Lion’s Bride

Prologue

DECEMBER 3, 1188 GATES OF CONSTANTINOPLE

“I HAVE IT!”

Thea whirled to see Selene running through the city gates toward her. The child’s red hair had come loose from her braid and was flowing wildly down her back, and her narrow chest was lifting and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She must have run all the way from the House of Nicholas.

Selene thrust the large straw basket at Thea. “I told you they wouldn’t see me do it.” She glanced at the long line of camels and wagons that had already begun moving down the road. “I couldn’t get away earlier. I think Maya was watching me.”

“You shouldn’t have taken the risk.” Thea set the basket on the ground and knelt to hug Selene. “I would have found a way to do without it.”

“But it will be easier now.” Selene’s thin arms tightened around Thea’s neck. “You’re taking so many risks. I had to do something.”

Thea’s throat was tight with emotion. “You must get back. Go through the garden. Selim doesn’t tour back there every hour.”

Selene nodded and stepped back. Her green eyes were glittering, but Thea knew she wouldn’t cry. Selene never cried as other children did. But, then, Selene had never been permitted to be a child.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “You know I’ll be safe.”

“I know.” If she hadn’t thought Selene would be safe, she would never have embarked on this wild venture. Though Selene had value, she was only ten; it would be years before she faced the same danger as Thea. “But you must take care of yourself. You must eat well and walk and jump and run in the garden as I taught you.”

Selene nodded. “I have to go.” She started to turn away and then whirled around. She said gruffly, “I want you to know—it’s all right if you can’t come back for me. I don’t need you. I know you’ll try, but if you can’t—I’ll understand.”

“Well, I won’t understand.” Thea tried to steady her shaking voice. “We’ll be together, I promise. As soon as it’s safe, I’ll come for you. Nothing will stop me.” She smiled tremulously. “Just as nothing stopped you when you brought me the basket.”

Selene stared at her a moment longer and then ran toward the city gates.

Thea had a wild impulse to go after her, to gather her up and take her safely away. Selene might believe she could care for herself, but so many things could happen to children. What if she became ill?

But her chances of becoming ill were far greater on the caravan. Thea’s food supplies were scant, and the journey to Damascus dangerous. Caravans were often attacked by Saracen bandits or renegade knights who had come to the Holy Land only to plunder. Once she reached Damascus, the situation might be even more hazardous. After years of sporadic battles Jerusalem was once more at risk, and the great Turkish sultan Saladin had sworn to reclaim all that had been lost to his people in the previous Crusades. That Damascus was war ravaged would make it easier for Thea to lose herself in it, but Selene was safer here until she could provide a safe haven.

Selene turned at the gate and waved at her.

Thea lifted her hand in farewell. “I’ll be back,” she whispered. “I promise you. I’ll come back for you, Selene.”

Selene had disappeared through the gates, and only God knew how long it would be before Thea would see her again.

She must not rely on God. God seldom helped those who sat and waited for His aid. She would work hard. She would never surrender. She would be clever and find a way for herself and Selene.

She bent down, lifted the basket, and slung the attached straps over her shoulders. She hesitated as she looked at the caravan slowly moving away from everything familiar to her. The caravan itself was like a strange serpent, hissing and creaking. Only the soft jingle of the camel bells seemed without threat.

And then there was this terrible dust. She was accustomed to surroundings of absolute cleanliness, and the stinging waves of dust striking her face were terribly distasteful.

Well, there was no turning back. She would become accustomed to all of it, she told herself. She would learn and adapt to every trial.

She adjusted the basket straps on her back and started down the road in the hot, dusty wake of the caravan.