Lion’s Bride

Chapter Fourteen

THEY TRAVELED ALL THAT NIGHT and through the next day, stopping only to rest and water the horses. Ware reined in at a clearing on a hillside at sunset. “We’ll set up camp here for the night.”

“Is that wise?” Selene asked. “You need not stop because of Thea and me. We can go on.”

“You stalwart women may be able to go on, but I’m far too weary.” Kadar got down from his horse and spoke to Ware. “I saw a brook a quarter mile down the hill. You can make camp while I go water the horses and stake them.”

Ware nodded as he dismounted, then he lifted Thea from the saddle.

“I’ll go with you.” Selene took her horse’s reins and followed Kadar down the trail.

How could Selene retain that much strength after the past two days? Thea wondered tiredly.

She turned to Ware and echoed Selene’s question. “Is it wise to stop?”

“It’s wiser than killing the horses and ourselves. Kemal has to rest and eat too. We’ll leave early in the morning.”

“We’ve not seen any sign of Kemal. Are you sure he’s following us?”

“Oh, he’s following us. He must remove the blemish on his honor before he faces Saladin again.” He turned away. “Sit down. I’ll have fire and food ready soon.”

She sank down onto the ground. She would not argue with him. Every muscle in her body felt bruised, and she could barely keep from collapsing. Sitting at an embroidery hoop was no training for this kind of physical punishment.

She felt better later, after she had eaten a little, but she was still dazed with weariness.

Selene was in little better condition, she noticed. The energy or proud pretense that had kept Selene going ebbed swiftly after she sat down before the fire. She was the first to lie down between her blankets and was asleep moments later.

Kadar smiled. “It’s good she is asleep. She would probably insist on taking her turn at guard duty.” He stood up and stretched. “I will go first,” he told Ware. “You’ll relieve me at midnight.”

Ware nodded.

Thea watched as Kadar moved up the trail to a higher point that would allow him a view of the entire valley below. “He’s been very quiet on this journey. That’s unusual for Kadar.”

“Yes.” His lips thinned. “If there had been any other way, I’d never have asked him to return to the Old Man. It’s too dangerous for him.”

“More dangerous than for us? He told me he lived with the assassins.”

“But he broke away from Sinan, and he told me once that he’d rather be stung by a scorpion than be drawn back into that circle.” He added, “I can’t blame him. Better a scorpion than an asp.”

“Is that what Sinan reminds you of? A serpent?”

He shrugged. “In his deadliness, perhaps. But one can kill a snake. I’ve often wondered if—” He shrugged. “Pay no attention to me. I was ill when I stayed at Maysef, Sinan’s fortress. The fever made me imagine strange things.”

“And when should we arrive at this serpent’s mountain?”

“We’ll arrive at the Nosairi foothills by tomorrow evening,” Ware said. “I’m surprised you gave me no argument about going to Maysef.”

“Of course I gave you no argument. You wouldn’t take us into a serpent’s pit if there was anything else to do. I don’t see why you persist in thinking me lacking in reason.”

“You’re a woman. I’m not accustomed to women who think at all.”

Thea bristled with irritation. “Perhaps you were too busy taking their bodies to notice if they did or not.”

“That could be true.” He paused. “But my mother was not like you. She sang sweet songs and laughed and always bowed her head to my father’s will. I saw no signs of thinking in her.”

“I’m not like your mother. Nor would I want to be.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to be like her. I merely told you that I wasn’t used to women who think.” He thought for a while. “I believe if you did not think, I’d miss it in you.”

“Astonishing.”

“But I wouldn’t miss that stinging tongue,” he said with an edge to his voice. “I’m not your enemy. You’ve no cause to cut me.”

He was wrong. She had every cause to keep him at a distance. “I treat you like an enemy because you’ve behaved like an enemy. You’ve taken two years of my life.”

“And given two years of service to keep you safe.”

“You expect me to be grateful?”

“No,” he said wearily. “I knew when I took you to El Sunan that you wouldn’t forgive me.”

