The Tragedy of Men - Chapter Six
Title The Tragedy of Men
Chapter: A Sickness So Pure (6/9)
Author: smaragdbird
Summary: In Tyre the nobels of the Crusade celebrate the wedding of the new Queen and King of Jerusalem while Much grows closer to Thomas
Pairings overall: Richard/Philip, Much/Thomas, allusion to Robin/Marian plus diverse historical married couples
Characters/Pairings in this chapter: Much, Robin, Thomas, Jocelin, Adhémar
Rating: overall rating of NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings:overall warnings of detailed violence and torture
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to BBC and not to me. Also I don’t make any money with this. It’s just for fun
Notes:Okay first a big, big thank you to both my beta-reader thymelady and my artistneaptidea. They have both done a more than incredible job especially in that short time. You are awesome guys, both of you :)
Second, I took a historical liberties with this fic: Richard and Philip didn’t arrive in Acre until summer 1191 but here I made them come to Acre in 1189 for dramatic purposes. Also I interpreted the historical characters in this story as it fit my purposes which I only say here in case one of you has seen Kingdom of Heaven and wonders why Guy de Lusignan is such a nice guy (although according to my textbooks and Wikipedia he wasn’t so bad ;)
Third, all Arabic in this fic comes from the phrase pages in an old travel guide. Feel open to point out any mistakes I made
Artwork, by neaptidea
Previous Chapter
The tragedy of men
A Sickness So Pure
But no ships also meant no supplies and no supplies meant rations and starvation and scurvy. Much discovered that Robin had neglected to stock their own personal supplies over the summer and now it was too late for him to do anything about it, except for the short trip they took at the end of November to Tyre.
The council of Nobles finally wanted to settle the matter of succession between Guy de Lusignan and Isabella. Of course, as Robin pointed out, they had chosen the most foolish way of doing this by forcing Isabella to leave her husband Humphrey of Toron, who was a staunch supporter of King Guy, and marry her to King Guy’s old rival Conrad de Montferrat.
As Robin was not only the Captain of King Richard’s Guard but also his vassal, he had to attend many meetings and conventions that were closed for Much and therefore he had a lot of free time on his hand. They had only stayed in Tyre very shortly after their arrival from Cyprus, before the march towards Acre had begun, and Much remembered the city fondly.
“One could think you wanted to stay here from the look on your face,” Thomas said and brushed against Much while they were walking over the bazaar.
“It reminds me of market day in Nottingham, I can’t help it.” Much replied happily. “One could come to think that there is no war.”
“True, it could probably be like market day in Nottingham, if you ignore that no one here speaks English and every second merchant is a Saracen,” Thomas replied with a dry smile. “Hey! Look! Travellers!” He took Much’s hand and pulled him into the crowd to get a better look.
“Do you get these in Nottingham as well?” he asked, gesturing to the acrobats and fire-breathers and ropedancers.
“Sometimes, when they pass us on travels to or from York.”
Much and Thomas both laughed when they fire-breather tried to roast the ropedancer and the ropedancer evaded his flames with increasingly risky feats. Much felt Thomas’ eyes on him and turned his head to catch Thomas smiling and smiled back. He liked it when Thomas smiled at him; it released something warm inside his chest.
They wandered aimlessly through the city while the sun was sinking over horizon and finally vanished into the ocean.
“He, you!” A brutish looking man stepped out of a shadowy alley, followed by another ten men or so. Maybe there were more waiting in the background.
“We’re knights in the service of King Richard. Let us through,” Thomas demanded. The man spat at his feet. “I give a piss on what you are. Give us your gold and we may let you live, you son of a cur.”
Much had unsheathed his sword and held it at the man’s throat before he even knew what he was doing.
“You don’t speak to him like that.” His voice was shaking with anger. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see that the other men pulled out daggers and other weapons hidden beneath their cloaks.
“Much, what is your plan?” Thomas whispered urgently next to him.
“How about this?” Much kneed the man in front of him in the guts so that he collapsed. “Run!”
