Kitabı oku: «Her Knight Protector», sayfa 2
Katherine had thought she heard something outside their pavilion, but when she looked there had been no one close by. At first she had welcomed her father’s excitement, but as he began to tell her more she had been aware of a coldness at the nape of her neck.
‘But do we have the right to sell it, Father?’ Katherine asked when her father finished speaking and she learned what the treasure was. ‘It is a holy thing and should surely be given to the church freely.’
‘You shame me, daughter,’ he had confessed, much struck by her words. ‘My first thought was for its worth—but you remind me that greed is unworthy. It was you I thought of, Kate. You would have had a splendid dowry and I would have been able to restore Grunwald.’
‘Perhaps you will find something else, Father. Some treasure that does not have such importance to our faith.’ Katherine almost wished she had not spoken her thoughts for he looked so weary, so disappointed. She knew that the gold he might have earned would have brought ease and comfort to his declining years. ‘I would not have you do something unworthy, something you might regret. As for myself, I have no wish for a great dowry. If ever I married, it would be to a man who would have me for myself, not my fortune.’
‘Your mother should have had a fortune but she was cheated of it by her brother,’ the Baron said and sighed. ‘I wed her because I loved her, Kate, but the money would have stopped our home from crumbling about us.’ Katherine sighed and shook her head over the memory and her father’s sadness. It was a sorrow he had carried for years. ‘But you are right, my daughter. No man hath the right to sell such a thing. I am privileged to be its custodian until I can give it to the person most fitted to be a true guardian.’
Katherine’s father had conquered his greed, but had soon learned to his cost that others were not prepared to accept that his treasure was not for sale.
She had never known how Baron Hubert of Ravenshurst had discovered that her father had the precious treasure but, as they began the long journey that would take them home, they had become aware that they were being followed.
At first Baron Grunwald had refused to believe that anyone could know that he had discovered the secret that men had been searching for since our Lord’s crucifixion.
‘I have told no one but you, Kate. And I know you would never have breathed a word outside our tent.’
‘You know I would not, Father—but the Lord Hubert’s men have been following us since we left Cyprus.’
‘He cannot know…’ Katherine’s father had shaken his head anxiously. It was impossible for the English knight to know what he carried, and yet there was little doubt that his ship had followed close on the heels of theirs. And now that they had landed in Italy, the Baron’s men were again following them, discreetly and from a distance, but always there. ‘It is impossible, Kate. We make something of what can only be coincidence.’
Yet the next morning they had had a visit from Hubert of Ravenshurst. At first he had been charming, offering to buy the treasure for a huge amount of gold. Had they accepted his offer, it would have made them rich, but Katherine’s father had denied all knowledge of the object the English knight sought.
‘It is better to pretend to know nothing,’ he’d told her after their visitor had departed. The Lord Hubert had made no threats, but his manner had shown them that he was angry at being refused. ‘Remember that if you should become the custodian of our treasure, Kate.’
‘What can you mean?’ Katherine’s eyes widened in fear. ‘You are the custodian, Father.’
‘If something were to happen to me, you must go to your uncle. You know that he hath been the steward of Grunwald in my absence. If I die, he will become the rightful owner. You will have nothing, Kate, but he will take you in for my sake. Besides, there is no one else you can trust.’
‘I pray you will not speak of dying! I would rather you gave the…treasure to the Lord of Ravenshurst.’
‘Never!’ Her father’s eyes had glinted with unaccustomed anger. ‘I would rather die than give that devil such a precious thing, Kate. His very touch would despoil it. No, it must go to the church, as you said, for all men to see and revere.’
‘Oh, Father…’ She had looked at him helplessly. Was it pride that made him speak so foolishly?
She wished that she had argued further. She had been against selling the treasure, but, realising the threat to her father, she would have done anything to be rid of it. Anything except hurt him.
Now she wished that she had thrown his precious treasure into the river, but it was too late. Her father was dead and the burden had passed to her, for it was a burden. She knew that she could not simply give it up. Her father had made her promise the day he placed it in her care that she would do all she could to see that it was taken to a place of safety. She must carry on as he would have wished, no matter her own feelings.