“Very wise. I will not.” She looked down into the fire. “And when we’re free of danger from Kemal, we will part. I’ll not let you put me in another prison.”

“Kemal is the smallest danger you’re facing. The Templars will never stop hunting you now.” He broke out with sudden violence, “Christ in heaven, nobody but Vaden knew you were a danger. Why did you have to tell them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told no one anything. How could I?”

“The banner. The lion throne. How did you know?”

She stared at him in bewilderment. “Know what?”

He studied her expression. “My God, you don’t know,” he said wonderingly. “I thought Kadar might be right, that I’d somehow told you without being aware of it. But you don’t know about the lion throne.”

“Of course I do. I created the pattern and stitched the banner.”

“And you realized it was a throne?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing could be clearer.”

“It wasn’t clear to Kadar. Was it clear to Selene?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. We didn’t discuss it. I suppose she knew it was a throne.”

“Ask her. I’ll wager she didn’t.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I don’t know.” He shuddered. “But it does make a difference. You could see it and they couldn’t. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it was something I did.”

To her amazement she saw that his face was pale in the firelight. “You’re talking nonsense. I stitched a lion throne and it’s your fault?”

“It wasn’t any throne, it was the throne.” He paused. “It was the throne I saw in the caves below the Temple. It was her throne.”

“Her?”

He opened his lips to speak and then shook his head. “You know too much already. I cannot—”

She felt a sudden burst of rage. “Oh, no, you won’t do that to me. You say that these Templars are now going to hunt me down and kill me no matter what I do. You’ve wrapped me in silence and treated me as if I had no mind of my own. You’re going to answer all my questions. I will know the reason why this is happening to me.”

“It’s best that I—”

“This is my life. You’ve stolen two years of it. I’ll not let you steal my right to make decisions for myself ever again.”

He gazed at her a moment longer before shifting his gaze back to the fire. “Ask your questions.”

“Whose throne was it that you saw?”

“Asherah.”

“And who was Asherah?”

“She was a goddess worshipped by the Israelites in Canaan many centuries ago.”

She nodded. “Before they realized there was only one true God.”

“No.”

She went still. “What do you mean? After Moses came down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments, they worshipped only one God.”

“No.”

She whispered, “You’re saying the holy books lie?”

“I’m saying that the holy books were written by men, and perhaps they didn’t wish to admit to falling from the true path.”

“It could not be.”

He smiled bitterly. “You see how it shocks and horrifies you? Our religion is based on the holy books, and you cannot conceive that they’re not perfect. You’re afraid that if one lie exists, the entire fabric could be rotten.”

“Blasphemy. There is only one God.”

“Did I say anything else? All I’m saying is that the Goddess Asherah was worshipped in Canaan even though it was forbidden. God was known as Yahweh and the goddess Asherah was His wife. They called her the Lion Lady, and she sat on the lion throne and was known as the Goddess of Fertility.”

She shook her head. “I will not believe it.”

“It happened. The Canaanites would not give up their goddess. Finally, in an attempt to sweep her from the earth, the holy men destroyed every idol and religious relic pertaining to Asherah.” He paused. “Except the lion throne. They brought the throne to the Temple of Solomon and hid it deep in the caves together with a tablet forbidding that it ever again see the light of day.”

“Why did they not destroy it?”

“Superstition. They’d been guided by the goddess for centuries and, according to the Canaanites, she was the wife of the one true God. The lion throne was the symbol and seat of her power. What if there was some truth in the myth and they offended her by destroying it?”

“I cannot believe the Templars were equally superstitious.”

“No. By the time they uncovered the throne and tablet, thousands of men had fought and died in the Crusades to prove to the infidels there was only one true God. They desperately wanted to destroy the throne. But they couldn’t do it.”

“Of course they could do it.”

“Perhaps they were afraid to. For another reason. There was something in the tablet that confused and terrified them. Something that could have been taken in one of two ways.”

