Chapter Eight ~ The Sublime Port

Whatever wonders of man or God she had witnessed to this point in the pilgrimage, Elisabeth was unprepared for her first sight of that golden city itself. As the ships grew nearer, having passed through the narrow strait called the Hellespont and into the Sea of Marmara, they began to see a massive city. As light dimmed, it became a bejeweled and sparkling eminence in the distance, with the utter blackness of the sea at its base. The hubbub on the ship became louder. Then the vessel seemed to drift to a halt.

"There's an imperial barge approaching," Alain explained.

From where she stood, Elisabeth could see the colorful canopies on the barge but little else. The pilgrim knights grew quiet, with only occasional speculative murmurs. At the fore of the ship a grumbling began just before the barge drew away. One could hear "What is it? What's happening?" called in numerous languages from one section of the passengers to another and then another. The ship was underway, but in no time it was clearly sailing due east and not angling to the city.

By the time the news made it to her spot on the deck, the stories Elisabeth heard had metamorphosed into several versions of whatever the truth was. She and Alain listened and then turned to examine what they heard, sharing their analysis with Albrecht and Black Beast and others nearby.

Alain said, "One thing for sure, we are not putting in to Constantinople. We are being redirected."

"Where?"

"Why?"

"What are they going to do with us?"

Alain waved aside all the questions. "I'm not sure. Something happened, something with the Lombards, that has Emperor Alexios hopping mad."

"That doesn't sound promising," Elisabeth sighed.

Someone from a short distance away called to them, "Nicomedia!"

Alain shook his head and cupped an ear with his hand. "Where?"

"Nicomedia! It's in the Gulf of Izmit."

Alain waved acknowledgement and thanks. "Never heard of it."

"It must be farther east," someone observed. "Not too far, I hope."

"Getting a dry arse might be the least of our troubles," Black Beast scowled.

"I thought Alexios called for pilgrim knights to come to his aid against the Turks," Elisabeth queried.

"If the Lombards have not queered our welcome," Alain put in. "In any case, I suppose we will find out soon. You might want to make sure your armor and weapons are in good order."

Jehan de Liege laughed. "What the salt sea won't damage, the piss all over the deck will."

They sailed steadily east with small boats full of armed men in the Emperor's livery on each side, ensuring they put in only where allowed. Elisabeth watched with regret as the magnificent city grew smaller and smaller as they sailed away.

A terrible stench reached her nostrils as they were guided at last into a port on the north shore of the Gulf of Izmit. The gangplank was hoisted into place, and she and her companions followed the rest of the passengers to and over it onto the quay. There men in armor wielding cudgels directed them with shouts and curses in a company into the town of Nicomedia and thence to a fenced-in camp full of ragtag tents, lean-tos, and less identifiable shelters. The camp was crowded and it became clear immediately that this was where the smell had come from. Elisabeth looked at the camp's people. They were peasants, mostly, a few unhealthy-looking priests, one or two dozen men with partial armor but no weapons. She heard the Lombard dialect of Italian spoken.

"Arêtes!" The word was shouted in French, then repeated in what she took for Greek. It came from the left, down along the stretch of fence that ended a matter of a rod's length down that way.

The pilgrims that had just arrived did not need to be told to stop. They had started to balk when they saw the camp gate opening. Shouts of "No!" and "What's the meaning of this?" accompanied the start of a scuffle up ahead.

The commander of the Byzantine guards shouted the same word she had heard, confirming that it was spoken in Greek, the language of the Byzantine Empire. The tumult died down as a man in full European armor came toward them and approached the guard commander. They proceeded to talk and gesture volubly. Neither Elisabeth nor her companions could make much of it.

At last the commander of the guards threw his hands up and, shouting an order, stalked away. The guards stayed where they were, penning in the large group of newly arrived pilgrims. The man who had argued with the commander turned to them. A number of the higher-ranking pilgrims moved to him and encircled him. Between shouted questions, answers, oaths and lamentations, little appeared to be resolved.

Glancing to her left, Elisabeth noticed Ruggiero, the Italian mercenary, striding to where his companions lolled on the sidelines. Beckoning Albrecht, she made a beeline for the mercenary band.