Maria knew only that she carried something precious on her person. Katherine could not burden her with the whole truth. If she had been able to reconcile her conscience, she might have rid herself of it, for her father’s death had made it hateful to her, yet she knew deep within herself that she could not do such a wicked thing.
What she carried belonged to the whole of Christendom. It must be placed in a great church, somewhere worthy of its significance where it could be seen and appreciated by those who needed it most. Her father had spoken of approaching the Pope himself. They had been so close to achieving what they set out to do, but now her father was dead and she did not believe that the Pope would listen to her. She would probably not be granted an audience and she would share her secret with no other, for even amongst the priests and cardinals there was greed and corruption.
Her father had bid her go home if he died, and in her troubled mind she saw it as the solution to her problem. Somehow she must get her sacred trust home to France. Once she was at her uncle’s manor in France, she would be able to decide what must be the fate of this precious thing. Her uncle was Baron Grunwald now. Surely he would know what to do? Yes, she must see the cup safe before she thought of her own future.
What were a few small lies in such a cause?
Katherine’s thoughts turned towards the knight with the merry blue eyes, remembering the way her heart had raced when he opened them to look at her. How fair he was to look upon! No man had ever caused her to feel that way before and she smiled at her own foolishness. To let herself dream of this man would be folly indeed. He had thought her a child, and that she had not been in many years. Not since that terrible night at Acre, when she had seen people she loved as friends hounded from their homes and killed like rats in the street.
Her father had told her that such things happened in war, that even the best of men might behave badly when the blood-lust was raised in him, and she knew that what the knights did that day was a part of war. Yet it had haunted her dreams for months and even now she was not completely free of the memory.
Because of that memory, she was vaguely uneasy about telling the whole of her story to the knight who had charged so valiantly to her rescue. She was grateful for what he had done for her, but she dare not trust him with the complete truth.
Something of the importance and value she carried might turn the minds of even the most honourable of men.
Chapter Two
A lain was strangely restless as he woke with the dawn. He had not slept well and it was not simply that both he and Bryne had sensed they were being followed the previous day. As yet there had been mere glimpses of a horse and rider in the distance. At times they had travelled through steep valleys hemmed in by towering hills to either side, at others their way lay through dense woods or past small villages, where they bought food. At no time had the secret watchers attempted to come closer—but why were they there? Perhaps more importantly, what did they want?
The previous night they had camped close to a river. Alain was thoughtful as he walked down to a secluded spot where he intended to bathe. A brief swim in its cool waters would help to clear his mind and cleanse his body. He liked to bathe more often than was the custom in England, a habit he had learned from Arab friends in Palestine. For, despite his desire to free the Holy City from Saladin, he had found it possible to make friends with men of all faiths and nationalities. Indeed, he had found the Arab culture of peace and learning pleasant, and, had it not been for his strong faith, might have stayed happily amongst them.
He was feeling out of sorts with himself this morning as he flexed his muscles, easing off the ache of lying on the hard ground, though he did not know why. But perhaps the act of bathing would relieve the tension that had built in him of late, the feeling that he was missing something, that his life had no real purpose.
‘You are a fool, Alain de Banewulf,’ he told himself with a wry smile as he walked to the nearby river. ‘What is it that you want of life? Why can you never be satisfied?’
The answer was something that still eluded him, as it had for years past. It was as if he searched for something that might never be his, a sense of fulfilment and of peace.
Stripping off his clothes, which were the simple tunic and close-fitting hose of a soldier, and did not include the suit of chain-mail he wore for battle, Alain plunged into the river. He came up gasping and gave a shout of pleasure. The water was cold, but wonderful. How good it was to feel young and alive! His mood was shaken off and he was glad that he had chosen to slip away for these private moments.
He swam across the river with quick, powerful strokes, enjoying the energy that surged through him, then turned over on to his back, floating lazily as he let himself think about the things that had played on his mind during the night.
What was the Lady Katherine of Grunwald up to? And what secret was she hiding? He had thought Bryne too suspicious at the start, but after two days in the lady’s company he had changed his mind. For certain she had something on her mind—something she did not wish to share with her companions.
