Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,258

him?”

Hugues was annoyed by André’s derisive interjection. But as he glanced toward Richard, he saw the king looked amused, and so he merely shrugged. “Make of it what you will, my lord de Chauvigny. I can only tell you that Saladin and the Old Man of the Mountain obviously reached some sort of understanding, a truce if you will, for the attempts upon the sultan’s life ceased.”

Henri, ever the diplomat, took it upon himself to steer the conversation into more placid waters and the awkward moment passed. He personally thought André was right, but logic rarely could compete with legend and he saw that many of the guests preferred to believe Hugues’s chilling tale of Assassins with diabolical powers beyond the ken of mortal men.

After the meal was done, Richard beckoned to the Grand Masters of the Templars and Hospitallers; he greatly admired the courage, stoicism, and discipline of both military orders and did what he could to show others that they stood high in royal favor. He was soon approached, though, by the Lady Uracca, the youngest—and to his mind, the most foolish—of his wife’s attendants. The queen was departing for her own tent, the girl reported, a message that was puzzling on several levels. Why had Berenguela not come over herself? And why was she leaving so soon?

While Richard tended to take the behind-the-scenes activities of the women for granted, rarely stopping to consider how much preparation went into festivities like this, he did know his wife had a strong sense of duty, and it wasn’t like her to abandon her obligations as his hostess. Uracca, of course, was unable to provide any answers, but as he searched the crowded tent, he caught a glimpse of Berengaria’s new fur-trimmed mantle.

Moving swiftly to intercept her, he was thinking back to her behavior during the meal. The other women had actively engaged in the conversation about the Assassins, but Berengaria had remained silent. Now that he thought about it, he realized she had been subdued even before the dinner began, uncommonly quiet and withdrawn for a queen on public display. And she did look pale, he thought, with a stirring of unease, for disease was always hovering over an army encampment and it was so cold the guests had been forced to remain bundled in their cloaks even while they ate. With so many of his soldiers laid low by sickness, how much more susceptible must a delicately reared lass like Berenguela be to the alien, noxious maladies of Outremer?

Drawing her aside, he looked intently into her face. “Uracca told me you were leaving. Are you ailing, little dove?”

“No, I am quite well. I am just . . . just tired. But I will stay if that is your wish.” Relieved, he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “No, there is no need for that; Joanna can act in your stead. I was merely concerned that you might be ill. Go and rest. In fact, that is a good idea,” he said with a smile, “for you are not likely to get that much sleep tonight.”

He’d expected her to blush and laugh, as she always did. He did not expect the reaction he got. “No, not tonight!” she cried, and then clapped her hand to her mouth as if she could call her words back.

Richard blinked in astonishment. While he might have agreed in theory that a wife ought to have the right of refusal, it had not occurred to him that his own wife would ever invoke it. “Are you sure you are not sick, Berenguela?”

“I . . . no, I am not ill,” she assured him, although she no longer met his gaze, her lashes coming down like shutters to shield her thoughts.

He was momentarily at a loss, but then he understood. “Oh, of course! Your flux has come,” he said, pleased with himself for solving this minor mystery so easily, and reached for her hand. Again, he got more than he’d bargained for. She gasped and tears suddenly welled in her eyes. Jerking free of his grasp, she whirled and fled—there was no other way to describe her precipitate exit. Heads turned in her direction and her startled ladies and knights hurried to catch up, while Richard stared after her in consternation.

“Richard?” Joanna materialized at his side as if by magic. “Whatever did you say to her?”

He was usually amused by her protectiveness, even if it did mean she invariably took Berengaria’s side whenever they