And they did. Crossing one alley, entering the next on the left and the next on the right side after that. Behind them they could hear the extremely furious insults their pursuers shouted at them. Without looking where he was going, Much nearly stumbled over his own feet. When Thomas pulled him into another alley and pressed him flat against the wall, Much’s protests swallowed by his hand over Much’s mouth.
Their pursuers came nearer and nearer and Much was sure that they would discover them at any moment, but then they simply ran by. Thomas waited for another moment until he took his hand from Much’s mouth and both of them let out a relieved sigh.
“What possessed you to do that?” Thomas grinned.
“I just... felt like it,” Much answered with mocked indifference.
“You felt like it,” Thomas teased. “I’ll remember not be near you when you feel like getting killed again.”
“We didn’t get killed,” Much protested immediately. They were still pressed against each other and the wall.
“No, thanks to you.” Thomas tilted his face just slightly nearer to Much’s.
“Do you think really think that?” Much responded teasingly to Thomas’ banter.
“Yes, I do.” When Much breathed in he could feel Thomas’ eyelashes flutter against his cheek.
“Well then, I will just step aside and let them rob you next time.” Thomas only hesitated for the fraction of a heartbeat, then he closed the distance between them and kissed Much.
It was a simple kiss, short enough to make sure that it was not seen as deliberate and only the press of Thomas’ dry lips against Much’s, nothing else.
“I... that was... ” Much didn’t know what to say. Thomas stepped away.
“Sorry... I didn’t know... what came over me.” He steadily avoided looking at Much. “Let’s go back to the castle, shall we?” But Much stopped him with a hand on his surcoat and pulled him towards him again.
This time the kiss was different. It was a long and desperate kiss. The kiss of two people who knew that they might never have the chance again and that, as soon as it ended, the guilt began. The questions began. The pain began.
They pulled apart breathlessly.
“We really shouldn’t do this,” Thomas said but there was the hint of a careless smile in his face.
“No,” Much agreed but his fingers were still tangled in the cloth of Thomas’ surcoat, wanting to pull him close again.
“At least,” Thomas amended and one of his bright smiles that Much liked so much broke out on his face. “We shouldn’t do it here, in public.”
///////////////////////////////////////
Much came back very late to the room he shared with Robin, who was laying on his bed and read a small book. When Much came in, he put it aside.
“Did you have fun with Thomas?” he asked. Much stopped dead in his tracks.
“Uhm, yes. H-how do you... know... master?”
“He told me that he wanted to drag you to city.”
“Oh yes, we did that. There were fire-breathers and ropedancers and everything,” Much launched into a detailed description of the fire-breather and the ropedancer while he laid out and brushed up Robin’s finest clothes for the wedding the next day. Robin laughed when Much tried to show him a few of the more daring stunts the ropedancer had pulled to avoid the fire.
“Sounds like I missed a lot,” Robin said wistfully.
“How did it go with the King?” Much asked to change the subject. He didn’t want to say something that he would regret later.
“He’s unhappy.”
“King Richard?”
“Yes, Guy is his vassal, but Philip is his closest ally. And Conrad is Philip’s vassal.”
“That sounds unfortunate, master,” Much said carefully.
“It is. Oh and on top of that,” Robin rolled his eyes. “Duke Leopold thinks that just because he assembled the ruins of the Emperor’s army, he’s allowed to put his oar in for everything.” Robin sounded deeply annoyed, but Much knew him better than everyone else and could guess why Robin was really upset.
“It’s the wedding, isn’t it, master? It makes you think of Marian.”
“How do you know?”
“You say her name when you sleep.”
Robin looked crestfallen. “It doesn’t matter. She’s probably already married.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for you,” Much tried to encourage him.
“She’s the sheriff’s daughter. Even if she isn’t married yet, she will be when we return.”
“There are other girls,” Much tried again. “Maybe the King will give you his sister.” Robin laughed.
“I think the King’s plans for his sister reach beyond marrying her to a vassal that doesn’t need any encouragement to stay loyal to him.” Robin rose from the bed and the book he had been reading fell to the floor. Much picked it up.
“What is it, master?”
