Chapter 21

Dusk had come, which Sapphira only knew from Wassim’s report to the group. The cavern remained dark, with only the flickering dance of torchlight to illuminate their play. Their storyteller, Abu-Wassim, now stood watch outside, and the children seemed to have found their spunk again. The boys practiced swordplay nearby with Hassan and Wassim, while the girls chatted quietly and braided each other’s hair. They had tucked Rabia deep into the corner so that she might remove her head scarf out of sight of the boys and join the fun.

Though Sapphira had always shirked elaborate hairstyles, she had to admit there was something soothing and companionable about playing with one another’s hair. It calmed her frayed and snapping nerves after the long, difficult day. Even Sadie had played along and now wore a coronet of honey-colored braids. Sapphira relaxed into Lillian’s delicate ministrations upon her own head as Brigitte worked at Rabia’s raven-black silken tresses.

“I wish Humphrey had come with us.” Brigitte sighed. “We might have kept him safe.”

“I’m sure you all wish your families were safe as well,” Sadie said. “But wishes shall only serve to sadden us. We must stay focused and determined to rescue as many as we can. Besides . . .”

Sadie did not finish the statement, and Sapphira glanced her way to determine why. Though she could not see her friend clearly in the shadows, the many compassionate eyes now resting upon her told her that Sadie had somehow reminded them all of her presence.

“Thank you, Sadie, for thinking of my feelings. But for once, I am free of guilt. Yes, my vision sparked this crusade, but if others have taken it from my hands and continued in their own stubborn directions, I cannot be responsible for that.” At least she was free of guilt in her logical mind, although her heart still troubled her a bit.

Lillian sighed from behind her. “I had thought to say as much but feared you would not believe me. You did everything that you could.”

The girls went back to chatting about Humphrey and the other males in the group. Rabia shared that she was already arranged to marry a distant cousin when she turned sixteen. And of course, as it did so often of late, Sapphira’s mind turned to Philippe. She had managed not to think of him most of the morning, but now—surrounded by nothing but dark and quiet and time—she had too much opportunity to dwell on him.

And on the fact that her interest in him had been turned against her by the leaders of their army.

This was why a young girl should keep her heart focused upon God alone. Especially a girl who wished to be a nun. Especially a girl with such a unique gift. Surely she had no right seeking after earthly pleasures when she had been offered the riches of the spiritual realm. Yes, if she did have some guilt, her feelings for Philippe were the source. Yet she could not quite bring herself to regret her time with him.

Suddenly, Rabia broke through the gentle lyrical chatter with a sharp command. “Freeze!”

Something about the tenor of her voice demanded that they all obey.

That is when the hissing to Sapphira’s left became clear. She could not determine the distance, but it could not be far. Abu-Wassim had warned them they might encounter snakes, and that the snakes in these caves were deadly.

Sapphira feared that one of the flightier girls would scream and thrash and doom them all, but their training had instilled each of them with self-control, and they sat immobile.

“Wassim,” Rabia called out in that same calm yet authoritative voice. “Viper. Hurry.”

Sapphira had her back to the boys. But hearing the hiss grow closer, she could not resist turning her head ever so slowly to spot the creature slithering just a few feet away.

It raised its diamond-shaped head high off the ground and stared directly at her with its narrow eyes as its long forked tongue continued to hiss. It moved forward inch by inch, clearly with her destruction in mind. Its eyes shouted that she had stepped into enemy territory, and for it she must die.

Sadie looked about to jump on the snake.

“No, Sadie!” Rabia commanded.

Sapphira did not even have time to form words into prayers.

Only cried out the precious name of Jesus in her heart.

And in that instant, so many thoughts flashed through her mind. She could not die this way. Not now. Not after coming so far. Not with her sister and her entire army in danger.

And then she heard a whoosh and felt a cool breeze tickle past her neck. The head of the viper flew free even as a dagger clattered into the wall. The snake’s body fell limp to the ground.

Across from Sapphira, Rabia collapsed against Brigitte.

Sadie moved into a defensive stance in front of Sapphira.

Randel and Rosalind ran over to comfort them as Wassim collected his dagger and tossed the snake’s carcass into a sack.

During that moment, lasting an eternity, when Sapphira had stared into the eyes of the snake, it had been as if she’d stared into the eyes of Satan himself and understood for the first time that she was invading enemy territory, spiritually as well as physically. She was safe, for now, but never before had she felt so vulnerable. It was too much, all too much for one young girl to bear.

