He cupped her pretty bum as he took her to their bed, and she traced the outline of his ear with the tip of her tongue and whispered, “Sim, let me be on top.” Her suggestive request sent a thrill into his loins, and she felt the throbbing evidence of his male power pulse against her. She held her breath as their bodies parted long enough for him to stretch his great length upon the bed, then lithely, seductively she straddled him. He was surprised that she had mounted him the opposite way, with her back toward him.
Eleanor smiled wickedly; this way his long, hard male muscle was vulnerable to any erotic whim she chose. She bent to drop a kiss upon the crown of its head and heard his ragged voice whisper, “Kathe, Kathe!”
Then she stroked the inside of his thighs knowing full well that though he was a man he was sensitive in many places. When she cupped his testes and her delicate fingers traced the outline of each large sphere, she heard his masculine groans of pleasure and felt his damnably attractive hands come up to stroke her creamy back, sending a knife-sharp thrill through her whole body. She took his shaft between her palms and rolled it, gently at first, then she increased the speed and intensity of her manipulations.
His voice rasped harshly, “Darling, stop … I’ll spill myself.” She did stop but before she slid about to face him she trailed her fingertips up and down the insides of his thighs one more time. She smiled down into his eyes. “Nay, I’ll decide when you spill yourself.” Then slowly, inch by deliberate inch she allowed him to enter her, anointing him with her liquid fire. She had used him expertly with lips and fingers until he was reckless and urgent. He could not remain still inside her but bucked and thrust wildly in an effort to bring to a climax the exquisite torture.
She locked her muscles upon him, trapping and holding immobile his male weapon deep within the honeyed walls of her tight sheath. He thought he would burst. Then she began to flex upon him and he knew he’d never experienced anything so sinfully pleasurable before. He built and built until the blood pounded in his ears and he felt it all the way to the soles of his feet. Suddenly she lifted herself so that only the head of his shaft remained inside her, then she plunged down and cried, “Now, Sim, now!”
His body obeyed her command and with a deep masculine cry he ejaculated, filling her with cream. When he spiraled back down to earth she was waiting for him. “Now will you admit that I am your equal in all things, Simon de Montfort?”
“Sweetest love, you are far above me. I put you upon a pedestal long before you were even mine and I have worshipped at your feet ever since.”
His words were so disarming, she wanted to believe them with all her heart. “Oh, Sim, did you love Joan of Flanders?” she cried.
He gathered her into his arms and cradled her against the wide planes of his chest. “My own sweet love, she is old and plain-faced. I was never more relieved in my entire life than when Louis stepped in to prevent the marriage.”
She was laughing and crying at the same time. He kissed the teardrops from her face and whispered, “Lord, you were so angry with me tonight.”
“How could you decide to go on Crusade without consulting me?” she demanded.
“I haven’t decided, I am only on the verge, but what is my alternative?” he asked quietly.
She considered for a moment, trying to put herself in his shoes. “Well, if you do go, I’m coming with you. I won’t stay here.”
“It’s lovely here,” he protested.
“Oh, Simon, it is lovely here. I’m pampered and indulged and feel wicked not to appreciate it more, only …”
“Only Italy isn’t England, Brindisi isn’t Kenilworth, the sea isn’t our mere.”
“Oh, Simon, you do understand!” she cried.
His lips brushed the tiny tendrils that curled about her temples. “Of course I understand, I feel exactly the same.”
She lifted her mouth to his and was shocked at the sensual response she aroused.
“If we are equals I think it is now my turn to make love to you.”
“Beast! I cannot lift a finger,” she protested. “That’s a relief,” he teased, and she knew to just exactly what he referred.
