Kingdom Come (53 page)

John glanced at the man.  “Undoubtedly,” he lifted a finger in thoughtful pause. “More importantly, however, he has left something behind at Southwell that belongs to me.”

“What is that, Your Grace?”

John lifted a greasy eyebrow. “The Diadem of Christ.”

The dirty courtier shook his head mockingly. “With only a few hundred soldiers to protect the castle?” he clucked mournfully. “Whatever will become of them if someone breaches the walls?”

The prince’s thoughtful expression faded, being replaced by something dark and sinister. “He should have thought about that before he refused to give me the diadem,” he replied. “I have already proven that I can capture a king. Now I will capture the diadem given to him by the savages of The Levant and prove to the Hage family that they cannot deny or defeat me. I shall win in the end.”

Whispers of approval went up through the room as John rose from the chair and began to pace the floor, accepting the praise that was forthcoming.  He extended his arms, like Christ bestowing a blessing.

“Is it not God who said that His punishment shall be swift?” he asked the crowd. “The diadem of Christ was meant for England, not the Church. It is meant for me. Kieran Hage had no right to keep it from me so I shall undo his wrongful deed. And he shall know the meaning of punishment when I raze Southwell and take what is rightfully mine.”

The dirty courtier lifted an eyebrow. “I hear that Lady Hage is a woman of unparalleled beauty. Perhaps she would make an excellent guest to ensure Kieran’s behavior.”

John looked interested. “Perhaps this shall not be an entirely unpleasant undertaking, then, if I am able to obtain Lady Hage’s company.” He whirled to the messenger, still standing where he had left him. “Rouse the troops. The full army shall ride to Southwell and before the week is out, I intend to have both the diadem and Lady Hage in my possession.”

The messenger scattered, as did several soldiers on the peripheral of the room.  John turned back to his courtiers, accepting the congratulations on his brilliant plan.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

No television, no newspapers, no smarmy gossip magazines.  Rory sighed a she sat in the great chamber she shared with Kieran, watching her son sleep in his elaborate bassinet just a few feet away and bored out of her mind. She wanted something to read, something that wasn’t considered an invaluable piece of art with carefully scripted letters, but there wasn’t anything like that available. She needed something to do these days; she had tried sewing but she wasn’t very good, so she had taken up drawing and working out to pass the time.  But that only occupied some of her time and with Kieran away, not only did she have the adjustment period of being without him, she had to find things to accomplish so she wouldn’t shrivel up and fade away.  Life in Medieval times was nothing as she knew it and it was still a struggle, after all of this time, to adjust. 

Gazing from the lancet window into the spring countryside beyond, she sighed again, her thoughts turning to her husband as they so often did.  She knew he had to go away and she furthermore knew he had to go without her. She couldn’t leave the baby and she couldn’t bring him along, traveling on a long journey where bad things could happen.  Kieran had left almost two weeks before, taking Kaleef, Yusef and Bud with him. Even with the thousand-man army, his brothers and friends alongside, the fact remained that she didn’t want Kieran traveling without her. She felt some odd need to be with him to protect him, even though she knew he was perfectly capable of protecting himself.   She also felt left out.

They had never been separated, not since the moment they first met. But there was a first time for everything.  With yet another heavy sigh, she turned away from the window and thought about going for a run around the castle.  Her intention to continue her twenty-first century habits had been an entirely new experience for everyone; there was no way she could run in the fine Medieval slippers that Kieran had purchased for her so the only other alternative was her big, worn work boots, which weren’t exactly conducive to running.  Worse still, there were no work out clothes, gyms, or anything remotely similar. So she had borrowed a pair of Kieran’s linen breeches, the kind worn underneath leather breeches and under chain mail, and borrowed a big linen tunic from him, and had taken to running around the castle in this peculiar outfit with her work boots leading the way.

After the first time she had she had done it, Kieran had heard such an uproar from the castle that he had asked her not to do her peculiar ritual in public anymore. It was too unseemly and people simply didn’t understand her. So Rory had taken to running up and down the stairs in the keep, something that was quickly halted by Kieran when she accidentally slipped on one of the steps and nearly broke her neck.  He didn’t understand her need to work up a sweat and their discussion had turned rather heated, ending up with her in tears.

So he relented and told her she could run up and down the retractable wooden stairs on the exterior of the keep because they were less dangerous and also because they were shielded by a fore building. That way, no one could see his wife running up and down the steps like a madwoman. It had been a compromise for them both.  She still grinned when she thought of Kieran and Sean watching her run up and down the stairs with a strange look on their faces.  She knew they thought she was, indeed, mad.

Lost in thought about her attempts to work out and keep busy, Rory wandered over to Tevin’s crib and gazed down at the fat little cherub. He was such a good, beautiful baby and she leaned over, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders.  She smiled as she thought of him learning how to eat solid food; she had been feeding him porridge and mashed vegetables for the past few weeks and he was doing admirably well.  In fact, he would open his mouth to anything that came near it, beef included. Kieran let him suck on salty morsels of beef, gnawing on bones with his six new teeth. Rory hadn’t been entirely sure about the venture but Kieran could not have been prouder of the boy.  His little man was growing up.

