Isabella Clerante paced the floor of her rooms like a caged beast. Her clear blue eyes shone with anger and her fingers clenched and unclenched in a show of impatience. Blonde hair whirled with a rushed turn of hers. The door gave a loud squeak of protest as it opened, and in came two young women. They looked anything but thrilled to be where they were.

The first of the two looked strikingly like Isabella, what with her long blonde tresses and sparkling azure eyes. They shared the same gaunt face and tall thin frame. Both held themselves very stiff, with a somewhat sour expression that made their lips thin in a line straight as a string. The other was significantly smaller, with a prominent, clearly pregnant, middle. Her rounded form made her movements sluggish and a bit difficult. However what made one wonder was her stark white face, so in contrast with her dark curls. The poor woman looked as if all blood had fled from her visage.

"Well?" asked Isabella, her eyebrow rising in a mocking show of surprise. "Do you have anything to say to me Bertha?" She eyes the pregnant woman with distaste. "Speak, wench!"

"My lady," Bertha curtsied, ignoring the third woman who was now standing behind her. "Why did you have Rosa bring me here? How may I be of service to you?"

"You insolent slime!" roared Isabella, her anger rising as Bertha stood stoically before her. She lunged forward, her hand making contact with the woman's cold cheek.

The force of the hit sent Bertha back a few steps. "My lady, I beg of you, what did do?"

"You have the gall to ask me that?" The mistress was scandalized. Isabella pointed accusingly to Bertha's midsection. "That is your sin, wench. You have cavorted with a married man. My husband! Do you deny that the child is his? Do you?"

Bertha had the good grace to blush, whether from anger or shame, no one could tell clearly. She did not answer to the questions thrown her way. What could she possibly say to placate her mistress? Isabella frowned but refused to give up. She would not let Bertha get away with this, she swore. How could she, in good conscience let that happen? Never. Over her dead body! Isabella would see this woman gone. Damn her and her progeny. With what right did she presume to give her husband a bastard child?

"I beg that you would keep your calm, my lady," Rosa interrupted with a concerned expression. "It cannot be good for you."

"Stay out of it, Rosa." Isabella circled Bertha like a hawk did its prey. "You will marry Heinrich, the wood cutter, to cover up this shame. Stupid girl."

Stunned into silence, Bertha bowed her head. She nodded slowly, this being her consent. Not that it was needed. Isabella would have married her to that man anyway. It was her right as mistress to give her to whomever she saw fit. Bertha had to go along with it lest she angered Isabella. Things were already in a bad state. For the baby inside of her she would do this, Bertha decided. She would be strong. She would survive this to deliver her child safely into this world and after that, God be willing, she would watch her little one grow. Her hand rested on her bulging middle.

Heinrich, a widower, happily accepted Bertha and her unborn child. He liked her enough to overlook the fact that she was not having his child. Besides he was too old to have progenies. He took her to wife, and a few moths later, a daughter was born. The parents named her Lavinia. Isabella, still upset and fuming, followed her husband to the newborn's dwelling. Despite her many protests, Lavinia was given the promise of care and a bright future from her husband. Bertha was pleased by the events as was Heinrich. Baby Lavinia simply snuggled into her mother's arms, too small to understand what was going on. Her star would soon shine brightest. Little did they all know, what waited for lord Clerante's bastard daughter. Isabella would unwillingly become Lavinia's greatest helping hand in regards to that.

The years passed and under the eyes of her parents, Lavinia grew up a happy child, loved by her family. It was no secret to her who her real father was, yet that did nothing to alter her love for Heinrich. She was attached to the old man, to the point where she considered him her genuine parent. Her mother's husband was fond of the girl too. He had wanted children, yet his first wife hadn't been able to produce any. Marrying Bertha gave him access to a little bundle of joy. But as all good things, it had to end. Tragedy struck and Heinrich fell ill. He was taken with that horrible disease that killed men with practiced ease. Leprosy had made its mark. Lavinia had been a girl of twelve, and despite that she had taken care of her father while her mother worked. It took four hard years, but Heinrich died one sunny summer day by which time Lavinia was sixteen. With the death of her father, Isabella saw the chance to send the girl away, along with her mother if possible.

Charming and apparently caring, Isabella set about convincing her husband to get rid of Lavinia. It was that very night that she started her campaign. Alexander, Isabella's youngest son, would carry out her plan by taking the girl with him to Jerusalem. "Think about it, husband. There is nothing for her here. If we let her go to Jerusalem, she will find her own place on this earth." There was no peace to be had in the household for the nobleman unless he gave in to his lady's wish. Isabella made sure her husband knew just that. "Soon she will be too old for marriage. By the time you make up your mind and decide to let her make her own life, she will be an old maid. You shall regret it, and she will despise you for it. Listen to me, I am a woman, and I know how she feels." For years she had dreamed of sending that bastard child away.

