Kingdom Come (16 page)

“We are looking for Sir Kieran Hage,” the man said. “We are told that he being held by the Saracens.”

Yusef didn’t reply for a moment. “Kieran Hage is not our guest.”

“Where is he?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I bring him a message.”

“From whom?”

“The king.”

Yusef kept the sword up still. He did not trust the English knights, especially after what had happened two days ago.  For all he knew, this knight was part of de Corlet’s assassin contingent.

“I do not know where he is,” he reiterated.

The man seemed increasingly exasperated. “Have you at least seen him? It is very important I relay this message to him.”

“Why?” Yusef did not appreciate the games these men were playing. “So that you can kill him?”

“Nay,” the man flipped up his visor, revealing brilliant blue eyes and little else. “Richard wants to warn him.”

“About what?”

The man’s frustration grew and he moved forward a few steps, his brilliant eyes glittering under the weak moonlight.

“If you will give him this message, then I will tell you.”

“I will give it to him.”

“Then tell him that one of de Corlet’s men broke and confessed all to the king,” the man said. “Richard knows that Sir Kieran is not a traitor. He knows that Simon de Corlet was trying to kill him and the king further knows the treasure that Sir Kieran has in his possessions. It is the king’s wish that Sir Kieran return to him immediate for all due honor and blessings.”

Yusef stared at the man a long time before speaking. “Why should I believe you?” he asked. “How do I know you are not trying to find Sir Kieran so that you can kill him?”

The knight shook his head. “My name is Sir Rhys du Bois,” the knight replied. “I am an ally of Sir Kieran. Under his absence, I have taken charge of his army so they will not fall into questionable hands. I assure you, with God as my witness, that everything I have said is true. The king knows of Sir Simon’s treachery and of Kieran’s innocence.”

“Then if I am to believe you, de Corlet’s life is now the one that is forfeit. Is this not the case?”

The knight shook his head. “Simon was informed of the king’s fury and fled before he could be arrested. It is believed he is heading back home to England.”

Yusef couldn’t help it; at that point, he knew he turned pale. His jaw went slack and his eyes widened.

“Dear Allah,” he breathed. “Is it true?’

“We believe so. Why? Where is Sir Kieran?”

“Heading home to England as well.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Three weeks later

Off the coast of Marseille, France

Rory had a text book idea of what it meant to travel by sea during Medieval times.  Since her undergraduate degree was in Medieval History with a Ph.D. in Biblical Archaeology, she really thought she knew everything there was to know about Medieval culture, including travel. And she did. But the reality of it was something different altogether. It was like hell; that was the only way she could think to describe it.  On the port side railing as she gazed at the distant coast of France on a cool and clear January morning, her mind was wandering over the journey of the past few weeks.

Before departing the ports at Tyre, Yusef had located a Muslim cleric that agreed to marry her and Kieran. Being devoutly Catholic, Kieran wasn’t too keen on the idea of a Muslim cleric but he figured that a Muslim ceremony was better than no ceremony at all so he agreed, sitting stoically beside Rory as the old cleric intoned the Muslim marriage rite yet saying a rosary throughout the entire ceremony.  He paid the cleric handsomely and with that, Rory was his wife, at least in the eyes of Allah.  But Kieran told Rory in no uncertain terms that he planned to have a wedding mass said the moment they reached France.

Yusef also followed through on another promise; when the ceremony was over, he had the very same cleric scribe a missive testifying to the fact that Kieran was not a traitor but an emissary of peace and that the true traitor, one Simon de Corlet, had confessed to deceit and disharmony.  It took some time because the cleric was used to hieratic and had to translate everything into the English language. He was an educated man and knew several languages.  But with that final and very precious gift, Yusef and his warriors escorted Kieran and Rory to the ports of Tyre, about ten miles north of Nahariya. 

The day they arrived, the weather had been remarkable and clear for January, with a balmy sea breeze blowing off of the Mediterranean.Rory was fascinated by the city, its people, streets and buildings, finding something vastly interesting in everything she saw. Since Tyre was a major port, many Christian knights were coming off of the boats that also brought animals and goods from all points west.  It was raw, busy and exciting.  

Given that it was a major import-export port, there were more goods and merchandise than in most cities. Kieran took Rory into several merchant stalls so she could find material for clothing, but when she informed him that she had no idea how to sew, he went in search of a seamstress.It wasn’t difficult to locate one and he promised to pay the woman well if she would sew garments for Rory by the morning. Their boat left at sunrise and the woman agreed.

So they spent the afternoon before their departure shopping for fabric.Kieran wanted her to find something lovely but all she wanted to do was inspect the textiles like a scientist. He had to repeatedly remind her to find something she liked and to stop investigating every piece of string she came across, to which Rory responded by the traditional display of sassy tongue. Kieran would just shake his head at her. But she managed to find several different kinds of fabric that she loved and Kieran even managed to find her a wedding ring at some point. She liked silver so he purchased a wide-band silver filigree ring that was studded with precious stones. It was a gorgeous ring and Rory wept happy tears when he slid it on her finger.

