‘Yes, you shall,’ he uttered as I closed the door behind me and leant on it for strength. Why was every word he said a drain on me, even when there was no sexual connotation attached?
Our association during this mission is never going to work, I fear, when it seems that even I cannot keep my focus and faith. Has god abandoned me, or is it that my heart has abandoned my god? MAY 23RD 1244
My spirits are soaring. Off the port bow, as I write, the Principality of Antioch is within sight. I am excited beyond words that today I shall set foot on dry land.
Despite my previous fears, Devere has kept his vow to me, and has been more amiable, in a brotherly sense, than ever before. Our conversation on the night of his recovery could have been a dream, for he has never referred to it again. It is almost as if he has forgotten it entirely, for there has been nothing implied in his manner or words which would indicate that he is repressing feelings for me. Devere did say that he would take steps to bring his feelings under control, although how he managed this, or quite what he had meant by it, was a mystery to me. I was glad that whatever he was doing seemed to be working.
I began to believe that my knight’s prediction of ‘a relationship between us never being realised’ was quite true, and so I felt far more at ease in Devere’s company. I had become fond enough of my travelling companion to hope that his second prediction, that I would be the death of him, would not be proven true either. I have to admit that I wondered if one prediction related to the other. And if I bestowed the kiss he had said I would never give him, would that prove
I should not be thinking such thoughts; perhaps the excitement of the day is getting to me. MAY 28TH 1244
I have been a fool and I feel I am a disgrace to my order. Thankfully, my god brought me to my senses before I could shame myself and it is only now, days after the event, that I have found the courage to confess my folly.
On our first night in port, Devere found us very comfortable lodgings in an inn frequented by rich merchants visiting Antioch’s seaport of St Simeon. I cannot express how good it felt to bathe after months at sea, or how wonderful it felt to sleep in a room all by myself.
As I lay down in bed that night I could still feel the rocking of the boat. Devere had warned that this would be the case and that it would be several days before I would again feel comfortable on solid land. After some time I did manage to fall asleep, but my dreams were most disturbing.
I have never before dreamed of being intimate with a man and the vision was so vivid that I believed the event was truly taking place. I felt no guilt, doubt or inhibition in the act, only relief and elation beyond any earthly joy I had ever known. Before my expectations could be fully satisfied I awoke in a sweat, and was disappointed to find myself alone and more tormented than I had ever been. To add to my vexation I knew there was but a wall between myself and the man I desired so desperately. I wasn’t myself, for there was no reasoning with the emotions that had been set into play by my dreaming. Nothing seemed to matter beyond making my vision a reality.
In the corridor beyond my quarters not a soul could be seen; thus, I did not bother covering my clean long-shirt. I just crept silently to Devere’s quarters next door and quietly opened the door.
A very sobering sight met my eyes. Devere was as naked as the local woman beneath him in whom he was taking deep pleasure.
I probably would have been wise to slip out of there unannounced, but not only had Devere lied to me, he had betrayed the code of his order as well. ‘How could you?’ I accused, so furious that I ignored my better judgement.
Devere looked up at me, almost as if he had expected the intrusion. ‘It was easy,’ he said, not bothering to withdraw from his conquest to speak with me. ‘I just closed my eyes and thought of you.’
That was the last straw. The coolness of his response made me so ashamed of my own intention that I felt ill and quickly returned to my quarters, where I was compelled to empty the contents of my stomach into my bedpan. I praised the Lord, for what I had borne witness to had brought me to my senses and had prevented me from betraying my holy vows. But my heart pained me with such an agony, as I had never felt before, that I wished I had a dagger in order to cut it from the body it had nearly betrayed.
I had not cried since I was a small child who knew no better than to desire the mundane pleasures of this world, and I despised Devere for my regression. I prayed to god to be merciful and deliver me from this man’s company. My prayers and tears only subsided when exhaustion finally relieved me of consciousness.
The next morning there was a pounding on my door—I suspected it was Devere come to fetch me and I dreaded the thought of facing him. I could feel how swollen were my eyes and face, and I could not have been more ashamed and disappointed with myself.
‘I am not dressed yet,’ I snapped. ‘Please come back later.’ I splashed my face with water from the washbowl and fished for the cotton drying cloth.
‘My Lady du Lac. It is I, Sir Christian Molier. Are you unharmed?’
My heart shot into my throat. I should have been relieved at this turn of events, and I was, and yet all I could think about was Devere. What would become of him if he was captured? Had they caught him?
‘Yes, my lord.’ I hurried to dress myself and answer the door.
‘Is Devere in there with you?’ he queried.
I unlatched the door and opened it. ‘No, my lord. I believe Sir Devere had plans that necessitated the taking of his own quarters last night.’
‘Then I must be doubly grateful to find you safe and unharmed.’ The French knight bowed to me dutifully. ‘The innkeeper has told us that Devere took the room next door, and yet he no longer seems to be there.’ Molier suddenly hauled me into the corridor, and his men stormed in to search my quarters.
‘Will you not accept my word?’ I took offence at being startled and manhandled in this way.
‘A thousand apologies, my lady.’ Molier let me go and explained himself. ‘I feared the rogue might be holding you hostage.’
Obviously, the search of my room failed to produce Devere and I breathed easier when Molier seemed to lose interest in pursuing him. ‘Are you still in possession of your sacred charge?’ he queried. Although I was inclined to, I thought better of telling Molier the truth for fear that it would give him an incentive to pursue Devere. The prophecy
