Confluence

Barkhat crossed her arms in defiance and smirked at Djaq. "Poisoned? You should know better than to think of this as poison."

Djaq glared at her, eyes narrowed. Bitterness and rage mingled and coursed through her like a river in spate. Words formed in her mind, jumbled and confused. She balled her hands into fists, trying to make sense out of all this.

"Why...why would you do such a thing?"

Barkhat merely laughed in response, the sound grating on Djaq in a way it never had before.

"You were meant to be loyal. I trusted you...with everything!" Djaq held out her hands in a gesture of despair. "And this, this is how you repay my trust?"

"No, I have done nothing but save you from dishonor...from sullying the name of your family!"

Barkhat moved towards Djaq, anger on her face, and a menace in her step such as Djaq had never seen before. "Your brother, your father...cut down with such cruelty by Englishmen. Yet, you...you break bread with an Englishman, lie with him, call him husband. As if their lives, their sacrifice meant nothing to you at all!"

Djaq fought the urge to back away from the other woman. "How dare you? It is not your place to speak in this way. You will stop this right now!"

"I will do no such thing. You did not see sense on your own; you left me no choice." Barkhat moved even closer to Djaq, an odd expression cracking the wrinkled plain of her face. "I could not keep you from this ridiculous marriage. I could not keep you from his bed. But I could keep you from bearing his child. So I did."

"That was not your right. It is not for you to decide. You have done me a great wrong, and you will pay." In a single, swift moment, Djaq pushed Barkhat hard and pinned her against the wall. She brought her knife to the woman's throat and thought she saw a flash of fear in Barkhat's eyes, but it passed quickly.

Barkhat laughed. "Take my life, if you will. It is worth nothing." Djaq pressed the tip of her blade into Barkhat's skin, but the other woman did not flinch. "It does not matter anyhow. Others may yet succeed where I have failed."

Djaq faltered. A new and dark thought began to grow in her mind, making her knife hand tremble. She forced herself to remain calm and tightened her hold on the knife. "What do you mean? What have you done to him?"

Barkhat smiled, sensing she had won. "I have done nothing. But as Allah is witness between you and me, know that your vile Englishman is not long for this world."

Djaq shoved Barkhat away, and the woman crumpled against the wall, clearly exhausted. But still somehow, she managed a triumphant laugh. Fury and disgust mingled in Djaq's mind, leaving a horrible taste in her mouth. She reached for the knife and brought it once again to Barkhat's throat, fully intending to deal the woman a death blow. But at the last instant, she changed her mind.

"I will not tarnish my blade with the blood of one so vile." Djaq dropped the knife and spat in Barkhat's direction. "Be gone from this place. Do not dare to show your face here, for if you do, not even Allah will be able to save you."

-000-

Three days later

Djaq heard a gentle knock at her door and looked up to find Faisal waiting in the corridor outside.

"You asked to see me, ya Saffiyah?"

"Yes. It is done then?"

"Yes. Just as you asked."

Djaq nodded and observed him closely, checking for any signs of disapproval. Once she sent Barkhat away, the cold fury and bitter anger she felt had retreated at alarming speed, leaving only remorse and a wistful longing in its wake. She had wanted to make amends somehow, so she sent Faisal to Barkhat's village with coin to give to her kin. It had seemed like a small thing to do in return for the many years Barkhat had served Djaq's family in good faith.

She sighed and Faisal gave her an odd look, before dropping his gaze. He seemed uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as she watched him.

"Forgive me, my lady. Will that be all?"

"You are not curious? About why I sent Barkhat away?"

He shrugged. "She was your servant. It is not my place to question your decision. Although..." His voice trailed off, and he looked mortified, perhaps thinking he had said too much.

"Although?"

He looked up in surprise, but then smirked and continued. "There are perhaps...less complicated ways of dismissing servants than to banish them at the point of a blade."

Djaq hid her own smirk behind her hand and then became serious once more. "There are certain questions I wish to ask you."

He met her gaze evenly. "I know nothing of your servant's perfidy."

"Then you need not be afraid of my questions."

He bowed his head politely. "Indeed."