"Why, if it isn't our old friend Elias von Something," Ranulf called to her. "And his pet man."

"What did you find out, Ruggiero?" she insisted, ignoring Ranulf.

The Italian looked at Ranulf, who nodded. "They wanted to take us into that camp, but the officer up there told them we won't go in until we hear from one of our leaders. And the two Stephens, Odo and Conrad have gone to Constantinople to get an explanation."

"Who are these people?" she demanded. She knew they were the Lombards, but wanted both affirmation and amplification.

Scratching his dark, bushy beard, Ruggiero looked back at the camp where inmates now stood pressed against the fence, shouting a combination of insults, pleas, catcalls, and questions to the newly arrived. "They are the Lombards, the pilgrims who came with the Archbishop. Anselm."

"Why are they imprisoned?" Ranulf asked.

"Well, from what I got they arrived by land a couple months ago, basically stripping the land all along the way to the city. Alexios forced them into a camp near the city walls. They broke out and got into the city and ravaged the place."

"Oh God," Elisabeth moaned.

"It gets worse," said Ragnar as he returned from the same errand as Ruggiero. "They stormed the palace and killed one of the Emperor's lions. They are here and under guard because of that. But what do you expect from a rabble?"

"So Anselm did nothing to prevent it?" Albrecht asked, earning a snort of derision from three of the mercenaries and a derisive shake of the head from Thomas.

"Anyway, the big fellow there says we are not to be housed with the Lombards," Ruggiero added. "The high ups are off to get us allowed to enter Constantinople. We are to be escorted there when they get back."

Ranulf put in acerbically, "If they get back."

The commanders did come back. They had the Byzantine guards help to arrange billets for the mass of the army, shiploads of which continued to arrive. They chose a good-sized company of pilgrim knights to return to Constantinople with them. Elisabeth and Albrecht, as well as Black Beast, Alain and Gerhardt and their squires were included. The mercenaries were not.

It was too far to walk back to the great city, would have taken far too long even on horseback. The small groups of knights and squires and a few churchmen were escorted to small rowed boats which made better speed.

It was the month of May, but not the May they knew in France or Germany. If it was spring here, it was no spring they recognized. It seemed bone dry and all but lifeless in the intense heat that reflected off the water into their eyes, blinding them.

As they came closer to the magnificent city of Constantinople they began to pass villas with luxurious gardens, exhaling scents and the sound of fountains, refreshing their souls. They were better disposed to goggle at the great marble walls of the Byzantine metropolis as they loomed ever higher before them. Its stones glowed golden in the summer sunlight, the battlements so high above them that they could not distinguish features on the faces of the patrolling guards there. They made landing at an opulent quay, then followed their escort to the imposing fortress.

The foot of the walls was lush all about with food gardens. The common people who bent to their toil stood, stretched their backs and stared at the walking officers who returned their gazes.

For Elisabeth the journey so far had been quite the adventure, her mind always on learning how to behave convincingly like a man, honing her fighting skills, simply taking care of each part of the trip. Now with the walls before her, walls like no city or town or fortress she had ever seen, her mind turned abruptly back to the purpose of this quest. She glanced at Albrecht who walked alongside her carrying her shield and lance. In his eyes she recognized the same realization.

"Are you thinking about, um, you know?" she asked, taking care not to use her brother's name, now ostensibly hers.

She could see from how he dropped his eyes that he was in fact thinking of Elias, his lover. "Yes, and how much he wanted to come here, see this city, then go on to see Jerusalem."

Elisabeth put one hand on his shoulder. "It all just came over me now, the same."

Albrecht nodded and swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. She squeezed his shoulder.

"But," she suggested, "don't you feel him with us? Walking with us and smiling that gleeful smile of his as he tries to see everything at once?"

Her squire glanced sideways at her, his face wondering. "You know, I do. It's not just me? I long for something more tangible, but I do feel he is glad we are come here."

"Sometimes I think I hear him speak."

Albrecht's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and he had to put his arm to his mouth to keep from sobbing aloud. He shook his head. He managed to say in a whisper, "I do too. It almost kills me."

She looked at him, concerned. "Would you rather not hear it?"

"No!" he protested vehemently. "No!"

