chamber and fell instantly asleep.
This dawn he had awakened to a fire blown up in a brazier, Djansha waiting to serve him his food. He ignored the piece of fat she threw in the coals, with a muttered invocation to Tleps, the fire god. Instead, he pulled her down beside him. . . . But that was two hours past. Now he felt a restless desire for he knew not what. So he talked, telling her about the expedition.
“My share in the proceeds will not be so little,” he said. “Of course, the stuff is mostly war gear. But I’ll trade with others who already possess jewels. Would you like a gold necklace?”
The tousled head bent. “It is enough that my lord lives.” He scowled. Now that the Company could take up a somewhat more assured residence, he wanted to shine as an officer. Djansha would excite admiration, envy, prestige--if she were a Christian of good birth who spoke Catalonian. Otherwise, she was a mere slave whom he might casually be asked to lend, like a whetstone or a horse. (No; one did not borrow a knight’s personal steed.)
It seemed almost pointless, then, to dress her well.
She looked back at him with a return of fear. “Must you go out fighting again soon?”
“I don’t expect any real battles for a long time,” he said. “We broke the Byzantines; their losses were high and their resolution is gone. When we quit Apros, they were hastening toward Adrianople. I doubt Michael will be mad enough to take the field against us a second time.”
“Shible shall have the worth of an ox for that!” she exclaimed radiantly.
“Hold!” he said in alarm. “How often must I warn you, heathen sacrifices are forbidden here?”
“Then your god, Keristi, is that his name? Keristi I will thank, with an offering of--”
“No need! I must see to your education before--” He broke off. Damned be these endless nuisances, anyhow! If Father Pere baptized her, that prune-lipped old busybody would expect a substantial donation. And in order to establish himself in the respect of the great officers, Lucas had a thousand other expenses. Also, if she then relapsed, she was liable to ecclesiastical punishment, even to burning. It seemed best to wait a while.
He said quickly: “Of course, the war continues. We must force an indemnity from the Emperor, if he does not cede us this province. But as yet, we can’t hope to take Constantinople or Adrianople. So En Jaime de Caza thinks we’ll confine ourselves to raiding. That should be a frolic!”
“Oh.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. My lord must do as he thinks best.”
“You need not fear for my life.”
“No … “
“Well, then?” he asked, snappish in his impatience. Though uncertain of what he had expected of her, he felt disappointment. She had been sweet in his arms; but that was not the whole of life. Yet was he just in demanding a simple barbarian girl should appreciate his account of a military campaign and of future policy?
“Nothing.” She slipped one long leg from the bedclothes to the floor. Her voice was small. “If my lord allows, I will bathe and dress myself.”
He seized her wrist. “What ails you?” As she remained silent: “I command you to tell me.”
“I do fear you will be slain,” she mumbled. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him and her face turned downward.
“God’s mercy! I can’t stay at home when my comrades are fighting! I thought you wanted a warrior.”
“Forgive me, my lord. It is stupid of me. And--”
“Yes? Out with it!”
She gulped. “I am so lonely here.”
He let her go. She stood up and walked toward the tub of water standing beneath a peacock mosaic.
“Well,” he grumbled, “I can do little about that. I can't afford another . . . another slave. Not yet.”
“I could not talk to her.” Djansha stopped at the edge of the tub. A flush reddened face, throat, and bosom. “Nor would I want anyone else--No, forgive me. My lord must do as he pleases.”
“I like not bread
This dawn he had awakened to a fire blown up in a brazier, Djansha waiting to serve him his food. He ignored the piece of fat she threw in the coals, with a muttered invocation to Tleps, the fire god. Instead, he pulled her down beside him. . . . But that was two hours past. Now he felt a restless desire for he knew not what. So he talked, telling her about the expedition.
“My share in the proceeds will not be so little,” he said. “Of course, the stuff is mostly war gear. But I’ll trade with others who already possess jewels. Would you like a gold necklace?”
The tousled head bent. “It is enough that my lord lives.” He scowled. Now that the Company could take up a somewhat more assured residence, he wanted to shine as an officer. Djansha would excite admiration, envy, prestige--if she were a Christian of good birth who spoke Catalonian. Otherwise, she was a mere slave whom he might casually be asked to lend, like a whetstone or a horse. (No; one did not borrow a knight’s personal steed.)
It seemed almost pointless, then, to dress her well.
She looked back at him with a return of fear. “Must you go out fighting again soon?”
“I don’t expect any real battles for a long time,” he said. “We broke the Byzantines; their losses were high and their resolution is gone. When we quit Apros, they were hastening toward Adrianople. I doubt Michael will be mad enough to take the field against us a second time.”
“Shible shall have the worth of an ox for that!” she exclaimed radiantly.
“Hold!” he said in alarm. “How often must I warn you, heathen sacrifices are forbidden here?”
“Then your god, Keristi, is that his name? Keristi I will thank, with an offering of--”
“No need! I must see to your education before--” He broke off. Damned be these endless nuisances, anyhow! If Father Pere baptized her, that prune-lipped old busybody would expect a substantial donation. And in order to establish himself in the respect of the great officers, Lucas had a thousand other expenses. Also, if she then relapsed, she was liable to ecclesiastical punishment, even to burning. It seemed best to wait a while.
He said quickly: “Of course, the war continues. We must force an indemnity from the Emperor, if he does not cede us this province. But as yet, we can’t hope to take Constantinople or Adrianople. So En Jaime de Caza thinks we’ll confine ourselves to raiding. That should be a frolic!”
“Oh.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. My lord must do as he thinks best.”
“You need not fear for my life.”
“No … “
“Well, then?” he asked, snappish in his impatience. Though uncertain of what he had expected of her, he felt disappointment. She had been sweet in his arms; but that was not the whole of life. Yet was he just in demanding a simple barbarian girl should appreciate his account of a military campaign and of future policy?
“Nothing.” She slipped one long leg from the bedclothes to the floor. Her voice was small. “If my lord allows, I will bathe and dress myself.”
He seized her wrist. “What ails you?” As she remained silent: “I command you to tell me.”
“I do fear you will be slain,” she mumbled. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him and her face turned downward.
“God’s mercy! I can’t stay at home when my comrades are fighting! I thought you wanted a warrior.”
“Forgive me, my lord. It is stupid of me. And--”
“Yes? Out with it!”
She gulped. “I am so lonely here.”
He let her go. She stood up and walked toward the tub of water standing beneath a peacock mosaic.
“Well,” he grumbled, “I can do little about that. I can't afford another . . . another slave. Not yet.”
“I could not talk to her.” Djansha stopped at the edge of the tub. A flush reddened face, throat, and bosom. “Nor would I want anyone else--No, forgive me. My lord must do as he pleases.”
“I like not bread
Similar Books
