Stewart Binns - Anarchy

‘I’ve hidden them!’

Livia was grinning at me like a naughty child. She was dressed, but only in her underwear, and her chemise was unbuttoned almost down to her waist. I covered myself with both hands and appealed to her.

‘Where are my clothes?’

‘I’ve told you… they’re hidden.’

I tried to ignore the playful tone in her voice.

‘Livia, this is not right.’

‘Don’t be cross. You never came to watch me bathe, so I came to watch you.’

She lay down on the grass beside me. I pulled up my legs to hide my manhood, trying to conceal the effect she was having on me.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Long enough to see you get out of the water. You have a fine body, Hal.’

When she said my name, I struggled to maintain my self-control.

‘Oh God, Livia, behave yourself. I’m not made of stone!’

She leaned over and mischievously tried to prise my fingers apart.

‘So I see.’

‘Livia, please!’

‘I am not a child.’

‘You are not a woman either.’

‘But you could make me one…’

Her words hung tantalizingly in the air as she rested her hand on my stomach and started to move it towards my fully swollen prick. At the same time, she pushed her chemise open so that I could see her breasts, beautifully symmetrical with pert, dark-brown nipples.

I do not know how, but I forced myself to get to my feet and walk towards the nearby bushes, hoping that I would find my clothes.

As I dressed, the silence of the hillside surrounded me, broken only by the sound of Livia’s muffled sobs.

Livia did not speak to me for the next two days. My rejection had humiliated her of course, and she must have felt very embarrassed. I was in turmoil. I knew I had done the right thing – my conscience and all reason kept telling me that – but every sinew of my body craved for me to do otherwise.

When we later started to walk down the valley towards Mut, I tried to broach the subject delicately with Livia.

‘I’m sorry if I have caused you offence. I hope you understand that I have a duty to your brother and to your future husband.’

Her face was set like stone; she did not blink, but turned to look at me, white with anger.

‘I hope you understand what you did. You humiliated me. We could have returned to Venice as a married couple; my brother would have had no choice but to accept it. You would be rich and powerful. Circumstances threw together a young English knight and a princess of Venice on a mountain in Anatolia.’

Her stony face softened. She shook her head and grimaced.

‘And you turned her down. You’re a fool, Harold of Hereford. Anyway, I’m sure Roger of Salerno will be more than adequate in making a woman out of me.’

I turned away and moved quickly ahead. I had never imagined she would contemplate marrying me. Could it be true? If it was, I really was a fool. Was this the kind of sacrifice that I would have to endure? If it was, it was unbearable.

I continued to look ahead. I walked briskly, trying to separate myself from what had just happened. There was no turning back, nothing I could say to Livia that would repair the damage. After a cosseted young life, which demanded that she remain chaste and precious for her future husband, she had chosen to risk everything, to follow her heart and give herself to a young English knight with few prospects. It was a choice made out of young love. But the man she had chosen had made a choice born of duty.

The two positions were irreconcilable. Even if I changed my mind, it would do no good; the damage had been done. Truly, I was a fool.

We found all that we needed at the Byzantine fortress at Mut. With Livia’s silver ducati, which I had kept safe throughout our ordeal, we bought horses, provisions and a string of mules. We travelled south through the fabled Cilician Gates, a narrow pass to the coast through which armies had marched to the Levant for hundreds of years. We were told in Mut that Alexander the Great had taken his army through the Gates, as had Darius and his Persian horde, and Mark Antony and his Roman legions on his way to meet Queen Cleopatra in the ancient city of Tarsus.

The journey should have been a fascinating one, following in the footsteps of mighty warriors from the past, but our mood was sombre. Apart from the tension between Livia and myself, we had to come to terms with the loss of Wulfric and Toste and all our other comrades. Their eventual fate outside the lair of the Seljuks was a mystery to us, and so it would remain, leaving us to reflect on their demise for the rest of our lives. The one grain of comfort I had was that Eadmer eventually acknowledged that I had done the right thing in making sure Livia was safe when we were ambushed by the Seljuks. It was our duty to protect her, and Wulfric and Toste had almost certainly already been killed.

Within the month we were in Tarsus, before moving on to the coast, to the impressive Byzantine fortress at Mamure, from where we could send a message back to Venice. Livia insisted that we stay in Mamure for the winter, so that her hair could grow and she could prepare herself for her wedding in Antioch. The boy-servant pretence was over and such was the rift between us that she insisted our informalities must end. Once again, she became Lady Livia, to be addressed as ‘ma’am’ or ‘my Lady’ at all times.

She stayed at the residence of the Byzantine Governor of Mamure, while Eadmer and I were quartered with his garrison, a Greek theme from Thrace. We saw very little of Livia and, when we did, she hardly acknowledged us. At the end of the year, a Venetian war galley arrived with a new dowry for Livia and a new escort of marines. The commander of the galley brought a message from the Doge.

Noble Knight, Harold of Hereford,

My gratitude to you knows no bounds. You have done a great service to me and to Venice. Please continue your mission to deliver the Lady Livia to Antioch and stay with her until her safety and happiness are assured by Roger of Salerno.

I have ordered that you be elevated to the status of Knight Commander of Venice, a position that includes a gift of land and an annual gratuity from my Exchequer.

I look forward to thanking you in person when you return.

Although it was gratifying to receive such a commendation from the Doge, it did little to assuage the loss I felt in being ostracized by Livia.

I was in despair and beyond help.

The Doge had sent new weapons and armour for Eadmer and me. Livia had been sent a new lady-in-waiting, Constance, and with her a trunk of fine new clothes. I should have been proud and excited as I stood on deck next to the Captain to welcome Livia aboard. I was in command of the ship and the Captain reported to me. But I felt empty inside, a feeling made even worse by the perfunctory greeting I received from Livia, who went straight to her private cabin and seemed determined to shun any contact with me.

Her disdain towards me lasted for the entire voyage: she favoured me with a few caustic remarks and a generally sullen appearance, which quickly got the crew gossiping about what had happened between us in the Taurus Mountains.

We finally arrived in Seleucia Pieria in May 1119. Our journey had taken over a year, but we were fortunate to be there at all. We disembarked with an immense sense of relief. The sea voyage had brought me a numb sense of acceptance, and now all I wanted to do was to complete the final leg of our journey to Antioch and deliver Livia to her betrothed. Perhaps then I could find some peace and resume my search for my own destiny.

However, our docking in Seleucia Pieria signalled more disconcerting news. Antioch was only a day’s ride away and we were making our final preparations to leave for the city when disturbing rumours began to circulate among the marines. The Captain – a dour, thin-faced man called Giovanni – called me over to tell me that it was common knowledge that Count Roger, Prince of Antioch, had recently married Hodierna of Rethel, the very rich widow of Heribrand III of Hierges, one of the leading knights of the Great Crusade. She was considerably older than Roger, but very wealthy.