"You two!" Gerhardt's voice came from behind. "That's right, you have never been here before. It does that to a lot of people."

Elisabeth turned to look at him, walking backwards for several paces. "The city? Did you . . . weep?"

"Mayhap. Mayhap not. I'm not going to tell." The German knight gave her a wry smile.

Alain trotted up to join them. "That means he did. Weep at the first sight of Constantinople, I mean." He slapped Albrecht on the back. "I am not ashamed to admit it. I expect my first sight of Jerusalem will have me weeping like a babe in arms."

"Now, so long as you are in arms, no one will know." Black Beast had come up behind him.

Even those who had visited the Sublime City before grew silent as they approached the massive gate set into the wall, almost as tall as the wall itself. More even than that, the fact that it was shining gold overwhelmed even the most jaded. Not gold colored, but actual gold. It was magnificent, awesome, and very intimidating.

At the massive gate the leaders spoke with the captain of the guards posted there. The man looked down the line of knights coming toward him on foot. He seemed to make a sardonic remark, causing Stephen of Blois to redden. Conrad quickly leaned to the captain and spoke to him, then answered the man's worried questions. When the two Stephens and Odo moved through the gate, Conrad stayed in place.

"What's the problem, my lord?" Black Beast asked as he came up to the Constable.

"Nothing much, my friend. They just wanted to make sure you were all part of our party. Go on in. I assume they will have made some provision for our housing. And it had better be fit for our ranks."

The passage through the gate seemed to stop and start, impeding the steady flow of the knights. When she and her friends reached the portal Elisabeth discovered why it had. She stopped suddenly herself, awestruck by what she saw. They were at the start of a broad avenue, broad enough to march three dozen men across. It was finely cobbled with smooth stones. On either side were buildings of such richness she had never seen even singly, no less one after another. "Do even the poor live in palaces?" she breathed.

Alain chuckled. "Non, mon ami. If you stray far off this avenue you will see slums that defy reason. But it is best not to say anything about them."

The walking knights with their squires followed the leaders and their train of servants and men-at-arms up the length of the avenue. Ahead on the steady rise stood a massive building. It seemed almost as wide as the rooftops of the city visible to the pilgrim knights as they marched.

Alain answered her unspoken query. "The Blachernae Palace. Where the Basileus reigns."

"The Basileus?" she looked puzzled.

"The Emperor Alexios Komnenos. That is his title. It's the title of the Emperor or Empress, whichever is supreme."

Elisabeth looked pointedly at him. "Women can rule here?"

"You have never heard of Irene? Theodora? Zoë? Theodosia?"

"How do you know so much, Alain?" she said, shaking her head. She almost commented, "Mayhap our fathers do not want women to know about those who have attained power," but caught herself.

"I listen. I learn. I read. I ask discreet questions." Alain smiled. "It looks like at least our leaders will be given an audience."

Elisabeth watched as the men and a few of their servants were permitted into a gilded gate. They had seen Conrad hasten along the procession of pilgrim knights to catch up, and he was among those who went in. A subdued moan of disappointment went through the procession when after admitting only about two dozen of their number the gate was closed. Armed men, giants really, with pale hair and pale eyes stepped in front of the door, holding weapons and ready for an argument.

"The Verangian guards!" Black Beast indicated the guards with a sweep of his hand. "Norsemen. The Emperor's elite personal army. Magnificent, aren't they?"

Men unarmed but dressed in elaborate garb came forth and started to lead the rest of the party off through an alley that ran along the palace wall. "Those are eunuchs," Gerhardt told her. "Watch out for them. The ones that still have their peckers are usually sodomites."

"You mean some have their members still?" Elisabeth asked.

"Most of them do. A lot of those who have that chopped off die of fever from infection. Only the ones actually housed with the royal women just have their balls and cocks removed." Gerhardt cringed.

Elisabeth mirrored the men's protective grab at their own groins. "But can they still, um, function?"

Alain chuckled, "They can. That's why the warning. Don't lean over to pick anything up when one is around."

Albrecht scowled.

A heavily scented eunuch approached their party. He was dressed in robes of sea-green silk with gold embroidery at the neck, sleeves, hem and open front over a fine white shirt, and wore an outlandish hat made of some sort of brocade. "Most gracious, please to accompany me to the palace gardens. My name is Andronikos Komnenos. It is my distinct honor to have you all as guests in my villa."