Hearing the sound of someone splashing in the water a little further downstream, Alain turned his head to look for the source. Now he could hear laughter. Evidently, someone was enjoying the water as much as he was.
He could hear voices calling to one another—the Lady Katherine and the dragon, if he were not mistaken. His keen senses told him that they were just past the bend in the riverbank, hidden from his view by the fronds of a weeping tree.
‘You should not take the risk, my lady.’
‘I am safe enough, Maria. Sir Alain is an honourable knight and his men would not dare to anger him. Besides, I needed to bathe. I felt so dirty.’
‘Well, you are safe enough with me to watch over you, for I would kill any man who dared to spy on you.’
Alain smiled to himself, amused by the force of this avowal. He would put nothing past the dragon. His head had been tender for some hours after the last time she’d hit him and he would not want to risk it again.
He would not frighten them, he decided, and swam carefully back to the bank, pulling on his clothes quickly as he felt the chill of the early morning air. He was just fastening his low-slung sword belt when he heard the scream.
Katherine was in trouble! He ran towards the sound and then stopped in surprise as he saw something totally unexpected. A woman was struggling with two ruffians, but it was not Katherine. This woman was taller, older, more voluptuous and very beautiful with long blonde hair tumbling down her back.
Alain did not stop to consider. Drawing his sword, he gave a roar that had oft sent shivers running through Saladin’s warriors. As he descended on the three, the men gave him a startled glance and let go of the woman. They then ran off towards a group of three horses and, seizing the bridles of two, mounted and rode off into the woods.
The woman looked at Alain, gave a cry and swooned as he reached her. Sheathing his sword, he knelt beside her on the dry earth and laid his head against her breast, listening for her heartbeat. Thank God she lived! Even as her eyelids fluttered open, Alain felt a heavy blow across his shoulders from behind. It sent him reeling and he lay winded for a moment, then as he pushed himself over on to his back and looked up, he saw Maria standing over him, moneybag in hand.
‘You should be shamed to treat a lady so!’ she cried, her eyes flashing with righteous fury.
‘You hit me again!’ Alain said and sat up. ‘Be damned to you, woman! You are too hasty with that weapon of yours. I was merely trying to decide if the lady was breathing.’
The beauty was sitting up. She looked far from pleased as she stared at Maria, her full red lips forming a sulky pout.
‘Foolish wretch!’ she cried, clearly none the worse for her adventure. ‘This brave knight hath rescued me from those rogues who were trying to abduct me. You might have killed him.’
‘Nay, no matter,’ Alain said. For some reason the obvious hostility between the two women made him want to laugh out loud. Maria’s look was enough to frighten the dead and the other’s was…puzzling. He would swear that she had been thwarted in some way. He was on his feet now, offering his hand to the damsel so recently in distress and now evidently recovered. ‘You must forgive her. Maria thought she was protecting you from my wicked intent—is that not so, Maria?’
He got nothing but a scowl from the dragon, but the beauty accepted his hand gratefully, rising a little unsteadily and giving a sigh. For a moment she swayed as though she might swoon and then she smiled. Alain felt breathless of a sudden. He could not recall ever having seen such a smile or eyes that shade—they were such a deep blue that they might almost have been the colour of violets. He knew a fleeting but urgent desire to lie with her.
‘I am the Lady Celestine De Charlemagne,’ she said, her fingers trembling in his. ‘My husband was Baron De Charlemagne…’ A deep sigh escaped her soft red lips, a single tear seeming to escape from the corner of her eye. ‘My lord was killed at Acre and many of his people with him. I— I am in some trouble, sir. For I have no one to protect me, though I have family who would take me in if I could but reach France.’
‘Celestine…is that truly you?’ Alain turned his head as he heard another voice and saw that Katherine had joined them. He noticed that her hair was wet, as was her tunic, which clung to her and revealed the budding curves of her young body, curves that had previously been hidden from his gaze. For the first time he was aware of her as a woman. Bryne had been right; she was not a child despite her appearance. But she was looking at the Lady of Charlemagne and she did not seem pleased to see her. ‘What are you doing here? I believed you had accepted the protection of—of the Lord Hubert of Ravenshurst.’