“It’s the Qur’an. Do you remember ambassador Jubayr? He gave it to me as a goodbye gift. He said he thought I would find it interesting.”
“And did you? Find it interesting I mean.”
“Some of it, yes.” Robin opened the book at a precise page and showed a long row of letters to Much who couldn’t read them.
“Every man lives for one deed; let yours be the doing of good works,“ Robin read out loud.
“That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”
“No, Much, it doesn’t.” Robin agreed. He settled back on the bed. “I’m having doubts, Much.”
“About the Saracens?”
“About the war. Maybe we shouldn’t have come here.”
///////////////////////////////////////
The next morning, Isabella, Queen of Jerusalem, was married to Conrad de Montferrat. She looked unhappy when she wasn’t sending dark looks in the direction of her earlier husband, who was attending the wedding as well.
“Well, I would be unhappy if I had to marry a grizzly, old man like that.” Adhémar said when he sat with Much and Jocelin in the Castle’s court and played dice with them while their masters and the other nobles feasted with the newlyweds. Conrad, due to a wound he had suffered from a skirmish with the Saracens nine days ago, would stay in Tyre with his bride and rejoin the siege after his recovery.
“Especially if my rightful husband was too much of a woman to stand up for me.”
“Conrad de Montferrat is a very well-educated and handsome man,” Jocelin argued. “He has a reputation of great courage and vitality.”
“Does Philip pay you to sing his vassal’s praise?” Adhémar snarked. “What do you think, Much? You’ve seen him in the battle of Acre, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I... he is a courageous man,” Jocelin raised his eyebrows at Adhémar as if to say See, I told you so but Much wasn’t finished; “But I think it’s wrong, how she’s been treated. And against the church. If he was an honourable man, Conrad would have prevented the marriage himself. I think he wanted to get one over Guy de Lusignan.”
“Probably King Philip as well,” Adhémar added. “He’s Conrad’s seigneur. What?” he asked when he caught Jocelin’s look.
“I thought you believed our King and King Philip to be sodomites?”
“Lover’s spat, happens to the best of us.”
“Like that girl in Sicily?” Much teased him.
“Come one, “Adhémar protested. “That wasn’t my fault!”
“And the girl in Cyprus wasn’t your fault either I suppose?” Jocelin winked at much.
“No! Maybe! Possibly... Oh hell if I know. It’s certainly not my fault that every good girl is married.”
“I dread to think about all those poor women in Aquitaine... .” Much began but the night ended with Adhémar’s more or less successful attempt to tackle both Much and Jocelin at the same time. At least it ended there for Jocelin and Adhémar, who were both called to assist their drunken masters. Much snuck out again after he had taken care of Robin and met Thomas in the far side of the castle garden.
Much sang quietly to himself while he was waiting for Thomas to show up.
“You know, Robin is right; you are an awful singer,” Thomas teased him from the shadows just when Much began to wonder where he was. This part of the garden was so dark that they wouldn’t be seen unless someone walked directly into them.
Much crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to be mad. At least until Thomas nudged him in the ribs and said: “Come on, I’m just teasing you.”
“So you do like my singing?”
“No, but I like you,” Thomas grinned.
“How was the feast?” Much asked to prevent further teasing.
“Loud, and the bride looked like she was going to murder her ex-husband at the first opportunity. She’ll come around. Conrad is a good man, not unlike Guy de Lusignan, but a bit more pragmatic and clever.”
“You don’t like de Lusignan?”
“I think he was a bit too in love with his family. Can’t be good for a king.”
“I met her once.”
“Whom?”
“Alix, Guy de Lusignan's eldest daughter. I met her on the day she died.”
“What is this about, Much?” Thomas asked curiously.
“My master thinks that maybe we’re in the wrong place here.”
“Of course he does,” Thomas replied bitterly. “He’s already a war hero, King’s Richard’s confidante and most loyal vassal. No matter what he does, his reputation stands.”
“It’s not only that.” Much stopped Thomas’ complaint about Robin. “There’s already not enough food and after the plague this summer... Saladin can just overrun us in a month or so and we’ll be too weak to fight back.”