40
Simon de Montfort received the disquieting news that his brother Amauri, who had gone on Crusade the previous year, had been taken prisoner by the Sultan of Egypt. He immediately joined Frederick and Richard’s Crusade, and together with his wife, they set sail for Acre. At first Eleanor had great fears about going halfway around the world to live and fight among barbarians. Simon laughed at her ignorance. “In the first place, it isn’t halfway around the world, love. Come and look at this map.” With one great arm about her protectively, he pointed to the parchment with a finger of his other hand. “Here is Brindisi, right on the heel of the boot of Italy. We are almost on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. We simply sail to the far end of the Mediterranean, and there’s Acre and Jerusalem and Palestine. We’ll be there in a few short days. Look, here is the River Jordan, which empties into the Dead Sea. Everything on this side of the river is lush and fertile. The Syrian desert doesn’t begin until the far side of the Jordan. There is a vast English and European settlement in the city of Jerusalem. It is crawling with barons and knights, and hardly a one of them is as civilized or educated as a Saracen knight. To our shame they can all read and write.”
She had been thinking of her condition, even though her pregnancy was in its early months. Who knew how long they would remain in the Holy Land? “We won’t have to live in a mud hut or a tent, will we?” she asked, only half jesting.
“The residences of the simplest baron or knight will dazzle your eyes. The floors are exquisitely patterned with mosaic tile. They have gardens with bathing pools and fountains. Why do you think such great numbers never returned to Germany or France or England? Our drafty castles and dearth of sunshine leave something to be desired.”
Sailing the Mediterranean was one of the most pleasurable experiences Eleanor had ever enjoyed. The sun and the brilliant blue sky reflected across the sea, which night and day remained as calm as a millpond. The breeze was always like a warm caress and the sea teemed with dolphins and iridescent flying fish. The nights were conducive to romance for the large moon seemed to hang on the edge of the sea and the stars were like diamonds scattered over black velvet.
Eleanor heaved a sigh of relief when they sailed into the harbor at Acre and she saw for herself how civilized it appeared. Acre was a square city surrounded by a double wall with a deep, wide moat between. It was a most secure city, open only to its enclosed port. Both within and without the city were orchards and poplar trees as far as the eye could see.
Frederick, who was known in the East as the Holy Roman Emperor, was received with much pomp and ceremony, as was Richard, the King of England’s brother. The Order of the Knights Templars had grown into a vast and wealthy organization and had made their headquarters in Acre. They had built a massive fortress called Castle Pilgrim on high land jutting into the Mediterranean. Here they were housed in one of the finest buildings Christendom had to offer.
Fetes and sumptuous dinner invitations began immediately. The moment that word reached the city of Jerusalem that the war lord, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, had traveled to the East, delegations representing barons, knights, and citizens arrived in Acre begging his services.
Eleanor hid her tears and fears and bid farewell to her fierce giant. Though his surcoat bore the plain white cross of the crusader, he stood out from other men as a supreme leader. She knew it would not take him long to cover himself with distinction for he had never lost a brush with the enemy and had never besieged a castle or a city in vain.
Simon led the fighting while Frederick promised to negotiate with the Sultan of Egypt for the release of Amauri. At one time the Holy Roman Emperor had had a truce with the sultan, but it had been broken over a year past and was what had prompted Frederick and Richard to plan the Crusade.
Although Eleanor dearly loved her brother Richard, h
e had character flaws that offended her. He left with Simon but returned to Acre almost immediately. When she questioned him, he excused his lack of support on the fighting front by telling her he was acting as liaison between the emperor and his crusaders. Eleanor was not a green girl any more and she realized Richard was there for the sole purpose of increasing his wealth. These days he made a better businessman than fighter. He dealt with wily Oriental traders and other nationalities. By the looks of some of the men with whom he did business, she would not be surprised if they were the enemy. Eleanor resented the fact that while Simon risked his life every day, Richard spent his time advancing no cause but his own. When she took him to task for it in her usual forthright manner, he had his answers ready.
“Fighting is what Simon does … it is his business, Eleanor. Crusades and wars cost money. I just happen to be talented in the art of making money, so I serve where I am the most useful.”
