A Bed of Spices by Barbara Samuel Page A

beauty. Even some of the great stories in the Bible your priest brings to you are stories of great love.”

“They are?”
    He smiled. “Of course. David and Bathsheba—do you know the tale?”
    Rica slowly shook her head. “Will you tell it to me?”
    He looked at her, then at the sky, which showed clear and blue as far as the eye could see. But he could not sit indefinitely with her. Soon or late he would yield again to temptation. “Another day, perhaps.”
    As if hearing his unspoken message, Rica stood and brushed loose grass from her skirts. “It is time I returned. Perhaps the astrologer has finished the task I set for him.”
    She turned to call for Leo. The dog came pounding through the woods, tongue lolling. Rica smiled. “Would that I were so carefree.”
    She settled her hat over her hair and tied it in place. For a moment she was silent. Then she lifted her chin and met his eyes. “This is a sin, Solomon,” she said quietly.
    He waited.
    “It is given to women to be the stronger.” She bit her lip. “I will not be alone with you again, my lord. Much as I want to see you, there is only tragedy ahead if we continue thus.”
    His heart plummeted. “I wish it were not so.”
    For one long moment more, she looked at him. He thought she would say something else. She opened her mouth—but then only closed it again. Turning away, she said, “Good day.”
    Solomon watched her go, longing for a word in any of the languages he had labored to learn that might call her back to him. There was none.
    Instead he followed at a safe distance, to be certain she was not set upon by thieves. He trailed her past the lean-to village that clung to the city walls, and through the gates, then to the astrologer’s. When she dipped inside there, he ached at the new loss of her.
    Never once did she look back.
     
Chapter 7
     
     
    Rudolf paced the walk , looking toward Strassburg as the sun sank toward the tips of the Vosges. From the direction of the city rode Rica and her servant Olga. Leo, the fierce beast that gave Rica such unseemly freedom, trotted alongside the horses.
    His eyes narrowed. He’d seen Rica leave this morn, and although it had been a little time before he could find leave to follow her, the delay had caused the girl to be swallowed up in the city’s arms without a trace. He’d sought her horse, the dog, the servant, stopping in at the shops Rica most often patronized. None had seen the beautiful daughter of Charles der Esslingen.
    Now here she rode, free as the wind, hair sailing out behind her, her chin high. When she was his wife, she would not go abroad so. He would teach her the manners and attitude befitting so highborn a lady, would show her the error of her ways.
    The thought gave him some satisfaction, but he could not quite shake his annoyance over being unable to find her in Strassburg. It would have given him a chance to advance his suit—for the sooner she was his bride, the sooner he could begin her education.
    As the pair neared the castle gates, he turned away. At supper tonight, perhaps he could learn where her errands had taken her.
    Rica wearily climbed the stairs toward her chamber. She longed to change her gown, put behind her the tumultuous emotions of the day.
    And yet even as she climbed the steep, twisting steps, her mind floated toward Solomon, toward the glory of his touch, the taste of his mouth, and the press of his broad, strong body against her own.
    In the passage, she paused by a broad window cut into the thick stone walls. Below sat Etta, embroidering in the hazy late afternoon, her gown spread prettily over the grass, her hair caught demurely into a braid. Leo had found her and slept in the dead doze he deserved after his day.
    Beware the change of season , the astrologer had said . I see much ill fortune there .
    Rica stared at her sister. The alignment of their births made the stars say the same for both of them. Rica could see that her own foolishness might lead