NOW! FIVE FULL DAYS AFTER HE RODE IN, MY FATHER has given me a letter from Winnie.
Or rather, he left the letter with Lord Stephen before he and Serle rode out of camp to have a proper look at Saint Nicholas. He’s already impatient at the delay in launching the crusade, and keeps grumbling.
As I unrolled Winnie’s letter, I began to tremble.
Winnie to Arthur this fifth day of June
To my betrothed
It is five weeks since you gave me my ring but it seems more like five months, and Sir William says it will be at least ten weeks longer before he hands you this letter.
A singer came to Verdon. He sang:
“God, help the pilgrim!
I tremble for him
For the Saracens are treacherous.”I am not in the least content that you will be away for two years, or worse.
When Sir William rode over to talk to my father again about terms for our marriage, he brought Tom with him, and we went hunting with my father’s hawks. My father says Sir William is very difficult and bad-tempered. He says now we can’t settle all the terms until Sir William comes home from the crusade.
It has taken me all morning to write this letter.
My mother sends you une fleur de souvenance—and so do I.
Hurry up!
I do not know whether any saints protect crusaders against the Saracens, but may Saint Boniface save you from Germans and Flemings, and Saint Clotilda save you from the murderous French. Do you think about me?
BY YOUR LOVING AND IMPATIENT WINNIE
When Sir William returned, I told him I had read Winnie’s letter, and he sniffed loudly.
“Sir Walter may seem like a decent man, but he’s a devil. If he doesn’t agree to my terms, he can stick his sweet daughter in a nunnery.”
“We’re betrothed, sir,” I said.
“I told you,” Sir William barked, “I only agreed to your betrothal because you were going on this bloody crusade. But that doesn’t mean you’ll marry her. Not unless Sir Walter and I agree to terms.”
“I love her, sir.”
Sir William snorted. “Quite frankly, it would be better if you married Sian.”
“Sian!” I yelped. “She’s my sister.”
“Your cousin!”
“Well, my foster sister.”
“Don’t argue with me!” Sir William said. He rubbed his blind eye. “Love her! What do you know about love?”
I looked at the ground. I thought of my mother.
“Now then!” said Sir William. “Are you ready?”
“What for, sir?”
“What do you think?” Sir William bellowed. “The crusade! If we’re not on our way soon, the French will fry the Flemings or the Germans will juice the Italians. Mark my words! There are squabbles and fistfights all the way down the island.”
“The Marquis de Montferrat still hasn’t arrived, sir,” I said.
“I know that,” Sir William replied.
“And Lord Stephen says we can’t pay the Venetians. We haven’t got anything like eighty-five thousand marks.”
“The Venetians will make a deal,” my father said. “They’ll have to.”
“They sent reminders to Lord Stephen and Milon,” I said. “Nasty ones.”
“Milon,” Sir William said. “I’ve met this Milon at last. Good man. Strong as a mule.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He says I’ve arrived just in time.”
“Sir?”
“He’s knighting you next Friday.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t even tell me.”
“I was going to, sir.”
“And you a knight before Tom!”
“I wish he were here, sir.”
“I’m glad he’s not,” Sir William barked. “Tom’s exactly where he should be. But you, Arthur, you’re glad I’ve arrived in time to see you dubbed a knight. Aren’t you?”