Read Online Alamut by Judith Tarr - Free Book Online Page A

judge that,” said Margaret.
    Joanna’s teeth set. The dizziness was passing. She almost wished that it would not. To run away — that was as simple as taking her horse and riding to her mother’s house. To tell her mother why... that was harder. Margaret would not have done it. She would have found a way to rise above it.
    It came out tail first. “He took Aimery,” Joanna said. She surprised herself with how quietly she said it. “He never asked my leave. In the night, while I slept, they took him away. When I woke up he was gone.” Her hands were fists. She could not make them unclench. Her heart had been clenched since that bleak waking. “When I asked why — I tried to be calm; oh, God, I tried — Ranulf said, ‘Does it matter?’ And when I asked why he had never consulted me, he said, ‘Why should I have consulted you? He’s my son.’ As if I had never carried him in my body; as if I had never nursed him at my breast. As if I were nothing at all.”
    â€œIt might have been better,” said Margaret coolly, “if you had not insisted on nursing him yourself.”
    Joanna gasped as if she had been struck.
    â€œBut,” her mother went on, “to take him without your knowledge — that was ill done.”
    â€œIt was unspeakable.”
    Margaret frowned slightly. “Perhaps he meant to spare you pain. A clean cut, all at once — a man would think so, if he were young and rough-mannered and unaccustomed to women.”
    â€œHe doesn’t care enough to spare me anything. I’m no more to him than the mare in his stable. He doesn’t consult her, either, when he takes her foal away from her.”
    â€œHe comes from Francia,” said Margaret, “and not from a wealthy house. He knows no better.”
    â€œI hate him,” gritted Joanna.
    Her mother’s frown deepened. “What has he done to you, apart from this one misjudgment? Has he beaten you? Dishonored you?”
    â€œHe has women.”
    â€œMen do,” Margaret said. “Islam at least admits the truth, and allows concubines: a great wisdom. But beyond that? Has he mistreated you? Has he shamed you before court or people?”
    â€œHe hardly knows I exist.”
    â€œI doubt that,” said Margaret. She held Joanna’s eyes with her level dark ones. “What do you want of me? I have no power to make you a child again.”
    Joanna flushed. That was exactly what she had wanted. To unmake it all. To take refuge behind her mother’s skirts, and forget that she had ever been a woman.
    â€œI won’t go back,” she said. “I’ve given him what he wanted. I owe him nothing.”
    â€œExcept honor.”
    â€œWhat has he given me? He took my baby.”
    Margaret sighed. “See how God has tested me. That child of mine who seems a very son of Islam, is as perfect in forgiveness as any Christian could wish to be. But that one who seems all Frank... she neither forgets nor, ever, forgives.”
    Joanna’s chin came up; her back stiffened. “Are you telling me to go?”
    â€œNo,” said Margaret. She rose, smoothing her skirts. “I am telling you to go to bed. You insisted, I suppose, on riding from Acre?”
    â€œYou know what a litter does to me.”
    â€œI know what the saddle does to a woman new risen from childbed. Now, go.”
    Joanna had wanted to be a child again, and to forget that she was a mother. It was not as blissful as she had thought, to have what she had wished for. But Margaret was not to be gainsaid. Joanna went where she was bidden, and did as she was told. There was an odd, rebellious pleasure in it. She was safe here. No one would lie to her, or betray her, or be indifferent to her. She had come home.
    oOo
    â€œJoanna is always angry at something,” said Thibaut.
    Aidan opened an eye. The eastern habit of drowsing through the heat of midday had struck