‘Katherine!’ Celestine gave a little scream of delight and ran to her at once. ‘My dear child. How are you? Everyone thought you dead. We heard of your poor father’s tragic demise and believed…but I am so pleased to see you.’
‘Celestine?’ Katherine gave her an uncertain look. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I was forced to escape,’ Celestine said and bit her full bottom lip. ‘I must tell you that I was terribly deceived in Ravenshurst. He can be charming, but I vow he is an evil man. I have heard such things… No! I must not speak of it, for if he knew I had heard his secrets he would kill me. Pray do not ask me, Katherine, for I cannot bring myself to think of such things.’
Katherine was silent. Celestine had once been her friend, for they had worked together to tend the wounded during the terrible siege of Acre. Then, when Celestine had chosen to become the Lord Hubert’s companion, she had wondered if it was from her that he had learned of her father’s treasure. She could not be certain that Celestine had known, but she believed that it was possible. Celestine may have heard her father speaking to her or even caught a sight of his writings concerning his discovery, for they had often been left lying on his couch in their pavilion, and the older woman, being a trusted friend, had come and gone as she pleased.
‘How did you know where we were?’ Katherine could hear the suspicion in her own voice and regretted it as she saw Sir Alain give her a questing look.
‘Come, my lady,’ he chided softly. ‘This lady is in some distress, as you were when I rescued you. The least you may do is to take her to our camp and make sure that she has whatever she needs for her comfort.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Katherine said, her cheeks warm. He thought her unkind and harsh, but he could not know her reasons—nor could she tell him. She bit her lip and looked at Celestine once more. ‘You have no baggage with you?’
‘Only a few items I was able to conceal on my person,’ Celestine said. ‘For I should not have been allowed to leave the Baron’s camp had he known what I meant to do. You must not fear me, Katherine. I am not your enemy, though I know Ravenshurst may have been your father’s. I believe there was some quarrel between them, though I do not know the truth of it.’
Katherine nodded, but made no reply. It was difficult to judge whether she ought to trust Celestine or not. What she said might be true, yet there was something false about her. However, since she was here, and Sir Alain had clearly decided to take her under his protection, there was little she could do other than accept her. At least, she must appear to do so, though she would remain wary.
Sir Alain was leading Celestine’s horse back to camp, leaving her to bring her erstwhile friend. Katherine noticed that a small leather pouch was slung from the horn of the saddle. Obviously Celestine had not left the Baron’s camp empty-handed. She must have planned her escape carefully—but that did not make her guilty of treachery. Besides, how could she have known where to look for Katherine?
‘Where are you going?’ Katherine asked as she turned to look at Celestine. She wondered uneasily if some of her hostility towards the other woman was because of the way Sir Alain had been staring at her. He’d looked as if he were mesmerised, as if he had been struck by love for Celestine—an arrow from the gods of ancient mythology, perhaps?
Surely she was not jealous? Katherine looked into her heart. Celestine was very beautiful. Even Katherine’s father had remarked on it. He had found her charming, but Katherine had not minded their friendship. At one time she had hoped that they might make a match of it, that her father might find happiness with a second wife, but then Celestine had become the Lord Hubert’s companion. Some might call her his mistress, though Katherine’s father had preferred to think otherwise.
‘Celestine would not be so foolish. The Baron is not a man to be trusted, Katherine. Celestine has been left alone in a strange land. She has merely accepted his offer to be her escort on the journey home.’
That had been in Cyprus, before they had sailed for the shores of Italy. It had not surprised Baron Grunwald at first that the English lord had followed them, for they were all bound in the same direction—but then in Italy had come the offer to buy his treasure and his death had swiftly followed his refusal.
‘I hope to find a ship to carry me back to France,’ Celestine told her now in answer to her question. ‘I have dower lands there, Katherine, for my husband settled them on me when we married. Where will you go now that your poor father is gone?’
