Free Angeline by Karleen Bradford Page B

said. “And to know that you are well, although I am dismayed by the sinful woman you are forced to serve. Lessons from the Bible would probably do you good.”
    Angeline flushed. At that moment Father Martin sounded much like Father Bertrand, who had condemned her mother so unfairly. Truly, although she had not thought on it before, her mother and Zahra were not so unalike. They were both women full of love and, most of all, love for their children. There were far worse in the world, as Angeline had the misfortune to know, even amongst those who were properly wed. But again, she held her tongue. It would do no good to anger Father Martin. She must not risk losing the precious opportunity to learn how to read and write.
    She turned toward Stephen.
    “What is your life like here?” she asked. “Are you well treated?”
    Stephen grimaced.
    “Well treated, yes. For a slave.”
    Angeline caught the bitterness underlying his words; nevertheless, she persisted.
    “But tell me, what do you do? How do you pass your days?”
    Stephen looked down at his hands. The leftone bore shiny scars. Stephen’s father had not believed the letter to be from God and had thrown the parchment in the fire. Stephen had thrust his hand into the flames to save it. He rubbed at the scars now. It seemed he would not speak, but Father Martin prodded him.
    “Tell her of your work with Kareem,” he said.
    “That old man!” Stephen exclaimed. “He has the most evil temper I have ever known.”
    “But he has taught you much about gardens and the growing of living plants, has he not?” Father Martin insisted.
    “He has,” Stephen answered, but he turned away. “It will be useful if I am to be a slave in this heathen land for the rest of my life, I suppose.”
    Angeline would not give up.
    “Well, I will tell you about how I spend my time,” she said, forcing a gaiety into her voice that she could not feel. She went on to describe her life with Zahra, exaggerating the luxury, embellishing every detail. Little by little, she managed to draw Stephen out, but when she tried to talk of their journey Stephen silenced her.
    “I cannot speak of that,” he said.
    Samah returned before the evening prayer to take Angeline back to Zahra. Angeline fetched Zahra’s meal, played with Aza for a while, then curled up on her couch. Zahra was not going to the Emir that night. Angeline lay in the darkness,staring out the window at the stars. There was much to think about. Suddenly her life had taken a new turn. A better turn, she hoped. Being able to see Stephen would help. But the thought of him was troubling. She remembered the look on his face while Father Martin prayed and he would not. It was a look of such pain and sorrow. He would not speak of their journey, but here in the silent darkness, Angeline could not help remembering.
    They had embarked in seven ships from Marseilles, Stephen once more alive with hope and faith after the shock of his failure to part the sea.
    “God has answered our prayers in His own way!” he had cried. “Behold, our faith in Him has been answered. We
will
go to the Holy Land. We
will
restore Jerusalem to the true faith. God wills it! Those who deserted us will hear of our triumph and they will regret their faithlessness to their dying day.”
    Never would she forget the feeling of standing beside him on the heaving, rolling deck that first morning as they faced the east together, braced against the wind. The sun had shone down upon them; the waves danced and glittered. Seabirdsswooped and called as the great ship’s sails billowed and cracked above them. The oarsmen shipped their oars. They were on their way! Angeline had been filled with joy. Stephen’s arm around her had been firm and strong.
    Everything had seemed possible.
    But then they had been crammed below decks and the hatch locked down. The ship had seemed huge to her, but even so there was not room enough for the hundreds of children who had been crowded into