I stared at him, and he must have misinterpreted my reaction. “Only those ignoramuses who have recently arrived use that despicable expression,” he added. “I beg your forgiveness for using such inappropriate language in the presence of a lady,” he concluded on a formal note.
“I’m not from these parts, so no harm done,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s awesome that your family has been here for the past hundred and fifty years, and your grandmother was a queen, and all that. My parents arrived here less than forty years ago, without a penny to their name. I’m the first person in the family to be born here.”
Jean raised his eyebrows and said, “And where is ‘here’? Where were you born, Lady Édith?”
“In Jerusalem,” I said.
“Indeed?” he said, his eyes round like saucers. Suddenly, I could imagine him as a kid. “Indeed,” I replied boastfully, although I wasn’t totally sure why. “I lived in Jerusalem until I was about twenty-five years old.”
“I have been but once to Jerusalem,” he said, staring out into the distance, “when I made a pilgrimage with my elder brother, Balian, Lordof Beirut. Jerusalem was dilapidated, devoid of a king to maintain order, full of cripples and amputees, scheming Saracens and wretched Jews. I could, however, see the hills upon which our savior preached, and I walked in the way of the cross, and my heart expanded. I will return there one day and do everything in my power to restore Jerusalem to greatness, as in the days of my grandmother the queen.” He sounded determined, which surprised me. Talk of his queen grandmother stressed me out for some reason. I said nothing about the wretched Jews. I concentrated on scratching Brunette’s ears.
Jean sighed. He surveyed me and my clothes without saying a word, as I rolled a cigarette from the tobacco pouch I’d removed from my bag. I couldn’t find a lighter in the bag, so I lit the cigarette in the little bonfire Jean had made. He watched me smoking, distrust written over his face. He demanded an explanation, so I said that where I come from, it’s totally acceptable to smoke dried weeds rolled up in paper.
“Paper, and such fine paper!” he said in astonishment, his eyes like saucers again. “Where did you procure such a precious commodity? And you are burning it for no reason!” He was unable to keep his cool.
“In the time and place I come from, paper is taken for granted.”
“In all my days, I have never met a lady such as you,” Jean marveled, shaking his head slowly. It made me want to nestle up to him. I stroked the back of his hand fleetingly and withdrew it swiftly. I had no idea how to behave with him.
“Okay,” I said and clapped a hand to my mouth, giggling. “Sorry. Very well. And so, what happened after that? How does the story continue?” I asked.
“Okay,” Jean smiled. “Accordingly, I lay down on my pallet at first watch and fell asleep immediately. I dreamed of you, as I have already relayed. The dream shook me to my very bones, as though it were not a dream at all but a voyage I had taken out of my own body.
“I awoke at break of dawn and was wholly unable to go back to sleep. I felt the urge to attend confession, if only to pour out my heart, but resolved to ponder the matter awhile. Albeit confession is bound by strict confidentiality, but rumors spread swiftly in the fortress—the holy brothers gossip like laundrywomen—and I had no desire for further jokes at my expense.” He frowned, and I pressed my shoulder against his, indicating I was on his side.
“Not long after I awoke,” Jean went on, “we rode to Acre. Thibaut and I, and a small band of knights. Lady Alice, my wife, sent me a missive some time earlier declaring her wish for me to spend the last Saturday of April at the family residence, and to further tarry for Sunday Mass at our church in Acre. We rode swiftly, and when we arrived in the city, we parted ways. Thibaut continued with the brothers to the Templar palace, and I made my way to the house of my wife’s father, Rohard, Master of Haifa. Everyone rejoiced at my arrival, and the Saturday and Day of Resurrection of our Lord I spent in the pleasant warmth of home, at sumptuous meals and prayers for my sinful soul.”
I couldn’t decide whether he was serious or just fooling around. After his fervent confession about Jerusalem, his Christian locutions appeared more sincere; nonetheless, there was a perceptible note of irony in his words.
“In the company of my family and under the auspices of familiar household practices, your magical disappearance seemed like a hallucination,” Jean continued, and I could see he was enjoying the story. “I told myself that such a thing could never happen. The Saracen who bestowed the hashish upon me informed me that partaking of too much might cause delirium, but up until that moment, I thought he was hyperbolizing for no reason, as is the way of the Saracens.”
He drank from his ceramic cup, refilled it, and continued.
“Thibaut decided to stay in Acre in order to clarify … several issues,but he asked me to return to Château Pèlerin and supervise his men, to ensure they were training as befit them and conducting themselves with humility. Last night I returned with the fatigued Templars, who had practiced abstinence and prayed with devotion for the past two days with their brothers in the city. We reached the area at late dusk and passed close by this very place. I fancied I could see a strange light, skipping and dancing around, precisely at this spot. I wanted to ride over here, but Brother Hugues told me it was surely the will-o’-the-wisp, and that I should continue onward. I listened to the voice of reason, yet anguish rose up within my heart. What if your disappearance was a figment of my imagination and the real you were out there alone, a lady lost at the mercy of wild beasts, helpless and starving? I vowed to return the next morning to examine the area, and here I am.” He paused and then added, “I cannot comprehend this.”
“Neither can I,” I whispered. I tried to imagine him as a contented landlord, sitting in an easy chair by the fire, surrounded by little children and a wife fussing over him. I couldn’t really see it.
“Nevertheless, I have told you of my wanderings, of … how I’ve been. It is a fact that I cannot recall the last time I prattled on so,” Jean said, with a courteous smile. “And you have yet to relate a single word of what happened to you. Did you find your good husband?”
“I found him, sure,” I said absentmindedly. “I thought I’d flipped, too, and afterward I convinced myself that I’d hallucinated while on mushrooms. After that, it was basically a nice weekend, hanging out …”
“Hanging out?” Jean said.
“Never mind,” I laughed. I peered at the sky again. Was it 3:00 p.m.? Later than that? Out of habit, I glanced at the dead phone. “I ought to be getting back,” I said. “They’ll be worried about me.” Jean nodded sympathetically. “But I’d love to come back,” I added quickly. “To meet you again.” A smile spread across Jean’s face.
“Tomorrow?” he asked. “Midday?”
I wanted to answer immediately, yes, yes, yes, but when I managed to focus for a moment, I remembered that Lily had a checkup and vaccine at the clinic tomorrow. And I had no idea how Halimi would take my disappearance today.
“I can’t tomorrow,” I said firmly. “I need to take my daughter to the doctor.”
“In the name of the Holy Mother, is she ailing?” Jean asked, alarmed.
“No, not in the least,” I reassured him. “Where I come from, the doctors check little children every few months, even when they’re healthy, just to make sure all is well.”
His eyes narrowed further. “And what do they do if all is not well?” he asked after thinking about this for a few seconds.
“It depends on what it is,” I said. “If there are problems with eyesight, then the eyes are tested and sometimes … little devices are prescribed, which can help. If there are developmental problems, all kinds of exercises are prescribed. Sometimes surgery is needed to correct the problem.”