Tears stood in those wonderful eyes and she looked genuinely upset. Katherine’s suspicion eased a little. Perhaps she had misjudged the other woman. Indeed, perhaps she was a little jealous. It was unkind of her to harbour such thoughts against Celestine.
‘Why did you leave us to join Baron Ravenshurst?’ asked Katherine, thinking it best to have the matter straight between them.
‘I have asked myself that question many times,’ Celestine replied and sighed. She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘I fear I am a foolish woman and his smiles and promises turned my head. A woman in my position must marry, Katherine. I could reside quietly on my own lands for a time, but there would always be men who sought to wed me for what I might bring them. I believed Hubert to be the kind of man with whom I might find content—but it was not so. All men are greedy, but some have a code of honour by which they live. I fear Baron Hubert of Ravenshurst is not one of them. He is ruthless and cruel and I was unhappy in his company.’
‘Do you believe all men greedy?’ Katherine frowned. ‘My father was not—and nor, I think, is Sir Alain.’
‘I spoke as a general rule. You are innocent, Katherine, and have truly known only your father. Therefore you cannot judge. I have lived amongst men and know more of their true natures. Most are greedy, ambitious fools.’
Her tone and the way her mouth had gone hard and sour shocked Katherine. She was not such an innocent that she did not know such men existed; indeed, she had met several of that ilk on her travels with her father. She had also met good honest men, such as Sir Alain and Sir Bryne. She believed both were generous, decent men of honour. Sir Alain’s was the sweeter nature, though she had noticed that his commands were instantly obeyed, which might mean that he could be very different if he chose. However, she did not think him either greedy or foolish, though perhaps he, like many other men, was blinded by Celestine’s beauty. They did not see beyond her charming smile to the devious nature that lay beneath.
‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said slowly. She would keep her thoughts to herself, just as she would reserve judgement on Celestine for the moment.
‘But you are right to think Sir Alain better than most,’ Celestine said with a thoughtful glance at her. ‘I am sure we can trust him to get us safely to the ship. But you did not answer my question, Katherine. Where will you go when we reach France?’
‘To my uncle. He is the Baron now, but he will do his duty by me.’ Her eyes clouded with grief too recent to have become muted. She did not dislike her uncle, but he was a gruff, blunt man with none of her father’s sensibilities. She would find it hard to live under his roof, but she had no choice. She had no other family and no dowry. ‘There is nowhere else for me.’
‘But of course there is,’ Celestine said and smiled at her. ‘If you chose, you could come and live with me as my friend and dearest companion. No, do not refuse me now, sweet Katherine. We have time enough ahead of us and you may tell me when we reach France.’
Katherine smiled, but made no answer. Celestine seemed genuinely to want to help her, but somehow she could not quite believe in her.
‘You begin to make a habit of rescuing damsels,’ Bryne said with a wry smile. He glanced towards the two younger ladies, who were walking together in the morning sunlight. ‘But this one is undoubtedly beautiful.’
‘What do you think of her story?’ Alain asked and smiled for Celestine’s beauty was overwhelming. ‘Would you say she is telling us the truth—or doth the mystery deepen?’
‘It seems a little odd that the ladies know each other,’ Bryne said. ‘But as yet I have not had the opportunity to observe the Lady Celestine.’
‘And Katherine?’ Alain’s brow wrinkled in thought. His first sight of Celestine had taken his breath away and yet somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind instinct was telling him to be watchful. ‘Is she the key to this affair, think you?’
‘I have suspected something from the beginning, as you know,’ Bryne said. ‘There is something she is concealing, some secret she does not confide in us. I would swear it. Yet I do not think there is malice in her. As for the other one…’ he shook his head ‘… I shall reserve judgement. We are but two hours from Rome, and may consider our duty done once there.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Alain replied but looked uncertain. ‘Yet I would not have harm come to her…’
‘Of whom do you speak?’ Bryne asked and then smiled as he watched the direction of his friend’s gaze, believing he knew. So the wind blew in that quarter, did it? Well, the woman was certainly beautiful, though not to his own taste. ‘You think to see them on their way to France? Or is there something more on your mind?’
‘I should feel happier if certain things were made plainer,’ Alain replied. ‘But we shall see what the ladies have to say when we reach Rome itself, Bryne.’
