Christian Cameron: The Long Sword

Marc-Antonio was recovering — yet another miracle. He appeared beside me with our horses in his fists, and John with two more. John the Turk was grinning.

Nerio was grinning.

We were, after all, alive. When you are young, horror does not last, thank God and all the saints, otherwise we would all run mad.

Fiore hugged me, and Nerio shook his head. ‘Turn around,’ he said.

I did.

Emile was waiting, and without, I think, considering her action, she threw her arms around my neck. And her lips were on my lips and I suspect that this was not a common display in front of the knights.

‘Will you come with me to Jerusalem?’ I asked.

She laughed her good laugh. ‘My love, we were always going to Jerusalem,’ she said.

Chaucer was toying with his wine cup, and Froissart looked dismayed over his.

‘But this is not what we hear of the great taking of Alexandria!’ he protested. ‘Percival de Coulanges is a great knight! And de Mezzieres-’

‘De Mezzieres wants another crusade, led by the king of France, to avenge the last one, and to wipe away the stain it left on all of us,’ Gold said. He sat back.

Chaucer smiled. ‘You are quite the hidden man, William. I had no idea you held a barony on Cyprus.’ He raised his cup to me. ‘That was a fine tale. I think I even believe parts of it. Did you go to Jerusalem?’

Gold nodded. ‘We did. But you know Sabraham, so you’ve heard all this before,’ he said.

Chaucer laughed. ‘I don’t need your word on it to know that a crusade manned with the same mercenaries who burned France would come to a bad end,’ he said. He set his wine cup down with a click. ‘But you haven’t made it to the Green Count’s crusade or the Italian Wedding yet, much less to being the Captain of Venice.’

‘By God’s grace, Master Chaucer! Why not regale us with your own Spanish War? You spin words at least as well as Messire Froissart. And you were, I think, with the Prince in Spain?’

Chaucer nodded. ‘Aye, William. We know all of each other’s secrets.’

Sir William laughed. ‘Not all, I think, Geoffrey.’

Froissart finished his wine. ‘I would very much like to hear of the tournament at Prince Lionel’s wedding — from a participant.’

Sir William nodded. ‘The one held in the lists, or the one where we murdered each other behind the curtains?’ he asked.

Froissart looked dismayed.

Chaucer guffawed. ‘Now there’s a tale!’