The three knights exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Elisabeth tried not to look at the eunuch's groin area.

Only Albrecht met the man's eye. He saw a tall, well made man with strong facial features and a short beard with just a hint of gray streaking the black. The dark eyes sparkled as he nodded in return to Albrecht's frank inspection.

Andronikos led them down the alley. Elisabeth was appalled to hear Gerhardt whisper to Alain, "But I thought eunuchs couldn't grow facial hair."

The eunuch turned with an indulgent smile. "That is usually correct, my lords. It depends on the age of the boy when he is castrated."

Albrecht smiled triumphantly at the three knights' backs.

Andronikos, accompanied by two male servants, led them through a small gate into a large garden and bade them rest while he went to his house and arranged for their rooms. As soon as the eunuch's back was seen hurrying down the alley the three knights began to jest about him and eunuchs in general. Elisabeth quickly called to Albrecht, "Squire, come with me. I need you to help me fix a broken thong on my chain mail." She led him a short distance to where a fountain played. "I am sorry, Albrecht. Do you want me to tell them to lay off?"

Her squire fiddled with the hem of her mail. There were no broken thongs but he had to act like he was doing something. From where he knelt he replied, "No, my lord, it is not necessary. I should be used to that by now. Besides, I think Alain might be hiding something himself."

"You think he is a sod . . . a lover of men?"

Albrecht grimaced at her slip. "I don't know, but I've caught him looking at you with that sort of look."

She looked over at the French knight. "Either that or he knows what I am."

They drifted back to the three knights after giving them time to get the eunuch jests out of their systems. "You should see that fountain," she said. "It has more gold on it than an Archbishop's robe."

All five glanced over as Andronikos came toward them. "Please to come with me, noble sirs."

As they went out of the garden and down the alley Alain asked, "Komnenos? That's the Basileus's surname, is it not?"

The eunuch's placid smile turned to him. "That is a fact, glorious sir. I am his cousin thrice removed."

"Why did he remove you?" Gerhardt asked.

"Or what did he remove?" Black Beast inserted.

Elisabeth whirled. "Is that the behavior of a knight of the Cross?" she shot at them both.

"Do not chide the noble knights, my lord, on my account," the eunuch said gently. "I am not ashamed of what I am. If the good sirs derive entertainment from that, I do not mind. In our golden city being a eunuch can bring riches, power and gifts. My mother and father chose this life for me so that I might serve the Basileus the better."

Seeing the three knights look humbled, Elisabeth smirked back at them triumphantly.

The rooms they were given in the palatial house of the Emperor's cousin thrice removed were as large and well appointed as many of the halls the five had seen in Germany and France. Each was housed with a choice of servants, male or female, though Elisabeth insisted she was content to keep her own squire with her. They were allowed to rest. Andronikos sent a servant to tell them they would be roused from their beds to have baths in time for him to conduct them to the palace for a feast. The three knights instantly regretted asking for male servants, imagining the delights of a woman bathing them.

Rising from the luxuriantly soft bed in her room, Elisabeth saw that fresh clothes had been set out for her. A large metal tub was in the middle of the floor with a screen around three sides of it. A young woman sat on its edge and swirled fragrant oils into the steamy water. Elisabeth stopped short when she saw her, leaving the laces of her linen shirt partly untied. "Where's Albrecht? I mean, my squire?" she croaked out.

The woman quickly stood and bowed. "Excellency, your squire has gone to inquire about your animals. If it will be permitted, your humble servant will prepare your bath and bathe you."

She kept her eyes down, her gaze curtained by thick, long lashes. She was clad in a light silk gown that did little to hide the darker parts of her anatomy. Elisabeth's eyes strayed to areola and pubic hair clearly outlined under the thin fabric. She caught herself, embarrassed, but it looked like the woman had not noticed. "That's not necessary. My squire will take care of that when he returns."

The woman looked up dismayed. Before she could lower her gaze, Elisabeth caught sight of honey-colored eyes. Honey! She had never seen eyes that color before. Her throat tight, she stammered, "What is your name? Where are you from?"