Jeffrey was proud, too. The Hage patriarch seemed to have accepted Rory into the family when she delivered a massive healthy son.  Ever since Tevin’s birth, he had been respectful and almost affectionate with her. It was typical male Medieval behavior towards a woman and she knew it; once she had proven her worth, she was accepted into the family. Jeffrey’s kind behavior was odd and she wasn’t sure how to act towards him.  Since her father had never been a part of her life, Rory had never known a father-figure so the concept of a father-in-law was foreign. She was polite and kind, but she couldn’t seem to generate any real affection for the overbearing, arrogant man. 

Tevin was busy sleeping and she wandered away from the crib, her gaze falling over the ornate wardrobe in the room. Medieval cabinet making was something of an art form and the doors to the wardrobes were carved and lovely.  She walked past her wardrobe, running her hands over it, before moving to Kieran’s.  She opened up the doors, greeted with his messy pile of clothes, but she could smell him in the piles and she picked up a couple of garments, inhaling her husband’s distinctive scent.  It was enough to set her heart fluttering with longing and excitement.  His satchel, the one he had traveled with to the Holy Land and the one that contained the Crown of Thorns, caught her attention as it was half-buried at the bottom of Kieran’s laundry pile.   Rory couldn’t help but notice that it seemed rather flat.  Curious, she pulled it out from underneath the clothing.

The journal he kept was still in it.  Rory pulled it out, setting it carefully on the bed, as she dug her hand round in the satchel for the plain and simple box that contained the Crown of Thorns. But it clearly wasn’t in the satchel and, curious, Rory began to hunt around for it in the bottom of the cabinet.  A simple hunt began to turn into an earnest one and soon, all of Kieran’s clothes were on the floor in a big pile as she plowed through the cabinet in search of the sacred box.  When the entire cabinet was cleared out and nothing else remained, Rory struggled not to panic.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, looking around the room. “Where did he put it?”

She was muttering to herself, looking under the bed and peering into any corner or crevice she could think of.  Within little time she had pulled the entire room apart and her panic had reached epic proportions.  God help her, she knew where it was; if it wasn’t in the room, there was little doubt where it would be.  Kieran wouldn’t have let it out of his sight in any case. It therefore stood to reason that….

“He took it with him,” she almost cried with the realization. “Oh, dear God, he took it with him.  He must have.”

She did, in fact, shed a tear. It was more for the fact that she knew what he was going to do with it than for the fact that he had it and didn’t tell her he was taking it.  She knew, without a doubt, that he was going to present it as Richard’s ransom.  There was absolutely nothing else he could do with it and no other reason why he should take it.  He didn’t tell her because he didn’t want her to stop him.  She had asked him once not to pay for Richard’s ransom with his own money, thereby possibly altering the timeline and, consequently, history.  But they had never discussed offering the crown for the king instead. Never once.  She couldn’t believe he hadn’t discussed it with her.   She couldn’t believe that he felt the king’s return was more valuable that altering history and, consequently, her very life.  The thought was painful and heavy.

With tears in her eyes, she sank onto the bed, wondering how much time she was going to have left with him and with Tevin.  They had always discussed the greater purpose for them both having returned to Kieran’s time. Maybe Kieran thought that perhaps this situation, Richard’s kidnapping, had been that purpose. And maybe the crown, intended as a gift for the king once, would now buy his freedom. She could see his logic perfectly.

Trouble was, she didn’t know if that was the case.

***

Tevin was fussy.

He wasn’t exactly crying but he was making a sing-song screeching noise as Rory walked the great hall with him, bouncing him around and trying to distract him.  David followed her; wherever Tevin went, he usually followed like a magnet. David would make faces at Tevin, who would laugh momentarily before screeching again and trying to smack David in the face with his fat little hands.  Rory eventually handed the baby to David and the little boy walked very carefully with him, talking to him in his sweet little French voice. But the savage beastie would not be soothed so easily, so David finally sat on the floor and put Tevin between his legs, finding a piece of kindling and a small pebble to bat around.  That held Tevin’s attention while Rory stood a few feet away and supervised.

“He misses his father,” Jeffrey came up behind her, watching David play with Tevin. “He has not seen him in several days and feels his absence.”

Rory turned to Jeffrey. “I feel the same way,” she smiled wanly. “When do you think they’ll be back?”

Jeffrey shrugged, his clear brown eyes fixed on David and Tevin near the fire; he was almost back to his old self after his bout with death but it had definitely taken its toll; he was not particularly robust and slept a great deal.  He chose not to go to London with his sons because he knew that he could not keep up with them, which was something of a blow to his ego.

“It depends on many things,” he told her. “If the weather is fine, perhaps it will only take a month or so. If it is not, then it will take longer. And, of course, depending on what business Longchamp has for them, it could take several months.  We will not know until they are sighted on the horizon.”

It wasn’t much of a comforting answer; Rory sighed faintly and turned back to the boys.  Tevin was now trying to crawl away from David, screaming when the boy wouldn’t let him get away.  Rory moved away from Jeffrey and scooped up her son, kissing his fat little cheeks as he squirmed.

Margaret entered the hall with little Eleanor at that point; the little girl raced across the room to Rory and Tevin, grabbing at the baby’s fat feet and giggling when he kicked. Charlotte, Christian’s pale and lovely betrothed, entered shortly thereafter in the company of a few servants, taking a seat the table and waiting patiently for the meal.  Even though Rory and Margaret had made every effort to integrate her into life at Southwell, she was still standoffish and somewhat a loner, so they left her alone for the most part and hoped she would eventually warm up.