“Look yon, Jerval,” Chandra said, pointing toward the open seaward gates of Acre.
“The Christians of the city are gathering to bid us farewell.”
It was probably the only time, Chandra thought, that Templars had stood next to Hospitalers in temporary truce, and Genoese next to Venetians. Now, thanks to Edward, they would have ten years to bicker and fight among themselves, without threat from the Saracens.
She saw Payn de Chaworth limp aboard his ship, Roger de Clifford at his side. Jerval laced his fingers through hers. “Lambert is waving to us, Chandra. It is time to leave.”
She looked one last time toward Acre and saw a veiled woman atop the wall, her hand raised. Beri? She could not be certain. Aye, she thought, smiling sadly to herself, I am the lucky one. I am free.
Chandra turned to see Eleanor smiling at her, the babe, Joan, in her arms.
“You will take care, Chandra,” Eleanor said. “It will be some time before I see you again. As you know, my lord has no wish to return to England immediately. We are to see more of the world.”
“I will write to you, Eleanor.”
“I pray that you will. My lord’s heart is heavy, and I will need happy news to cheer him.”
“I trust that I will have only happy news to tell you,” Chandra said, smiling toward her husband. She hugged Eleanor, touched her fingertip lightly beneath the baby’s dimpled chin, and straightened.
“Chandra.”
“Good-bye,” she said to the future queen of England, laughed, and ran to Jerval. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.
She stepped back, took his hand, and tugged him forward. “Let us go home, Jerval, to England and to Camberley.”
“Aye,” he said, kissing her ear, the tip of her nose. “Just think of all the warm evenings we’ll spend together on deck.”
She ran her fingers lightly over his chest. “You will hold my hand and tell me how beautiful you believe me to be?”
“Well, not exactly. I learned more about the stars from Sir Waymer, a Templar who studies astronomy. We will be on the deck of our vessel and I will tell you about the stars and how they all got their names.”
She poked him in the belly, and as he was laughing, hugging her, she whispered against his ear, “I believe I carry your heir now, my lord.”
And Jerval, who couldn’t even blink he was so overwhelmed, saw the gleam of laughter in his wife’s eyes, and said in a very bland voice, “It is a very warm day. The sun is bright overhead. Ah, do you think we’re ready to sail yet?”
“Aye, my lord, Payn is waving to us. We’re ready to sail. Both of us.”
She carried his babe. He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He grinned like a fool.
It was possibly one of the last times in her life that Chandra de Vernon had the last word.