When the next morning came, as promised, the swarthy seamstress, who was oddly missing most of the fingers on her left hand, had finished nine stunning garments for Rory.The woman had evidently been up all night sewing, assisted by her daughter and sister, and Rory was thrilled with the very pretty surcoats. Dressing in a gorgeous jade-colored linen, she told Kieran she felt like she was going to the Prom but he had no idea what she meant.With her new surcoats, shifts and all manner of accessories and new trunks to put them in, she was ready to travel.She was looking forward to examining all of her new possessions on the trip to France; since there would be no computers, videos or floor shows like a cruise ship, she was planning on how to keep herself occupied.

He had paid for passage on a ship that, when Rory saw it, looked more like a sail boat than a safe, sturdy ship that was going to take them across the Mediterranean.She knew the type of ship that sailed during the day but nothing prepared her for the reality of it. Called a cog, these ships had a high bow, low stern, and a giant mast in the center. This one happened to have a rudder, although most didn’t. This was a newer ship, about eighty feet long, and it had a deck built on to it so there was an enclosed space below.Their ‘cabin’ was really just a section of the second deck that was divided off from the rest of the ship by crudely fashioned curtains.  When the ship swayed, the curtains opened and there was really no privacy at all.

So she, Kieran and Liberator boarded the ship that set sail just after sunrise on the fourth day since their appearance on that rocky beach.  The weather was fine the first day out but a storm arose the next day that ruined everything. Rory had never really been on a boat and this had been a very rude introduction.She very quickly discovered that she was prone to seasickness.

The trip had been miserable from the start. The storm had lasted six of the longest, most miserable days of Rory’s life.Even when the storm died down and the sun came out, Rory was still woozy. She never stopped being woozy and she hardly ate a bite, so by the end of the three weeks, she was down several pounds and her new dresses were a bit roomy.  But she didn’t care; she just wanted the heck off that stupid boat.

On the twentieth day of their journey, land was sighted and the captain told them that they would be making landfall by mid-afternoon in Marseille.  Rory was so happy that it drove her to tears and as the boat skirted the green coast in the distance, she watched from her perch against the railing which had been her spot for the past three weeks. She didn’t want to stray too far from the edge in case she had to vomit again. But these days, nothing was coming up; she’d thrown up everything in her system and then some.

Kieran, who had been below securing their possessions, found her leaning over the rail, watching the land in the distance.  Her long hair was pulled back into a single braid and soft tendrils blew in the sea breeze.  Her face, without make up now for several weeks, was rosy from the sun and wind in spite of her constant seasickness, and he had never seen her so beautiful. She was a gorgeous woman as it was, but now, she was positively radiant. He couldn’t explain it any other way.

He inspected her figure as he approached, the gentle curve of her backside and the narrowness of her waist now that she had been sick for three weeks on end.  He approached from behind, bracing his arms on either side of her and leaning on the rail just as she was. He kissed her on the neck.

“Greetings, wife,” he kissed her again.

She turned to him with a smile on her lips before returning her focus to the land in the distance. Kieran settled in behind her, his chin on the top of her head as they watched the view together.  Beyond the boat, the waves kicked up and the breeze blew strongly.

“The captain said we’ll be docking by sun set,” she said. “I can’t tell you how glad I will be to get off this boat. I never knew I could be so sick and so scared at the same time.”

He kissed the side of her head. “This will be a memory soon enough.”

She made a face. “Not soon enough,” she said frankly, her hazel eyes watching the coastline. “Swear to me that we will never, ever travel by boat again.”

“I cannot. We must travel by boat one last time, between Calais and Dover.”

She groaned. “Oh, God,” she breathed. “How long will that trip take?”

He shrugged thoughtfully. “Perhaps a few hours if the weather is good.”

There wasn’t much she could do about that so she quieted for a moment, turning in his arms so that she was facing him.He pulled her against him, nuzzling her, as she wound her arms around his neck.

“We haven’t really talked about much over the past few weeks because I’ve felt so horrible, but what’s going to happen now?” she wanted to know. “Where do we go from here?”

He sighed, thinking on the chronology of what was to come. “After we dock, we shall spend the night along the waterfront,” he said. “After that, I will make arrangements to travel to Paris and from Paris, we shall return to Southwell.”

She wriggled her eyebrows. “Ah, yes, Southwell,” she repeated. “I’ve never really asked you about your home.  What’s it like? Tell me everything so I know what to expect.”

It was his turn to wriggle his eyebrows. He snuggled against her, thinking of the home he hadn’t seen in three years and the family that lived there.  It all seemed like a distant dream.