smiled quizzically. "I will remember, milady."
At Liliane's orders, the servants hung sheets about the bed, then brought braziers to boil pots of water to steep the rose hips and herbs she had brought from Spain, until pungent steam filled the room. The lung fever, gathering its forces for days, now seized Alexandre with a vengeance. By midnight, despite massive drafts of rose-hip tea, his breathing was a gurgling rattle that had the servants crossing themselves and blaming the infernal, sweltering steam. Without the steam, Liliane knew that Alexandre would suffocate.
His restless ravings were incoherent, mostly in Arabic the servants could not understand, for they would have found his curses on Palestine to be blasphemous. Charles, however, understood more than a little, Liliane believed. Most of the European fatalities hi Palestine had not been due to the sword, but to disease and the relentless sun. Shocked and saddened, Liliane listened to Alexandre, until without thinking she took Ins hand, that he might dimly know he was not alone in his hellish memories.
Charles's eyes widened at her gesture, then narrowed in suspicion. Although she noticed increased antagonism, Liliane was not much worried by it. While she might not understand Alexandre, she understood Charles. He would be a hard nut to crack, but once she gained his trust, he would be soft and as priceless as gold.
Three days passed with little sleep for anyone, particularly Liliane, who was trembling with exhaustion. She did not know when Charles slept, for he was continually at her side tending Alexandre. Charles saw right through her, Liliane thought. He sensed that she was merely performing a duty, with no love and little affection. He was wrong, but Liliane was unsure just how wrong he was. She missed Jean terribly, more,because he seemed to be with her in the form of Alexandre. In some strange, distant fashion, she loved Alexandre, but where that love began and stopped, she could not begin to say. She only knew that she wanted to love Alexandre, who could give her a full life and children; she did not want to keep hopelessly loving Jean, whom she could never have.
Liliane found it easy to love Alexandre when he awoke and looked at her with the eyes of a child. She stroked his brow and felt its coolness. She touched his lips and found her name upon them. "Sleep now," she whispered, and he closed his eyes and slept peacefully.
She looked over her shoulder at Charles. Expressed in his face was both gratitude and dismay at the unguarded trust for her he had witnessed in Alexandre. He smiled crookedly. "I am not sure whether to thank you or cut your throat. You are much more clever than I anticipated."
Liliane's eyes closed wearily as she lay back on the bed. "Do you really think anyone here will ever trust me? One needs a clever head in this place. Everyone else is befuddled with fear of my family.''
"We do not fear the Signes, milady," Charles replied sharply. "We merely know them."
Her eyes opened. "As you do me? May your God protect you for you are deaf and blind." She closed her eyes again. "No matter. Cut my throat and count yourself prudent. Perhaps my lord Alexandre will reward you from my dowry."
Charles stepped forward to retort, but he could see that she was already falling asleep and beyond caring whether or not he dispatched her.
Weary as she was, Liliane was lovely, with her shining blond locks so near Alexandre's dark curls that their hair tumbled together. Because of her cleverness and beauty, they will soon think as one, mused Charles. Struggle as he may, Alexandre will become besotted with her and that will be the death of him.
And what of you, Charles? he asked himself. Are you, too, already besotted with the wife of your liege lord? Cut her throat and be hanged for it. Alexandre can live and hope for happiness.
Charles fully understood Alexandre's susceptibility to Liliane. At five, Alexandre had lost his mother and two-year-old
At Liliane's orders, the servants hung sheets about the bed, then brought braziers to boil pots of water to steep the rose hips and herbs she had brought from Spain, until pungent steam filled the room. The lung fever, gathering its forces for days, now seized Alexandre with a vengeance. By midnight, despite massive drafts of rose-hip tea, his breathing was a gurgling rattle that had the servants crossing themselves and blaming the infernal, sweltering steam. Without the steam, Liliane knew that Alexandre would suffocate.
His restless ravings were incoherent, mostly in Arabic the servants could not understand, for they would have found his curses on Palestine to be blasphemous. Charles, however, understood more than a little, Liliane believed. Most of the European fatalities hi Palestine had not been due to the sword, but to disease and the relentless sun. Shocked and saddened, Liliane listened to Alexandre, until without thinking she took Ins hand, that he might dimly know he was not alone in his hellish memories.
Charles's eyes widened at her gesture, then narrowed in suspicion. Although she noticed increased antagonism, Liliane was not much worried by it. While she might not understand Alexandre, she understood Charles. He would be a hard nut to crack, but once she gained his trust, he would be soft and as priceless as gold.
Three days passed with little sleep for anyone, particularly Liliane, who was trembling with exhaustion. She did not know when Charles slept, for he was continually at her side tending Alexandre. Charles saw right through her, Liliane thought. He sensed that she was merely performing a duty, with no love and little affection. He was wrong, but Liliane was unsure just how wrong he was. She missed Jean terribly, more,because he seemed to be with her in the form of Alexandre. In some strange, distant fashion, she loved Alexandre, but where that love began and stopped, she could not begin to say. She only knew that she wanted to love Alexandre, who could give her a full life and children; she did not want to keep hopelessly loving Jean, whom she could never have.
Liliane found it easy to love Alexandre when he awoke and looked at her with the eyes of a child. She stroked his brow and felt its coolness. She touched his lips and found her name upon them. "Sleep now," she whispered, and he closed his eyes and slept peacefully.
She looked over her shoulder at Charles. Expressed in his face was both gratitude and dismay at the unguarded trust for her he had witnessed in Alexandre. He smiled crookedly. "I am not sure whether to thank you or cut your throat. You are much more clever than I anticipated."
Liliane's eyes closed wearily as she lay back on the bed. "Do you really think anyone here will ever trust me? One needs a clever head in this place. Everyone else is befuddled with fear of my family.''
"We do not fear the Signes, milady," Charles replied sharply. "We merely know them."
Her eyes opened. "As you do me? May your God protect you for you are deaf and blind." She closed her eyes again. "No matter. Cut my throat and count yourself prudent. Perhaps my lord Alexandre will reward you from my dowry."
Charles stepped forward to retort, but he could see that she was already falling asleep and beyond caring whether or not he dispatched her.
Weary as she was, Liliane was lovely, with her shining blond locks so near Alexandre's dark curls that their hair tumbled together. Because of her cleverness and beauty, they will soon think as one, mused Charles. Struggle as he may, Alexandre will become besotted with her and that will be the death of him.
And what of you, Charles? he asked himself. Are you, too, already besotted with the wife of your liege lord? Cut her throat and be hanged for it. Alexandre can live and hope for happiness.
Charles fully understood Alexandre's susceptibility to Liliane. At five, Alexandre had lost his mother and two-year-old
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