Medieval Ever After (155 page)

DEMETRIUS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“And now my
wife is angry with me.”  Demetrius gnashed his teeth, as his ire boiled over, and he wanted naught more than to punch Arucard in the nose.  “Well, thou hast achieved much this eventide.”

“Do not blame me for thy shortcomings.”  Arucard gazed at the fare on the table, which posed an impressive collection of dishes.  “Thither art brewets and a sambocade.  Thy bride hath cooked thy favorites.”

“And Isolde prepared blancmange, I suspect because thou art partial to it.”  Together, they claimed a chair, and Demetrius poured two tankards of ale.  As he studied the contents of his mug, he sighed.  “I am lost, brother.  I chose a particular way of life, and it hath been ripped from my grasp, and I know not whither I fit in this new world, much less how to deal with Athel.”

“Thou art a coward.”  Arucard bared his teeth, and Demetrius realized his friend spoke not in jest.  “Wherefore art thou afraid of a little woman?  She is not thine enemy; she is thy partner in all enterprises.  Indeed, she is thy greatest source of strength.  And thou hast taken the sacrament.  Thou hast given thy word to Our Lord—”

“I know no such commitment, as I have no faith.”  And thither it was, his primary problem, and relief flowed through him, as the incoming tide.  “Indeed, I am a heathen, a nonbeliever.  I am condemned.”

For a few minutes, Arucard just sat thither.

Demetrius had not planned to reveal his flaw in a fit of temper, but at last he could share his pain with someone.  And, at some point, he would have to apprise Athel of his situation prior to sealing their vows, as he could not, in good conscience, saddle her with a soulless husband.

“Wherefore hast thou made such a declaration?”  Arucard narrowed his stare.  “Have care with thy brash statements, as thou mayest not recover from them.”

“Wherefore should I bother, when God hath forsaken us?”  He growled with unveiled derision.  “We led right and true lives.  We honored the Creator, and wither was our savior when King Philip hunted us down and killed Randulf?  What of our fellow Templars?”

“And what of the men we killed in battle?”  Arucard lowered his chin and frowned.  “Did they deserve to die?”  He shook his head.  “Nay.  No more than Randulf, and thou art not the only one to grieve his demise.  But faith doth not guarantee life.  Rather, it ensures salvation in the hereafter, and that is what worries me for thee.  Thou must abide thy responsibilities, as thou hast given thy promise.”

“Is that how ye dost rationalize thy obligations?”    Demetrius had never comprehended how quickly Arucard accepted Isolde.  “His Majesty doth issue edicts, and thou dost bend to his will.”

“Is that what ye dost believe?”  Arucard opened and closed his mouth.  Then he wiped his face.  “Brother, I know well what happened that onerous day in La Rochelle, when we abandoned our homes and our families, that they might survive in our absence, so thou need not preach to me.  But I will never surrender my conviction, as no monarch or other estimable official will claim that part of me.”

“And what of thy forced nuptials?”  He pounded his clenched fist on the table.  “How dost thou reconcile a marriage with our Templar Code, which demands chastity?”

“Of the two and seventy tenets, thither is no greater love than service to thy brothers.”  With his brow a mass of furrows, Arucard toyed with the handle of his tankard.  “When the King demanded a union with Isolde, in an expression of fealty, else he would put ye to the block, I did not hesitate, as it is my solemn duty to protect ye, given my rank of Grand Prior.  Did ye think I left that function on France’s shores?  From my perspective, the wedding was naught but an extension of my original oath, and I saw no other choice but to honor the scripture.  Yet, I never expected to fall in love with Isolde, thus I am twice blessed.”

In that instant, the latch squeaked, and Isolde opened the bedroom door.  With evidence of her sorrow etched in her countenance, she peered at Arucard, and he extended an arm and flicked his fingers.  Without a word, she ran to him, and he drew her to his lap.

“I am sorry we quarreled.”  He kissed her.  “And I apologize for ruining thy savory meal.”

“It will keep.”  Isolde rested her forehead to his.  “I love ye.”

“And I love ye.”  With his napkin, Arucard dried her tears.  “Let us fill two trenchers and dine in our private chamber, as I would share ye with no one, my lady.”  As he cradled her head, Arucard glanced at Demetrius.  “In truth, thou art lost, brother.  But that dost not mean ye cannot find thy way home.  Go to Athelyna, and disclose thy troubles.  I wager she will help ye recover what ye hath misplaced, as women excel in such hopeless endeavors.”

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Stretched across the bed, Athel hugged a pillow and sobbed, because now she knew why Demetrius did not take her bride’s prize.  She long suspected thither was a problem, but she thought they moved past his initial diffidence, and it hurt her to discover otherwise.

“Athel, may I speak with ye?”  The edge of the mattress dipped, when Demetrius sat at her feet.

“Thither is naught to say.”  Indeed, the damage was done.  “If thou dost intend to send me to a convent, I will not protest.”

