The King's Witch Read Online Free PDF

straightened up, her eyes wide. “Yes. I will. Thank you, my lady.” She closed the book, but Johanna marked that she kept a finger between the pages, holding her place.
    Johanna turned toward her brother’s wife. “Will you join us, my lady Berengaria?”
    The little Queen straightened, blinking. The blue veins showed at her temples; she seemed frail enough to break. She said, “Go out, to street?” as if Johanna were proposing she fly.
    “To the market,” Johanna said. “We’ll buy everything they have. Hear all the news.”
    Berengaria lowered her eyes. “I stay, lady. My place here.”
    Johanna glanced meaningfully at her own women. “Very well.” They all turned pitying looks on Berengaria, except Edythe, who was staring down at the book in her lap. Johanna laughed, and when the woman twitched upright, looking guilty, she nudged her.
    “Oh, read it, my dear, go on. I shall see you happy.” She clapped her hands together. “We shall be a merry band in the Holy Land, I promise you.” She turned her gaze on Lilia. “You know, King Philip Augustus is there.” She put much into her voice as she said the name.
    Even without looking at her, she felt Edythe startle at that. But when she glanced over, Edythe was looking down at her book again.
    Gracia said, “Yes, he is supposed to be.” Lilia giggled, her hand to her mouth.
    Johanna turned to Berengaria. “The King of France was in Palermo before we left, and he wooed me so ardently my brother sent me away.” She and Lilia traded another meaningful look; Lilia had been much involved in that trysting.
    Berengaria tipped her head to one side. “My King want not you Queen of France?”
    “You don’t understand.” Johanna gave her a sideways, disdainful look. “They are enemies, Philip and my brother. Philip wants my brother’s lands. Richard wouldn’t take the cross at all unless Philip did, too, so he couldn’t meddle behind his back.” She wagged her head. Let Berengaria know how little she understood, and how much Johanna herself was part of it.
    Berengaria seemed not to be noticing that. Her pale eyes were thoughtful. “You did not be Queen of France.”
    Johanna said, “When you see him, you’ll know why I’m not.”
    Berengaria murmured. She had brought in some handwork and turned to it now, one maid holding out a threaded needle, the other a band of cloth. Johanna felt that this had slipped away from her, but she couldn’t say how. She turned back to Edythe.
    “What is that, some scripture?”
    Edythe straightened, lifting the book so that Johanna could see it: a plain board-bound book with a Latin name. “It’s an herbal, my lady. I found it in the chapel library.”
    “Oh. Well, excellent. There’s a library? These Greeks. Come, now, take all this away, I must open my court again.”

    Edythe bowed in the doorway. “My lady, you sent for me?”
    Berengaria stood up, dumping a heap of cloth off her lap. She had cast off her shawls, at least, and wore a plain, light gown. She chewed at her lower lip, her eyes fretful. “Yes. Lady Edyt’. Come in.”
    Edythe hovered in the doorway. “My lady, I—”
    “Please.” The girl put out her hands toward her. “Help me. Help me.”
    Edythe went to her and took her hands. “Tell me, my lady.”
    “I hear—someone say when all here is well—” Berengaria blinked at the effort of finding the words. “We go again on the ship. I—I—”
    Edythe took the small, damp, fine-boned hands. “My lady, it’s true. When the King has taken Cyprus, we will all sail to the Holy Land. But—”
    “No ship. I stay here. No ship.” The sleek, terrified eyes searched her face. “Please.”
    Edythe wanted suddenly to gather her into her arms, to shelter her like a child. Instead she led her back to the chair. She said, “My lady, it will only take one day. Just across the sea to Tyre. There won’t be a storm this time. We will spend the night on land.”
    Berengaria clung to her forearms. Her