"Yarbro,.Chelsea.Quinn.-.Olivia.02.-.Crusader's.Torch.(V1.0)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

Olivia did not speak at once, and when she did, there was an odd catch in her voice, as if she had been about to cough, or laugh. She addressed her slave, "Bread and wine for Fraire Herchambaut. And fruit."
The slave bowed. "At once, mistress."
Fraire Herchambaut had been looking around the room, and said now, "I had heard you are a widow of means, but I was not aware howЕ" Words failed him as he indicated the silk hangings on the wall, the Persian carpet underfoot as elaborate as a garden, the small gold crucifix over the door.
"I have been fortunate in some ways," Olivia said. "Pray be seated. I am eager to hear what you can tell me about the requirements for my return to Roma. The sooner I attend to whatever the Bourgesses wish, the sooner I may be gone from Tyre."
"Certainly," said Fraire Herchambaut. He chose one of the three Frankish chairs. "How did you come by these?"
"There was a French Bourgess who offered them to me some time ago." She thought back to the man, and the year of his persistent courtship she had endured. What an impossible creature he had been, she thought, all greedy for her body and her possessions as if they were the same thing.
"And the brass chests?" As soon as he had asked, Fraire Herchambaut waved his own question away. "No, it is not right that I should ask, or that you tell me. I am not your confessor, nor am I retained by your kinsmen. You are in an awkward situation, with so much to attend to on your own." He made a self-deprecatory sound between a chuckle and a snort. "You are almost a chatelaine without a castle, and your duties are more than most women expect. I see why you are careful about your move; it is wise of you."
"This move needs more dispatch than wisdom, and that is proving to be hard come by. Everywhere I turn I am blocked or diverted." She made an effort to control her frustration, and in a calmer voice went on, "I am willing to sell some of these things, of course, and I plan to make donations to the Orders in Tyre, but there is so muchЧ"
"And doubtless your family expects you to preserve these goods as well," said Fraire Herchambaut. "You have that obligation, of course."
Olivia was about to answer incautiously when her slave returned carrying a brass tray. "There is wine, dates, and honey cakes, mistress."
"Present it to my guest," she said, nodding toward Fraire Herchambaut.
The Cistercian tried to defer to Olivia, which was what courtesy required, but was more because he felt intimidated in her presence. He was not used to elegant, self-contained women who managed their own affairs. The Queen of England was said to be such a woman, but Fraire Herchambaut had never seen her. "It is not necessary."
"Of course it is. Zahdi, tend to my guest." Olivia concealed her impatience with what grace she could muster.
The slave obeyed, bringing a little table to the side of the monk's chair. He bowed as he put down the tray, then, at Olivia's signal, withdrew from the reception room, hoping that one of the other slaves would be called when the Fraire left.
Fraire Herchambaut looked at the food. "This is too lavish, good widow. I would be sinning in gluttony if I ate so much after my supper."
"Take what you want," said Olivia, concealing her annoyance at the satisfaction the Cistercian took at his self-denial. "If you want nothing, have nothing."
The monk nodded. "You have a sense of charity, which is most laudable. It is the virtue of women, isn't it?" He had lifted the wine jar, then said, "I have only one cup. Surely you wouldЧ"
Olivia held up her hand. "I do not drink wine."
Fraire Herchambaut hesitated and then poured for himself. "I must tell you that I think your abstention shows your good sense. Women are easily overcome by wine, and then they are prey to their lusts far more than any man." He held up the cup in salute to his hostess. "To your kindness and goodness, in Our Lord's Name."
"Thank you," said Olivia without inflection. How long, she wondered, would it take this tedious monk to tell her what she wanted to know.
"Excellent vintage," Fraire Herchambaut approved when he had finished the wine in three long sips, in tribute to the Trinity. "Now, let us turn our thoughts to the ending of your predicament." He wiped his mouth with the end of his sleeve. "I have considered carefully everything you have told me, and I am reasonably certain that you can leave Tyre in six to eight months." He folded his hands over his belt, obviously pleased with this declaration.
"Six to eight months? Months?" Olivia echoed, dismayed.
"There is, as you have said already, much to be arranged, and if you have goods to be disposed of, they must be handled by the authorities in a proper manner." He took one of the honey cakes and broke it into three pieces before popping the largest into his mouth and chewing vigorously. He went on, less clearly, "If you commence at once, you will be able to be finished before the end of summer, and once you have accommodated the requirements of the Bourgesses, you will be able to travel as soon as proper escort is available."
Olivia suppressed the urge to shout at her guest; instead she averted her face so that he could not see how angry she was. "Would it not be possible to issue an authorization for the disposal of such goods as I leave behind after I've gone?"
