He felt Agnes’s hand on his back. ‘I am sorry, John.’
John turned to look at her. It was the last thing he had expected her to say.
‘You love her still. I can see that. I should not have seduced you.’
‘I am the one to blame.’ He grabbed his cross and hung it around his neck. The metal was cold against his hot skin. ‘I wanted to.’
‘As did I.’ She pulled her robe about her and then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.
‘I should go,’ he said gruffly. He stood and pulled on the linen alb and the chasuble. The priestly garments had never felt so strange. He took up the box with the host. ‘I will not come again.’
Agnes smiled as if she knew better. ‘Farewell, then, John.’
John stood in the courtyard of the king’s new palace and watched as Prince Baldwin played with several other boys. Only eight, he was already a leader. The children had been playing with wooden swords, following his commands as he organized a mock battle. Now, they cast the swords aside and began a new game. Two boys would sink their fingernails into one another’s forearms. Whoever could stand the pain longer was the winner. Baldwin was facing off against a larger child, who smirked confidently as the boys gripped arms. Slowly, however, the child’s smirk faded into a tight-lipped grimace. ‘Enough! Enough!’ he cried. Baldwin released him, and the boy stood fighting back tears as he rubbed at the marks on his forearm. Baldwin was grinning triumphantly.
‘You must not see her again, John.’
John turned towards William. The priest had been staring fixedly at the ground without speaking ever since John told him what had happened between him and Agnes.
‘I told her I would not return,’ John replied.
William snorted dismissively. ‘You swore to remain chaste as well.’ He waited a moment for a reply, but John said nothing, his eyes fixed on the playing children. ‘It is not just that you broke your vow, John. Take a lover, if you must. Visit whores. God knows the Patriarch sees enough of them. But stay away from Agnes. She is only using you to gain access to Baldwin.’
‘I am not a fool, William. But why shouldn’t she see him? She is the boy’s mother.’
‘She is dangerous, John. It is not just her lack of lands that worried the High Court. She has had three husbands. Two died under mysterious circumstances.’
‘Her last husband died in Spain while on pilgrimage. There is nothing mysterious about that.’
‘Hugh of Ibelin was one of the healthiest men I have known-until one morning when he simply did not wake up.’
‘You think she murdered him? That is preposterous!’
‘I think she is a woman to be wary of.’
‘I told you I would not see her again,’ John grumbled. He looked back to Baldwin. The young prince had won again and raised his arms in triumph. He seemed to hardly notice the red welts that covered his forearms. John’s forehead creased. ‘Baldwin always wins at this game,’ he noted.
‘Do not change the subject, John.’
‘Look. The other boy is on the verge of tears, but Baldwin hardly seems to feel the pain.’
‘He is the son of a king. Royal blood flows in his veins.’
‘Kings feel pain, William.’
The priest thought about this for a moment and then his tanned face paled. ‘What are you saying?’
John lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he were afraid to utter the next words. ‘Lepers sometimes lose feeling in their arms and legs.’
William shook his head. ‘No. It is not possible.’ He raised his voice. ‘Baldwin! Come here!’ The boy jogged over. ‘Let me see your arm.’
Baldwin held out his forearm proudly. Some of the boys had dug their nails in so deep that they had broken the skin, leaving bloody, moon-shaped cuts.
‘Does it hurt?’ William asked.
‘I am the son of a king,’ the boy replied. ‘I do not feel pain.’
John exchanged glances with William, and called to a guard who stood in the corner of the courtyard. ‘You! Come here!’ The man strode over, and John held out his hand. ‘Give me your dagger.’
The guard’s eyes widened in alarm. He looked to William.
‘Give it to him,’ the priest ordered.
John took the dagger, then grasped Baldwin’s arm by the wrist, turning his palm upwards. ‘Hold still,’ he told the prince. Baldwin looked on indifferently as John slowly lowered the dagger, pressing the sharp point into the boy’s palm. Baldwin did not even wince as crimson blood welled up around the dagger’s point.
‘Enough!’ William shouted.
John handed the dagger to the guard. The man crossed himself and hurried back to his post.
‘May I play with the other boys now?’ Baldwin asked.
‘See that your cut is tended to, then you may play.’ As the boy ran off towards the infirmary, William looked to John. ‘The child has been cursed by God.’
‘Leprosy,’ Agnes repeated softly.
John was holding her hand, afraid that she might collapse. Her face was ghostly white, and she stared ahead as if not seeing him. Finally she pulled her hand away and left the room. John looked at the cushions where they had made love only three days past. It seemed so long ago now. John had come straight from the palace after discovering the horrible truth about Baldwin. Agnes was the boy’s mother. She had a right to know.
‘Forgive me, John,’ Agnes said as she re-entered the room. Her eyes were red from crying, but she smiled brightly. ‘It was rude of me to leave you standing there all alone.’
‘Are you well?’
She waved aside his concern and sat amidst the cushions. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
John sat beside her. ‘It is terrible news.’
‘It changes nothing. Baldwin will still be king. I am still his mother.’ Her forehead wrinkled, and for a moment John thought she might cry.
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ he asked.
She took a deep breath, and her forehead smoothed. ‘No. Truly, John, I am well.’ She tilted her head as if she had had a thought. ‘There is one thing. You tutor Baldwin. You are often alone with him. Could you bring him here?’
‘My lady, Amalric has decreed that you are not to see the boy.’
‘He is my son, John, and he is sick.’
John hesitated. William had told him she would use him to see the boy. Was he right about her? He met her green eyes and saw that they were moist with tears.
‘I am asking you as a mother,’ Agnes said. ‘Let me see my boy.’
‘You ask me to go against my king.’
‘You have loved before, John. You still love her, I think. Yes, I can see it in your eyes. What would you do if the woman you loved were ill? Would you not want to go to her?’ John looked away, and she gripped his arm, turning him back towards her. ‘If I want to see my son, I will find a way, John. This way, you can keep an eye on me. What harm can I do with you here to watch?’
‘Very well,’ John said. ‘I will bring him to you.’
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘Thank you.’
John sat with his eyes closed, submerged to his chin in the steaming waters of the Hospitaller bath house. He had just come from taking Baldwin to see Agnes; it was the second such trip in the past week. The child had been shy on the first visit, but Agnes had won him over. Just before he left, Agnes had presented Baldwin with a gold bezant. The prince’s eyes were wide as he held the coin. She placed it in a chest for keeping, then told him he would receive another bezant each time he came, so long as he told no one of his visits. Today, Baldwin had been eager to go and collect his coin. Agnes was certain he would continue to hold his tongue, and John prayed that she was right. There would be a price to pay if they were discovered.
But perhaps it was a price worth paying. John thought of Agnes’s lithe body, the feel of her under him that morning. He knew that William would say she was only rewarding him for bringing the boy. He was probably right. John knew that he should stop seeing Agnes, yet he could not wait to be with her again. She was like a drug he could not do without.