The Crusader's Kiss

by Claire Delacroix

  “A temperate man, too, then,” the priest guessed. “You must have come to Haynesdale apurpose.”

  “I journeyed to Scotland with Fergus and Duncan, for Fergus will claim Killairic and wed his betrothed this coming spring. I thought it an opportunity to see what had happened at Haynesdale.”

  “Did they know of your intent?”

  Bartholomew shook his head. “I did not know what I would find. In a way, I hoped that all would be well here and there would be no need to avenge my parents. In another, I yearned to set matters to rights. Either way, I had to discover the truth before I could try to make a change.” The younger man finished cleaning his boots and cast a glance over the forest. “I did not truly remember it, not until we were here. Cenric reminded me of Whitefoot. When Anna took us to the old burn, I remembered the keep and my mother. I have always had nightmares of fire and pain, but her tale fills the gaps.”

  “What will you do now?”

  Bartholomew met his gaze. “I will petition the king. I expect Henry has gone back to Anjou, which is near Gaston’s holding.”

  “Perhaps your friend will vouch for your character.”

  “Perhaps he will, but there remains the fact that Royce yet lives.”

  “And the need for coin. Will your friend be of aid in that?”

  Bartholomew smiled and shook his head. “He has been very kind to me, Father Ignatius. From Gaston, I have my spurs, my blade, my armor, my destrier.”

  “Your understanding of how a knight should be and your code of honor.”

  “Aye. He has given me the wealth of a king in that, and he is not as wealthy as a king.”

  Father Ignatius braced his elbows upon his knees and put the tips of his fingers together. “What if the coin for the escheat could be found?”

  “Found?” Bartholomew echoed.

  “I know that Sir Royce will dispatch his taxes to the exchequer of the king in the next few days.”

  “Surely you do not suggest a theft, Father Ignatius.”

  “I am not certain I would call it a theft, if indeed his messengers were divested of their burden.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Indeed.” Father Ignatius held Bartholomew’s gaze. “Taxes are gathered from the villagers and those dependent upon the baron.”

  “Once paid, they no longer belong to the one who surrendered them.”

  “But they are paid for services due from the baron. We pay for the right of security in our homes, for the keeping of knights to defend us, for the establishment of courts to ensure that justice is served in the holding, for a Christmas feast at the baron’s table in reciprocity. The knights of Haynesdale do not defend the villagers. Truly, they prey upon them. And I cannot recall when last Sir Royce held a court. He has welcomed no villager within his walls since wedding his lady wife.” The priest shrugged. “It could be said that the villagers have not received their due for their taxes.”

  “You know they do not have the right to reclaim the coin.”

  “Perhaps they should.”

  Bartholomew shook his head. “I call it sophistry. You cannot declare it just to steal from another, even to serve what you perceive to be a good end. There is right and there is wrong, and a wrong can never repair another wrong.” He shook a finger at the priest. “Were I the baron of a holding and my villeins thought it fitting to rob from me for their own ends, I should scarce call that justice.”

  Anna exhaled in audible frustration and Father Ignatius smiled.

  “You find my view amusing?” the knight asked.

  “I find it refreshing,” the priest replied. “And it only adds to my conviction that the true heir is returned and must be restored.” He laid a hand on Bartholomew’s arm before that man could protest. “You think it wrong that any should kill Sir Royce, even after what he has done to your own family.”

  Bartholomew winced. “I have no evidence of what he has done. I have a tale, and it is a compelling one, but there is no proof of his villainy.”

  “Aye, there is,” the priest insisted. “But it is not mine to share.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Let Anna tell you why she would be willing to strike the fatal blow against Royce Montclair. This is not a court, but her testimony might change your view.”

  * * *

  Anna did not welcome Father Ignatius’ suggestion, but she feared he was right. She emerged from the forest, having realized only when he spoke of her that both men knew of her presence. Bartholomew studied her, but she could not guess his thoughts.

  Was he irked with her for sharing his tale?

  She was irked with him for denying his responsibility.

  But all the same, she knew that if he had leapt to his feet and set off to kill Royce, them claimed Haynesdale without regard for another, she would have thought less of him.

  She took the seat abandoned by the priest and watched that man stride back to the others, his confidence that he had done aright more than clear. She did not know how to begin, for she could not simply blurt out her confession. She took a breath. “I have never seen you so irked as you were before the company.”

  Bartholomew shrugged. “I felt there was cause.”

  “Because I challenged you?”

  “And not for the first time,” he noted. “But not simply that.” He fell silent, frowning as he worked the snow into his boots.

  “What then?”

  He exhaled noisily. “I had a plan. I intended to ride through Haynesdale and ascertain its state. I wished to see if it had a baron who treated the villeins well. I wished to see if all were as it should be.”

  “Or better, find cause to challenge any baron.”

  “Perhaps so. Either way, my plan was soon shredded by a pair of thieves.”

  Anna bit her lip.

  “We were robbed, as you well know, and in retrieving our possessions and the captured thief, Duncan was captured in Percy’s stead. Now my companion is wounded, the reliquary is yet lost, my steed and squire have ridden on with my fellows, I have made a vow that I dare not break yet will demand I act ignobly—”

  “What is this?” Anna asked, but he did not pause for breath.