“Thou art going nowhere, unless ye dost wish it.”  Well, that mollified her, somewhat.  “But I would tell ye of my shame, and if thou dost desire to part company with me, I will allow it, and I shall face the consequences, on my own.”

“I will hear ye.”  To stifle a cry, she bit the fleshy underside of her thumb.

“I know not whither to start.”  He sighed.

“The beginning is best, so I have heard.”  As an anchor, she focused on a spot on the wall.  “But whatever thou dost feel compelled to divulge, I would have the whole of it, sir.  If this union is to succeed, I will abide no further secrets between us.  In that respect, I believe I have shown great restraint and patience, but we cannot forge a future built on a foundation of deceit.”

“Thou art wise, my lady.”  She almost screamed, when he grasped her ankle.  “Will ye look at me, as I am no coward, and I would speak directly to ye?”

“Just talk to me, my lord.”  If she could acquiesce without weeping, she would defer to his request.  But she had no fortitude, at that moment, so she kept her place.  “My ears work fine.”

“Athel, I do not want to hurt ye, but I carry a burden that might imperil thy salvation, if thou dost persist as my wife, thus I refused to consummate our vows.”  Her mind raced in all directions, as she tried to guess his revelation, and she braced for the worst.  “In these months since our ceremony, I have developed an attachment to ye, and I need to apprise ye of the dire circumstances, which may drive ye from my arms, and that is wherefore I have delayed.”

“So thou hast protected me?”  Indeed, he piqued her curiosity, and she wiped away her tears.  “Prithee, continue.”

“Thou dost know of my Templar affiliation and Randulf’s untimely death, but thou dost not know the personal toll it exacted on me, because I have hidden it.”  When he twined his fingers in hers, as she did when they rode, she squeezed his hand.  “I have not uttered a single devotional since that day.  I lost my faith.”

In that instant, Athel rolled over and met his tortured stare.  “What of thy credence?  Thou hast sworn an oath.”

“I abandoned it, as it abandoned me.”  Tears welled in his silvery gaze, and she sat upright.  “I am a hollow tree, my lady.  I am damned, and I would not surrender ye to the same fate.”

“How is that possible, when I know ye to be a man of honor?”  She shook her head against his statement.  “Thou art noble and pious, regardless of what ye doth claim, and thou wilt never convince me otherwise.”

“Mayhap it is thy influence ye dost perceive, because thou dost make me want to believe again.”  Demetrius blotted his cheeks with his sleeve and glanced at her with renewed interest, and she crawled to him.  As he cupped her chin, he smiled.  “Thou dost give me hope, Athel.  But I fear without ye I am condemned.”

“Did I not promise that I would never leave ye?”  Bending her legs, she perched on her feet and slipped her arms about his shoulders.  “I am thine, my lord.  And if necessary, I will pray for both of us, but I will not relent.  Yea, I will never renounce ye.  Thou art my husband, and I am thy wife, per the sacrament.  And when thou art ready to claim what is thine, by law and the commitment we swore before the archbishop, thou shalt tell me, as I will not force ye.”

“In truth, I am more than willing to seal our union, and I have given it a great deal of thought.”  At his declaration, her heart sang, and she kissed him.  “Ah, that is my tempting lady.”

“So when shall it be, my wayward husband?”  In that instant, in that very slim margin of time, Athelyna understood what Isolde meant, regarding the brooch and its mystical powers.  Indeed, Athel required no piece of jewelry to discern that Demetrius was her one true knight, as she coveted the conviction of her conclusion.  “If thou art amenable, I shall indulge thee, tonight.”

“Actually, I propose another option, which bodes well for our relationship.”  He chuckled when she pouted.  “Given tomorrow is St. Valentine’s Day, and the bird shall choose its mate, I think it a good omen and the perfect opportunity to complete what we started in December, on the steps of the Chapter House.”

“
Hallelujah
.”  Again, she pressed her lips to his.  “Shall I collect some food from Arucard and Isolde’s solar, or should I not disturb them?”

“They are otherwise occupied.”  With a grin, he chuckled.  “So I shall fetch our meals, and thou should get some sleep, as I can guarantee ye will need the rest.”

DEMETRIUS

CHAPTER TWELVE

Deep in the
bowels of Chichester Castle, Demetrius unlocked a heavy gate and carried a torch into the former dungeon.  Months after the Brethren took possession of the ancient residence, they cleaned out the underground prison and turned it into a holding cell for a vast amount of the Templar treasure they brought from France.

After Isolde revealed that Athelyna had sewn a burgundy gown for the St. Valentine’s festival, he commissioned Margery to line the ermine cloak and knew precisely what he wanted to give his wife for the special occasion.  He dug through two chests overflowing with jewels until the third yielded the item he sought, and he returned to the ground floor.

When he walked into his solar, he noted the new outwear draped on the back of a chair, and he clucked his tongue.  Then he strutted to the inner portal and knocked on the door.  “Athel, art thou ready for the festival?”