The Queen’s Guard
Second Crusade, 1147
Chapter One
The relentless October sun beat down on Isabella de Lacey’s head, and for a fleeting moment she wished she’d never left France. Though barely twenty, she felt as old as Methuselah. Oui, she was a dried, tired husk who couldn’t spare the moisture to cry.
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In the past four months she’d traversed France, Hungary, Bulgaria and now Greece with King Louis and his strong army of Crusaders as a member of the Queen’s Guard. Bella squinted ahead to see if she could find the King’s Standard, but the limp banners were indistinguishable from her position so far back in line.
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She and the other ladies in the queen’s retinue had discovered crusading to be less of a romantic adventure to save the Holy Land from the heathen Turks, and more of a pain in the derriere. Adventure promised; blisters gained.
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Shifting uncomfortably in her saddle, Bella thought longingly of a violet-scented bath and a cup of Bordeaux wine. She licked her dry lips and urged her mare onward, letting her mind wander to past pleasures. Honeyed almonds. Crisp, tart apple slices. Whispers with a dream lover beneath the oak tree in Queen Eleanor’s castle garden.
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A familiar masculine voice intruded on her thoughts. “Not long now, Bella,” Jonathon said as he rode toward her from the front of the caravan.
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“You lie, monsieur.” Isabella attempted a smile, but it tugged at the sensitive skin around her mouth. Grit crusted her brows and lashes, yet Jonathon seemed impervious to the dirt. Not a single smudge of road dust marred his handsome flesh.
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She glanced at his lean, muscled form as he turned his mount, taking his place at her right. His blond hair shone in the sun, and his hazel eyes crinkled with laugh lines at the corners. “I would never lie to a lady,” the knight said in such exaggerated chivalric tones she laughed despite her dry throat. There was much to admire about Jonathon.
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“What news, then?” Bella’s stomach tightened with anticipation. Adventure was one thing; danger another. She’d walk if it would hasten the end of this journey. “Are we close?”
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On behalf of the Pope, Abbot Bernard of Clairvaux had preached for France to take up arms against the Turks so convincingly that it was no surprise King Louis and Queen Eleanor had agreed to wear the red cross and gather an army of vassals and soldiers to save Edessa. Read More
