The Crusader's Kiss

by Claire Delacroix

  The priest straightened. “I think you should take this bread.”

  “What of your poor?”

  “There are few of them in these days, not because Haynesdale prospers but because there are so few in the village at all. They will not miss it.”

  “I think it a foul thing for a guest to cheat his host’s villagers.”

  The priest’s eyes flashed and his lips tightened. Duncan was intrigued by this glimpse of his frustration. The other man leaned closer, his gaze boring into Duncan’s. “I advise you, my son, to take the bread.” He bit off each word and Duncan could not account for his manner.

  He took the sack cautiously. The bulk in it was about the size of two round loaves, put base to base. The weight of it, though, was all wrong. This could not be bread alone. Duncan frowned but the priest smiled with a strange confidence.

  “I believe you will find it a most welcome souvenir,” he said. “Though I would suggest you not mention it to anyone else. As you say, the baron might not approve of my generosity in this matter.” The priest glanced down at the sword then turned his back upon Duncan. He walked slowly back to the portal, gave Duncan a parting glance, then peered into the bailey before he left the stables.

  Duncan could not find it within himself to strike down an unarmed priest.

  And he was glad of it. For when he opened the sack, he found not two loaves of bead, but the reliquary, shining gold in the base of the sack.

  Duncan swore softly in his amazement.

  Then he crossed himself and said a prayer of thanks before rousing Fergus. They had to depart before the loss was discovered!

  * * *

  Anna found Father Ignatius in the chapel, just as Leila had said she would. They exchanged a nod and he turned his back to the door, kneeling to pray. Anna crossed herself and knelt by his side, wondering what he would say to her.

  She felt as if she had been summoned.

  After a few moments, presumably time granted for her to pray, he murmured softly to her. “You ride in uncommon company, Anna.”

  “Aye, Father.”

  “And your husband…”

  “Is not my husband in truth.” Anna spared a quick glance over her shoulder but the door to the chapel was still closed. “Percy and I robbed his company yesterday morn. We thought they would have coin or food, but—”

  “They carried the reliquary.”

  “Apparently so. I did not see it. Percy and I divided our paths, as always we do, and the knight who pretends to be my spouse pursued and caught me. We were arguing when we heard Percy shout for aid, then followed to see him brought here. The scheme was that of the knight, to retrieve both Percy and reliquary.”

  “I see.”

  “Thank you for the key, Father.”

  “Percy told me much of the tale himself last night in the dungeon. I assume the knight will retrieve him?”

  “He does so now.” Anna clutched the priest’s arm. “What of the treasure? We have a wager and I would see both prizes retrieved.”

  “You trust this knight,” Father Ignatius observed. “Despite…”

  “I believe he is different, Father. He has treated me well thus far.” Anna took a quick breath. “But I do not see how the reliquary can be reclaimed.”

  “It is done, Anna.”

  “Father! If you aid in our quest, you will be caught.” She clutched his arm. “If it is missing, they will know you were the culprit. I would not see you punished…”

  “Do not fear as much, my child.” The priest patted her hand. “I will not linger to be caught.”

  “But your part will be discovered! They will hunt you.”

  “And so they might.” His expression filled with new resolve. “It is time I tend to my flock in the forest. You will leave by one gate and I will leave by the other.”

  Anna stared at the priest but there was no doubting his conviction.

  And she knew those who had taken refuge in the forest would welcome him gladly.

  “There is a trail four paces to the right of the road,” Anna advised in a whisper. “Await us at the large crooked elm. It grows in the midst of the trail. You cannot miss it.”

  He kissed her brow, just as the door was opened behind them. “Bless you, my child. May you bear many sons to your lord husband and walk in the way of the Lord for all your days and nights.”

  “Then you are ready to break your fast,” Sir Royce said. “Good morrow to you, Father.” He bowed and Anna went to his side with no small trepidation. “I am informed that your party will ride out early this day, in order to reach Carlisle with all speed. I am sorry that you cannot linger for mass, but at least, you have been blessed.”