In the end Isabella prevailed, and her husband complied. He called his only daughter to impart the news upon her. Lavinia, not thinking anything of the invitation, accepted; she was still in mourning, so it paid to be good to others. She might as well start with her natural father, it occurred to her. As she entered the room, he looked her over. Lavinia was clearly Bertha's daughter. But instead of her mother's grey eyes, she looked at him with warm hazel orbs. Her long umber hair rested in a braid, down her back. She seemed much like a child if one were to judge by her diminutive size and innocent visage.

"Something needs to be done," he started, ignoring Lavinia's confused stare. "You are no longer a child. You are now a young woman. Soon you will want your own family; you will want children to nurture and a husband to care for you, and you for him." She looked dumbfounded. "Do not watch me so, Lavinia. I have decided that you are to be sent, with your mother, to Jerusalem. A visit to the Holy Land will do you good."

"That is a generous offer, I'm aware," began Lavinia, "however I think you have not been informed yet. My mother is ill, my lord. It is the same disease that took my father's life. Would it be wise to take her on such a journey?" Her eyes were drawn to the wooden floors.

An unreadable expression marred the man's face at that. "All the more reason, my dear. The Holy Land is a place of miracles. Your mother may be healed if she were to travel there. Many speak of the curing properties that the cross has. I have arranged for Alexander to take you there as that is his destination as well."

"But my lord," Lavinia dared interrupt, "my mother's illness is not an easy one. Who would care for her on this voyage? We will be at sea. She needs to be kept from all others, lest they get infected as well." Indecision made her lover lip quiver.

"That is so. Do not worry." He considered her words for a few good seconds. "You shall have a cabin of your own and your mother will be made comfortable there." The nobleman chose not to express his surprise that she was still healthy, although both people she lived with were not. "You leave in two weeks' time. I have already sent a letter to an old friend of mine, Lord Tiberias. Bear that name in mind."

It remained unspoken that he was glad to be rid of this burden. Bertha had been a sin for him, a mistake made out of sheer stupidity. He owed it to the woman to see that she was cared for, yet that did not mean he ought to keep her so close to his home and into his wife's way. Isabella had a way of making things difficult for him. It was best for all involved if mother and daughter went away. Jerusalem would provide for them as it did for all other pilgrims.

So it was Lavinia and Bertha, with the aid of Alexander, set for Jerusalem by sea. They boarded his ship one fine morning. Alexander was Isabella's youngest child, two years Lavinia's senior. He was close to his half-sister, more than his older brothers. He was aware that Bertha could not have refused his father. He bore no ill will towards his sister, even more, he was fond of her. As children they used to play together, much to his mother's grief. Alexander even taught Lavinia to read and write in Latin, something not many could boast with. She also got on well in Greek when needed. The skills, Alexander thought, would help her in those foreign lands. "This knowledge," Alexander told her one day, "will be of use to you. The attention you will receive, oh sister, you cannot even imagine it!" Lavinia shook her head and stifled a giggle, her eyes watching the waves.

The sea was calm, deceitfully so even. Lavinia had been warned about the devious nature of it. One moment all was well, then out of nowhere a storm would break out. Luckily, no storm raged on their journey. "It gladdens my heart that God shines his mercy down upon us," Lavinia noted with some dry humour. The sailors were not of the same mind, something told her.

It was not yet upon her that the grief caused on this journey would have nothing to do with the sea. Instead, it would have to do with her mother. Sadly, Bertha's condition grew worse. The day they threw her mother's body overboard Lavinia thought her tears would never end. All her prayers pleaded for the occurrence to be a nightmare. She still needed her mother to be around. To no avail did Alexander console her, his sister could not, nor would she, stop the pain that ate at her. Bertha was somewhere at the bottom of the sea and her daughter was left alone in the wide cruel world, alone to fend for herself.

And the biggest shock was arriving to the coast. They were met with a vast desert, burning like liquid gold under the sun. Her eyes watered as sand brushed against them. Lavinia marvelled at every sight of the sand dunes and silky debris under her feet. Alexander yelled at her all the way to stop walking barefoot; she ignored him, for the feeling of sand underneath her toes was lovely. Back home there was nothing like it.