As Rosalind’s arms encircled her, she at last unfroze and broke into sobs, sobs she had been holding at bay for months. But there was no holding them back any longer.

Beneath it all, Sapphira was just a normal girl who at times needed to bury herself into a soft motherly chest and cry all her sorrows away.

I pressed against the cool prison wall, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the others. I did not want comfort, did not want the companionship of the many surrounding me. I only wanted out of this dreadful, stinking, disease-ridden place.

It was not supposed to happen this way. I could not fathom where I had gone so wrong, or why I was being held with the rest of the Englishmen when the chieftain had given me his word that he would protect me.

I had still been asleep within the walls that morning when the Saracen army invaded. By the time I heard the screams, rallied myself, and climbed up to the parapet, the prison had already been surrounded by a sea of the enemy.

Perhaps they had nothing to do with my plan at all, for they were not dressed in the fashion of the local Druze but rather a foreign style I had not yet seen. There were scores of them, over a thousand at least. This could not be the small local force I had expected.

Even as I leaned out over the scene, I heard shouts of, “Surrender. Lay down your weapons.” White flags rose to replace the golden Plantagenet lions on their field of red.

Though I hated weakness of any sort, surrender had been our only chance. The Saracen horde had raced toward us from every side, blanketing the very earth while most of our soldiers were outside of the wall training.

Even if they had made it inside in time, we would not have long survived a siege in this foreign land with our limited provisions. No, surrender had been our only option.

This is not what I had wanted, not what I planned. Would it help that we had been kind to the enemy prisoners who survived—that ridiculous Honoria even insisting they receive medical treatment? I had loathed her for it at the time, but suddenly I saw the wisdom. Perhaps it might win us some mercy.

But why had the chieftain not followed my plan? Why had they followed their own agenda? By the time I had looked out over the valley, the area where the children practiced was already swamped by the enemy. Surely they had been taken.

Where was the chieftain? Why did he not come for me?

I rubbed my hands over my sleeves, not cold but exhausted and troubled and frustrated beyond belief. Had he forgotten about me? Did he not know where to find me? Or did he have no power within this vast army?

Just as I was about to despair ever getting out of this nightmare, a burly guard shook the door loose. He pointed directly at me. “You, come.”

I stood and brushed myself off. No need to look a fright, even after my ignoble treatment.

I followed the man through the dark passageways of the prison and out into the starry night. He led me to several imposing-looking fellows, including, thank goodness, my co-conspirator, the chieftain.

“Greetings,” he said to me in heavily accented French.

“I thought you had forgotten me.”

“Of course not,” he snarled. “But your words have not proven true.”

Fear cut through me. “I spoke nothing but truth. Why did you abandon our plan?”

He laughed as if my question was the funniest thing he had ever heard and nudged one of his companions. The stern-looking fellow sneered more than chuckled.

“It was your plan,” the chieftain said. “Never ours. Do you think we would just send your army away to come back and attack us from a different angle? Bah! We are not fools. But I do thank you for so much valuable information.”

“You said my words were not true.”

“We cannot find this girl you spoke of. The heart of this crusade. We have found no group of children at all. Only a few older boys among the fighters. But it matters not now, for we have your entire army.”

His words struck me like a blow to the gut. If he did not have Sapphira, my plan might have failed completely. Already Randel’s death and even her own would be considered more of a sad consequence of this attack than the complete disgrace as I had hoped. But what if he was not dead at all? Everything would be for naught. “Surely you jest?”

“I swear I do not.”

“Then go after them. What are you waiting for? I told you they are the key to defeat. They were here when I returned. They cannot have gone far.”

“Hmm . . . you are the only person in this place who seems to have heard of them at all.” The second man, who appeared to be an authority over even the chieftain, glared at me. “But as I assume everyone would wish to protect such children, I will believe you . . . for now. Stories have come to us from Tripoli of a visionary young woman. So perhaps you speak true.”

“Then will you free me? As you promised? I can help you to look. Or spy among my own people, if needed.”

The chieftain laughed again, his large, round belly bouncing above his loose trousers and wide black belt. “Your boldness is charming. But since you did not quite keep your word to us, we shall not quite keep our word to you. We have our own plans for you now.”

The burly guard clasped me by the elbow and dragged me away.