Alain was thoughtful after he left his friend. It could surely not be mere coincidence that Celestine had ridden their way. And if it had been planned…the lady would bear a little careful watching.
It was not Katherine’s first visit to Rome. She and her father had stopped for a few weeks in the beautiful city on their outward journey to the Holy Land, visiting some of the ancient sites of interest. They had walked along the Via Appia and by the banks of the River Tiber, which was the very reason for the city’s existence.
‘It was here that Nero sent the early Christian martyrs to their deaths,’ Katherine’s father had told her as they gazed at the stone arches of the Colosseum. ‘Just think, some of those men that died here may have followed in Christ’s footsteps when he carried his Cross in Jersualem.’
Now she returned alone. Katherine’s heart ached for her loss. Her father had been a man of great learning, highly respected amongst those who knew him, but a dreamer and hardly suited for a long pilgrimage. Even before he was killed he had developed a bad cough, and she knew he had feared for her future, often bewailing the fact that he had no fortune to leave her.
‘I do not know what will become of you, Kate,’ he had told her once when in a reflective mood. ‘I have neglected my duty, been a bad father to you.’
‘You have been the best of fathers,’ she had replied and kissed him fondly. Indeed, she would not have changed her life these past years, but she longed for him now, for his wisdom to guide her. ‘What should I do, Father?’ she asked softly, wishing that he stood beside her. ‘Should I seek an audience with the Holy Father? What am I to do for the best?’
Now they were approaching the waterfront, where the ships from many countries often rode at anchor in the sunshine. There were but three in port that day, and Sir Alain had told the ladies that he would make inquiries as to their suitability, arranging passage on their behalf if possible.
Katherine stood on the quayside, gazing out over the water. The last time she had stood here was with her father. She had been but eleven years, still suffering from the loss of her mother and feeling the responsibility of becoming her father’s companion. She had known that he needed her, for her mother had told her to care for him as he was often too lost in his studies to remember to eat. A heavy responsibility indeed for a child, but one she had accepted willingly out of her love. The prospect of such a long journey had seemed exciting to her then, an adventure to be shared with the person she loved most in the world. And so it had proved despite the hardships, danger and suffering she had witnessed at firsthand.
On that day so many years ago, the port had been busy with many ships loading and unloading their cargoes, but on this day it was quiet with only a few people walking or standing in conversation. Turning her head to look about her, Katherine saw that Celestine had been speaking earnestly to a man. Realising she was observed, she left him and walked towards Katherine. The man seemed to look hard in Katherine’s direction for a moment before turning away.
What had they been talking about? And why had the man, who was a stranger to Katherine, been so interested in her?
‘It seems there are no ships bound for France at the moment,’ Celestine said when she came up to Katherine. ‘One of those you see is bound for Cyprus, another for the shores of Byzantium and the other for England. A French ship may not be here for some weeks to come.’
‘I do not want to linger here so long,’ Katherine said anxiously. ‘Our money will dwindle and may not then be enough for our passage to France.’ In fact, she had wondered if her small purse would see them safely home. Most of their goods had been lost when her father was attacked and killed, supposedly by brigands.
‘Here comes Sir Alain now,’ Celestine said. ‘We may hear what he has to say.’
‘I fear the news is not what you would wish to hear,’ Alain told them as their anxious eyes beseeched him for the news he could not give. ‘A French ship is not expected for some time. There was a terrible storm last month and two French merchant vessels were lost at sea. The English ship you see anchored cannot sail for another week at least. It, too, was caught in the storm, and though it managed to limp to port it has sustained damage that has not yet been repaired.’
‘Then we have no choice but to remain,’ Celestine said and there was a gleam of something that might have been satisfaction in her eyes. ‘Do not fear, Katherine. I have sufficient money for the three of us. I shall take lodgings and—’
‘No need for that,’ Alain assured them at once. ‘Bryne has friends here and we have all been invited to make use of the Villa Maderno, which lies in the hills just above us. Bryne has gone on ahead to make sure that everything is in readiness for our arrival.’