She replied cynically, “Strange how your own purse is filled to overflowing at the same time. Oh, and by the way, while we are private I might as well tell you plainly that I am shocked at your faithlessness to Isabella. Your dalliance with the maids and serving women is the talk of Acre. Rumor also has it you sleep with native women and that you keep a slave girl.”
He looked at her with pitying condescension. “Eleanor, surely you know women throw themselves at men in positions of power. It is expected of a man in my position, and I confess I have a weakness for beautiful women.”
“You are disgusting. You don’t even pay lip service to chastity. Do your marriage vows to Isabella mean nothing to you?”
“Vows, is it? I think it the height of hypocrisy for you to throw vows at me. What of your own?”
Eleanor’s temper flared. “Damn you to hellfire, Richard. You know how long I was a widow before I lay with Simon.”
“Ah yes, quite the little nun. Well, let me tell you men are made differently than women. One of the rewards that lures men to the East is a chance to have their own seraglio. De Montfort will be no exception. He’ll have his own private harem once he has established himself here, if he doesn’t have one already!”
She wanted to scream her denial, but inside she was unsure of her husband’s fidelity. It was true that women threw themselves at powerful men; she had seen with her own eyes how the maids twittered about Simon, casting out their lures. Eleanor bit her hp and changed the subject. “Has Frederick done anything about Simon’s brother yet?”
Richard shrugged. “Frederick is a realist. The Sultan of Egypt wants to renew the truce. Amauri de Montfort is of secondary import.”
Eleanor was thunderstruck. “A truce? Simon will run mad! He risks his life each hour of every day gaining territory that Frederick will give back if a truce is signed!”
“It is no longer a case of ’if the truce is signed, but ‘when.’ Negotiations have been underway for two weeks. It will just be a matter of how much gold Frederick can squeeze out of him and he’ll sign on the dotted line. Of course that’s where I come in. Tomorrow we leave for Jaffa, which is closer to Ascalon where the sultan maintains a summer palace.”
Eleanor made her decision between one heartbeat and the next. She would go herself to negotiate the release of her husband’s brother with this Sultan of Egypt. William Marshal had taught her how to negotiate. She had sat at his right hand at all his courts, and he had encouraged her to use her intelligence and her education. He had taught her how to be shrewd yet fair, and above all he had taught her to trust her own instincts. After all, she was royalty. She was a Plantagenet, the daughter and sister of kings. Since no else seemed to have the de Montfort interests foremost in their minds, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
Where there was a will, there was a way, and Eleanor found it the simplest thing in the world to persuade her brother-in-law Frederick to include her as a member of his party when he sailed to Jaffa.
With her face veiled and covered from nose to toes by a loose djellaba, she moved about unnoticed. She quickly learned that both male and female servants were amenable to bribes. She secured a room for herself in a quiet wing of the palatial house that had been set aside for the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire and his scores of servants, which again was owned by the Templars.
Eleanor grew impatient as her plans to communicate with the sultan did not come to fruition. Frederick certainly did not bother to keep her informed of his dealings with Selim of Egypt, so it was most fortunate that her servants were a fountain of information.
It seemed that no mutually acceptable meeting ground could be agreed upon between the two venerable leaders. The emperor wanted the sultan to come to Jaffa, but of course he was far too shrewd to leave Egyptian territory and invited Frederick to accept his hospitality at his Byzantine palace in Ascalon. Frederick was much too fearful to set foot upon Egyptian territory, even though Ascalon was actually only on the border, and so it became an impasse.
Eleanor threw up her hands in exasperation, thinking men the most useless creatures in the world. It did not take the impulsive Countess of Leicester long to act on her own. A distance of less than thirty miles could be bridged easily, she decided. She dispatched a secret messenger to Ascalon with a letter to the sultan. She addressed it to His Supreme Highness, Selim, Sultan of Egypt. Its tone was imperious, from one royal personage to another. She set out her purpose plainly, to negotiate the release of Amauri de Montfort, and she signed it with a flourish, Eleanor Plantagenet, Princess Royal of England.