The woman answered in a servant's respectful voice. "My name is Maliha, Excellency. I am a Turk. Well, half Turk, half Greek. My mother was Turkish and named me." She looked troubled as if she had spoken too much.

"Oh?" Elisabeth responded. "That's interesting. She raised you alone?" She leaned a hip against a table, crossed one ankle over another, and stood trying not to let her glance sink to those fascinating shadows. Without her realizing it, the tip of her tongue slipped out and ran along her lower lip.

Maliha twisted her hands together. "The Excellency is kind to ask about this unworthy servant."

"No, I am truly interested." Elisabeth started to chew on a fingernail.

"I do not know who my father was, lord. I only know that he was Greek."

Elisabeth looked up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . "

Tilting her head Maliha looked up at her. "No, Excellency, it is for me to beg your forgiveness. I will leave you alone. Just call for more hot water and towels should your Excellency need them."

The pilgrim knight discovered she didn't want the woman to leave, in spite of her initial panic. "Can't you stay until my squire returns?"

Something like trepidation crossed the woman's face. "Of course, noble sir. Just tell me what . . . you want me . . . to do for you." She tried to hide her confusion. "Do you want me to undress?"

Elisabeth's face went red. "Just talk. I just want you to talk with me," she assured quickly. "Until my squire returns. Unless you will be chastised for lingering."

Maliha looked up again, her face full of uncertainty. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind. Her features relaxed. "I am here for your pleasure, Excellency. If you want to talk, I shall talk, and deem it my rare privilege."

The two stood not speaking, Maliha's eyes downcast, Elisabeth's averted. The knight ventured, "Can you not look at me, Maliha?"

"I will do whatever you ask, my lord."

"Then look at my face." The dark beauty lifted her chin and looked straight into Elisabeth's face. "What a remarkable color!" Elisabeth said.

"Excellency?"

"Your eyes. I have never seen honey-colored eyes on anyone."

Maliha's face displayed some relief. "A lioness, my lord. They often have honey-colored eyes."

"They do? I have never seen a real lion. Mayhap I should call you my lioness?"

Maliha peered into her face. "You may call me whatever your Excellency wishes." She took a step toward her. "Do I please you?"

The door to the chamber opened and Albrecht came in, startled to find his "lord" talking to a young Turkish woman.

Elisabeth was both relieved and regretful. "Here is my squire," she proclaimed ebulliently. "He's all I need. You can go now, Maliha." Seeing her crestfallen look she assured, "But you will come back some time, will you not?"

The woman bowed several times as she backed out of the chamber. Albrecht looked at her as she passed him. "Your Excellency need only call for your poor servant," the woman said, and turned and dashed out the door.

"What the hell was that all about?" the squire asked.

Elisabeth stared at the closed door. "That? That was a honey-eyed lioness."

Albrecht looked from the door back to his "master." A smile started to play on his lips. "Did you not want her to bathe you?" he inquired, nodding toward the screen that hid the tub.

Elisabeth looked up with wide eyes. "Oh, my God no! How could I do that? She'd find out!"

Bathed, dressed and escorted to the palace, Elisabeth noticed a speculative look cross her host's visage. She chalked it up to her refusal to accept his servant's ministrations. She hoped she had not caused trouble for the woman.

At the palace Elisabeth found herself seated far from the imperial dais as the most sumptuous meal she had ever had was paraded up and down the gigantic room. Her three knightly companions were at her table. They were elbowing each other and recounting the lovely baths each had had. Black Beast turned to her. "How about you, Elias? I thought I saw a little flower dance in and out of your chamber with towels and very little else."

Elisabeth thought to join in on the ribald talk, but at the same time felt it somehow discourteous to lie about bedding a woman she had not. She shrugged and took a gulp of her wine. "Not my taste," she muttered.

"As if that was the situation. Probably left her unconscious," Black Beast jested, elbowing the other two who laughed.

At the high table on the dais, a man in rich clothes and more gems than Elisabeth had ever seen in one place bent his head this way and that, speaking with the Stephens, Odo and Conrad. Servants dashed back and forth behind them, filling goblets and serving from gold platters. One young boy carried a porcelain bowl to each man and held it as each man dipped his fingers, while another boy stood ready with towels. Four or five eunuchs stood behind the Basileus and his guests watching for any need, scowling and barking orders at the servants.