  “Worst of all, I find myself falling in love with the most vexing maiden I have ever met in all my days, and there is naught I can do about it.”

  Anna found herself blushing as she had no doubt who that maiden might be. “Naught?”

  He cast her a simmering glance. “Naught honorable. Indeed, I have already taken too much from her, because the matter remains that if ever I manage to plead my case before the king, even if I have the coin for the escheat, he will likely desire to ensure my loyalty.”

  “By naming your bride.”

  Bartholomew nodded, then turned his attention to the other boot. “And she will not be a smith’s daughter. She will be the daughter or the widow of a man already allied strongly to the king.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment. “What vexes you most?” Anna asked finally. When he glanced at her, she smiled, hoping to improve his mood. “It is an impressive list for its length.”

  Bartholomew’s smile came slowly, as if summoned against his will. “The maiden,” he said. “Definitely, the maiden.”

  “Because she is vexing?”

  He turned to look at her, wonder in his eyes. “Because she is bold and fearless, because she challenges me and she confounds me, because she is alluring and because she is like no other maiden I have ever known.”

  Anna found her cheeks burning. “She is not truly a maiden,” she said and his expression turned rueful.

  “Yet she has such an honesty about her that I shall always think of her as one.” He glanced at her. “No matter the state of her innocence.”

  Heat flared in Anna’s heart and she realized that she loved Bartholomew as well. She would not confess as much, though, for she saw that he was already conflicted about his path.

  She gripped his hand and appealed to him anew. “You cannot su
rrender the quest for Haynesdale. Royce is not a good baron, and I will tell you why.”

  “Father Ignatius said you had reason he should die.”

  “Aye. There were rumors always that you would return and tales of the ring entrusted to my father’s care. I don’t know when Royce heard them, but he waited until my mother was rounding with Percy before he acted upon them. My father was seized in the night, dragged away by Gaultier and his men. Perhaps they thought my father would be more likely to confess what he knew because of my mother’s state, but he did not.” She swallowed, recalling her mother’s terror well enough. “He never returned home. We next saw him when his head was hung from the gates, as a lesson to all who chose to defy Sir Royce’s requests for information. I was nine summers of age and will never forget the sight.” She shuddered. “He was left there to rot all the winter long, denied even a decent burial.”

  “I am sorry, Anna…”

  She did not give him the time to complete whatever he might have said. “Royce then taunted my mother. Perhaps he feared to meddle with a woman so close to her time. Perhaps he has some conscience. The fact was that Percy was unanticipated. My mother thought herself past the time of bearing children, but she ripened all the same. My father was so happy when she shared the news. He wanted a son, to carry on the tradition of smith in the village, but he never saw Percy.” Bartholomew closed his hand around hers. “Royce used to comment as he passed through the village, insinuating that my mother did not carry my father’s child. She knew he was not done with her. He came one night and vowed to leave her to raise her children if she surrendered the ring to him, but she knew it was a lie.” She flicked a look at Bartholomew. “She knew he was not a man to keep his word.”

  He frowned, considering that.

  “She made those months count. She told me every tale she knew, over and over again, and before her labor began, she gave me the ring and bade me hide it where no one could find it.” She swallowed. “Gaultier came for my mother as soon as the babe cried. He dragged her to the keep and his men cut down all who protested. My mother was sobbing when last I saw her alive. Sobbing and still bleeding. I was left with Percy, still wet from her womb and wailing for her milk.”

  She could feel Bartholomew’s anger rising and carried on. “And so this is the justice offered by this baron. He had my mother’s head displayed, on the post opposite that of my father, leaving it there until the crows had picked the flesh clean. He said they were together in Hell. He taunted me, as he had taunted my mother, biding his time, watching. The tanner’s wife nursed Percy and I might as well have been his mother.” Anna kept her head bowed. “Until two years ago, when Royce decided my time had come.”

  Bartholomew caught his breath. “You should have given him the ring and saved yourself.”

  “But it would not have saved me!” Anna protested. “He is wicked and filled with greed. He is not a man who upholds his vows. He would have taken it and destroyed the chance of you ever being able to prove your identity. I would have suffered the same fate, if not worse. The villagers would have lost hope forever. Nay, there was naught to be won by capitulation.” She took a breath. “Truly, his conviction that I knew the location of the ring might have been the sole thing that saved me.”

  “Because it was required to challenge him,” Bartholomew mused. He squeezed her fingers. “And what of Kendrick? Does he enter this tale?”

  “He does.” Anna smiled, though it was a sad smile. “He crept into the keep, intent upon saving me. He confronted Gaultier and was slaughtered for his audacity. Right before my eyes, they cut him down, then cast him aside like so much offal. He was so good!” She shuddered, welcoming the tension that she felt within Bartholomew. “But I had the key, for Kendrick had given it to me before he was caught. When they finally left me, I managed to flee.”

  “And they pursued you.” His voice was grim.

  “And burned the forest in vengeance. It was my fault that all suffered so badly, for I defied Sir Royce and he did not approve.”

  “But he thought you dead? Until yesterday?”