  “Aye, sir, I have been indeed,” Anna said, then put her hand in his elbow.

  “Then come to the board with me, I beg of you. We have fresh bread and fresh honey this morn.”

  “How kind you are, sir. I thank you for your generosity.”

  Royce chattered to her as they walked, his fingers stroking the back of her hand as if she were a pet. Anna set her teeth, kept her head down, and struggled to be polite.

  The sooner they were away from this hall, the better, in her view.

  * * *

  Bartholomew had escorted Anna to the chapel and closed the door behind her. There was no one afoot in the bailey, though he could hear sounds of activity in the stables. Fergus laughed and Duncan grumbled, Hamish protested, and Timothy must be brushing Zephyr.

  Gaultier, the Captain of the Guards, was walking the curtain wall, the other knights of the household following closely behind him as he inspected the ramparts. They were occupied, but only for a short time.

  He had but moments to use the key.

  Bartholomew sauntered across the bailey as if he had naught but time to spare and slipped into the hall. He quickened his pace then. The kitchens were busy, for he could hear preparations being made for the morning meal, and there were maids sweeping the rushes in the hall. No fires had been lit there as yet, and he stepped back as a maid hastened up the stairs with a bucket of steaming water.

  For Marie? Or for Royce? Either of them might appear at any time.

  Bartholomew hastened to the portal to the dungeon, looked up and down the corridor, then unlocked the door. He looked down into the darkness. “Percy?” he whispered.

  “I will not go quietly to die!” the boy wailed.

  “You will be quiet if you mean to live,” Bartholomew retorted. “Anna bids you heed me.”

  “Anna?” Hope mingled with skepticism in the boy’s voice.

  Bartholomew could discern the pale orb of the boy’s face in the darkness below.

  “Anna.” Bartholomew tossed the rope ladder down the hole. “Climb quickly!”

  The boy needed little encouragement to do as much and scrambled up to Bartholomew’s side. Bartholomew wrapped him quickly in his cloak, folding him against his chest beneath the wool. The boy had a fearsome smell, but there was little to be done about that. He closed the trap door and locked it, then stood and held his cloak about himself.

  “Be still and be quiet,” he advised sternly and felt Percy nod.

  Again he strolled into the bailey, moseying toward the stables. No one took any notice of him, until he stepped into the stables.

  Fergus turned with a grimace. “Where have you been sleeping?” he demanded, then Bartholomew opened his cloak to reveal his burden. “The thief!”

  Percy’s eyes rounded. “The party of knights!” He punched Bartholomew in the stomach and made to flee. “Anna never gave you a message for me!” Duncan shut the door and leaned against it, blocking the boy’s passage. Percy spun in place, eyeing the three knights as if he would fight them all.

  “Anna is with us,” Bartholomew said. “We mean to see you returned to the forest, hale and whole.”

  “Why?” Percy demanded, his suspicion clear.

  “We needed Anna’s help to retrieve what we value, and her price was your rescue,” Bartholomew explained.


  Instead of being reassured, the boy caught his breath in alarm. “She did not come into the keep, did she?”

  Bartholomew wondered at his concern. “She did, in disguise, and I will thank you not to reveal her.”

  “Not I!” declared Percy. His mouth took a grim line. “I would not put her in peril again.” He strode to Bartholomew and shook a fist at him. “And if you have done her injury, I shall see her avenged.”

  “The lady has a champion,” Fergus said with amusement. The boy glared at him.

  “They have endured much, I believe,” Bartholomew said. He crouched down before the boy. “We mean to garb you as a squire and hide you within our company. It is the best way to see you freed of this place, but the scheme will only succeed if you cooperate.”

  Percy looked between them again with hostility. “If I see Anna abused, I owe you naught.”

  “Fair enough,” Bartholomew said and stood. “I think we should break our fast.”

  “Not all at once, lad,” Duncan said. “You go first. We shall tend to the boy.”

