Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,1

the only home she’d ever known. Even the arrival of her brother Arnaud did not ease her anxiety, for he was ill equipped to assume responsibility for a little sister. Arnaud was a warrior monk, one of that famed brotherhood-in-arms known as the Knights Templar, returning to Outremer to join the struggle to free the Holy City of Jerusalem from the infidels known as Saracens or Turks. Unable either to provide for Alicia’s future or to abandon her, he’d felt compelled to take her with him. Alicia was grateful, but bewildered, too, for she did not know what awaited her in the Holy Land, and she suspected that her brother did not know, either. As he was her only lifeline, she had no choice but to trust in Arnaud and God as they left France behind.

The overland journey had been hard upon a young girl unaccustomed to travel. Arnaud had been kind in a distracted sort of way, though, and his fellow Templars had done their best to shield her from the rigors of the road, so some of her anxiety had begun to subside by the time they reached Genoa. But her fear came rushing back as soon as she set foot upon the wet, quaking deck of the San Niccolò.

Arnaud was pleased that he’d been able to book passage on a galley, explaining to Alicia that it would not be becalmed like naves and busses that relied solely upon sails, showing her the two banks of oars on each side of the ship. Alicia saw only how low it rode in the water, and she no longer worried about her uncertain prospects in Outremer, sure that she’d never survive the sea voyage.

She’d become seasick even before the Genoese lighthouse had receded into the distance. During the day, she huddled miserably in her small allotted space on the deck, obeying Arnaud’s orders not to mingle with the other passengers, trying to settle her queasy stomach by nibbling on the twice-baked ship’s biscuits. While some of the passengers had brought their own food, Arnaud had not, for he took seriously his Templar vows of poverty, obedience, and abstinence. The nights were by far the worst, and Alicia dreaded to see the sun sink into the sea behind them. She slept poorly, kept awake by the creaking and groaning of the ship’s timbers, the relentless pounding of waves against the hull, the snoring of their neighbors, and the skittering sounds made by rats and mice unseen in the darkness. Each passenger was provided with a terra-cotta chamber pot and, with every breath she took, she inhaled the rank smells of urine and vomit and sweat. Lying awake as the hours dragged by until dawn, scratching flea bites and blinking back tears as she remembered the peaceful and familiar life that had once been hers, she yearned for the comfort of her brother’s embrace, but Templars were forbidden to show physical affection to women, even their own mothers and sisters.

While most of the passengers were males, merchants and pilgrims and swaggering youths who’d taken the cross and boasted endlessly about the great deeds they’d perform in the Holy Land, there were several women returning to Tyre with their husbands after visiting family back in France, and even a few female pilgrims determined to fulfill their vows in the midst of war. One kindly matron would have taken Alicia under her wing, touched by the girl’s youth, but Alicia was too shy to respond, not wanting to displease Arnaud.

She did listen to the other woman’s cheerful conversation, though, marveling that she seemed so blithe about coming back to a land under siege. The port of Tyre and a few scattered castles were all that was left to the Christians in the Holy Land. Acre, Jaffa, and the sacred city of Jerusalem had all fallen to the infidels. On their journey, Alicia had heard her brother rant about the wickedness of the Saracens, bitterly cursing the man who led them, the Sultan of Egypt and Syria, Salah al-Dīn, known to the Christians as Saladin. Every time Alicia heard the name of Arnaud’s godless nemesis, she shivered. Arnaud’s courage was beyond question. He didn’t even seem afraid of the perilous, hungry sea. If he died fighting the infidels, his entry into Paradise would be assured. But what would happen to her?

Arnaud had told her that their voyage to Tyre would take about thirty-five days, explaining that the prevailing winds blew from the west and they’d