“What are you talking about?” she whispered.

“There was a phrasing…. There was some doubt that Asherah was a separate goddess.”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “What?”

“It appeared there was a possibility that Yahweh and Asherah were not man and wife…but one. One god…or goddess.”

She stared at him, stunned. He could not mean it.

“They couldn’t take the chance of destroying a truly holy relic. The throne had to be kept inviolate, but no one could ever know it existed.”

“Everyone knows God is male.”

“Of course they do. But the tablet—Perhaps it only meant that Asherah was the part of God that gave fertility. Surely God must have many sides to His vast power.”

“And one side is a woman?”

“I did not say that.”

“Because you’re afraid to say it. Just as they’re afraid to say it.” She shivered. “I’m afraid to say it also.” God must remain the deity she had known since childhood. Everything else in the world could change, but God must remain the same. “I will not believe it.”

“Then don’t believe it, but realize that the Templars will do anything to make sure that no one else will believe it either. The Pope and Church rule the world. Nothing about the doctrine they decree must be questioned.”

“I do not question. How can anyone question the true faith?”

“Listen to me: the Templars fear you will question it. You created a banner that is a taunt and a challenge to them.” He paused. “And you gave it to the infidel.”

“Nonsense. My banner had nothing to do with gods or goddesses. It was your banner.”

“If it was mine, why did you give it to Kemal?”

“You know why. I would have given it to Satan himself to get it out of my sight.”

“And that’s who the Temple will think you gave it to. They’ll believe I told you of the throne and you crafted a banner to give support to the infidel.” He shook his head. “And it won’t help that Kemal claims the banner miraculously helped him to win every battle since you gifted him with it.”

Her eyes widened. “But the banner had nothing to do with it. It was mere coincidence that he began to win battles.”

“Was it? Tell that to Kemal, tell the Grand Master of the Knights Templar.”

“I tell you, there is no magic connected with the banner. It was only chance that led me to create—” A sudden memory swept over her of those days of possession when she had worked unceasingly creating the banner. She said shakily, “I’m no witch. I can weave no spells. I only wished to create a banner that would be yours. I focused my thoughts on you, and the pattern came…. It was there.”

Ware met her gaze.

“It was not magic.” Her hands clenched into fists. “I will not accept that it was anything but chance that the pattern was similar to your lion throne.”

“I won’t argue with you. I have no way of knowing what is truth or not.” He rubbed his temple. “Perhaps it is only chance. Everything has been blurred since the night I saw the throne.”

“It’s not blurred for me. All you’ve told me is foolishness, and if the Templars believe it to be true, they’re more than fools, they’re madmen.” She scooted down under her blankets and turned her back on him. She must stop shaking. There was no reason to be upset. Nothing had changed since Ware had spoken the unspeakable. God would not strike her down for merely listening to such blasphemy. Yet she felt as if everything had changed and that the firm ground beneath her feet had been swept away.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then you’re braver than I was.” Ware’s hand fell on her shoulder. “I know how you feel. After I saw the throne, I had no time to do anything but run and hide. It was only after I was wounded and Kadar was caring for me that I began to think. I felt like a child in the dark.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“It is only in comfort,” he said haltingly. “I believe you need comfort.”

“I need nothing from you.” She should move away from his hand, but, dear God, she did need comfort. She wanted to roll over into his arms and let him hold her and shut out all the uncertainties.

He took his hand away. “Very well.”

She was suddenly cold and alone. She wanted him to touch her again.

“But listen to me. If you believe in God, you must believe that there is a pattern to His creation. Perhaps the pattern is not stitched in exactly the manner you thought it to be, but the pattern exists. We must hold to that truth.” He paused. “And I don’t believe God will punish you for looking differently at the pattern of life. God is good, it’s man who is evil.”

“Everything is exactly the same. I’m not looking at it differently.”