Jerusalem itself was a kingdom of naught but sand and dreams. The architecture was a mix, as was the population from what Lavinia could tell. Muslims, Christians and Jews, they existed within the walls together. Hazel eyes widened in genuine curiosity as she took the details in. Of course, there were less pleasant sights, such as the hangings. Lavinia shuddered as she watched the life leave the bodies of rather young men. What had they done? She wondered in silence, not daring to ask.

But she got over it pretty well. Alexander teased her and laughed at her avid wonder, and gently pulled her down the busy streets, barely giving her time to take it all in. Her own low laughter followed his, like tiny bells. The many people went in all directions, mindless of the general chaos. Merchants called out the prices of their products, only a few stopped to buy. Most paused to look, to feel, and then to try negotiating with the seller. Seldom did they drop the price.

Lavinia followed Alexander to the well, where a few people were cooling with fresh water. "What are we to do now?" she asked as he gave her some of the sweet liquid to drink. "Are you going to look for Lord Tiberias?"

"No need," Alexander said softly. "Father has sent him word of our arrival. No doubt the man has put someone on the job of scouting for us."

Before he could say anything else, a riot broke out in the middle of the street. The crowd of swarming humans parted, as if retreating from a raging fire. Some were yelling, while others hurried away with horrified looks. In the middle, a heavily bandaged person had fallen to the ground, hands raised above as if asking for help. Lavinia could tell right away what had happened. Ungluing herself from Alexander's side, and despite his loud protests, she hurried across the dusty road to the fallen person. On a closer inspection she found it was a young woman, not much older than herself, but taller and broader. However she barely made it to her when someone threw a rock. The rest followed suit.

Whirling around Lavinia glared at the mob. "What do you think you are doing? This woman is hurt! For what purpose are you injuring her further? Do you have no conscience? Are you not Christians?" she spit the string of questions out as she helped the woman to her feet, ignoring the murmurs other gave. "The words of our Lord Jesus have fallen on deaf ears once more." The reproof in her words made the crowd still.

"She is a leper!" someone yelled. Other hurried to agree, unknowingly attracting Lavinia's wrath. "She should know better than to come here with her disease and endanger us all!"

"How dare you?!" Lavina screamed over the loud noise. These were not humans, she was sure. They could not possibly be that cruel if they were. "I am now convinced you people have no souls. Come on. Let me aid you," she said, looking at the woman she had picked off of the ground. "What is your name?" In a kind manner, she patted back the stranger's hair. "Do not be afraid. I shan't harm you."

"Deadra is what they call me, kind lady," the leper volunteered in a small voice, frail and unsure. "Many thanks. You are a kind soul, kinder than those who would hurt me. But my lady, I am ill. You best keep away from me." The warning had been spoken somewhat bitterly as if Deadra needed to force the words out.

"First, I am no lady. And then, I must tell you that I have lived with ailing people before. Both my parents were lepers," Lavinia explained, while inspecting the bandages around the woman's arms. "These will need to be changed."

"How would I manage to do that?" Deadra questioned. "I am poor, kind Christian. I do not have the money to buy new bandages." Her lips twisted in a tart smile.

"Then boil the ones you have," instructed Lavinia with a new shine in her dark eyes. "As soon you get home, take this gauze off and put some water to boil. Once it does, throw the fabric in and leave it there for a short while." She stopped and took Deadra's hands. "Better yet, tell me where to look for you and I shall come help you once I am settled."

"Lavinia, enough!" yelled Alexander, urging his sister to come back at his side. "Come, girl, we have to be on our way. Time is wasting." Once she was close enough, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along at a hurried pace, "I beg that you would not stop to help all the needy you meet on your way."

"And why shouldn't I?" Lavinia retorted, rather offended at his request. "Are you worried that I will perhaps come to some harm? You needn't, I assure you. Brother, I have lived surrounded by those affected of illness all my life. I am not unwell, nor was I ever."

"God protects you then, Lavinia, but for how long?" Alexander had a hard time understanding his sister's actions. "I cannot allow this to go on. As soon as we are settled you are to give up such dealings. I command it as your brother. Our host, Lord Tiberias, and I as well have agreed upon this. This is not home. Danger lurks around every corner."

"I cannot imagine what you are referring to, Alexander, for now I am sure it is not the lepers we are talking about." Tiny hands curved into tight fists. "What are you hiding from me? Tell me. You have my word that I shall not cause you any trouble as long as I know what worries you."

"I have no wish to alarm you, but you must be warned." Alexander might have not said that for her ears, so Lavinia held her peace. "The Templers roam about, and I'm afraid they are not quite the knights we though them to be," he finished.

"Why does that concern me?" Lavinia was genuinely confused. But then it fell upon her like a brick. "You think they might attempt to rob me of my virtue?"