  Bartholomew thought he might collect Anna from the chapel, but found that portal locked. He crossed the bailey to the keep and opened the portal there, blinking at the sudden darkness.

  “How strange that you wrapped yourself tightly against the cold just moments ago,” Marie said softly. “Yet now you have abandoned your cloak completely.”

  Bartholomew froze, realizing too late that he had left his cloak in the stable. He saw Marie sidle toward him from the bottom of the stairs, a knowing smile upon her lips. She paused before him and sniffed.

  “And even more curious, you have a definite scent of dungeon, though I know for a fact that you slumbered in a fine bed with your lady wife.” Her fingertip landed on his chest. “Surely, you do not deceive your host, sir?”

  “Surely I do not. I was cold but am so no longer.”

  “You carried a filthy child but do so no longer,” she corrected. Her hand flattened against his chest and eased to his shoulder. “Such a fine man.” She took a deep breath, then met his gaze. “You may have been exhausted last night by your lady’s passion, or you may have been avoiding my offer,” she purred, her gaze unswerving. “But now I believe we can negotiate.”

  “I do not understand your meaning,” Bartholomew lied. “You are right about the scent. I should change my chemise before my baggage is all packed.” He made to move past her, but Marie stepped into his path again.

  “You will not leave here with that baggage unless I contrive it to be so,” she whispered. “And I will not contrive it to be so unless you pledge to meet me four days hence and give me what I desire.”

  The intent in her eyes could not be doubted. She would reveal them to Royce, without a moment’s hesitation. If Percy was found, they doubtless would be searched completely, and the reliquary would be found. Anna might be identified and the priest might be cast into peril.

  They could all end their days in Haynesdale’s dungeon.

  Bartholomew bowed his head as he surrendered. He believed her request was wrong, but maybe some other course would become clear to him. If they did not escape from Haynesdale with Percy and the reliquary, there would be no future for any of them.

  “Where?” he asked quietly and the lady smiled in her triumph.

  “The mill,” she decreed, much to Bartholomew’s confusion. There was no mill, not that he could see. But he had no chance to ask, for the others joined them in that moment.

  He supposed he should be relieved that he could not keep such a promise to the lady, not if he could not find her assignation, but in truth, it troubled him to have given his vow when he could not fulfill it.

  * * *

  “All will be well, lad, so long as you keep your head down,” the older Scotsman advised Percy in an undertone. There were three knights, including two Templars, and four squires loading the horses and checking their trap. Percy did not know whether the Scotsman was knight, Templar or man-at-arms. He was gruff, to be sure. It was early in the morning, and Percy’s stomach was growling because he had not eaten much since the previous morning.

  Father Ignatius had not been allowed to bring him food the night before.

  Percy did not know who these men were and he could not understand why they would even make a wager with Anna to help him to escape the baron’s dungeon. He and Anna had robbed them just the day before. After being brought to the stables, he had been commanded by the Scottish knight to quickly dress in the garb of one of the squires, while the other Scotsman watched. He was lifted into the saddle of a palfrey behind the red-haired boy before the Scotsman granted him such advice.

  Percy nodded agreement.

  He had few choices, and he had given the French knight his word.

  The Scotsman pulled Percy’s borrowed hood forward, the better to hide his face. “Best if you do not speak at all, lad. We shall be outside the walls soon enough.”

  “Did you get it back?” Percy had to ask. He should have held his tongue, but he could not do it. They were being kind to him, for whatever reason, and it felt wrong to deceive them.

  The Scotsman peered at him. “And what business would that be of yours?”

  “You might think I can lead you to it, but they took it. It is here. If you want it, you should not leave without it.”

  The Scotsman’s smile broadened. “It will only be within these walls for a little longer, lad.”

