In 1099, a mysterious child of noble origin was taken in by Jews who had fled the Crusaders' arrival in front of Jerusalem.
Years later, Ada, the descendant of this child, travels through Palestine with her father. He's a merchant and knows medicin...
After four days, changing our mounts several times and sleeping under the stars, we arrive in Auxonne, bordering the Saône. One of the rascals stays to watch horses because they can't climb on boats going down the river.
But how the royal army, with Reyn and his companions, took their mounts on this road?
According to the innkeeper, squires lead animals along the banks beside the boats.
From Lyon, we travel on the Rhône, a mighty, fast-flowing, tumultuous river. Yet, as we reach its mouth, the Rhône slows down, rewarding the boatmen and their passengers, brave enough to have challenged it.
Each day spent, each night, gets me closer to Reyn. He, too, admired beautiful vineyards, high-perched villages, and this immense delta formed by sands added to silt continuously carried by the waters, advancing unceasingly toward the sea.
And I finally see Aigues-Mortes.
In the past, this place was only a vast swamp on the Mediterranean's edge, Benedictine monks' property. King Louis wanted to build a magnificent bastide on these lands where bulls, wild horses, and nice white birds live. I notice a lighthouse and a lagoon sheltered from big seas, with the king's ships anchored in the distance.
The proximity of the royal army doesn't reassure my companions.
Worried and rolling his eyes, the innkeeper confesses, "We're not going to hang around here anymore, my little lady! We care for our life."
Thankful for their help, I offer some deniers as payment. Hawise's lover greedily grabs it and warns his accomplices he will take care of the division. From now on, I wander alone in a wasteland city where many tents have been set up, from the lighthouse to the canal leading towards the sea. A bit intoxicated by the wind and maritime flavors, I plan on swimming to those damn boats when everyone is asleep.
With any luck, I will quickly find Reyn.
Perhaps too quickly! I picture the scene with apprehension.
Of course, I intend to tell him I'm expecting a child, which should put him in a good mood.
At least, I hope so.
I happily imagine his arms around my waist, soft and strong, when I hear an awful cry of pain nearby, "Ouch... it hurts too much! For pity's sake, I need help."
"Where are you? I can't see you," I shout, trying to find this female voice's owner.
I finally spot a young lady falling hard into the brush along the canal. I approach her to check if she hasn't broken anything. She's crying her eyes out, and I note one of her shoulders is probably dislocated. The pain must be violent, so the poor girl will pass out if I don't act quickly. "My lady, I need to reset your shoulder," I say.
"You look very young to care for my bones," she protests between sobs, worried about my skills.
I reassure her, replying, "My father was an excellent physician, and he taught me everything." Then, while talking, I moved her injured arm as gently as possible to form a right angle with the rest of her body.
"Ouch! What are you doing?" she asks, increasingly anxious.
"I've done it several times, and it will make you feel better." Her lovely face turns pale and tense when I slowly start pulling on the limb. She's almost fainting, but after a few minutes, we're both happy to hear a little crack.
A sign that bones are reset.
Her color is back, and she clings to me with one hand as if I were the Blessed Virgin. "You look like an angel with your milky white skin and golden hair," she says, watching me curiously.
I laugh as I take off the muslin covering my head, then begin to bandage her shoulder, still fragile. I held the young lady tightly when she got up to prevent her from sliding into the mud again. We walk cautiously, and she seems to recover energy, noticing my luxurious mantle with thick fur trim. "Nice mantle! Who are you? I've never seen you at the court! I would remember you."
"I don't live in Paris," I answer immediately, embarrassed by her questions.
"I understand you," she assures with a smile, "I would like to stay quietly in my estates too."
I hesitate one moment before confessing, "Only wealth inherited from my father is his great medical knowledge."
"Then, your husband is rich, a merchant, perhaps?"
"He's Champagne lord and in the royal army," I explain.
"Taking his young wife on expeditions is hardly a knight's habit," she notes.
I nod with dismay. "No doubt! But he doesn't know I followed him."
"And?" she asks, intrigued.
"I may be pregnant! And I want to tell him! It will be a surprise, just like my arrival when he doesn't expect it."
"It won't be easy to find him! Some embark in Marseille and others here," she announces.
Seeing my concerned face, she adds, "But all ships will sail to Cyprus!"
We wade painfully through a quagmire to reach the lighthouse, and I help her climb the stairs. On our way, guards bowed respectfully.
Perhaps she's an important person.
At the top of the tower, two servants open a large carved wooden door in front of us.
"I will introduce you to Margaret! She's my sister," my young patient says.
As we enter, heads turn toward us. I'm unused to being scrutinized by so many people. Then, finally, a beautiful woman gets up from her seat to greet us. She's dressed austerely despite the heat, her hair and neck hidden by a wimple. But the most impressive thing is that she wears a great crown inlaid with multicolored gems. "Beatrice! For heaven's sake, are you hurt?" she asks.
"Indeed, Your Majesty ... my dearest sister! It's this kind angel who rescued me and took care of me," Beatrice explains.
Her Majesty examines me with interest.
"This angel wants to embark for Cyprus, and I thought she could replace the Beguine, who has been so ill for several days," Beatrice continues, giving me a mischievous look.
I'm so excited!
Luckily, I will join the king's expedition and soon find Reyn.
***
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Margaret of Provence
Queen of France by marriage with King Louis IX
A bastide is a fortified new town built in medieval Languedoc, Gascony, Aquitaine, England, and Wales during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