Elisabeth was both curious and a little anxious about the food offered to her. A servant would bring a platter to their table and offer its contents to each knight. The squires then reached across the table to serve their masters whatever they selected. "What is it," she asked Albrecht in a whisper as he scooped some sort of slimy black mass onto her golden plate.

"How should I know? It smells fishy," he whispered back.

Elisabeth had noticed the men at the table on the dais picking at something with tiny slender utensils with tines. From where she sat she could not see precisely what they did with these instruments, so she let her glance slide to Gerhardt. He raised the slim utensil, speared some white cheese on it, and dipped it in the gelatinous mass. He smiled at her as he closed his lips on the utensil and seemed to savor the taste.

She matched his actions and found herself with a mouthful of something exotic and sensual to the tongue. "It's salty!" she said, surprised. "What is it?"

Gerhardt replied around a taste of the unknown delicacy. "Fish eggs." He chuckled at Elisabeth's surprised look, but all she did was shrug and go on eating.

This first course was followed by a remarkable variety of dishes. There was all types of bread and dried and fresh fruits, many of which she did not recognize. One cold concoction seemed to be onions and mint in what someone called a "zucchini." It was refreshing. Later a similarly bracing bowl of leaves with a sprinkling of herbs and a sweet and tart honey and vinegar dressing was followed by the main dish, a goat stuffed with onions and other vegetables, smothered in a fish sauce. A rich red wine was served throughout the meal, which ended with honey cakes, nuts and more fruit.

Elisabeth caught sight of Andronikos as the man hovered here and there. Seeing her look, the eunuch hurried over to her.

"May I serve you, my Lord Elias?"

She searched for something to ask for. "Oh, yes, Andronikos. Can you tell me who that man is next to the Basileus, the one with an eye patch?"

The man looked up. "That is his Grace, Count Raymond of Toulouse. He who led the pilgrims to Jerusalem."

"Raymond de Saint Gilles is here?" she said, astonished.

"Yes, noble sir. He is joining your party when you leave at the end of the month. He is a great friend of the Great Basileus. He goes to lend the Emperor's help to your holy quest." He answered two or three other questions Elisabeth posed.

After their host had moved away to find some other need to fulfill, Black Beast grumbled, "From the looks of it, Toulouse is coming along to keep us newcomers in line."

Elisabeth shot him a look. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. What did our fey friend say about our leaving?"

She considered the huge man. "Just that we are leaving for Ancyra once our animals and supplies are ready. Before June."

"That gives us better than a fortnight, then." Alain seemed pleased. "Plenty of time to taste some of the pleasures this city can offer."

"I haven't seen anyone who looks like a Lombard Archbishop," Black Beast put in.

Alain offered, "Andronikos said he has been ill since he arrived. He won't be coming with us."

The morning after the grand feast Elisabeth awoke late. The sun streamed through the open latticed window. She looked over to find a small round table sitting next to the bed with a sweetened drink made of honey, fruit, almonds and yogurt, some flat bread and a hot drink that was bitter to the tongue. Somewhere someone was playing an exotic stringed instrument. The breeze wafting lazily into the chamber was fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms. She sighed deeply with pleasure.

"Why don't you come in and share this food with me?" she called to Albrecht who slept on a palette near the room's door.

"Are you awake, Excellency?" came a soft voice from the balcony of her chamber. The gauzy window drapes parted and the honey-eyed Maliha looked in.

Elisabeth scrambled to pull up the cover so that her loose shirt, open in the front, would not give away her possession of small but decidedly female breasts. "You?" she cried. "I thought you were Albrecht."

She realized that with the sound of Maliha's voice the music had stopped. "Was that you playing?"

"Did it disturb you, my lord?"

"No, of course not. It was delightful. But Maliha, you must stop coming into my room unannounced. It's . . . unseemly." Elisabeth knew she must be scarlet with embarrassment.