"You are a beautiful young woman. There is no husband to care of you, nor a father. You only have me," Alexander pointed out. His eyebrows rose in a strange way Lavinia had not thought possible. "It is for your own safety that you have to find someone of your own in these lands. You are far from stupid. Both of us know that you shall not return with me."

"I thought so," Lavinia agreed in a murmur. "I wondered why your mother was so insistent on us being delivered here. I shall take your words to heart, brother. But I still think you should not worry. Our lord father sent a letter to out host, I aware. He must have touched upon the subject of my protection."

"Would you not prefer a sweet lie?" Clear blue eyes watched Lavinia's every move, the young man was unsurprised to see her shake her head. "Very well, as far as I've been told, he did mention something to lord Tiberias. However no answer came, so I do not know the verdict."

"Perhaps God will grant me mercy." Hazel orbs stared in the distance. "Lord Tiberias will show us to father's lands here, will he not? Then maybe you can leave me to manage there. That would solve a few of out problems."

"Yes, of course. Sister, I will give your hand only to a worthy person. You have my promise." His voice held so much sincerity that even his eyes shone with it. "Worry not, I am on your side in this. Let us make our way to the shade. This sun is killing me, I swear to God."

"Take your bow and put it down," Lavinia jokingly suggested. "I am sure many will be grateful. This heat is indeed bothersome. Oh brother, I am so excited to be here, despite the less than savoury circumstances." She brushed a thick strand of hair behind her ear. "Nothing will be the same ever again."

Her brother silently agreed with the observation. Nothing would ever be like it was, of course not. The world constantly progressed. They were now where they were and soon the dust of their bones would be gone. What a grand creature the human was, and how infirm God's creation proved to be. The test of time would wash them all away. Alexander shook his head. It was not yet time to fall into philosophy. That was best done with a glass of wine and steaming bowls of food before him. And best of all, his sister would be there with him and they might share opinions, Lavinia had a sharp mind about her; she was a blessing to have around. Alexander had half a mind not to marry her and keep her in his care for the rest of her days. But alas that was not possible. His stay in Jerusalem was a short one, while she would stay for as long as God kept her.

One thing Alexander had not told his sister was that the Templers were not the only danger she should worry about. He kept quiet about the Saracens. She would find out soon enough, and come out of it unharmed, he hoped. Lavinia had a sort of aura about her that usually allowed her to avoid impossible situations. It might be that God cherished the petite woman as much as Alexander did, for that was one of the few plausible explanations. A bastard child, and a daughter at that too; she could have had so much more had she been a legitimate offspring of his father's. Unfortunately it was not meant to be. Hers was the chance to free herself of the iron restrictions they had put upon her when she was born. If only she would reach out, with patience and skill, Lavinia might even become a woman of consequence. But was that what she wanted, Alexander wondered. His dear sister had always favoured her time with books than with people. She enjoyed reading, a skill he had taught her himself.

A man, small of stature and dark skinned approached Alexander and his company. "Excuse me, are you the son of lord Clerante?" Fathomless eyes scrutinized them all. Alexander nodded, his gaze guarded. "I have been sent by my Lord Tiberias. He issues an invitation for you. Follow me."

Without another option, Alexander signalled for them all to comply. Lavinia skipped a few steps behind her brother, gently tugging his hand. In a gesture of comfort, Alexander took her hand in his and discreetly smiled at her. They passed through a mass of agitating humans further along the road. Imposing structures appeared before Lavinia's eyes and she studied them with all the seriousness she could muster over the thrumming of her own heart. She could not help but wonder what this Lord Tiberias was like? If he was a friend of Alexander's father, Lavinia did not doubt his integrity or the fact that he would indeed offer them aid. He would also have to be quite old by her count. At least three decades her senior if she was not mistaken. Possibly he was a man with grey hair. She bit down a giggle at the image.

They got in a part where not many souls lingered. Lavinia marvelled at the beautifully carved gate and admired the bright colours. The white walls shined in the sun, pleasantly twining with the yellows and blues and oranges. "The architecture is divine," she whispered to Alexander who grumbled in agreement. He was searching for something else and not paying much attention to what was being said by his sister. Rolling her eyes at his behaviour Lavinia returned all of her attention to what was of interest to her. A small smile rolled on her lips as the heat of the sun burned on her back.

A distinct feeling of gratefulness flooded Lavinia once she entered the shelter of shadows. Much to her astonishment, a tall man approached them. He was dressed in fine clothing of dark colour. Perhaps silk, Lavinia thought as she watched him closely. This man was past his prime but his hair had not lost its darkness, and his body seemed fit to lead an army into battle. The only thing that attracted Lavinia's attention, however, was the scar that marred his face. It was a long thin line stretching from above his eyes to the middle of his cheek.