“You will.” She heard rustling sounds as he lay down between his blankets. “You’ll try to keep it out, but it will creep in under the barriers. Let it come. Make terms with it. God gave us minds. Surely He meant us to use them.” He was silent a moment before he said, “You’ve done nothing wrong. If any sin has been done, it’s been by me. I’m the one who will be punished.”

“Not if your enemies have their way.”

“They won’t have their way,” he said. “Go to sleep. We must be on our way tomorrow at dawn.”

Sleep? She had doubts that she would sleep this night. Her mind was a terrifying whirl of visions of lion thrones, banners, and forbidden goddesses. Even the alien idea that God could have womanly aspects was as frightening as the rest. As a slave she had always thought of God as if He were the ultimate master who could be kind or cruel, a God who gave man His favor and woman only His tolerance. She had fought to free herself from the bondage of other masters, but her mother had taught her she must accept and revere the God of the holy books without question. It did not matter that God let Church and man decree that slavery was acceptable. God was God.

She must block all these wicked thoughts out of her mind. In spite of Ware’s advice, she would not let any of his words affect her.

Her efforts were to no avail. The last image in her mind before she fell into a restless slumber was of golden eyes shimmering from a silken banner….

“There it is. Maysef lies a few miles straight up this trail.” Kadar reined in and looked up at the mountain. “You are sure, Ware?”

“I’m sure. We have no choice.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I saw puffs of dust on the horizon behind us when we stopped the last time.”

Thea felt a rush of fear. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“So that you could worry too? It would not have been sensible.”

No, Ware would never share a burden if he could bear it alone. “I would like to have known.”

He shrugged. “Now you do.” He glanced at Kadar. “You go first. They know you.”

“Let us hope the Old Man doesn’t have new acolytes who aren’t familiar with me.” Kadar nudged his horse past them on the trail. “Oh, well, follow me.”

“Do you think Kemal will stop here?” Thea asked, looking over her shoulder. Was that haze in the distance the dust clouds about which Ware had spoken?

“It depends how much he values his head above his honor,” Ware said. “I’d judge he’ll come after us…until he runs into the first of the Old Man’s followers. Then he may be discouraged.”

Thea shifted her gaze to Selene, who was following Kadar up the trail. “I won’t have her put in danger. Could we leave her hidden here in the foothills?”

“Would she stay behind?” Ware shook his head. “Not unless we tied her to a tree, and then she’d be helpless if Kemal found her. She’s safer on the mountain with us.”

The mountain did not appear to possess any aspect of safety to Thea; it was dark and shadowy and full of menace. She shifted her shoulders uneasily. Imagination. It was only a mountain like any other.

But assassins did not lurk behind trees and rocks on any other mountain.

“Shouldn’t we go faster?”

“Not until it becomes necessary. The horses are tired and we may need a sudden burst of speed.”

“Won’t Kemal’s horses be tired also?”

“Perhaps. If he didn’t bring extra horses to switch.”

She had not thought of that possibility and did not wish to dwell on it. “Why won’t this Sinan welcome Kemal? Is he not a follower of Saladin?”

“He hates Saladin.”

“Well, then won’t he welcome the Templars if they come after us?”

“He hates the Franks also.”

“Then where does his allegiance lie?”

“With his own sect, the assassins. He rules an independent state here in the mountains. For the most part he’s content to watch and wait for Saladin and the Franks to kill one another.” He paused. “If they do not offend him.”

“And if they do?”

“At one time Saladin sought to destroy the assassins. He came here and laid siege to Maysef. Sinan was not in residence, and it should have been no trouble to capture him when he journeyed back to defend his fortress. For some reason they found it impossible to intercept him. Then Saladin became troubled by hideous nightmares every night. He was afraid to go to sleep. He became worn and haggard, jumping at shadows. One night he woke in his tent and found on his bed some hotcakes that only the assassins were known to bake, a poisoned dagger, and a paper with threatening verse written on it. Saladin was convinced that the Old Man of the Mountain himself had been in his tent. His nerve broke, and he sent a message to Sinan asking to be forgiven for his sins and begging self-conduct out of the mountains. He promised to leave the assassins forever undisturbed.” Ware smiled sardonically. “Sinan graciously pardoned him.”