Maliha stood framed in the door to the balcony, a shaft of morning light giving her dark hair an aura effect. Her face was open and unhappy. "But exalted one, you asked me to come back. If this lowly servant displeases you, I am sure my master will find you one more to your liking." Her eyelashes dropped to kiss her cheek. She ventured, "Mayhap a young man or boy?"

From the bed, Elisabeth stared at her. "N-no, I mean, you do not disturb me. It's just, well, in my homeland a young . . . man . . . values his . . . um, privacy. We expect servants to make themselves known by tapping or scratching on the door before entering."

The darkly lovely young woman looked as if to weep. "But, your Excellency, I did tap on the door. You did not call out, so I came in."

Open-mouthed, Elisabeth shook her head. "No, Maliha, I mean tap on the door, wait, and only come in when you hear Albrecht or me say to come in."

Maliha nodded, but it was not clear if she understood. She glanced up to peer sideways into the bed. "Is Albrecht not here?" She quickly added, "My lord?"

"He must not be, if you came in the door there." Elisabeth pulled aside the light bed curtain to look to where Albrecht slept. The palette was cleared away, probably stowed under Elisabeth's bed. "No, he is not here."

"I have displeased your Excellency. I hope you will accept an apology from so unworthy a person," Maliha murmured meekly.

Elisabeth gazed at her, exasperated. "I know you are supposed to talk like that to . . . well, your master's guests, but I wish you wouldn't. I hate that sort of talk from a woman, from anyone." Elisabeth glared off to the side. She did not therefore see the flash of surprised anger in the woman's eyes.

Just then a tap came at the chamber door. "Come," she called. She was relieved when the person who looked in was not one of the three knights. Nor was it Albrecht. One of the male servants bowed, hardly giving Maliha a glance, and said, "My master would like to have the company of his honor to sup with him this day in the pavilion. May I tell his Excellency to expect the young lord?" He waited silently for an answer.

"What time of day is it now, and when is the supper?" Elisabeth inquired.

With another bow, the man supplied, "The sun is near zenith, your lordship, and supper will be in just over two hours."

She wracked her brain for any sort of commitment. Thinking of none, she nodded. "Tell my gracious host that I should be honored to have supper with him. May I ask, who else will attend?"

Now the man glanced at Maliha who stood, her honey-colored eyes again downcast and shaded from view by the luxuriant lashes. Looking back but not quite at the bed, the man replied, "You are to be my master's especial guest."

"Oh. Very well. Can you find my squire and send him to me? I wish to dress."

Again the man looked over at Maliha. "May this lowly maidservant be of service in that regard, your honor?"

"No. I want Albrecht."

With raised eyebrows the man at the door bowed and said, "Very good, your Excellency. Maliha!" He clapped his hands and said something in Greek that Elisabeth could not understand. Whatever it was, it distressed the young woman. She scurried to the door and slipped out behind the manservant.

Elisabeth hurried to assure. "The maidservant is not at all displeasing to me. I just prefer my squire."

The man bowed once more, very deeply, and backed out.

"How peculiar," Elisabeth breathed.

With her tardy squire's help Elisabeth washed and dressed to be ready for the supper.

Albrecht hesitated after speaking the words, "My lord?"

"Yes?"

"It might sound odd coming from me, but remember the other day, what the knights were saying about eunuchs? That you need to watch out that they don't, well, take advantage?"

Elisabeth stared dumbfounded at her squire. "Are you saying that this supper is . . . a seduction?"

"I-it could be."

She laughed. "Somehow I don't think the Basileus would think much of even a cousin, albeit three times removed, raping the pilgrim knights he has asked to help him repel the Turks. Men can be raped, can't they?"

"Indeed they can, my lord. But Andronikos might think you may, well, want to be seduced. He is a fine looking man. You are too, after a manner of speaking."

Adjusting her belt to allow for the proper draping of her tunic, she protested, "But he sent me a woman to, well, wash me, and do whatever I wanted." She looked up at Albrecht, realization dawning. "And I keep sending her away. Oh, sweet Jesus."

Albrecht looked away. "Just be aware. That's all I am saying."

He looked back at her face and saw an impish grin there.

"It would be rather a comedy, wouldn't it?"

He saw the laughter building in her eyes and started to laugh himself. Through his laughter, he managed to get out, "It certainly is a situation I never thought I'd witness."