"I wish to know where it is my husband goes when he is away from the house."

Faisal looked stunned, but only for a moment. "I do not know."

"Is that the truth?"

"I am only a servant. I have no answers because I ask no questions."

Djaq glared at him, but Faisal remained still, an inscrutable expression on his face. She sighed and then adopted a different tack.

"Faisal, I do not order you to tell me. You are Bassam ammo's servant, not mine. But I ask you to tell me what you know. Because I am worried.

"Before I banished her, Barkhat made threats against Will's life." Djaq twisted the fabric of her dress between her fingers, her worry only half-feigned. "I do not know if her words were said out of spite, or whether she was speaking the truth."

She paused for effect. "Will you not tell me what I need to know, so I may be sure my husband is not in danger?"

Faisal frowned, his worry mirroring her own in a way. But he shook his head morosely. "I am sorry, my lady. I do not know enough to help you."

Djaq nodded and then gave him a small, sad smile. "I thank you anyway, Faisal. For your help in other matters."

"My lady." He bowed and began to leave, but then thought better of it. "Perhaps I speak out of turn. But please ask your husband to be careful. The city is a terrible place. And even more so for him."

-000-

A week later

Will sat on the floor of one of the back rooms in Rashida's house, waiting for Thomas of Kent. He had received a message three days before asking for a meeting, but saying little else. The spareness of the message had troubled Will more than its actual content. So despite Rashida's warnings, Will had come to the house, partly out of curiosity, but mostly out of concern for Thomas.

There was also the fact that he had simply needed to leave Bassam's house, if only for a few hours. He could not quite put a finger on it, but something was happening, something grave and troubling. Servants milled about the house whispering and then falling suddenly silent when they saw him. Will had not seen Bassam for days, and even Faisal seemed to be avoiding him.

For her part, Djaq, too, had been acting strangely, alternating between keeping him at a distance and fretting and fussing over him as if he were a small child. He had the sense she was keeping something from him, but he had no idea what. He had thought to ask her about it, but it did not seem fair to ask for her secrets when he had so many of his own. Guilt and worry gnawed at him, making it hard to think, to breathe. So when a chance to leave the house had presented itself, he leapt at it and fled into the city.

It had not been easy. For much of the way, he sensed that someone was following him, and it had taken a couple of deft moves and some calculated wrong turns to shake off his pursuer. He still was not sure he had actually lost the tail, but nobody had followed him to Rashida's house, much to his relief.

He cast a glance around the place. It was all new to him, a room he had not been in before. From the furnishings and tapestries, he guessed it was one of the places where Rashida conducted her usual business. The knowledge made Will uncomfortable, and he shifted from side to side and shuffled his feet. But he stopped when he heard a commotion at the door.

An angry Rashida stood at the entrance with Thomas of Kent. Will greeted Rashida formally, but she merely grunted in response as she guided Thomas into the room.

"Your friend here, he attracted far too much attention coming here. On horseback! It is madness that you are even here, al-Ahmar. Did I not tell you, did I not warn you that all this was too dangerous now?"

"I know. But I didn't know where else to go." Will tried to make light of the matter. "Besides, I am capable of defending myself."

Rashida frowned. "For your sake, I hope the truth of that is never tested."

Will bowed his head in agreement and kept his attention on her until she left the room and had moved out of earshot. He motioned to Thomas to sit on the floor.

Thomas spoke haltingly. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have come."

"It doesn't matter. Tell me more about this message you sent."

"It's hot here, isn't it? I mean, it's winter in England. But it's still so hot here." Thomas was skittish, fidgeting constantly, his eyes darting back and forth.

"Yes, very hot." Will fixed Thomas with his gaze, making it clear he had no time to waste on pleasantries. "Why are you here?"

"I..." Thomas looked towards the door and then dropped his voice to a loud whisper. "After that first time I met you, I talked to some other people...told them what you told me, right?

"Well, they started talking to some other people, too. And now there are many of us who want this to be over. So we can go home.

"That's why I came to see you. My master, he got wind of it." Thomas let out a sigh. "I thought I was done for."