Thea found the tale darkly fascinating. “How did the assassin get into Saladin’s tent? He must have been surrounded by his army.”

“Ask Kadar. Infiltration is part of the training of all Sinan’s followers.”

Her gaze went to Kadar. “Would he answer me if I asked him?”

“Probably not. He doesn’t talk about his time with Sinan.”

Kadar’s words came back to her. One must learn to walk the dark paths. But sometimes it’s possible to learn too much, delve too deep .

She suddenly realized she didn’t want to know about those dark paths. If she did, she wasn’t sure she would ever view Kadar in the same way. She went back to the original subject. “Do you suppose the guards were bribed to be blind when the assassin slipped into Saladin’s tent?”

Ware shook his head. “Sinan has been known to use bribery and deception to position his players, but those close to Saladin are too loyal to be swayed. No, Sinan used other means.”

Nightmares and terror. Thea shivered. “How can a man’s dreams be controlled? It must have been pure chance.” The sentence sounded familiar, and she recalled she had used the same words in regard to the creation of her banner. She quickly veered away from the memory. “You don’t believe in the magical power of this man, do you?”

Ware didn’t answer directly. “I believe he’s a brilliant man with a monstrous self-love and no soul. Put those qualities together, and there are roots planted for a morbid blossoming. Over the years he’s become accustomed to being worshipped and feared more than any man in this land. Death in battle has become commonplace, but a man who can steal life when it’s least expected holds the ultimate power.”

“Will he hide us?”

“If Kadar discovers him in the right mood. He finds Kadar interesting and is prone to be lenient toward him.”

“And if he’s not in the right mood?”

“Then we’ll run as if Satan were after us.” He added grimly, “As indeed he will be.” He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. “They’re coming.”

Thea turned and then inhaled sharply.

Armored riders. Coming fast.

Her gaze was drawn to the man in the forefront of the riders.

Over Kemal’s head the lions on the banner shimmered strong and vivid in the fading light.

“Come on.” Ware grabbed her reins and spurred his own horse to a gallop up the steep, rocky incline.

Pounding, driving speed.

The wind tore at her hair and stung her cheeks.

The horses labored, their breathing heavy, nostrils flared as they struggled up the trail.

Hoofbeats behind them.

Her heart leaped with fear as she glanced over her shoulder.

How had Kemal gained on them so quickly? Extra horses, Ware had said.

Ware was muttering curses as he urged the horses.

They could go no faster, and the hoofbeats behind them were louder.

Shouting.

Kemal’s shrill voice. “Acre. Avenge Allah. Avenge Acre.”

Dear God, he sounded right behind them.

A small flat plateau ahead. They would be able to go faster.

But so could Kemal.

His riders streamed around them, surrounding them.

Kemal raced toward her, sword drawn. His eyes glittered wildly. “Witch. Daughter of demons.”

Ware wheeled and rode in front of her. “Take care of her, Kadar.”

“No!” Thea cried.

He paid no attention. He was riding directly at Kemal, fighting his way through the multitude of soldiers that had closed in around him. “Me, Kemal. Where is your courage? Honorable soldiers don’t fight women.”

A mace struck him in the shoulder, jarring him in the saddle. He was not deterred. “And they do not hide behind their men. Come and meet me.”

“Did your King Richard face the men he butchered at Acre? You deserve no more honorable death than a dog.” Kemal gestured to the soldiers. “Cut him down. I want his head for Saladin.”

Kemal’s men swarmed around Ware.

Kadar grabbed Thea’s reins as she tried to ride into the fray. “No. Stay. You can do nothing.”

“Stay? They’re killing him.” Ware was warding off most of the blows with his shield, but not all. How long could he withstand such punishment? she wondered in agony. “Do something Kadar. Or let me do something.”