“Rosalind, could I speak to you alone?” Sapphira whispered from where she crouched over Rosalind, shocking her from the warm haze of sleep.

“Goodness, you frightened me.” Rosalind rubbed her eyes and fought to make sense of the situation. Sapphira wished to speak to her. It must be important, for Sapphira rarely requested anything.

“Please,” Sapphira pled.

“I’m coming.” Rosalind struggled to her feet, wrapped her blanket around herself to cover her shift, and followed the girl to the edge of the cave, far away from the others, where they could see a bit in the moonlight. As they walked through the long tunnel, the crisp, still air filtered together with the warm evening and herbal scents beyond their enclosure.

Sapphira sat down upon a boulder and Rosalind tucked in close to her, covering them both with the blanket.

“What is it? I know you had a difficult night. I’m sorry for that.”

“It was awful, and afterward I was determined to be stronger than ever. But instead here I am . . . here I am . . .” Sapphira gulped down a sob.

“Here you are what?” Rosalind asked.

“Missing Philippe.” A tear trickled down Sapphira’s cheek. “I did not expect it to trouble me so.”

Rosalind spied Randel on watch duty beyond the opening of the cave as he stared back over his shoulder at them. She waved his gaze away. He should be on the lookout for the enemy, and Sapphira would want her privacy.

“That is fine, darling. You grew quite close to Philippe while he was here. We all need friends in our lives.”

“But what does this mean? Have I been lured astray from my true calling by this distraction? Should I give up my desire to wed Christ? Maybe I do not want to be so special. Maybe I just want to be a regular girl who marries a regular boy and has a regular family.”

Rosalind chuckled. “I am not sure that anything about Bohemond’s family is quite regular.”

Sapphira sniffled. “You know what I mean. I never imagined I might do such a thing, but I never imagined feeling this way about a boy . . . a young man, I suppose.”

“Have you talked to the other girls about this?”

“No, they would tease me. I spoke to Sadie a bit, but she knows less about boys than I do.”

“Well, these feelings are right and natural, but only you can know what God is speaking to your heart.”

“But what of the . . . you know. . . .” She dropped her whispered voice even lower. “The intimacies of marriage? St. Augustine thought them base and animalistic. I always wished to rise above such matters, like the ascetics.”

“That is ridiculous! Is that what you were taught in church? Is that what your sister taught you, or what your aunt, the Duchess Adela, modeled in her marriage?”

“Well, no, but I have been exposed to many theological writings . . . and as for my sister . . . I have always gotten the impression that she did not much enjoy that aspect of marriage.”

“Sapphira, I promise you that it is beautiful and natural and God-ordained. And when it is with a man you love, it is quite pleasurable.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.” At least Rosalind was certain about the natural and pleasurable parts, although she had never experienced such intimacy in a God-ordained setting. But she supposed that would change everything. Make it beautiful, rather than leaving her feeling full of shame.

It almost made her wish that marriage was not so far out of her reach.

“The subject frightens me,” Sapphira whispered and closed her eyes tight.

“You are young yet. There is no need to rush. But I think you should remain open to the possibility that God might change the desires of your heart in this area of marriage.”

“Oh.”

“And I promise you that we shall get out of this safely and you shall see your Philippe again.”

“You do not know that.” Sapphira sighed.

“True enough, but we must keep our faith.”

Sapphira nodded, even as her eyelids drooped.

Rosalind placed a kiss on the girl’s smooth forehead. “Do you think perhaps you can get some sleep now? We have a long day tomorrow.”

“I shall try.” Sapphira headed back into the cave, but Rosalind remained for a few moments to think.

It seemed that once again Rosalind could be wise for others but not for herself.

What would she have said if it had been fifteen-year-old Brigitte rather than Sapphira who had come to her with such questions? And what if the girl had confessed that she had already sullied her virtue and rid herself of a child?

Rosalind supposed she would tell such a girl that God is loving and forgiving and longs to give her a second chance. Much as Randel had said to her. But it was not Brigitte who had done such horrific things, nor anyone else. It was Rosalind who had committed the atrocity, and she was not so quick to forgive herself.

At least not yet. Though she must admit, her time spent in God’s presence was shifting something deep inside of her. Awakening her to new possibilities.

Perhaps through this crusade she could yet find her redemption and offer herself a fresh start.

How sadly ironic that when she was finally beginning to open herself to the idea of love again, the one man she might desire to share that love with was determined to become a monk.