“He thought that last winter as well,” Thomas gripped Much’s shoulders fiercely. “And look where he is now and where we are! We can do this Much. I know we can!”
“If we’re overrun,” Much continued as if Thomas hadn’t said anything, his voice close to breaking. “And if Master Robin is dead, I want you to kill me before they can capture me.”
“Much, there is only one promise I can give you. We will survive this winter. We will take Acre. And then Jerusalem. And when we return home, I will go with you so you can show me Nottingham and I can show you Oxfordshire.”
Much nodded slowly. “Fine. I’m sorry for crying.”
“You didn’t cry. You were laughing on the wrong side of your face,” Thomas corrected him gently.
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. I picked it up when I was a kid and I like the sound of it, that’s all.” Thomas smiled softly and ran a hand through Much’s hair, resting it against Much’s neck to kiss him.
///////////////////////////////////////
They nearly didn’t make it back to the camp. Saladin had once more reinforced his army to finally reach his goal: defeat the Crusader’s army before the Mediterranean would be passable again. King Philip’s hated but most important vassal Philip de Alsace fell while trying to force his way through Saladin’s siege around the camp. Philip’s only reaction was:
“By God, he gets himself killed now and without an heir, while I’m stuck here and can’t return to France to settle this issue. I swear to you Richard, the son of a fox and a snake only did this to spite me.”
Much and Thomas, who used Much’s hideout in the hills when they wanted to be alone (a place that was also popular with Richard and Philip), barely avoided being found out while sniggering after Philip’s dramatic complaint.
When Much walked back later that night he passed the graveyard just outside the hospital buildings. Most of their dead were buried in mass graves, especially during the plague in summer, but the many nobles that lay here among the soldiers had received distinctive graves with crosses over them and their names engraved.
Much recognised the colours of the man’s surcoat even in darkness. It was Guy de Lusignan. He lay stretched over his wife’s and his daughters’ graves and in the quiet from the wake of the hills, Much could hear him crying. Thinking that this proud man didn’t want anyone to witness his sorrow, Much turned away as quickly as he could.
Next Chapter
Chapter: A Sickness So Pure (6/9)
Author: smaragdbird
Summary: In Tyre the nobels of the Crusade celebrate the wedding of the new Queen and King of Jerusalem while Much grows closer to Thomas
Pairings overall: Richard/Philip, Much/Thomas, allusion to Robin/Marian plus diverse historical married couples
Characters/Pairings in this chapter: Much, Robin, Thomas, Jocelin, Adhémar
Rating: overall rating of NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings:overall warnings of detailed violence and torture
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to BBC and not to me. Also I don’t make any money with this. It’s just for fun
Notes:Okay first a big, big thank you to both my beta-reader thymelady and my artistneaptidea. They have both done a more than incredible job especially in that short time. You are awesome guys, both of you :)
Second, I took a historical liberties with this fic: Richard and Philip didn’t arrive in Acre until summer 1191 but here I made them come to Acre in 1189 for dramatic purposes. Also I interpreted the historical characters in this story as it fit my purposes which I only say here in case one of you has seen Kingdom of Heaven and wonders why Guy de Lusignan is such a nice guy (although according to my textbooks and Wikipedia he wasn’t so bad ;)
Third, all Arabic in this fic comes from the phrase pages in an old travel guide. Feel open to point out any mistakes I made
Artwork, by neaptidea
Previous Chapter
The tragedy of men
A Sickness So Pure
But no ships also meant no supplies and no supplies meant rations and starvation and scurvy. Much discovered that Robin had neglected to stock their own personal supplies over the summer and now it was too late for him to do anything about it, except for the short trip they took at the end of November to Tyre.
The council of Nobles finally wanted to settle the matter of succession between Guy de Lusignan and Isabella. Of course, as Robin pointed out, they had chosen the most foolish way of doing this by forcing Isabella to leave her husband Humphrey of Toron, who was a staunch supporter of King Guy, and marry her to King Guy’s old rival Conrad de Montferrat.
