Noel smiled. “A poor time for a brother-in-law to go rampaging.”
Sir Olin smiled back. “Aye. If Lord Theodore were dead or captive, it would be different for all of us. I cannot stand alone, you see. But I would talk with him, monsieur. Go and tell him my castle is open to welcome him and his lady.” Sir Olin rubbed his hands together again and chuckled. “Especially his lady.”
An hour later Noel sank breathlessly onto the knobby roots of an age-twisted olive clinging precariously to the bank of a gully and met Theodore’s intense blue gaze.
“And that’s what happened,” he finished. “I’m sorry Sir Geoffrey knows you’re here, but there was no help for it.”
“No damage was done. He does not have sufficient time to spread a warning to his master,” said Theodore.
Lady Sophia smiled at Noel. “You did your best. I wish, however, you had brought us food.”
Noel looked at her smudged, travel-weary face, and at Theodore whose red beard hid the ravages his eyes betrayed. Noel thought of his own hearty meal at the castle and felt guilty.
However, he returned her smile and brought from his sleeve pocket two apples and a chunk of cheese.
“It’s bad manners to steal from your host’s table,” he said, grinning as she exclaimed and snatched the items from his hands, “but I managed to overcome etiquette-”
“You are wonderful!” said Sophia, laughing. “I am ready to die for a morsel of cheese. How good it looks.” She divided the food between herself and Theodore and tried to coax her hawk into eating some of the cheese.
While he munched his apple, Theodore paced back and forth. His head remained bowed in thought.
“It’s plain that Sir Olin has his eye on your treasury,” Noel said to Sophia. “Mistra is rich, and he’s not.”
She frowned. “That is my dowry. It is not to be handed over to any-”
“Quite so, my dear,” said Theodore. “I think Noel fears another ransoming?”
“Yes, maybe,” said Noel. “You probably know how far you can trust him or we wouldn’t be here in the first place. But if he’s smart he knows he won’t get a reward with you locked in his dungeons. He might get Sir Magnin to pay him for Sophia-”
Theodore’s fists came up. “That cur!”
“Easy. I’m only speculating. Remember that Sir Magnin doesn’t know where the treasury is,” said Noel. “That gives us an ace in the hole.”
Theodore frowned. “A what?”
“Uh, an advantage.”
Theodore went back to pacing. “You may be sure he is searching for it. With time and perserverance, it can be found.”
“But Magnin’s got a lot on his plate right now,” said Noel. “He’s trying to pull in more allies. I don’t know how long it will take for news of this to reach your emperor-”
“A month at best,” said Theodore gloomily. “If a messenger has been dispatched at all. I, naturally, can send no one. By the time word reaches the court, Sir Magnin will be well entrenched. To lay siege to Mistra and its walls…” He shook his head.
“All right, no help from the emperor,” said Noel. “A couple of cannonballs would do wonders to Mistra’s walls, but they aren’t invented yet, are they?”
Everyone was silent. They stared at him blankly.
Irritated at himself for that frivolous slip, Noel scowled. “Uh, taking the castle by force is too hard. Let’s think of a better solution.”
“No,” said Theodore. “We shall fight. If I must, I can fill Sir Olin’s coffers from my own fortune. I must have an army, and he can help me raise one.”
“That will take too long,” said Noel.
Theodore stared at him. “What constraint does time have upon our actions? I do not understand your urgency in this matter. It is spring yet; we have until late autumn to mount a campaign. Sophia’s safety is no longer at risk and while I should prefer to settle this dispute without appealing to the emperor, if necessary I can call on-”
“No, no, no,” said Noel, punching his fist into his palm for emphasis. “We have four or five days at the outside. You must have command of Mistra before the Turks come this far upriver.”
Theodore sighed. “Noel, truly you are a wonder. The more I think on the matter, the less I fear their arrival. We have until autumn, and that is plenty of-”
“You don’t have until autumn,” said Noel. He wanted to knock Theodore’s thick head against the tree. “What am I, Cassandra crying the doom that no one will hear?”
“Do you have the sight?” asked Sophia, dusting cheese crumbs from her dainty fingers and clutching his hand. “Have you seen a vision? Did a golden light shine upon you? Did you hear a voice beyond all understanding? Did you see God?”
Aware of Theodore’s jealous eye, Noel detached his fingers from her clasp and cleared his throat. “Uh, what I’ve experienced, uh, I cannot explain. There are no words to describe it.”
That, at least, was the truth. His translator had a built-in protection device that caught words like fiber optics, microchips, interdimensional physics, and the like, and threw them into gibberish to avoid contaminating history with advanced technical terms. If he said computer, his listeners might hear spoon or something equally nonsensical.
They stared at him, however, with disappointment and skepticism. He realized he had to tell them something.
“There was gray mist,” he said, “and a sense of being lost. I could hear nothing, feel nothing. After a while I could see nothing. But I was not… entirely alone. I remember…” He blinked, unconsciously rubbing his left arm above the bracelet. “I remember terrible pain. I remember being afraid.”
Sophia touched his arm, stopping him from rubbing it. “What happened then? Did the vision come?”
Noel sighed, pulling himself back from the memory, and met Theodore’s gaze. “You promised to trust me,” he said with all the persuasion he could muster. “You have to act this week, or it will be too late.”
Sophia went to stand at Theodore’s side with her arm around him. They made a striking couple, with their handsome faces and blue eyes. They belonged at Mistra-that beautiful Frankish fortress overlooking its fertile valley, a place peaceful beneath the two-headed eagle banner of Byzantium.
‘Too late for whom?“ she asked. ”For us? For you? Be less cryptic, if you please.“
Before Noel could answer, Theodore chuckled. “Cryptic is the way of prophets and oracles, my dear. Very well, friend Noel, if I am to use guile rather than force to retake my fortress, what do you suggest?”
“Get Sir Olin on your side,” said Noel without hesitation, “along with as many of the other local nobles as you can muster. Get equipped with a horse and armor. Go to the tournament and-”
“He will be captured!” cried Sophia.
“Not if I ride nameless under Sir Olin’s pennon,” said Theodore thoughtfully. “Once the jousting has begun, the rules of chivalry demand that all comers may compete without fear of seizure.”
“The rules,” said Sophia in dismay. “Sir Magnin does not follow the rules.”
“Alas, that is true.”
Thank you, Leon, thought Noel in exasperation. He said, “Yes, that’s a good point and something to keep in mind. But with everyone in the province there watching, do you think he’d dare try anything?”
“Yes,” said Sophia.
“No,” said Theodore.
The two lovers glared at each other.
“You must not fight him-” began Sophia.
“It would be an ideal solution,” said Theodore. “The leaders of the province will be assembled. I shall ride in and make public challenge to Sir Magnin. He cannot refuse-”
“He will kill you!”
Theodore’s expression grew chilly. “My lady’s confidence in my prowess overwhelms me.”
“I do not doubt you, my darling!” she cried, clinging to his arm. “But Magnin the Black is champion of the province.”
Theodore merely shrugged. “It is settled. I shall challenge him, one to one. The outcome will decide who governs Mistra and”-a muscle flexed in his jaw-“who weds Lady Sophia.”
Noel raised his brows. “Strong terms.”