Within a week she had received her own invitation to enjoy the hospitality of the Sultan of Egypt at his Byzantine palace on the Mediterranean. Eleanor enjoyed the challenge of packing and arranging her journey in total secrecy. Frederick and Richard were too involved in their own affairs to inquire into Eleanor’s whereabouts each day, and that was exactly the way she wanted it. God’s blood, men were easy to gull!
Not quite so easy, however, was Simon de Montfort. He was a man of honor, yet being practical he was ever aware that other men were often less than honorable. Anyone who dismissed him as all brawn and no brains made the serious mistake of underestimating him. He knew every detail of Frederick’s negotiations to renew the truce between Palestine and Egypt. He tried not to be too judgmental of Frederick, for his practical side told him they could never completely defeat the Sultan of Egypt. They could regain lost territory and conquer new, but they could not wipe out an enemy that succeeded by sheer force of numbers. If his knights wiped out a thousand today, tomorrow two thousand would replace them, and wholesale slaughter was abhorrent to Simon de Montfort.
He had also learned to depend on himself in this life and sent his own man to negotiate with the Sultan of Egypt for the release of Amauri. He had men in his pay at the Templars’ headquarters to guard over his wife, and he knew almost immediately that Eleanor had sailed with the emperor’s party to Jaffa. He was not unduly alarmed, for Jaffa was a hundred miles closer to his own position than Acre had been.
As Selim continued to politely but firmly avoid journeying to Jaffa, Frederick knew that a truce would never be signed unless someone gave in. He dispatched a courier for the war lord. Simon de Montfort would have to risk the journey to Ascalon to beard the lion in his den.
41
Eleanor stood outside the gates of the most sumptuous palace she had ever seen. It was heavily guarded and she was glad that she had brought a dozen servants with her. The palace guards certainly did not speak English, but her head man seemed to have no difficulty communicating and the gates were opened wide to admit them.
They were taken through both an outer and an inner court-yard before they entered the labyrinth that resembled a honeycomb with one chamber seemingly opening into another. Inside the marble halls of the palace it was relatively cool compared to the streets of Ascalon, where the fierce sun burned down without mercy. The tiled corridors had many archways that gave glimpses of the azure ocean, dotted with the colorful sails of ships.
Eleanor tried not t
o stare at the black-skinned guards who wore nothing but loincloths or the palace servants who wore white robes and headcloths. Two of her attendants walked ahead of her, the rest trailed behind, but when she missed the sound of footsteps behind her, she was shocked to find that her twelve servants had diminished to two. It was clear to her they had been spirited away. Though she became outraged and demanded an explanation instantly, she received only smiles and incomprehensible words.
Eleanor was led into a long, narrow room whose far end was open to a garden with a long, rectangular bathing pool. A tall, slim attendant in a white robe and turban approached her and spoke to her in heavily accented English. “My name is Fayid. I will provide whatever you desire.” Fayid was black-skinned, and had a high singsong voice, but for the life of her Eleanor could not detect Fayid’s gender. It looked and sounded like a woman and yet there was not one curve or indeed one extra ounce of flesh to cover Fayid’s long bones.
“I desire to see Sultan Selim immediately,” Eleanor said regally.
Fayid half smiled. “All things come at their appointed time, Princess. People from the West hurry their lives away.”
“I am glad you realize who I am,” Eleanor replied crisply. “I desire my attendants; tell me where they are.”
“They have been accommodated as you have, Princess. This half of the palace is the women’s quarters. Men are forbidden here.”
“There are male guards on every door,” Eleanor protested.
“They are no longer men, Princess, they are eunuchs.” Fayid turned to the two female attendants. “This way, ladies.”
“Just one moment,” Eleanor demanded. “Where do you think you are taking my servants?”