“Not yet.” Kadar’s head was tilted, listening. “I hear—It may be…” Excitement lit his face. “If he can hold them at bay…”

Ware was holding them. His sword downed men to the right, to the left, as he wheeled and struck again and again.

Thea jerked fiercely at the reins Kadar was holding. “Let me go to him.”

“Listen,” Kadar insisted.

“I hear it, too,” Selene said. “A drumming.”

Kemal’s head was lifted, his face turned to the rocks bordering the plateau.

“What is it?” Selene asked.

“They’re called death drums. There’s a superstition that anyone who hears them will never live to fight another battle.”

The throbbing of the drums echoed over the hills, ghostly, menacing.

Thea scarcely heard them. Ware was down.

He had been toppled from his horse at last. A man on foot was doubly vulnerable. They would cut him to pieces.

The drums throbbed louder.

And Kemal’s soldiers were frozen in place, their gaze on the ring of rocks that formed a ledge around the plateau.

A white-robed figure appeared on the ledge. Another was suddenly standing a few yards from the first. The assassins flowed in a circle, silent, watching white ghouls at a death feast.

The drums became louder, faster.

“Yes,” Kadar murmured. “Let them hear it.”

Kemal’s soldiers were fleeing, streaming down the mountainside in a panic.

Thea could not believe it. Ware was safe.

“Come back here, cowards,” Kemal shouted. “There’s nothing to fear. I have the banner.”

Thank God they were not listening. Thea jerked her horse’s reins from Kadar’s grasp and rode toward Ware. His helmet had been knocked off in the fall, and he was on his knees, struggling to get up.

“I have the banner,” Kemal screamed again. His face was flushed, his eyes popping with anger. His gaze flicked to the ledge, and a ripple of fear crossed his face as he realized he was alone. His frustration exploded as he wheeled on Ware. “Vile dog!”

His sword crashed down toward Ware’s unprotected head.

“Ware!” Thea’s scream was without voice, the horror too great for sound.

Ware managed to deflect the point with his shield but took the broad side of the sword on his temple.

Kemal was gone, riding over Ware and down the mountain after his men.

Ware lay crumpled on the ground, white and still. His temple was bleeding and looked…dented.

Thea was off her horse and beside him. “Ware.” She sank to her knees and gathered him to her breast. “You will not die. Do you hear me? I will not have it.”

Ware’s lids opened. “Listen…Kadar.” Ware’s voice was a mere whisper. “Take—her away—from this land. Too much danger—here.”

“He will take me nowhere.” Her arms tightened fiercely around him. “If you want me away from danger, you must live and take me yourself.”

His gaze shifted back to her face. “Stubborn—woman…” His eyes closed and he slumped.

Dead?

No, she could see a faint movement of his chest beneath the armor. He lived, and she would find a way to fan that spark of life to flame. She glanced up at Kadar and demanded, “What do you know of healing?”

“I know he is very bad and that there is nothing either of us can do.” He held up his hand as she opened her lips to protest. “It is true. With a head wound you can only wait and tend and hope he will wake. With severe blows sometimes the sleep becomes death.”

“Don’t tell me that I can do nothing. I won’t let him die.”

“Can you turn back the clock and prevent Kemal from striking the blow? That’s the only way you can help. The rest is not in our hands.”

She closed her eyes as sickness swept over her. She must not give in to this weakness born of despair. She could not help Ware unless she remained strong. Her eyes flicked open. “Can we move him?”

Kadar shook his head.

“Then we will set up camp here.”

“They’re gone.” Selene’s wondering gaze was fixed on the ledge where the robed figures had stood. “Where did they go?”

“Back to the fortress. They accomplished what they came for.”

Not in time, Thea thought. Not before Ware was struck down. “I’ll tend him, and you must make sure we’re not disturbed until he’s well.”

“A small task,” Kadar said with irony. “I must contend only with the Old Man of the Mountain, on whose land we’re trespassing, and Kemal, who is sure he cannot be defeated as long as he carries your banner.”

