There were practical reasons, too. For a start, I could find no language to communicate with her — she spoke no English, French, Latin — I even tried her in the Langue d‘oc, the southern tongue that many of the troubadours spoke and which was King Richard’s native language. But she could not understand a word of any of them. Only by hand gestures and eye contact did we establish that I was Alan and she was Nur, and that I was her protector in the camp and she should stay close to me and my servant William and not wander off on her own. She told me that she was ‘Filistini’, and I took that to mean that she was an Arab from Outremer, one of the Philistines of the Bible, though how she had become a slave in a household in Sicily I had no idea.
On the first night, when we had returned to the monastery, William and I scoured around and found her some clean female clothes, a little food and wine, and some water and a cloth for washing. She seemed terrified of both of us, which was understandable. But William was kind to her and, by mimicry, showed her what was expected, and that we meant her no harm. He was a good boy, deeply kind and loyal to me. Then we both stood guard outside the door of the cell, feeling noble and, for my part, wondering what on earth I was going to do with her and desperately trying not to think of her perfect thrusting young breasts beneath that thin silk wall hanging. After an age of listening to her splashing and singing inside the cell, and trying to suppress my imagination, I had a brilliant idea and sent William off to find Reuben. He had grown up in the Arab lands and would surely know how to speak to her in her own tongue.
William returned shortly with the Jew — he had indeed been playing dice while I was searching for him in Messina, but he was touched by the fact that I had tried to seek him out. He knocked on the door of the cell and entered. A quarter of an hour later he emerged.
‘I have told her that, although young, you are a great Christian warrior from the north and that you are travelling with this army to seek battle in Outremer. I have said to her that, if she serves you faithfully, you will allow her to accompany you as a servant, that you will feed and clothe her and protect her until you reach the Holy Land, and then you will return her to her father’s village unharmed. All of this she has agreed to, and she is waiting inside to show her undying loyalty to such a noble knight.’ He said all this with a perfectly straight face, but I scowled at him anyway.
‘But where will she sleep?’ I asked. What am I going to do about clothes and — you know — women’s things…’
‘As to where she will sleep, I believe she expects to sleep with you. That is her trade, she is a pleasure girl…’
‘Certainly not,’ I snapped, straightening my shoulders and glaring at Reuben. ‘I rescued her from rapists and took her away from a life of degradation, and now that she is safe, I will not use her for my own sinful purposes.’
By God, I was a pompous little tyke in those days. Reuben was already laughing, his brown eyes creased shut with pleasure, tears dripping down his cheeks. He howled with glee, clutching his stomach and doubling himself over in his merriment. I put my hand on my sword, and took a step towards him, and he just managed to smother his mirth and avoid bloodshed. ‘Of course, young Alan, of course,’ he finally managed to say, covering his laughter with a coughing fit. ‘She can stay with the other women, if you wish. I will arrange it with Elise.’ And giggling, shaking his head ruefully and snuffling wetly he walked away, with my furious eyes boring into his back.
By staying with the other women, Reuben meant the collection of tents that had been set up at the back of the monastery, and which housed the two dozen or so women that followed the officers of the headquarters staff. They were cooks and cleaners, washerwomen and seamstresses, mistresses and prostitutes, and Elise the strange Norman fortune-teller was their leader; but they were hardly acknowledged to exist by the knights of King Richard’s household. We were after all supposed to be keeping ourselves pure, as befits holy pilgrims on a sacred journey.
When I entered the cell, Nur was kneeling on the floor, with her eyes lowered submissively. She was clean, her wet hair tied in a thick braid at the back of her head, and dressed in a threadbare old chemise that fell past her knees. Then she looked up at me and I felt a shock like a bolt of lightning. Her deep tar-pit eyes stared into mine and sucked me into her soul. I tried to break our locked gaze and yet I could not look completely away; I took in her gorgeous dark red lips, high cheekbones, tiny upturned nose, the long elegant neck, the swell of her generous bosom beneath the thin chemise. I was stiffening in my undergarments just looking at her kneeling there, and I was sure that behind those doe-like eyes she could tell that my prick was filling up with pure lust. Behind me, William coughed. And I realised I had been staring at her for too long. I looked away guiltily and noticed that the food and wine had disappeared, and that the plate and goblet had been washed and dried. Then I took a step closer and came to stand in front of her — I was painfully aware that my fully erect member was just inches from her face — and I put out an arm to raise her up but she grasped my hand, turned it over and softly kissed my palm. My member gave a visible twitch below the cloth of my tunic. It was an extraordinarily erotic act. I felt her soft lips barely touch the skin of my calloused paw but it was like the touch of a hot iron and I jerked involuntarily.
I lifted her to her feet and William wrapped her in his cloak — she could not wander the halls of the monastery in that flimsy chemise, it would have started a full-scale battle — and I gruffly ordered William to escort her to the women’s quarters and see that she was well received by Elise. Then I went to the lavatorium, stripped my body naked and poured bucket after bucket of cold water over my body to try to expunge the sinful thoughts that were careering crazily around my head.
Within three days, I was completely, utterly, insanely in love with Nur. I found that I missed her face, her proximity and I wanted more than anything else to be in her company. I constantly thought about touching her, stroking her face. In my dreams we made love endlessly, our bodies entwined, making a wonderful array of shapes and patterns. And I would awake, covered in sweat, with my member as hard as a sword hilt…
Nur would come to me every morning and bring me bread and cheese and ale and a pitcher of water and a basin to wash in. Sometimes, if I awoke early from an erotic dream, the long grey early morning hours seemed an eternity, I could hardly wait to hear her timid knock and see her beautiful face at the door. And then she would come in, and smile a greeting, and pick up my clothes to wash and mend. I was lost in love — and yet we never touched. Since that kiss on my palm the first night, I had not touched her again. I didn’t trust myself. I was miserable and elated; I was so happy just to gaze upon her beauty, and cast down when she left me to go about her womanly chores. And then there was the guilt; and the totally unwarranted shame. Father Simon came to see me and preached a homily on young men’s lusts and how God would turn his face away from youthful sinners who took advantage of poor serving women, even if they were infidels. If only he knew, the chinless old fool. He told me that I was the talk of headquarters, that Little John was making crude jests about Nur and myself — and I blushed hotly in rage at the injustice of it all. But I could not really complain — I had Nur in my life and every morning when she greeted me, my soul was full of joy. I went about my duties that autumn and winter like a sleepwalker. When I practiced sword play with Little John, he beat me easily and scolded me for lacking attention. I did not care. I thought of nothing but Nur and her body: her deep black eyes, her creamy breasts; her tiny waist, and how it would feel to put my hands around it; how her lips would feel against mine; how her buttocks would feel nestled in the curve of my pelvis. What it would be like to enter her…