely such a rule was for common women alone. "What about the royal women?"

The old bookseller scrunched up his wrinkled face in concentration. "Seems to me Magnus's son said the women who are important are kept even more hidden away. They live in the palace and no men but the--now what did he call them?" He turned and rifled through some papers strewn across the table. "Ah, I knew I'd written down. My memory isn't what it used to be, so I make notes to myself. The sultan, that's what their kings are called. These sultans are the only men who are allowed to see these women."

Fascinated, Elena continued turning the pages of the book, wishing she could read the intricate script. None of the books she had ever read had told her about such exotic lands. She had read accounts of Italy and even Greece and they had proven fascinating enough, but the people in them had behaved similarly enough to those in England that they had not seemed so alien.

"What else did he tell you?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Obviously delighted that he had an avid listener, he pushed a stack of books off of a low bench and wiped the dust off with his sleeve. Gesturing for Elena to sit, he turned to Cynan and Bryant who were standing by the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "You need not wait for this young lady, she and I will be occupied for a good while. You may leave and we will send for you when she is ready."

Cynan bowed briefly and told Elena, "I would like to take something back to Enid. If you are comfortable, I will leave you to this good man and return in a while."

"Of course," Elena said graciously.

Cynan looked to Bryant expectantly. "Do you care to join me?"

Bryant shook his head and scowled disapprovingly. "I will wait with Lady Elena."

"There's no need, Bryant," Elena said.

"I will stay," he said implacably.

Cynan looked to Elena and shrugged his shoulders. "Enjoy your books, then."

The bookseller sat in his worn chair with a creak of old bones and old wood. "By the way, I have not introduced myself. I am Llywelyn, named for that great Welsh prince, but much to my father's disappointment bore absolutely none of the warrior's characteristics of that strong man save his name. I gather you are called Lady Elena. Despite your Welsh name, I detect an English accent. Am I correct?"

Elena gave Llywelyn an indulging smile and nodded. "I am rarely wrong on such things," he said as he gestured with his chin toward Bryant. "And who might your rude friend here be?"

Elena turned around and realized Bryant was still standing stiffly by the door, his hands clasped in front of him as he maintained his sentry-like pose. "Oh, that is Bryant."

"Why don't you come sit, boy. Your legs will go numb with you standing like that. Besides, you might learn something."

Bryant shook his head.

Elena, anxious to hear more of the far-off land of heathens, impatiently gestured to the bench on which she was