As Robin was not only the Captain of King Richard’s Guard but also his vassal, he had to attend many meetings and conventions that were closed for Much and therefore he had a lot of free time on his hand. They had only stayed in Tyre very shortly after their arrival from Cyprus, before the march towards Acre had begun, and Much remembered the city fondly.
“One could think you wanted to stay here from the look on your face,” Thomas said and brushed against Much while they were walking over the bazaar.
“It reminds me of market day in Nottingham, I can’t help it.” Much replied happily. “One could come to think that there is no war.”
“True, it could probably be like market day in Nottingham, if you ignore that no one here speaks English and every second merchant is a Saracen,” Thomas replied with a dry smile. “Hey! Look! Travellers!” He took Much’s hand and pulled him into the crowd to get a better look.
“Do you get these in Nottingham as well?” he asked, gesturing to the acrobats and fire-breathers and ropedancers.
“Sometimes, when they pass us on travels to or from York.”
Much and Thomas both laughed when they fire-breather tried to roast the ropedancer and the ropedancer evaded his flames with increasingly risky feats. Much felt Thomas’ eyes on him and turned his head to catch Thomas smiling and smiled back. He liked it when Thomas smiled at him; it released something warm inside his chest.
They wandered aimlessly through the city while the sun was sinking over horizon and finally vanished into the ocean.
“He, you!” A brutish looking man stepped out of a shadowy alley, followed by another ten men or so. Maybe there were more waiting in the background.
“We’re knights in the service of King Richard. Let us through,” Thomas demanded. The man spat at his feet. “I give a piss on what you are. Give us your gold and we may let you live, you son of a cur.”
Much had unsheathed his sword and held it at the man’s throat before he even knew what he was doing.
“You don’t speak to him like that.” His voice was shaking with anger. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see that the other men pulled out daggers and other weapons hidden beneath their cloaks.
“Much, what is your plan?” Thomas whispered urgently next to him.
“How about this?” Much kneed the man in front of him in the guts so that he collapsed. “Run!”
And they did. Crossing one alley, entering the next on the left and the next on the right side after that. Behind them they could hear the extremely furious insults their pursuers shouted at them. Without looking where he was going, Much nearly stumbled over his own feet. When Thomas pulled him into another alley and pressed him flat against the wall, Much’s protests swallowed by his hand over Much’s mouth.
Their pursuers came nearer and nearer and Much was sure that they would discover them at any moment, but then they simply ran by. Thomas waited for another moment until he took his hand from Much’s mouth and both of them let out a relieved sigh.
“What possessed you to do that?” Thomas grinned.
“I just... felt like it,” Much answered with mocked indifference.
“You felt like it,” Thomas teased. “I’ll remember not be near you when you feel like getting killed again.”
“We didn’t get killed,” Much protested immediately. They were still pressed against each other and the wall.
“No, thanks to you.” Thomas tilted his face just slightly nearer to Much’s.
“Do you think really think that?” Much responded teasingly to Thomas’ banter.
“Yes, I do.” When Much breathed in he could feel Thomas’ eyelashes flutter against his cheek.
“Well then, I will just step aside and let them rob you next time.” Thomas only hesitated for the fraction of a heartbeat, then he closed the distance between them and kissed Much.
It was a simple kiss, short enough to make sure that it was not seen as deliberate and only the press of Thomas’ dry lips against Much’s, nothing else.
“I... that was... ” Much didn’t know what to say. Thomas stepped away.
“Sorry... I didn’t know... what came over me.” He steadily avoided looking at Much. “Let’s go back to the castle, shall we?” But Much stopped him with a hand on his surcoat and pulled him towards him again.
This time the kiss was different. It was a long and desperate kiss. The kiss of two people who knew that they might never have the chance again and that, as soon as it ended, the guilt began. The questions began. The pain began.
They pulled apart breathlessly.
“We really shouldn’t do this,” Thomas said but there was the hint of a careless smile in his face.
“No,” Much agreed but his fingers were still tangled in the cloth of Thomas’ surcoat, wanting to pull him close again.
“At least,” Thomas amended and one of his bright smiles that Much liked so much broke out on his face. “We shouldn’t do it here, in public.”