"You must be Clerante's children!" It was a sharp observation given in a rough, but not unkind, manner His was the voice of a man who was born to give orders. "I am Tiberias, the Marshall of Jerusalem. Your father is a dear friend."

"I am Alexander of Clerante. This is my sister, Lavinia." He gestured to the afore mentioned woman, who bowed as was the fashion. "It is an honour for us to meet your lordship."

"Indeed she is." Tiberias let his eyes wander over the woman with nonchalance. "You shall spend your time within your father's lands, I presume." He waited for Alexander's nod. "My man will show you the way. Your parent has a wide property here. There are two thousand acres, two hundred families on his land. They are of all nations and beliefs. His lands match his importance."

There was nothing more to be said, not to virtual strangers. Tiberias thought back to the letter his friend had sent him. The boy, Alexander, his father had said was a dreamer. His half-sister was not much different, lord Clerante feared; in addition his wife did not particularly like her. Truth be told, she did not accept her husband's bastard child. A proud woman, Tiberias though with a moment's hesitation, proud and without a bit of compassion to her. But it may be that this dreamer would prove useful. It always paid to make allies of the newcomers. It was a lesson long since learned. If one did not pay attention to the newly added members to their ranks, they risked losing them to the likes of Guy, Reynald and their legion of followers.

After a short while spent making small talk, the Marshall of Jerusalem noticed the signs of fatigue his guests presented. Therefore it was decided that they needed a good rest. The same man that had led the siblings to Tiberias' home was assigned the mission of taking them to the so much mentioned lands.

It also became apparent that they would not make the distance on foot. For the first time in a long time Lavinia was helped on a horse. A mare the colour of dried wheat that nickered softly as she sunk her heels lightly in its sides. The mare galloped with ease on the sandy planes, keeping close to Alexander's stallion. A wave of dust went up in their wake. The wind sang a lively tune, whooshing past them, trying in vain to push the riders back.

"I take it this is to your liking," the young man yelled back to his sister over the sound of hooves pummelling the ground.

"It is!" she admitted loudly. "This is the most fun I've had since we got lost in the woods all those years ago. Do you remember?"

"For the sake of holy God and the cross, woman, do not force that memory upon me!" Alexander urged his beast on violently. "It is the last thing I wish to remember."

"Only because you do not wish to admit to weakness," Lavinia noted sardonically. "Your vanity will be your downfall should you not take the time to control it. Be warned." A grain of sand attacked her eye and she hurriedly brushed it away. Her brother was avoiding offering an answer, she knew. It was not that she wished to challenge him but it was best if he heard the truth from her lips rather than from a stranger's mouth.

Ever vigil, their guide pushed his way between the brother and sister. "We are close. Look ahead and you can see the fort." With a finger he pointed in the direction of the horizon.

The closer they got, the bigger the stronghold became in size. The monochromatic golden scheme served to cause some confusion. However it was quickly taken care of by their aide who explained to them that sometimes the desert played tricks on its inhabitants. "She's a cruel mistress. Take care not to get caught up in her sand storms, or the veils she wraps around you will suffocate you. You'll be dead long before anyone can think to look for you."

"That's comforting," Alexander stated. "A bed of sand, and sand above; one can think of not better way to die, surely."

"Your joke is in poor taste," Lavinia pointed out, feeling a tad irked. It hadn't escaped her that his words could be taken as a jab to her departed parents. "You say the most inappropriate things at times, I am sure you are aware."

"It was not my intention to wound you." He seemed sincerely distressed at the notion of causing her pain. "I did not mean to upset you. Forgive my words, I was not thinking before I opened my mouth."

"Seldom is it that you do," she countered cheekily, her good mood returning. "All is forgiven, brother." Lavinia smiled at him tenderly.

Before them the imposing structure stretched out before the riders its gate opening invitingly. They were waited for, Lavinia realised with a start. Of course they were, her father had announced their arrival some time ago. The horses slowed their pace, a thin sheen of sweat coating their skins. Lavinia ran her fingers through her mare's mane, gently encouraging her. "Just a little more. We are almost there." As if her nonsensical whispers made perfect sense to the animal, it nickered in response.

"This is it, Lavinia!" cheered Alexander. He turned slightly to look at her. "This is our home from now on."

A/N: I hope you have enjoyed this attempt of mine. The idea is to provide King Baldwin the Fourth with a love interest. There are too few such works of fiction that touch upon the subject.

I would be grateful if you reviewed this. Tell me what you think.