Life at Cairo during that winter and the ensuing spring would have been pleasurable, if only Geoffrey could have walked over the little hill beyond the Palace and have seen the tower of Beauregard facing him. That was it—in spite of all the comforts which al-Kamil permitted him, he was still a slave.
Nevertheless, there were compensations—in the form of a white Arab stallion, as fleet as the wind, whose red Spanish leather saddle was decorated with studs of gold; a Damascene sword, with an engraved silver hilt, and a long curling blade chased with Arabic proverbs, the very words of which looked as beautiful as any pictures Geoffrey had seen; a shirt of chain mail, dagged at the edges, the alternate links being of iron and bronze; and a helmet—oh, such a helmet as no French boy ever had, based on an ancient Babylonian pattern, with a tall crest, ear-flaps, and a long backpiece to protect the neck.
Geoffrey loved wearing this finery—especially the red brocade baldric from which his sword swung, for this had been specially made at al-Kamil’s command, by one of the Palace sewing-women, and bore Geoffrey’s name, in an Arabic translation, stitched in silver wire, along its length.
Alys laughed at her brother as he strode like a Saracen Captain across the courtyard.
‘Why, Geoffrey,’ she said, ‘once you have your helmet on, hiding your hair, no one would take you for anything but a Saracen! Even your skin is Saracen colour, after all the sun we have had!’
Her brother gazed down at her as haughtily as he could and said, in a French which had already taken on an Eastern intonation, ‘Why, consider yourself, my girl! If you walked into Beauregard in that robe and in those sandals, they would not only lock you up as an infidel, they would whip you for indecency! Why, I can clearly see your ankles!’
Alys pretended to be cross with him, but could think of no sharper retort than to say, ‘Why, you even speak French like a Saracen!’
‘That is because I spend so much time with the prince,’ answered her brother. ‘As for you, your French sounds more like dog-Latin than a civilised tongue. That comes of your endless reading of Ovid and Virgil, no doubt! I am glad I lacked any talent in that direction! Hunting and jousting are much more to my taste.’
Alys made a face at him. ‘You boys have all the luck!’ she said. ‘Look at your finery! Look at that helmet! Oh, do let me try it on!’
Abu Nazir came round the corner of the white marble building to find the Lady Alys snatching at the shining helmet, and Geoffrey, full of soldierly pride, doing his best to fend her off. The old warrior watched them for a moment, then said laughingly, ‘Let your sister try on your helmet, Frank. You should know enough chivalry not to need my advice on such a matter!’
Grumbling, Geoffrey took off the helmet and placed it carefully on his sister’s head. She smiled demurely as the thing slipped down. Then her face was completely covered and they all began to laugh.
When the boy had retrieved his headgear once again, Abu Nazir said, ‘Now that you have settled your argument, I will give you the message with which my master has entrusted me. It is time, he thinks, that the little prince had instruction in the arts of falconry—and who better for that purpose than Geoffrey of Beauregard?’
Geoffrey’s eyes lit with joy; but Alys stamped her foot with rage.
‘Once more,’ she said, ‘my brother has all the luck! He does not deserve it! Why should he ride out, all grand seigneur, while Brother Gerard and I must sit indoors with our noses stuck in some mouldering old Latin books? It is not fair; we can ride every bit as well as Geoffrey can. We were always allowed to join hunting-parties at Beauregard. My father always saw to that. I was even allowed to carry a falcon myself, once!’
Geoffrey laughed, sneeringly. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and that bird was never of any use afterwards. She kept taking its hood off to see whether the poor creature was asleep or not!’
Abu Nazir said solemnly, ‘She will not be allowed to carry the falcons that my master has bought for his son. They are said to be most delicately trained, and of the utmost ferocity.’
Then, seeing the tears beginning to rise in the girl’s eyes, he added quickly, ‘But I see no reason why you, and Brother Gerard, who is a good and brave man, should not ride with us to the hunt one day. No doubt we can combine business with pleasure. You can read Ovid out aloud, and made the little prince construe, as we ride along. It will be good for you both, undoubtedly!’
Alys turned from him, and ran towards the black marble colonnade which led to her room angrily crying out, ‘Good for me! Always good for me! You treat me like a child! I wish I were back at home—away from you all!’
Geoffrey was about to laugh at what he called his sister’s tantrums, when Abu Nazir touched him on the shoulder. ‘Go to your sister,’ he said, ‘and offer her my apologies. Though she is the property of my master, she is also a well-born young woman, and should be treated so.’
As Geoffrey walked to do Abu Nazir’s bidding, the man called after him, ‘And tell her that when we do go riding, perhaps the day after tomorrow, she too shall enjoy some of the finery she envies in you. I will give orders that something appropriate for the occasion be made for her. The sewing-women have little to occupy their time, it seems, from the laughter I hear when I pass their quarters, and it is proper that our prince’s entourage should dress in accordance with their position.’
When Alys heard the news, her tears became those of joy, not sadness.
‘Abu Nazir is a wonderful man,’ she said. ‘Do you know, Geoffrey, I think I like him next to father himself!’
Geoffrey said sternly, ‘What of Brother Gerard, sister? Does he not find a place in your affections at all?’
Alys gazed at him with wide eyes. ‘But brother,’ she replied, ‘of course he does. But he is like bread, and air, and water—so close to one’s life, that one does not think of him as a mere man.’
Then, roguishly, as Geoffrey turned away, she added, ‘Just like you, dear brother!’
But when he ran forward to shake her for such disrespect, she ran as quickly as a deer up the little ladder that led to her bedroom, and banged down the door above him and began to laugh.
Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, then, telling himself that all girls were either stupid or mad, he strode across the courtyard to the Palace, swaggering a little in his armour, as befitted the companion of a prince, even a little prince.