  Anna nodded. “I believe so. I hid in the forest, joining the other outcasts after my escape. I retrieved the ring and began to wear it, for no one would seek it from me.”

  Bartholomew stared down at her, concern in his eyes. “But then you lost the babe Kendrick had given you, the one that would have been his living memory. Truly, Anna, your determination is fierce.”

  Anna took a deep breath, knowing she had to tell him all of the truth. “Perhaps so, but maybe less than you think.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Kendra was not Kendrick’s child,” she admitted, her words husky. “We were friends and comrades, but never lovers.”

  He frowned at her, not comprehending.

  “Royce gave me to Gaultier, in a last effort to compel me to talk. I was a maiden when captured, but not for long after that.” She swallowed at the fury in Bartholomew’s expression. “Kendra was Gaultier’s child.” Her throat was tight. “It was not her fault that she had been wrought in violence, and I did not want the others to know of my shame. I gave her that name apurpose. Only Father Ignatius knows the truth, and now you.”

  Bartholomew stood up and paced the bank of the stream, agitated anew. He grimaced and crouched down before her to capture her hand once again in his. “I think Percy knows it.”

  “He knows I despise Gaultier, but not why.” She shook her head. “He is only a boy. He does not need to know all of the wickedness of which men are capable.” Anna swallowed. “Not yet.” She tightened her grip upon his hand. “Bartholomew, you and your company already show him what it means to be a knight and a man of merit as well. I would have him learn more of your kind. You must reclaim Haynesdale, and I will help you to do it. I consider you my rightful baron. Command me to kill Royce and I will do it, regardless of the price to myself.”

  Bartholomew reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. “I never thought to see you cry, much less twice in as many days,” he whispered with a smile. “Fierce Anna.”

  Her throat was tight, but she could not ask him again.

  He eyed her solemnly. “You know that I cannot do what you ask of me. I cannot command such a deed of any person, especially not you.”

  “I know that you will not ride into Haynesdale and slaughter Sir Royce, though he roundly deserves as much, and I know that you will not take the ring and seize the holding as your own. I suppose that is the price of being a man of honor.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Do you not desire the holding?”

  “I do want it,” Bartholomew spoke with passion. “I want to be baron more than anything else in all the world. But I cannot be the same as Royce, Anna. I cannot let my desire dismiss my morality. There must be a way, and I pledge to you that I will spend all my days and nights endeavoring to find it, but villainy is not the solution.”

  “I said I would kill him for you,” she reminded him.

  “Aye, I have no doubt that you would.” He touched her cheek with a fingertip and she was surprised to see a twinkle light his eyes. “Your valor is one of the traits I most admire about you, Anna.”

  She found herself smiling in turn. “And truth be told, your honor is the trait I most admire about you.”

  “But I would not see you commit such a crime, even for me.”

  Their gazes held for a long moment, and Anna’s mouth went dry.

  Then she recalled something Bartholomew had said. “What pledge do you dare not break that will ensure you act ignobly?” she asked, knowing when Bartholomew winced that there was a detail of import she did not know. “I cannot think of any vow that would compel you to do as much.”

  He sat down heavily beside her. “That is because I have not told you all about our escape from Haynesdale.”

  What else had happened within those walls?

  * * *

  Trust Anna to ask the question he least desired to answer.

  Bartholome
w was confounded by his promise to Marie. He was caught between his word of honor and his commitment to good conduct. He knew Gaston would not have sympathized with his situation, and then realized the truth of it.

  While he had learned much from Gaston, he had learned even more of Ysmaine. The notion of seeking Anna’s counsel filled him with new optimism, though he saw her surprise when he smiled at her.

  “Suddenly this obligation gives you joy?” she asked.

  “Nay, it is an idea that fills me with new hope. I have spoken to you of Gaston.”

  “The knight of honor and Templar, the one who saved you from the streets of Paris and granted you both spurs and sword.”

  “The very same. When Gaston heard that he was to be a baron, he found himself a wife, quickly, for he knew he would have need of a son.”

  “A man can expect more than that from his wife.”

  “As he learned from Lady Ysmaine, his chosen bride. We knew little of women after so much time with the Templars, but she was inspired by her parents’ match, and how they conferred together. Gaston did not dare to trust her, but in the end, she was the one who ensured that his task to deliver the reliquary to Paris was successful.” He took Anna’s hand again. “And so, I would take from Lady Ysmaine’s example and ask for your assistance in solving this riddle. Better, I would do so before it is too late.”

  “You and your word of honor! To whom have you made a pledge now?”

  “Lady Marie.” He sat back, awaiting the tempest, and was not disappointed. “I promised to aid her in conceiving a son.”

  Anna was clearly shocked. “What madness is this? You would aid such a viper and give her the means to dismiss your claim?”

  “I declined to reply the first time—”

  “That night we were at the keep!” Anna guessed, eyes flashing. “I knew she meant to seduce you!”

  “But then, she aided our escape this day.” He arched a brow. “And I pledged to pay her price.”

  Anna’s eyes narrowed and she folded her arms across her chest. “She wants you to bed her?” Her expression revealed her opinion of that.