Pillars of Light by Jane Johnson Page A

brotherly, casual. Say, “So, that kiss you gave me in Wilton. Tell me, what was that about, eh?” But of course I couldn’t. And so I sat rooted like some big, dumb plant, its leaves trembling at every touch of breeze, waiting desperately for the sun to shine on it again.
    At last he turned to me. For one terrifying, delicious moment Ithought maybe he would kiss me again. But all he said was, “I think we shall soon be heading for foreign climes.”
    A minute later he stretched and rose, pulled me to my feet, and together we walked in silence back to the abbey.
    The next day, fervour was in the air. There was to be a new king: the first prince in Europe to take the cross. There was money to be made, and Richard’s favour to be won.
    Bishop Reginald held forth in ringing tones, reminding the crowd of the terrors that await the sinful soul when it descends into Hell, of the demons with their pincers and tridents, of the flames that burn to the bone but never devour, of the howls of the tormented and their never-ending trials. Beside me, Savaric groaned and hung his head.
    “You are a blessed generation!” Reginald cried. “You are blessed to be alive in this year of jubilee. This chance will not come again. To you who are merchants, men quick to recognize and seize a bargain, let me point out the advantages of this offer. Do not miss out on this great opportunity to buy your way into the Kingdom of Heaven. Take up the cross and vow to fight for the Holy Land and you will be rewarded with indulgence for all your sins. I, Reginald of Bath, second in the intercessionary line after only the Archbishop of Canterbury himself, will take your confession and ensure that God hears your vow. Sign for the cross today and all will be forgiven. The cost is so small, the reward so great—the firm promise of entrance to Paradise forever and ever, amen.”
    There was a sob behind us, and Savaric pushed past us to fall on his knees before his cousin.
    “Take me for the cross!” he cried. “God knows, my sins are great. I was close to the king, foremost among his nobles, but I transgressed. Oh, how I transgressed! I drank and swore and Igambled. Oh, how I gambled! As God is my witness, I loved the dice better than my Bible. I carried my favourite pair with me at all times …”
    He held up his great gold chain and the crowd fell hushed and attentive. Then he clicked open the great ruby bauble on the end of it and from this tipped a pair of dice into his palm and held them up to the crowd.
    “I have won and lost fortunes with these two mites of wood.” He paused, considering. “Mainly lost.” He bowed his head, turned the dice over in his palm, then cast them far out into the crowd. “I abjure my wicked ways!” he cried, “and I hereby take the cross.”
    I stared at the Moor, who seemed transfixed. “We never rehearsed this,” I said uncertainly.
    Bishop Reginald looked confused, but he gave his cousin the Bible to kiss, signed him with the cross and handed him his token.
    Savaric held it aloft. “For King Henry, God rest his soul! And for Richard, who has vowed to retake Jerusalem, I pledge my allegiance to the cause, and that of all my associates, who will accompany me!” And then he turned to survey us, his “associates.”
    “Is he still drunk?” I asked.
    There was no answer. If the Moor was ever shocked by anything, he masked it so well you would never know. But now a vein pulsed on his forehead and his face looked full of blood.
    “Come along, my friends!” Savaric exhorted us. “Fall on your knees beside me.”
    Astonishingly, it was Rosamund, or should I say Ezra, who was the first to answer his call. Having just played the role of a Saracen, she came galloping past us all onto the dais in blackface to lay her wooden sword at his feet and cry out, in as manly a voice as she could manage, “I take the cross!”
    The crowd cheered—there was something about her youth and passion that moved them.
    The twins,