A Murderous Procession aka The Assassin

them.

In any case, would the coming year be so bad?

The disgusting phrase she’d heard men use about rape-“Lie back and enjoy it”-came to her mind. Yes, she was being used, forced to accede to a demand against her will. On the other hand, Allie was as safe as she could be and had Gyltha to look after her, while she herself was about to set out on a journey she’d been wanting to make for years and in a style that, apart from the inevitable dangers of all travel, was as safe as possible under the circumstances.

Adelia took in a breath of air in which the seagulls were gliding for the pleasure of it. She touched Mansur’s hand. “Oh well…” she said.

He inclined his head; he knew what she meant, he always did. He was another who was going home.

NIGHT HAS FALLEN on the harbor. It is hot, uncomfortable, and crowded in the cabins of the royal vessels as they wait for the wind that will come with the dawn tide, but the passengers are tired so that, one by one, their lanterns-no naked flame is allowed on board-are extinguished. Except for their riding lights, the ships are mere shapes, like two dragons in the darkness…

No, one lantern is still burning. One man prefers the deck to his cabin and has wedged himself against a hatch so that he can commune with his Messiah in peace-or as much peace as the Messiah gives him,

“We have been introduced, beloved.” Scarry’s mouth moves but no sound comes from it. “I managed to abide her, for so I must. Even close to, she is no beauty-except for the smile, which she gave once, and then… well, I confess it: suum cuique pulchrum. The skin is dark blond like that of a Greek. You would have enjoyed chewing on it.

“Her eyes, which are brown, show an insult to all men. I am anyone’s match, they say, I have knowledge. What presumption, what challenge.

“I have employed a minion to search her luggage. There is no sign of Excalibur, but of a certainty she knows where it is. To whom else would the king have entrusted it but her, who led him to it?

“Keep your temper, my joy, my love, as I do. We have time, we have a thousand miles. We shall have the sword, and she shall be brought down. But slowly, piece by piece, a pedibus usque ad caput, chop, chop, until the wits go.

“For you, Wolf. On your altar. To you who were the equal of a god.”

Four

A STRONG BREEZE came up, as the little Turk had said it would.

The Bishop of Winchester performed the usual ceremony, committing the boats and everyone in them to the mercy of God. To his concern, however, the admiral performed a ceremony of his own. Standing on the prow of his flagship, he raised his arms and spoke to his waiting crews in Irish, his voice traveling easily from ship to ship: “Amach daoibh a chlann an righ.”

Adelia asked one of the oarsmen what he’d said and was told,

“It’s the words Eva the witch says to the Children of Lir when she turns them into swans: ”Out with you on the water, ye children of the king.”

“Isn’t that a curse?” It was certainly pagan.

“Maybe, maybe, but swans do float and keep a-floatin’. And it’s with us sailors, d’ye see, that we’d rather have a curse from himself than a blessing from the Pope.”

Whatever it was, the oarsmen were able to take their ease while the vessels proceeded smartly over the Channel under sail, heeling slightly with the wind a-beam.

WORD ISSUED FROM Joanna’s deck cabin. The princess was seasick. Dr. Arnulf, looking none too well himself was being called to her side.

“And we attend, too,” Adelia told Mansur firmly. “Not that I know of anything to help seasickness, but if he goes, we go.”

The precedent that Arnulf was not Joanna’s only appointed doctor must be set.

The royal cabin was crowded, dark, and smelled of vomit. The sufferer was hidden in a cluster of people who hung onto beams and, occasionally, one another to keep upright. From the midst of anxious ladies-in-waiting and maids, the new arrivals heard the voice of Dr. Arnulf: “The bile is blackish, the princess should be bled at once. Fetch me my leeches.”

“Ginger.” This was Joanna’s nurse, Edeva. “Ginger’s good.”

“Surely…” It was the Bishop of Winchester’s turn. “… a bone of Saint Erasmus attached to her stomach would be more efficacious; I think we have one in the ossuary we brought with us, haven’t we, Father Guy?”

Which of the saints was Erasmus? Adelia had a vague remembrance of Somerset herdsmen invoking him to cure cattle pest; presumably he turned his spiritual hand to maritime upsets as well.

Father Guy pushed past her without greeting, hurrying to get his box of bones. His colleague, Father Adalburt, Adelia noticed, was also here, using an aspergillum to sprinkle holy water on anyone he could reach which, because of the crowd around her and the ship’s brisk motion, did not include the princess.

“The nurse speaks well,” Mansur said quietly in Arabic. “Ginger is good, but the child also needs fresh air.”

Adelia was taken aback; it was rare for Mansur to prescribe, but he probably knew more about mal de mer than she did; in his sad youth among the monks who’d castrated him he’d been sent on the long voyage to sing in Byzantium.

She raised her voice. “The Lord Mansur wishes to see his patient.”

There was a reluctant movement that gave them both passage through to where Joanna lay shivering and uncomplaining, her pointed little face livid under a swinging lantern-an object that, Adelia thought, couldn’t be helping matters. The girl looked up at Mansur without interest, raised herself and was sick into a bowl.

“So much for him comin’ yere,” her nurse said, vengefully “Don’t do no good at all, do he? Bloody Saracen.”

“Tell them,” Mansur said. “Some powdered ginger, wrap her up warm, and take her on deck.”

Adelia told them. Obviously, the child would mend once she was on land, but this wasn’t about seasickness, it was a test to see whether or not she herself could do her job should the princess ever become truly ill. Would they listen to Mansur?

They didn’t. Fortunately for the princess, it was discovered that Dr. Arnulf’s leeches had been wrongly stowed in the other ship.

However, a saintly knuckle was bound to Joanna’s midriff and ginger administered, but only on the nurse’s say-so. Disregarded, Adelia and Mansur left the cabin.

Adelia lurched over to the ship’s side. “Damn, damn, dammit.”

“Trouble?” The Bishop of Saint Albans was behind her.

She didn’t look round. “They’re not taking any notice of us.”

“We’ll see about that.”

A minute later, she heard his voice coming from the princess’s cabin; the name of the king was mentioned several times.

“He will right things for us,” Mansur said.

“He does everything right,” Adelia said bitterly, “except parting me from my daughter.”

“It will not hurt her.” For the first time Mansur showed that he, too, thought Allie had been allowed to run wild. “Nor could he permit you to stay with Lady Emma. You were at risk.”

“Eh?”

He told her everything. Of the danger she’d been in while in Somerset from an unknown assailant, of Rowley desperate concern.