“Then take the banner away from him,” she said. “But first help me remove Ware’s armor.”

Selene stepped forward. “I’ll help you.” She knelt beside Ware. “Together we can do it.” She fixed Kadar with a stern look. “Go about your business and let us tend to ours.”

“Yes, my lady.” He bowed mockingly. “Should I have a favor to carry into battle?”

“If you’re clever, you won’t have to do battle,” Selene said. “So be clever. This Sinan must bear you some affection if he took the trouble to scare off Kemal. Go see if he will help us escape Kemal. And don’t come riding back here dripping blood and begging us to help you. It’s enough to have one sick man to tend.”

“I shall earnestly try to spare you that bother.” He moved toward his horse. “Your temperament is clearly unsuited for such tasks.”

“Yes, it is.”

Thea could not bear listening to them any longer. “ Help me with him,” she said. “He could die while you stand here talking, Kadar. Does he mean so little to you?”

“He belongs to me. One always cares about one’s possessions.” Kadar mounted his horse. “Naturally, I will do everything I can to preserve his life. Don’t leave this place until I return, and keep a good watch. Since I’m going to all this effort, I’d hate to have my efforts wasted.” He turned and trotted up the mountain.

Flippancy in Kadar at this tragic moment was incomprehensible to Thea. “I don’t understand him.”

“He’s afraid,” Selene said quietly. “I think he’s seen too much death. He armors himself against feeling deeply for anyone because he fears he will lose them. Don’t worry, he will find a way to help.”

All the help in the world would do no good if Ware slipped away from her. But he would not slip away; she would not permit it.

Ware did not wake that night.

Thea sat beside him, moistening his lips and head with water. She and Selene had taken off his armor, and without that protection he looked frighteningly vulnerable. He was no longer a warrior but a man open to all harm.

Selene came to her at dawn and knelt, gazing at Ware’s pale face. “He is no better.”

“He might be.” Thea could hear the desperation in her own voice. “Perhaps the sleep is healing him.”

“Perhaps,” Selene said without confidence.

“He will wake soon.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Selene asked gently. “You must accept the possibility that he may die.”

“I will not accept it.”

“Because he gave his life for you?”

“He didn’t give his life. He’s not going to die.”

Selene was silent a moment, studying her. “I was a fool,” she said harshly. “All this time I believed you when you said you hated him. You love this man.”

“Yes.” How simple to confess it now when she had not been able even to contemplate the idea before.

“Then why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t know—I was afraid to love him.” She ran her hand wearily through her hair. “And he had no right to do what he did. I was angry and hurt.” She was still angry and hurt, but at this moment that meant nothing in light of the fact that Ware might die. She repeated, “I didn’t know.”

“You should have chosen another man to love.” Selene’s hands clenched with anger. “You should have known Lord Ware would bring you pain.”

“I didn’t want it to happen. It just…came.”

“And now look at you. When he dies, you will grieve, and I’ll be able to do nothing about it.”

“He’s not going to die,” Thea repeated. “Go away. I won’t have you here thinking bad thoughts.”

“Thoughts don’t kill. Let me help you.”

She couldn’t take the chance. She had the feeling Ware was teetering on the brink, and even a breath would cause him to fall. “I’ll take care of him myself.”

Selene shook her head as she rose to her feet. “It’s worse than the time you made the banner. You wouldn’t let me help then either, but at least you didn’t think I’d bring death by being in the same chamber.” She shrugged and strode away. “I’ll go back and stand watch. Call me if you decide I can help.”

She had hurt Selene, Thea realized wearily. She would have to make amends later. She supposed her sister was right. This desperation and obsessive determination were similar to what she had felt when she had been embroidering the banner. But the terror, the sickening fear, had not been present then.

The banner.

Asherah.

Had Ware been struck down by God for questioning the holy teachings?

She would not believe it. If he died, it would be because he had given his life for her. Whatever trespass he had committed, surely such a sacrifice would not be demanded of him.