"I have made inquiries on that point. Unfortunately, you have said yourself that your major domo is in Roma, and not able to attend to such duties. To appoint another would take almost as long as the task itself." He was working on the second piece of honey cake. "I realize you wanted to be gone sooner, but with the Islamites abroad in the land, and danger all around us, the Bourgesses are more careful than ever, and more resolute. They have redoubled their efforts to protect all Roman Christians in the Holy Land, and we are wise to abide by their edicts."
"I see," Olivia said, clenching her fists in the folds of her bliaud. "How Roman, to seek a solution through complexity."
Fraire Herchambaut chuckled. "Roman women have great wit. It is not always appropriate in women, but I doubt you have given offense through yours."
Only, Olivia said to herself, because I am learning to contain my temper. "When I was a child, my father educated me as he educated my brothers. It was the custom in his family." She was able to keep her eyes lowered and her manner calm. "So," she continued more briskly, trusting herself at last to speak to Fraire Herchambaut directly, "tell me what I must do to satisfy the Bourgesses and be gone from here."
Fraire Herchambaut, who was starting on his second cup of wine, cleared his throat. "First, the Bourgesses will require that you present a complete inventory of your goods, indicating which you intend to sell, which to donate, and which to take with you. This is to prevent any pilfering or substitution of goods, you understand."
As the Cistercian drank, Olivia said, "Very well. Is that to include everything in the house, or only the moveables? Such items as the ovens and the troughs in the kitchen are not to be included, are they?"
"Another jest," Fraire Herchambaut said, wagging his head in mirth as he set down his cup. "You must have been the delight of your husband."
"His interests layЕ in other directions," Olivia said carefully.
"It is often thus with men of affairs," Fraire Herchambaut said, turning abruptly solemn. He selected one of the dates and bit into it experimentally. "Preserved in syrup ofЕ ?" He looked to Olivia for the answer.
"Raisins, I believe," said Olivia, irritated at the distraction.
"Superb." He finished the date.
"About the inventory?" Olivia ventured when she thought she had a chance of keeping Fraire Herchambaut's attention.
"Complete, of course, but not to include items that are part of the house as a building. Those items to be sold will be marked by an ancient of the Bourgesses, and then they will be catalogued for sale." He shook his head as he recited this information. "It appears over-complicated, I realize that, but it is to ensure that the goods are protected and that your interests are served."
"If my interests were being served, I would be allowed to leave in a week," Olivia said with asperity before she could stop herself.
"You must pray for patience," said Fraire Herchambaut, one hand lifted to admonish her. "Your husband's family would think themselves and you ill-served if you returned to Roma without the accounts that will indicateЧ"
"My husband's family, as I've told you already, is not involved in what I do." Olivia paused. "I did not speak to offend you, but in this instance I believe I know my circumstances better than you or the Bourgesses do."
"If you received less than proper treatment, you would discover otherwise," said Fraire Herchambaut as he poured the last of the wine into his cup. "Every family has the family's fortune in mind, from the most august to the most humble. You have an obligation, if not to your family, to the memory of your husband and his heirs to preserve your wealth and to account for how you have spent it." This time his three sips were noisy and rapid.
"Tell me, good Cistercian," Olivia said, feeling desperate, "once the Bourgesses have tended to their accounting, how long will it take to arrange for escort and a ship?"
"Not terribly long, unless another Crusade is called, of course." This afterthought was slightly slurred; the wine was taking hold.
"Oh, Lord," said Olivia, and remembered to bless herself so that she would not be upbraided for profanity. "Isn't another Crusade likely?"
Fraire Herchambaut nodded sagely. "Oh, yes, yes, I would guess that the Pope will preach another soon. We can't have Saladin in Jerusalem. It can't be tolerated."
"And if the Crusade begins, what then? How long will it take me to leave Tyre?" In her desperation Olivia felt an element of the ridiculous and had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing.
"That depends if there is fighting here or not. If the Islamites come, then we will be fortunate to emerge alive and with our freedom." He blessed himself. "They make eunuchs of monks, you know? Because we maintain our chastity. They say they do it because we are eunuchs already." He belched. "It blasphemes chastity, castration. The point of chastity," he said with owlish intensity, "is to keep the ability and to offer up the sacrifice of not using it." His expression darkened to a scowl. "Now that priests cannot marry, monks areЕ" He lost the thread of what he was saying.
"Yes?" Olivia prompted. "What of monks, good Fraire?"
"Forgot," he admitted. "It doesn't matter," he went on ponderously. "You make that inventory. That's the first step."
"Yes; all right." She considered sending for fruit juices with peppers but decided against it; the monk would not be sober until morning no matter what she did. "And the escort."