I began to walk. If he turned up, it would probably be from the fortress, so I walked in that direction. There was a weird feeling in my ears, like they were filled with fluff, like everything I heard passed through some kind of insulation. I swallowed again and again. I drank from the bottle of water I had brought. I squinted in the direction of the beach, trying to see if any knight on horseback was galloping in my direction. The walk lasted for some time, and I was a little tired by the time I reached the beach.
I sat down on the sand, the high wall to my left hiding the town, and looked at the sea. All I could see before me were stormy waves breaking and the lonesome tower on the rock in the sea, a few hundred meters north of the citadel. It seemed to me that I caught sight of some movement. And I could hear muffled sounds beyond the wall—chickens squawking, a hammer or something heavier knocking, sawing of some kind, and people’s voices.
The beach was empty and clean. The plantations and salt pools bordered the wall to the south, and the strip of sand continued until it disappeared from sight to the north, into the stormy sea ahead. No barbedwire, no rusty metal signs, no diapers among the bushes, no trailers with their little patches of synthetic grass. I glanced toward the place where the Crusader cemetery was supposed to be. I saw a few dozen tombstones.
I mustered my courage and turned to the gate in the wall. I hoped there was no password. I wondered if I would have to pass through the town. I remembered from literature and movies that people from the Middle Ages did not like foreigners, and for a moment I imagined old, screaming, toothless women rallying everyone against me, and me ending up burned at the stake. I stopped and took Lily’s coin from my pocket. I glanced over at the salt pools and the plantations, to the area of Le Destroit, where my spring lay. I took a deep breath and knocked on the gate.
I waited several seconds, which became a minute, and I thought to myself,Okay, I’ll come back some other day, and then a hatch in the door opened. A pair of suspicious eyes peeked through the lattice.
“Oui?” came a coarse voice.
“Greetings to you, sir,” I said as politely as possible. “I am seeking Jean d’Ibelin, Count of Arsur. I have reason to believe that he is here at the fortress.” I was proud of myself for coming up with “reason to believe” in French.
“Oh?” the voice replied.
“I must see Jean d’Ibelin, Count of Arsur. It is urgent,” I repeated as respectfully as I knew how.
“The Pilgrim Castle does not admit women, much less prostitutes,” the coarse voice said and slammed the hatch shut.
I stood there shocked. I filled with rage and a strong, slightly hysterical wish to laugh, but I held it in. I reminded myself of how Jean convinced me that I am a lady, with the hands and hair and fine French and all.I am Monsieur d’Arsur’s cousin, I repeated to myself.
I knocked again, and the moment the hatch opened, I said slowly, in Jean’s accent and a lordly tone, which came to me so naturally that I was surprised, “Listen, you leprous dog. Let me in at once; if you will not,you will regret it. Inform Lord Arsur that the Countess of Atlit is here and must see him at once.” I glared at him through the lattice.
“Countess who?” the voice said in a hesitant, more courteous tone.
“Tell him that his cousin is here, Lady Édith; he will understand,” I answered, sounding self-important.
The hatch shut more politely, and the gate opened with a screech. I entered slowly, and the first thing I saw was the guard, a knight in a helmet, scale armor, and a black mantle with a red cross on it. I managed to keep my expression inscrutable, but I was pumping deep breaths through my tightened jaw.
“Follow me,” the guard said without expression through his helmet. He walked along the sea toward the westernmost wall, and I walked several paces after him, taking in the sight of the town: pretty stone houses, one floor or two; several open workshops along the main cobblestoned street, from which a few narrow dirt lanes branched. Plum trees in purple bloom abounded. The houses looked like toys in the shadow of the enormous citadel that towered beyond the western wall. When we arrived there, the guard momentarily joined another guard, standing at the gates. This one looked at me in wonder but nodded in resignation, like a man who has seen it all. “Wait here,” my guard said to me.
I stood by the gate and tried not to stand out. A large man crossed the street, startling a flock of chickens, and when he saw me, he stared without stopping. He arrived at what appeared to be a smithy and exchanged a few words with a thick-bearded man working there, and then he sat down on a stool and continued to gawk at me.
I should have brought some sort of scarf or kerchief, I told myself.I’m so stupid.My heart began beating wildly, and for the second time it occurred to me that I had made a stupid mistake coming in here. Visions of a medieval madhouse flashed through my mind again, and I almost turned back. Only my fear of the attention that my sudden walking might attract kept me rooted to the spot.
The guard returned and with him another knight, this one in a white mantle with the red cross. They spoke briskly as they approached me. “And how many did he receive?” mumbled my guard. “Fifty lashes,” his friend replied. The guard sucked air through his teeth and shook his head, looking pained. “For just one extra glass?” The second knight shook his head and said nothing.
“A message has been sent to Count Arsur,” my guard told me. He had removed his helmet in the meantime and appeared more sympathetic. I nodded my head at him with a small smile of gratitude, and his eyes expanded in a strange way. I looked away in embarrassment and leaned my back against the wall. My body was still, but my eyes raced around frantically. I was hit with an abundance of smells—of sheep and of fertilizer, and of freshly split wood, roasted meat, cat urine, and sweet pea. The smell of human waste was stronger here, too, but merged harmoniously with the multitude of other smells. A woman, her head covered with a white wimple, rounded up the chickens that the staring man had scattered before. When she noticed me, her mouth gaped, and she hurried into one of the houses. I tingled with the urge to run away but did not dare move.
I looked at the fortress. Considering its size, it would probably take at least half an hour until the message would reach Jean and he could make it here. I felt a rush of anxiety.What if he was not here, and this was all a ruse that would end with me being thrown into some dungeon, and no one would ever know what became of me? Or what if Jean’s wife arrived, and that’s why he isn’t coming? Why did I not simply dive back to my own world when I saw that he wasn’t coming? Why did I go after him?My hands began to tremble. The two knights went on talking among themselves.I’ll just go, I calmed myself.Don’t make drama, I added and turned toward the eastern wall.
“My lady,” the guard stood before me. I froze, my heart pounding. “I apologize from the bottom of my heart for my impertinence earlier. These are overwrought times, but there is no excuse for un-knightlycomportment. Please forgive me, and the Good Lord will forgive your sins too.” He was large and fair, with straw-colored hair and a slightly stooped back.
“I grant thee my forgiveness,” I said with a nobility that I later replayed over and over in my head with great pleasure. “You bear great responsibility. But there is much you do not know about the world around you, and there is a reason why I do not appear as you might expect.” I hoped that I had not overdone it again.
“Please forgive me, whole of heart,” said the guard, in a begging tone that surprised me.
“Of course, I forgive you, wholeheartedly!” I said, touched, and almost went over to lay a hand on his arm. But something in his eyes stopped me. His friend placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Well, I’ll be.” A voice was heard from the wall above, accompanied by an outburst of barking. My heart leaped like a helium balloon set free. I looked up and saw Jean d’Ibelin, Count of Arsur, leaning toward us from a nearby tower. I could not see well, but it seemed to me that he was trying to hold back a smile. Brunette must have been at his feet. I heard her barking but could not see her.
“The honorable Lady Édith, in the flesh and on her own at the Pilgrim Castle,” Jean nodded.
“You know her, my lord?” the guard asked, chastened.
“Certainly,” Jean replied. “Show her here to me.”
CHAPTER 16