  So, they had found it and reclaimed it. Percy liked the sound of that. He hated when Royce claimed anything of merit. He also would like to have a better look at what they had been carrying. He had seen that it was big and it was gold, that it was studded with gems, but not much more than that. What was it exactly? It might be a big bowl…

  Percy wanted to ask the Scotsman about Anna, but he feared that doing so would put her in peril. What if she were hurt? Why was she with them? Where was she? He had been hoping that she was safely back at the cavern or with the others, but knowing she was in Haynesdale keep, even with these knights, made him uneasy.

  The party of horses was led into the bailey, where the baron stood with his lady wife. The other knight was there, leading a horse with a woman in the saddle. Her face was veiled and a maid rode a palfrey behind her.

  Percy frowned. There had been no women in the party when he and Anna had robbed them. Had they come to Haynesdale to retrieve the women? He had expected Anna to be with them, but there was only the noblewoman and the maid. The maid wasn’t Anna. There were few souls living in Haynesdale keep who Percy did not know, but he did not recognize the maid at all. He peered at the lady, for he had never seen another noblewoman in Royce’s holding. Who was she?

  It was sufficiently curious that he wished to ask a question. The Scotsman seemed to guess as much, for he gave Percy a stern look.

  Percy held his tongue.

  Many compliments were exchanged between the knights and the baron, and Percy wished they would just move toward the gates. It all seemed to be taking so very long.

  A knight came from the hall to join them, bowing low to all the knights in the party. Percy caught his breath and stared. It was Gaultier, the Captain of the Guard, the most evil of all the men in the baron’s employ. Percy hated him more than any other soul alive.

  Even more than the baron.

  He wished he had a knife so that he might strike Gaultier down and repay him for all the ill he had done their family. He would kill the villain for Anna in a heartbeat.

  The Scotsman gave him another look, this one even more quelling than the last.

  Gaultier surveyed the party. “Do you not have an extra squire on this morning?” he asked with suspicion.

  “Do they?” Royce asked, then visibly counted the number of the party.

  The Scotsman’s horse moved then, sidling through the group as if impatient to be gone. Percy guessed that he meant to confuse the baron’s count.

  The Scottish knight laughed. “An extra boy? I have ridden to Outremer
and back with two squires, my dear sir, and scarce have need of another.”

  “But I was certain…” Gaultier began.

  “Who counts boys?” the Scotsman scoffed. “Save when it is time to feed them?”

  The knights laughed, but not the Templars. They looked so grim that the baron appeared to find support in their view. Royce stepped toward one Templar. “I beg of you, sir, tell me how many squires your comrade had yesterday.”

  The Templar looked so discomfited that Percy wanted to roll his eyes. All he had to do was declare that there were two squires. It was not that big of a falsehood.

  Though Percy supposed they were sworn to tell the truth.

  The Scotsman made a sound of disgust and glared at the Templar.

  “Two, of course, sir,” the Templar said, but his delay had fed Royce’s doubts.

  “Look at the height of the sun!” the knight with the lady exclaimed. “It will be midday before we are away, and night will have fallen long before we reach shelter. My lord, we must depart!” He swung into his saddle and reached to offer a hand to his lady that she might climb to the saddle behind him. She seized his hand and he made to pull her bodily up behind him.

  “Let me be of aid,” Gaultier offered. The Captain of the Guard linked his gloved hands together and created a step for the lady.

  She hesitated, as if she knew him to be the lecher he was.

  “I thank you, sir,” she said, and put her foot onto his hands.

  Anna? She sounded almost like his sister.

  But Anna could not be so close to Gaultier! Percy made a sound of consternation which drew the Scotsman’s eye.

  It also drew Royce’s attention. “That boy,” he said with resolve and pointed at Percy. “That boy was not with you yesterday. Step down, boy, and show me your face.”

  “We will be late, sir,” the Scottish knight protested, but had no chance to say more.

  “We must reach Carlisle with all speed,” the Scotsman insisted.

  Anna had just put her weight upon Gaultier’s linked hands, when a chance gust lifted her veil. Gaultier had been looking up at her, undoubtedly hoping to peer up her kirtle. He gasped aloud.