Kadar could feel the thrust of power as soon as he entered the gates. It was as strong and compelling as the throb of the ghost drums.

Time had not weakened the Old Man.

Sinan waited for him on the steps of his castle, a fierce smile of satisfaction curving his lips. “You came back to me. I knew you would.”

“I came to ask for sanctuary. I will not stay.”

“Sanctuary for those weak fools below? They would have been slaughtered if I hadn’t sent the drums.”

“But you did send the drums.”

“For you, not for them.”

“Then, for me, send help to keep Kemal from attacking them again.”

“But you are here. I have no need to keep them alive now.” He smiled coldly. “And I will make sure you soon forget them. You already feel far, far away from them, don’t you, Kadar?”

Kadar could feel the whirlpool of power draw him deeper as Sinan exerted his will.

He had forgotten how hard it was to resist that will. It took a moment before he was able to break free. “I will not forget them.” He paused. “And if they die, I will remember them always. Memories can be much stronger than a living presence. They tend to grow until they are in every corner of your mind and heart.” He could see Sinan did not like that idea and followed it quickly. “So why not send someone to watch over the weak ones and make sure Kemal doesn’t make them into memories?”

Sinan stared at him with no expression. “You were always troublesome, Kadar.”

“But you don’t permit anyone to trouble you.”

“Nor shall I. I almost had you before. Ah, how I wanted you to stay. You were without equal. The strongest always feels the pull the most and fights it hardest.” He turned and started up the stone steps. “But I have you back now. We’ll see how much you wish to save these Franks.”

Three days passed and still Ware did not wake.

Thea dropped water on his tongue, but she could get no food down. How could he heal if he had no nourishment? she wondered desperately. He seemed to be growing thinner and weaker before her eyes.

“I’m done with asking you to sleep, but you must eat.”

Selene was beside her, holding a wooden bowl filled with stew. The stew Ware had refused to swallow. She shook her head.

“You’ll eat it or I’ll knock you down, straddle you, and force it down your throat.” Selene’s expression was grim. “I’m out of patience. You persist in killing yourself for a dying man, and that idiot Kadar is probably lying dead somewhere on this stupid mountain. I’ll not have it.” She thrust the bowl into Thea’s hands. “Eat it and I’ll bother you no longer.”

It was easier to obey than argue with her. Thea quickly finished the food and gave the bowl back to Selene.

“Good.” Selene turned away and said over her shoulder, “If this is what love for a man brings to a woman, I’ll make sure I never allow myself to feel it. You’re more a slave than you ever were at the House of Nicholas.”

It was true, Thea thought dully. She was chained to Ware in ways she had never thought possible. She felt so close to him, it was as if she were a part of every breath he drew. At times she thought if that breath stopped, she would also die.

Terror iced through her. He must not die. She had done everything possible to keep him alive.

But everything she had done had not been enough. God was going to take him.

“No,” she whispered. She closed her eyes. “Give him back to me.” Why was she praying? God had not listened when she had prayed for her dying mother. She wasn’t sure God ever listened to women’s pleas. He probably regarded females as unimportant, as man did. Yet if Asherah was part of God, then there was a slim chance God might understand a woman’s desperation. She had to try. “Listen to me. This man has a good heart. He wants to live. He deserves to live. I won’t ask for any other help to save us. Just let him live, and I’ll do the rest.”

Silence.

What had she expected? A crash of thunder to signal a miracle?

Her hand tightened on Ware’s.

Live.

No stirring, no sign of waking.

She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. It was stupid to feel disappointed. She had never been one to believe in miracles anyway. She had been right. God didn’t listen to women.

An hour later she spooned a little stew from the bowl beside her and put it on his tongue.

He swallowed it.

She stiffened, afraid to believe it.

She placed another spoonful on his tongue and held her breath.

He swallowed that bite also.

The tears she had refused to shed overflowed and ran down her cheeks.

Not with a crash of thunder but with an act so small, it was almost imperceptible in the pattern of life.

A miracle.