Will raised an eyebrow in question. There was something odd about Thomas, something not quite right. It bothered Will and distracted him from Thomas's words, so he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and forced himself to concentrate.

"Are you in trouble, Thomas? Is that why you came to me?"

"No, that's just it. I thought he'd kill me. You know, for being disloyal. But no! He says it's alright, that he wants to meet you as well."

"What!"

"I was surprised, too. But my master says he wants to find a way to end the war as well. I think maybe he has a plan for you."

Will stared at Thomas in shock. "That's...I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? If you tell him what you told me, it will work out. There'll be peace, right?"

"It's not that simple. I just..." Will let his voice trail off, unsure of what to say.

"Please? He's not far away from here. There's an abandoned house on the edge of the city that we use as a camp sometimes."

"He's...here now? He wants to see me now?"

"Yes. You'll come, won't you?"

Will's first instinct was to refuse. Talking to knights, especially those who were close to the king, was not part of the plan. It was dangerous, and worse, he risked being exposed to the king, who would not take kindly to Will's work as a spy.

Still, Thomas was almost begging for his help, and meeting his master would surely advance the cause of peace. Will had not worked so hard and long for naught to come of his labors. He wondered if he should alert Rashida as to where he was going, but after a moment's thought, he decided against it. It was better if fewer people knew he was meeting one of the king's knights.

Will regarded Thomas carefully for a minute. Thomas still looked far more nervous than he needed to be, but there was something truthful and sincere about Thomas that heartened Will. He nodded in the other man's direction and strode towards the door.

"Very well, Thomas. Take me to your master."

-000-

Djaq leaned her arms against the wall, panting heavily and pulling her veils off her face to get more air. She had followed Will out of Bassam's house and towards the city, certain she would eventually catch up to him. But Will moved through the city's back streets and alleys with surprising certainty, and he had eventually given her the slip.

It did not help that Djaq was woefully out of practice in stealth and pursuit. Months of nothing but reading texts and managing Bassam's household had not helped her keep the skills she had honed in the forest. For not the first time, she found herself envying Will the small measure of freedom he enjoyed as a man, even in a place completely foreign to him. He was allowed to go out, explore the city, and be seen in ways that were always barred to her. A tiny kernel of resentment began to take shape in her mind, but she pushed it away as unbecoming of her.

In truth, Djaq knew there was nothing for her to resent. She had chosen to stay behind in Acre knowing full well she would lose some of the freedoms she had enjoyed as an outlaw. It was true Will enjoyed more liberties here than she did, but at the same time, life here was perfectly safe for Djaq in a way that it was not for Will.

She sighed. For Will, every corner of the city was dangerous. Yet, he was venturing out regularly, with little concern for his own safety. She cursed herself for being so preoccupied with other things she had barely noticed Will's frequent absences from the house. She had no doubt that Barkhat's threats were real, but she had no idea what sort of situation Will had gotten himself into, or how she could extricate him from it.

A passerby stopped and goggled at her. She stared the man down and then, realizing her mistake, quickly pushed her veils back into place. The man gave her a smug smile and went on his way. Djaq considered striking him, if only to wipe that smirk off his face, but decided against it. There were more pressing things at hand. She needed to know where exactly in the city she was at this moment.

Even as a child, she had not been allowed to leave home without an escort, and yet she and her brother had found ways to sneak out of the house and into the city's many narrow streets and pathways. There was a time when she had known these places as well as the lines on her own hands, but now, the confused tangle of streets seemed alien to her. Djaq frowned and forced herself to focus.

From where she stood, she could see Citadel in the north and, beyond it, the walls of the city. She guessed she was no more than half a mile from the walls. She turned around and faced south, so that she could see the lighthouse in the harbor far in the distance. That meant she was in the traders' quarter of the city, and the sight of the small houses and the wares being hawked out of streetside stalls confirmed it. She walked east, checking off familiar street names and buildings in her mind, until she arrived at a place she knew very well...Rashida's house.

She laughed. Even if her mind had not been aware of it, her feet had led her unerringly to a most useful place. If there was something worth knowing in Acre, then surely Rashida was the person to know it. She bounded up the steps and, in her excitement, missed the departure of two hooded men through a side door.

