Free The Dragon Throne by Michael Cadnum

across a footpath in what sounded like a hurried—indeed, frantic—manner, and pikemen strode unseen somewhere outside, their leather creaking and their boots, in careful rhythm, growing ever closer. Some noble soul was approaching, with a rustle of clothing and the soft whisper of expensive footwear.
    As the door opened, Nigel and Rannulf threw themselves onto the floor in obeisance, and Hubert and Edmund joined them.
    Edmund turned his head just enough to observe the sweeping skirts of a grand lady enter the room.

19
    â€œARISE, CRUSADER KNIGHTS, SO I CAN SEE you,” said a woman’s voice—a well-spoken Frankish command.
    She entered with several young women, all garbed in flowing sleeves and rustling silk gowns. No household but a queen’s had so many female attendants. Edmund stood as he was directed, but he could not look in the royal person’s direction, and he hoped he would not have to speak a word. Edmund was aware, too, of the travel-worn figure they all cut, garbed in faded Crusader surcoats.
    The prince vacated his chair, and as his mother sat, her son strolled over to the window, examining the untasted pear in his hand.
    The queen took a moment to survey the men before her.
    â€œSo you are Sir Rannulf of Josselin,” said Queen Eleanor at last, looking at the veteran knight appraisingly.
    Sir Rannulf was unable to respond, except to kneel before her. “My lady queen,” rasped Rannulf.
    â€œArise, arise,” she responded, with a motion of her hand and a nearly manly chuckle.
    Rannulf did as he was told, and the queen leaned forward and said, “They tell me that no enemy is safe from you, worthy knight.”
    â€œMy lady queen, they speak too well of me,” said Rannulf when he could make a sound. Through his scarred lips he spoke in a rapt tone Edmund had never heard from the knight before.
    She sat back and studied the four of them once more. “All of you fought under my son in the Holy Land,” she said. It was a declaration, not a question, but only Nigel understood what the royal lady wanted to hear.
    â€œMy lady queen,” he said, “our lord king was well in body and spirit, and blessed by Heaven with victories.”
    â€œBut he had not captured Jerusalem,” said the queen.
    This remark needed no response. At last tidings, the Holy City remained in pagan hands.
    â€œAnd the lice and the heat rash got the better of all of you,” she said, not unkindly. “And the flux, cramps, and fever striking half the army, black water squirting from the guts of half the footmen. I know what war is like. But by God, I wish I had been there to see the army of Jesus! What was it like, young knight?”
    She was looking right at Edmund, with eyes that were dark brown and golden at once.
    She was beautiful as well-loved silver is beautiful, with gray hair and pale skin. Edmund could not speak. He shaped an inner prayer to Saint Michael, provider of strength, and then he heard his voice like an utterance from another room, “My lady queen, we fought—”
    Words fled.
    Edmund was losing all power of communication. He gathered his will, but still could make no further sound.
    Hubert whispered at his side, prompting him.
    Edmund added, repeating Hubert’s words, “We fought as Heaven gave us the power.”
    The queen smiled.
    When he could breathe again, Edmund felt that he had passed through an ordeal as challenging as battle, and lifted a silent prayer of thanks.
    He allowed his gaze to wander briefly.
    To his surprise he recognized one of the members of the royal company—the young woman whose father had been hurt in the melee. And she recognized Edmund—there could be no mistaking that flicker in her emerald eyes.
    Without being fully aware of it, Edmund had determined to never look at another woman as long as he lived. He would not be as absolute as Rannulf, who mistrusted and even disliked the sex. But in