The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [99]
“He certainly was fortunate,” I said.
Henry said jocularly: “Naturally so, good Becket. Providence was determined to put no hindrance in the way of your entry into the world.”
“I thank you, sire,” said Becket, bowing with mock irony.
Yes, I thought, they are certainly on unusually good terms.
“In time,” went on Becket, “the Emir remembered my father and sent for him. He was amazed to see that the only effect prison had had on him was to make him understand their language. My father told him that he had learned it from his jailers. The Emir asked him questions about London. My father knew how to talk entertainingly and he amused the Emir with stories of that part of the world which the powerful ruler had never seen, but of which he had heard much. He was given fine garments, for the Emir made a companion of him; and soon my father had apartments in the palace, and the friendship between them grew so much that in time he was invited to dine at the Emir’s table.”
“Now,” said Henry, “the romantic story begins. This is what you will want to sing about.”
“The Emir’s daughter dined with her father, and she was impressed by Gilbert’s fair looks as well as his talk.”
“You know what is coming,” said Henry to me.
“There was love between them?” I asked.
Thomas Becket nodded. “Of course he was a Christian and she was of another faith. For all his friendship with my father, the Emir would never have agreed to a marriage between them. She was very determined. She insisted on my father’s teaching her to become a Christian. He gave her a name . . . a Christian name. He called her Mahault—which is another name for Matilda—because that was the name of the wife of the great Norman, Duke William, who had conquered England. My father was fully aware of the dangerous game he was playing. If the Emir discovered how far this matter with his daughter had gone, he would be put to death . . . very likely crucified, a favorite punishment for Christians. They were always singing the praises of One who died in such a manner, so it seemed logical that they should die in the same way. My father was prepared for that, for he was a deeply dedicated Christian.”
I cannot remember his exact words, but he went on to tell us how the Christian prisoners planned to escape and Gilbert, of course, was to escape with them. His position had made it possible for him to help them, and this as a Christian he was committed to do. But there was Mahault. He could not take her, of course; but his duty lay with his fellow Christians. The escape was well planned and succeeded.
“And the poor girl was left behind?” I cried.
“She was heartbroken. They thought she would die. Then suddenly she began to recover, because she had decided what she would do. She was going to England to find Gilbert. She planned with care, sewing priceless jewels into her garments, and when she was ready she stole out of the Emir’s palace and set out. There were many pilgrims on the road and she joined a party of them. She found some who could speak her language and told them what she planned to do. She knew two words in English: London and Gilbert. It seemed that God was watching over her, for in time she arrived in England.”
“Now comes the end of the story,” said Henry. “I like it.”
“Yes,” said Becket. “She went through the streets of London calling Gilbert. That was all. She became a familiar sight. People talked of her—the strange woman with the Eastern look who knew only two words—Gilbert and London. She