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...
Mistress Hersende is a young woman. Despite her sweet face, she appears very authoritative.
A Beguine?
Heavens!
To what, or instead, to whom is Beatrice referring?
Mistress Hersende is one of them. Three others are beside her, not to mention the victim of horrible stomach aches, who had to forfeit the expedition.
Then Mistress Hersende does a thorough check of Beatrice's shoulder.
"Did you use the method recommended by Master Hippocrates?" she asks.
"Absolutely," I answer confidently.
Hersende nods approvingly, as a teacher would do with a gifted student.
She then speaks to Her Majesty in a respectful voice, "Our unfortunate Isabel won't be able to bear the journey! And we hardly have time to send for another of our dear Beguines."
"Our Beguines are holy women," Her Majesty says. "They haven't taken any vows but want to show their faith by serving the poorest and their king. So it's an honor to replace Isabel."
I now understand who the Beguines are, but I would like to know if I need to make a sign of the cross.
"The dear angel is a knight's wife," Beatrice explains, "and a famous physician's daughter! Her father passed all his knowledge to her."
"It's rarely our knights embark their wives on expeditions," Her Majesty remarks, just like her sister earlier.
"And yet, Your Majesty! You and I go with our husbands to the Holy Land," Beatrice replies innocently.
"My goodness! I'm the queen of France, and your husband is the king's brother! He isn't any knight," Margaret exclaims. "Besides, here he comes to inquire about your health."
A tall man, followed by a dozen others, entered the room. He's almost as tall as Reyn, possessing an imposing figure. Beatrice's beautiful brown hair looks messed up; mine isn't better. The king's brother and his knights gaze at us with mockery and male condescension.
It's what Reyn would do if he saw me so sloppy.
"Well, my dear! What has happened to you?" the king's brother asks his little wife.
"Uh, I fell! But I'm fine, thanks to?" Beatrice realizes she doesn't know my name. So I introduce myself with a brief bow as I was taught at the fortress. "I'm Ada... Ada of Chasseney."
The king's brother and knights stare at me from head to toe. One of these men looks menacing. It's exactly as if his horrible eyes were piercing me. He's older than the others, very far from handsome, with matte skin and an ugly scar on his face.
To my relief, Her Majesty gives her decision. "Your angel will embark with our Beguines and take orders from mistress Hersende, my midwife," she says to her sister.
A midwife, I'm so happy to meet one. She must have delivered many babies, some problematic cases, perhaps.
Mistress Hersende and her Beguines bow low to Her Majesty, and I do the same.
The tower's top floor is for King Louis and his family, servants, and ladies-in-waiting.
I have nothing to do here.
Beatrice waves goodbye to me by the hand, and her sister gives her disapproving eye for this familiarity.
Margaret seems to care a lot about her royal prerogatives!
I hoped to find Reyn's signs in this large tower, but each floor is closely watched. I'm afraid my husband disapproves of my involvement with the holy women serving the queen.
Now my missed period is sure. I want so much for Reyn knows the lovely news.
I fall asleep in a makeshift bed with Mistress Hersende and other Beguines. I imagine Reyn wrapping his arms around me when he discovers my condition. And then he announces I'm going back to the fortress under guard.
So my sleep isn't peaceful at all.
All ships will set sail early the next day. The winds weren't favorable during the three previous days, but the journey is finally beginning. The king's fleet gathers one thousand to one thousand five hundred ships. I watch horses boarding massive vessels whose sides open up like drawbridges. Reyn and Aurel took two beautiful stallions trained for combat.
I walk around the port, hoping to recognize my husband or his cousin. But, instead, I see squires, sergeants, and crossbowmen but no trace of Reyn or Aurel in this crowd whose destiny I will share.
Good or bad!
I'm not on board the royal ship but on a smaller one, with Beatrice, her husband, Count of Artois, another royal brother, Mistress Hersende, and the Beguines. It's a beautiful ship, approximately 10 yards wide and perhaps 25 yards long, from bow to stern. It has two masts from which sailors set sails under a clear sky.
Already, offshore winds whipped my face, like when I was traveling with my father. Soon, the shores of Provence will disappear.
It's August 1248.
Memories of my last night with Reyn become shivers, his amber eyes into mine, our bodies tied together. Is he aboard one of the ships around ours? Or did those from Champagne finally embark in Marseille?
As the coast vanishes from view, little do the Crusaders know that many among them will never lay eyes on it again.
Only fate knew it.
***
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Hippocrates of Kos was a Greek physician of the Age of Pericles and is considered one of the most outstanding medical history figures.