///////////////////////////////////////
Much came back very late to the room he shared with Robin, who was laying on his bed and read a small book. When Much came in, he put it aside.
“Did you have fun with Thomas?” he asked. Much stopped dead in his tracks.
“Uhm, yes. H-how do you... know... master?”
“He told me that he wanted to drag you to city.”
“Oh yes, we did that. There were fire-breathers and ropedancers and everything,” Much launched into a detailed description of the fire-breather and the ropedancer while he laid out and brushed up Robin’s finest clothes for the wedding the next day. Robin laughed when Much tried to show him a few of the more daring stunts the ropedancer had pulled to avoid the fire.
“Sounds like I missed a lot,” Robin said wistfully.
“How did it go with the King?” Much asked to change the subject. He didn’t want to say something that he would regret later.
“He’s unhappy.”
“King Richard?”
“Yes, Guy is his vassal, but Philip is his closest ally. And Conrad is Philip’s vassal.”
“That sounds unfortunate, master,” Much said carefully.
“It is. Oh and on top of that,” Robin rolled his eyes. “Duke Leopold thinks that just because he assembled the ruins of the Emperor’s army, he’s allowed to put his oar in for everything.” Robin sounded deeply annoyed, but Much knew him better than everyone else and could guess why Robin was really upset.
“It’s the wedding, isn’t it, master? It makes you think of Marian.”
“How do you know?”
“You say her name when you sleep.”
Robin looked crestfallen. “It doesn’t matter. She’s probably already married.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for you,” Much tried to encourage him.
“She’s the sheriff’s daughter. Even if she isn’t married yet, she will be when we return.”
“There are other girls,” Much tried again. “Maybe the King will give you his sister.” Robin laughed.
“I think the King’s plans for his sister reach beyond marrying her to a vassal that doesn’t need any encouragement to stay loyal to him.” Robin rose from the bed and the book he had been reading fell to the floor. Much picked it up.
“What is it, master?”
“It’s the Qur’an. Do you remember ambassador Jubayr? He gave it to me as a goodbye gift. He said he thought I would find it interesting.”
“And did you? Find it interesting I mean.”
“Some of it, yes.” Robin opened the book at a precise page and showed a long row of letters to Much who couldn’t read them.
“Every man lives for one deed; let yours be the doing of good works,“ Robin read out loud.
“That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”
“No, Much, it doesn’t.” Robin agreed. He settled back on the bed. “I’m having doubts, Much.”
“About the Saracens?”
“About the war. Maybe we shouldn’t have come here.”
///////////////////////////////////////
The next morning, Isabella, Queen of Jerusalem, was married to Conrad de Montferrat. She looked unhappy when she wasn’t sending dark looks in the direction of her earlier husband, who was attending the wedding as well.
“Well, I would be unhappy if I had to marry a grizzly, old man like that.” Adhémar said when he sat with Much and Jocelin in the Castle’s court and played dice with them while their masters and the other nobles feasted with the newlyweds. Conrad, due to a wound he had suffered from a skirmish with the Saracens nine days ago, would stay in Tyre with his bride and rejoin the siege after his recovery.
“Especially if my rightful husband was too much of a woman to stand up for me.”
“Conrad de Montferrat is a very well-educated and handsome man,” Jocelin argued. “He has a reputation of great courage and vitality.”
“Does Philip pay you to sing his vassal’s praise?” Adhémar snarked. “What do you think, Much? You’ve seen him in the battle of Acre, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I... he is a courageous man,” Jocelin raised his eyebrows at Adhémar as if to say See, I told you so but Much wasn’t finished; “But I think it’s wrong, how she’s been treated. And against the church. If he was an honourable man, Conrad would have prevented the marriage himself. I think he wanted to get one over Guy de Lusignan.”
“Probably King Philip as well,” Adhémar added. “He’s Conrad’s seigneur. What?” he asked when he caught Jocelin’s look.
“I thought you believed our King and King Philip to be sodomites?”
“Lover’s spat, happens to the best of us.”
“Like that girl in Sicily?” Much teased him.
