Free Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery by Alan Gordon Page A

stopped outside a massive oaken double door.
    “I am taking you in to see her,” he said, suddenly stern, “”feu are to behave in a proper manner. No coarse ribaldries or suggestive puns, and none of your rustic capers. Think of her as the Queen of the Courts of Love, a place where chivalry actually exists. Sing in your sweetest voice, and only romances and ballads. Make your courtesies with elaborate flourishes, and speak only when she speaks to you.”
    “Will that be all?” I asked.
    “I’m serious, Theophilos,” he said. “She is a rare creature and not to be subjected to any insult, intentional or accidental.”
    “I understand,” I said. “Come, let us greet this paragon.”
    He rapped softly three times on the doors, then two times more. There was a rustle of silk on the other side, then the two doors were opened by a maidservant who giggled the moment she saw Scarlet. “He’s here, milady,” she called.
    We walked in, and I thought I had stumbled into Paradise. The room was draped in silks of different hues, and statues of marble and porphyry gazed benignly from niches in the walls. The furniture was ornate, with elaborate carvings on the arms and legs, and birds sang from gilded cages suspended from the ceiling. Yet in the midst of all this splendor, the most splendid of all was the lady with the alabaster skin, the golden tresses, and the dancing eyes who reclined on a divan in the center. She was about twenty, but there was still something of the little girl in her.
    “My sweet Scarlet!” she cried, rising to her feet and rushing to him. She knelt and clasped him to her bosom, covering his face with kisses until he blushed more deeply than his name. “’’lou’ve returned at last. I’ve been simply miserable without you.”
    “Then let me be scourged for bringing the slightest hint of misery to your chamber,” laughed the dwarf. “Surely you’ve managed to keep yourself entertained in my absence.”
    “Entertained?” she scoffed. “How shall I be entertained when the prince of performers has abandoned me? Did you find some other lady with flashing eyes and exquisite boredom while you were in Acre?”
    “Never even saw another woman while I was away from you,” said Scarlet. “Some wretched things were paraded by me that I was told were beautiful maids, but how could I believe that when I have beheld you? My Queen, there can be no other woman for me.”
    My, he could lay it on thick, I thought. Do women really appreciate that sort of thing?
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    Y ou could try it on me once in a while, my wife said acidly.
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    “ A nd you’ve brought a friend ,” she said, casting a smile in my direction that almost blinded me.
    “My Queen, allow me to present my friend and colleague, Droignon,” said Scarlet.
    I bowed so low that my bells tickled my toes.
    “You are welcome, Droignon,” said Isabelle, extending her hand. “A friend of Scarlet’s will always be welcome in my court.”
    “A benefit of his friendship beyond price, milady,” I said, grazing her hand with my lips. I looked sideways at my colleague, who was nodding approval. “Scarlet, I admit that I was wrong.”
    “About what, friend Droignon?” he asked.
    “You had said during our journey that there could be no lady fairer than the one that you served, and I had dismissed your words as mere hyperbole. But now that I have seen her, I will brook no comparison with any other woman in the world.”
    “Now, sit and tell me all about Tyre,” she commanded, motioning him to a scarlet pillow by her divan and me to an overcushioned chair nearby.
    “Accompany me, if you please, Droignon,” said Scarlet.
    I pulled out my lute and began to play softly.
    “Tell me the news, my pet,” said the Queen. “Is that nice Cecilie still there?”
    “Aye, lady, but much worn with cares.”
    “Is she? Alas, poor dear. That will doubtless have ill effect upon her complexion. What is the fashion amongst the ladies of the