Rose by Traci E. Hall Page A

can stuff in your belly. Which, from the look of you, you need.”
    Eleanor put her hands to her cheeks. “Am I so terrible?”
    Raymond shook his head. “Your beauty shines like a beacon in the night. You are thin, though. I would fatten you up.”
    â€œI look forward to being pampered. The journey has been long, and I am tired.”
    â€œThen go with my wife, and she will see you settled. Eleanor, I am so happy you are here.” Raymond nodded to each of them. “Louis. Welcome. Until later.”
    They left the room, and the last bit of energy Mamie had drained from her body. Suddenly, Mamie wanted rest more than wine or a wash. They walked up the wide marble stairs, following Princess Constance. Mamie looked out a narrow window, paned with real glass, on the second floor of the palace and saw Dominus speaking with a very tanned Knight Templar. The older man’s tonsured white head bent toward him. Dominus’s shoulders were stiff, his back straight, his hands behind his back, curled into fists as he listened to whatever the man had to say. Unable to stay and stare out the window, Mamie followed their procession down the hall.
    Strange. What were they talking about?

    Dominus leaned closer. Commander Bartholomew gripped his shoulder and pressed his fingers into the muscle, hard. “I saw you riding with two beautiful women. Laughing as you entered the palace gates.”
    â€œYou told me to see them to the palace.”
    â€œI said to escort the pilgrims.”
    â€œThey were part of the caravan.” Dominus bit his cheek, unused to someone telling him his business. “The queen’s guard, to be exact.”
    â€œTales of the queen’s slatternly ladies reached us months ago. Women are not to be trusted, brother. Many a good man has lost his way over a pair of tits. I fear the king might be one of those.”
    Dominus bristled at the commander’s disrespect. Self-preservation caused him to mind his tongue. “Commander.” He cleared his throat. “Is the danger so great here in Antioch? I offer my sword, where you need it.”
    Commander Bartholomew stepped back, his eyes like flint. “You offer me your sword? Your sword belongs to me. You have sworn an oath as a Knight Templar, and I am your commander here in Antioch. You will do what I tell you, when I tell you. My word is final.”
    Dominus shifted. “I did not argue.”
    â€œSilence!” The old man raised a hand to the sky, as if calling on God to smite this sinner in front of him. “You have had too much leniency, traveling with the king and his caravan. Too many privileges. You have forgotten how to be humble.”
    Damn it. Dominus bowed his head. “I am sorry, Commander. Forgive me.”
    The commander closed his eyes in direct communion with Jesus Christ. After a moment, he said, “You will be forgiven. You must fast for a full day and spend this evening on your knees in prayer.”
    How was he supposed to do Bishop Clairvaux’s bidding from his chamber? How was he supposed to see Mamie in all her new clothes? She intrigued him—so perhaps spending his night in prayer was a better idea, anyhow.
    â€œA just punishment,” Dominus said.
    Pleased, the commander asked, “Do you have a horse or any other worldly goods?”
    â€œI had two horses, but they died in Laodicea. There was no food, and one took an arrow to the chest. The other starved.”
    Commander Bartholomew exhaled, seemingly more saddened by the steeds’ demise than the warriors’. “Go to the stable, and pick one of the finest. And a spare. God believes in our strength for his cause against evil. How are your weapons?”
    â€œI lost a short sword, though my other is in good repair.” Dominus opted to keep his coin to himself.
    â€œGod will provide, brother.” The Templar put his arm across Dominus’s shoulders in camaraderie now instead of