-000-

Will listened with amusement as his companion prattled on about life in the king's camp. Thomas seemed far less nervous than he had been at Rashida's house, and this pleased Will even as his worry over meeting Thomas's master increased.

He had convinced Thomas to leave the horse behind, impressing on him it would be too difficult to ride in the city and would attract too much attention. Thomas had been doubtful at first, but at length, he had agreed. They had made fast time through this part of Acre, Thomas expressing surprise at Will's pace and his knowledge of Arabic.

"Where did you learn all that?"

Will hesitated. The less Thomas knew about his real life, the better. "Oh, here and there. I've been here a while now."

"You're not a soldier, though...are you?"

"No. Does it matter?"

Thomas shrugged and then became thoughtful. "I suppose it doesn't really matter. But all the other Englishmen I know are soldiers."

Will nodded. There were only a few Europeans in Acre who were not Crusaders, and even then, they were usually men traveling with the knights and their squires. They were often tradesmen or craftsmen who had been brought from France or Italy for a specific reason years ago and had never left. For many, life in the Holy Land was far better than it was at home. As long as this Crusade lasted, these men would have livelihoods and privilege of a sort they could not have dreamed of in their old lives. Not every man really needed peace, and this thought saddened Will.

Still, at least there were still men like Thomas's master, who were willing to talk about peace. And if there was one knight who was open to the idea, surely there were others as well.

"What is your master like?"

Thomas startled. "He...he's a good man. An honest one." Thomas gave Will a pleading look. "That's how he would want to be remembered."

Remembered? "Thomas, is your master—?"

"No. I spoke out of turn. Don't pay it any mind. Please."

Will gave Thomas a sharp look, willing him to tell the truth. Thomas looked away and then pointed down the street.

"There, see? You can see the house already. It's the tall one."

Will nodded. "Fine, let's go."

As they neared their target, the building Thomas had pointed out resolved itself into a large manor house. It must have belonged to one of the noble families in Acre, but it was severely damaged by fire. The walls were pitted and charred black in places, and there were entire parts of the house that had crumbled and fallen down. It was the perfect place for a secret meeting. Nobody passing the house would suspect anyone was inside.

"Do you know who used to live here?"

Thomas shook his head. "One of the rich Saracens, I reckon." He scratched his head. "It's too bad they fired the place. Might have been a nice place for us all to live."

Will began to wonder if this might have been Djaq's old house. She did not speak of it much, but it was certainly big enough to have belonged to her family, and it was in the right part of the city. He reached out to touch one of the scarred walls, hoping to hear an echo of her old life. He closed his eyes, trying to picture his love as a little girl with long pigtails and scraped knees. But he could not see it. Whatever happiness was in her childhood, it had been erased, taken from her by the cruel hand of war. He felt a sudden rush of anger and punched the wall with his fist. The flash of pain and trickle of blood that followed brought him back to himself.

Thomas looked frightened. "Are you...alright?"

"Yes, I...it's nothing." He wiped his bloody knuckles on the front of his shirt. "Let's go inside."

Thomas led him down a long corridor in the ruined house and into what must have once been a great hall. The place was stifling and dark except for the occasional streak of light from some place where the wall was no longer intact.

"Ah, you're finally here, Thomas." A voice called out to them from the shadows.

"Yes, sir."

"I was beginning to worry." The owner of the voice stepped out into the middle of the room, his face obscured by the hood of his cloak.

Will nudged Thomas and spoke in a whisper. "This is your master?"

Thomas looked away, head bowed, and instead, it was the hooded man who answered. "Alas, that honor is not mine, though Thomas's master and I do share a name." He laughed, and Will felt his flesh rise in goosebumps at the sound. "I'm called Geoffrey de Mandeville."

The man came closer, prompting Will to back away from him.

"And you...you are called Will Scarlett, lately of Robin Hood's gang."

"How did you know—"

His words were interrupted by Geoffrey's laughter. The man doffed his hood, and Will found himself staring into the face of The Fool.

-000-