‘Lucia, please, stop.’
‘I must get on,’ she said.
‘Are you all right? Where’s Pietro? Isn’t he here?’
‘No, we are working on our own. We do what must be done for the city,’ she said.
‘I wish I could take you away from this place. I want to be with you,’ he said miserably.
She put her hand on his cheek. ‘Baldwin, I am happy here. I am free. You have shown me affection, and there is nothing more I could have asked for.’
‘I wanted more.’
‘I know, but I am a slave. I have learned never to want. Slaves don’t receive what they want, only what others see fit to give,’ she said, a trace of hardness in her voice.
There was a call from the walls. Baldwin put his own hand over hers, and she saw that there were tears in his eyes.
‘Lucia, I love you,’ he whispered.
‘I know,’ she said, gently removing her hand.
He watched as she walked away along the street with the other women, past the barricades and into the city. It felt as though his heart was going with her.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Lucia overheard two women talking about the rent in the wall nearer the castle as she passed on the way to collect another basket.
‘It needs something to fill it, but we won’t be able to use large enough stones. We need something else.’
‘I know where there are hurdles and timbers,’ she said.
‘Where?’
‘My Lady Maria lives not far from here. She has many fixings, if her house is undamaged.’
‘Take us there.’
Lucia was soon walking down the familiar paths and lanes. There, that was where Philip Mainboeuf had lived. She supposed he must be dead now. The poor man didn’t deserve such an ending. This was the place where she had seen those first bodies on the day of the riots; this, the fork where she had taken the wrong turn in her fluster. And this, this was the door she knew so well.
She knocked tentatively on the timbers, but the older woman with her rapped sharply. It was a long time before the little grille slid open and the bottler stared out. ‘You!’
‘Open the door,’ Lucia said calmly.
‘I’ll do better than that!’ The door was drawn wide, and the bottler reached out for her wrist. ‘An escaped slave? You deserve another good whipping, you devil. You nearly killed my Lady’s favourite stud at her farm, didn’t you? As it is, he’s no good except for rutting and heavy pulling now. He’s like Samson, destroyed by you, his very own Delilah.’
‘Let go of me,’ she said clearly.
‘I’ll take you to your favourite room, shall I, you bitch!’
She stood her ground, and when he pulled, she took out her little knife and stuck it very deliberately in his hand. He gave a sharp cry and let go, and she held it out, showing it to him. ‘See this? A good Damascus blade, Bottler. And I will use it. I am no slave now. I am working to save this city.’
Leading the way, she took the women through to the garden and out to the fencing beyond. There, they pulled and tugged at the hurdles and took them away, while the bottler watched, eyes narrow with hatred, clasping his injured hand. Lucia walked past him without looking.
‘Lucia! I would speak with you.’
‘Lady Maria.’
Her lady was still much the same as ever. She had drawn on a great shawl of green silk over a simple shift, and stood at the door to her bedchamber eyeing Lucia.
‘What do you want, Lady?’
‘You are a cocksure little sparrow, to come in here after all you’ve done!’
‘What have I done?’
‘You betrayed your mistress. Even now you whore your body with your Frank lover, against all the laws of his faith and yours. And you tried to kill my Kurd.’
‘He raped me!’
Lady Maria’s contempt was poisonous. ‘He couldn’t. He was commanded to sire a puppy on you.’
‘You are evil!’
‘Me? I saved your life. You should have been executed for blinding my Kurd, but I allowed you to live.’
‘Why?’ Lucia asked. She feared the answer.
‘So that your lover would suffer. How much more satisfying to know that he craved you. If you were dead, he would find another slut; with you alive, but kept from his reach, he would remain in torment.’
‘You failed!’
‘We will see. When the city is back to normal, I will have you denounced by the Commune, and then you’ll be taken away — and this time no one will rescue you!’
Lucia looked at her, and then, with a feeling of release she had never before experienced, she laughed. Not a shy, anxious laugh in the presence of her mistress, but the steady, strong laugh of a woman with nothing to fear.
‘You laugh at me?’ Lady Maria shrieked, and clubbed her fist to strike. Lucia said nothing, but her eyes held enough threat. Lady Maria let her hand fall.
‘You really think the city will ever return to normal, my Lady? This city is finished, and you too. If you stay here, you will die, but if you leave you leave with my curse. I swear you will take nothing with you. All you possess will be lost!’
Lady Maria fell back, whey-faced, as if bitten by a viper, and Lucia left then, without satisfaction, but glad. There was an ending in that confrontation, and she felt as though her old life was eradicated once and for all as she made her way with the other women, back to the walls.
‘Buscarel!’ Lady Maria shouted.
‘Yes?’
‘You were here, but you did nothing to help!’
Buscarel looked at the bottler, who still clutched his stabbed hand. ‘You want me to wage war on the women who work to save the city?’
She was furious. ‘I told you I wanted you here to guard me and my property, and at the first opportunity you failed!’
‘If you don’t want me here, I can leave.’
‘You are here to protect my things,’ she said. He looked at her — damn him! — as though she was nothing more than a poor widow. She was a woman of authority in this city!
‘Lady, I will protect you from attack, if you want. But I won’t hurt those who are doing all they can to protect the city.’
‘Then go! Go and die on the walls with the other fools! Don’t you realise I’m offering you the chance to survive? With me, you could live.’
‘We’ll all die. Maybe some few will make it to ships, but most will die.’ His expression changed. ‘Why would you think yourself safe?’
‘I have friends in the Sultan’s camp, Buscarel!’
‘Do you really believe that? What, do you expect that when a hundred thousand men arrive in these streets, they’ll make an exception because you tell them you know their general?’
‘Stop that!’ she screamed. ‘You think you can laugh at me? I hold the power of life and death, and-’
‘Woman, you don’t understand anything, do you? You have no friends in the Sultan’s camp. When his men come here, they will break down your door and steal everything they can carry. You, they will rape and kill. Then they’ll set fire to this place. Your “friends” in the Sultan’s camp will never even know you were here.’
There was a weary conviction in his voice, but she refused to believe him. No! He didn’t know the Sultan. She had spent so much time making alliances with the men of Qalawun’s court. After her faithful service, his son would want to reward her. He would ensure she lived.
As Buscarel turned and walked from the room, she opened her mouth to call him back — but then closed it. Perhaps he was right. It would not hurt her to ensure that there was an escape, if need be. She could gather her choicest jewels, her money. A woman like her would be bound to find space on a ship.
She nodded to herself, and then gave a shudder.
It was not pleasant to reflect that all her advice and assistance might have led to the destruction of Acre without even the advantage of protecting her own position and lands. In fact, it made her want to weep.