“Come one, “Adhémar protested. “That wasn’t my fault!”
“And the girl in Cyprus wasn’t your fault either I suppose?” Jocelin winked at much.
“No! Maybe! Possibly... Oh hell if I know. It’s certainly not my fault that every good girl is married.”
“I dread to think about all those poor women in Aquitaine... .” Much began but the night ended with Adhémar’s more or less successful attempt to tackle both Much and Jocelin at the same time. At least it ended there for Jocelin and Adhémar, who were both called to assist their drunken masters. Much snuck out again after he had taken care of Robin and met Thomas in the far side of the castle garden.
Much sang quietly to himself while he was waiting for Thomas to show up.
“You know, Robin is right; you are an awful singer,” Thomas teased him from the shadows just when Much began to wonder where he was. This part of the garden was so dark that they wouldn’t be seen unless someone walked directly into them.
Much crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to be mad. At least until Thomas nudged him in the ribs and said: “Come on, I’m just teasing you.”
“So you do like my singing?”
“No, but I like you,” Thomas grinned.
“How was the feast?” Much asked to prevent further teasing.
“Loud, and the bride looked like she was going to murder her ex-husband at the first opportunity. She’ll come around. Conrad is a good man, not unlike Guy de Lusignan, but a bit more pragmatic and clever.”
“You don’t like de Lusignan?”
“I think he was a bit too in love with his family. Can’t be good for a king.”
“I met her once.”
“Whom?”
“Alix, Guy de Lusignan's eldest daughter. I met her on the day she died.”
“What is this about, Much?” Thomas asked curiously.
“My master thinks that maybe we’re in the wrong place here.”
“Of course he does,” Thomas replied bitterly. “He’s already a war hero, King’s Richard’s confidante and most loyal vassal. No matter what he does, his reputation stands.”
“It’s not only that.” Much stopped Thomas’ complaint about Robin. “There’s already not enough food and after the plague this summer... Saladin can just overrun us in a month or so and we’ll be too weak to fight back.”
“He thought that last winter as well,” Thomas gripped Much’s shoulders fiercely. “And look where he is now and where we are! We can do this Much. I know we can!”
“If we’re overrun,” Much continued as if Thomas hadn’t said anything, his voice close to breaking. “And if Master Robin is dead, I want you to kill me before they can capture me.”
“Much, there is only one promise I can give you. We will survive this winter. We will take Acre. And then Jerusalem. And when we return home, I will go with you so you can show me Nottingham and I can show you Oxfordshire.”
Much nodded slowly. “Fine. I’m sorry for crying.”
“You didn’t cry. You were laughing on the wrong side of your face,” Thomas corrected him gently.
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. I picked it up when I was a kid and I like the sound of it, that’s all.” Thomas smiled softly and ran a hand through Much’s hair, resting it against Much’s neck to kiss him.
///////////////////////////////////////
They nearly didn’t make it back to the camp. Saladin had once more reinforced his army to finally reach his goal: defeat the Crusader’s army before the Mediterranean would be passable again. King Philip’s hated but most important vassal Philip de Alsace fell while trying to force his way through Saladin’s siege around the camp. Philip’s only reaction was:
“By God, he gets himself killed now and without an heir, while I’m stuck here and can’t return to France to settle this issue. I swear to you Richard, the son of a fox and a snake only did this to spite me.”
Much and Thomas, who used Much’s hideout in the hills when they wanted to be alone (a place that was also popular with Richard and Philip), barely avoided being found out while sniggering after Philip’s dramatic complaint.
When Much walked back later that night he passed the graveyard just outside the hospital buildings. Most of their dead were buried in mass graves, especially during the plague in summer, but the many nobles that lay here among the soldiers had received distinctive graves with crosses over them and their names engraved.
Much recognised the colours of the man’s surcoat even in darkness. It was Guy de Lusignan. He lay stretched over his wife’s and his daughters’ graves and in the quiet from the wake of the hills, Much could hear him crying. Thinking that this proud man didn’t want anyone to witness his sorrow, Much turned away as quickly as he could.
Next Chapter