Badge of Honor - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 10)

by Shea,Lisa

  Jack looked out into the distance, lost in the memories. “They promised to take up my cause as their own, to track down the men responsible. I could not believe in my good fortune, to have found such loyal men. They took me to Worcester, setting me up there as a page of the household. Then they left, out to track down my parents’ killers.”

  Catherine saw how this would play out. “Eventually they told you that they found them,” she guessed.

  Jack nodded wearily. “Oh yes, I got updates every few weeks as to their progress, and then came the fateful day. Carl and Craig came back to me triumphant. They had found the mercenaries involved in the attack and had killed them. I still remember how much I looked up to those two men. They were my heroes. I owed them everything - my current station, the revenge for my parents. I would have done anything for them.”

  Catherine looked down. “I am sorry, Jack.”

  Jack shook his head, then turned to look Catherine in the eyes. His own were shadowed in pain. “With all you have told me, it now seems likely they were the ones responsible for my parents’ deaths. The facts all seem to fit.” His lips drew into a tense line. “The question is, why? Why kill my parents? Why lie to me, why hide me away? Were they protecting me, or using me as leverage for something?”

  Catherine twined her fingers into his. “Together, I am sure we can figure this out. There must be an answer.”

  Jack maintained his eye contact and took a deep breath. “Catherine, there is something else.”

  Catherine had known this was coming, and she resisted the temptation to look away. It was better to face this head on. “My scar.”

  Jack nodded slowly. “When I found my parents dead, I told you that they had been tortured. My father was a leather worker. They had branded them with his tools, maybe in an attempt to get them to talk. I knew those tools well; I saw them every day of my life.” His eyes flickered to her shoulder. “One in particular was an eight sided star. When I was a child I used it for sword practice, and one day I broke off one of the star’s points. It became a symbol my father loved; it gave him a sense that we should treasure our full selves, including our imperfections.”

  His grey eyes were steady, drawing her in. “Whoever placed that mark on you would seem to be the same men who tortured and killed my parents eighteen years ago. They must have taken the tools with them when they left.”

  Catherine’s throat closed up. She had never talked about the incident, not even to her mother. But Jack deserved to know, to confirm his suspicions about his parents’ murders.

  “It was thirteen years ago that I was captured, when I was thirteen years old,” she whispered hoarsely. “It was Carl and Craig who took me hostage when I was riding alone. They … they branded me …” Tears streamed from her eyes, and her voice failed her. She could not do it. Despite the many years which separated her from those long, dark nights, the pain was still too powerful, too visceral.

  Jack’s strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her against his chest, and she felt the safety, the protectiveness of his body around hers.

  His voice came softly in her ear. “I am here for you, whenever you want to talk about it,” he promised. “If you want to leave it in the past, then that is fine as well. All that matters is that we are together now.”

  Catherine curled up close against him, shutting her eyes against the night.

  * * *

  Catherine sat for a long while by herself the next morning, turning her spiral medallion around in her hands, lost in thought. The day was overcast, and her mood was quiet as well. She was not up for much conversation, and was curious what the three boys would have waiting for her to discuss at breakfast.

  She finally stood and went over to join the group, taking her stew from the pot with a quiet nod to the wizened priest. The boys seemed to share in her somber mood; if anything, they seemed a bit sullen. Apparently the third point had not come quite as easily to them. She felt sorry for having affected their usual optimism like this.

  “Come now, I know the weather is sour,” she prompted, forcing a grin. “Let us see what we can work out on your current puzzle. Surely you have some guesses,” she encouraged them gently.

  Michael spoke up this time, his studious voice tenuous in the damp morning air. “The others do not agree with me,” he stated slowly, “However, I saw the bruising on your back when Peter was stitching you up.”

  He drummed his fingers on his leg. “I have seen men who have been in fights. If they win, they might have a few minor cuts. If they lose, they could have earned some serious welts. But you went beyond that - you were crisscrossed with bruises on bruises.” He paused, then continued more slowly. “I think they beat you on purpose, not as a side result of the fight.”

  Jack glanced sharply at Peter, who nodded in agreement. Jack then turned to look with concern at Catherine.

  She sat, lost in thought for a long while, staring into the campfire. Michael waited in patient silence, as the logs crackled and settled. After a while, she shook herself and looked up.

  “Yes, that is true,” she finally agreed. “I was not going to count that in with the third point, but I suppose after all that is a part of it. If they had been content merely to kill me, then most likely I would now be dead. Instead, they wanted to send a message. My broken body was going to be that message. They took a long time to do their work, and that gave me the opportunity to find a weakness I could use.”

  She paused, her mind caught up in the memories. She knew that Jack and Peter were listening intently, and took her time in wording her response. “I had finally, after all the years, caught the pair at an illegal activity that could be proven beyond all shadow of a doubt. I told them they would be brought in for justice.” Her mouth quirked in a wry smile. “They thought it ludicrous that anyone could pass judgment on what they wished to do. They wanted to make sure that others thought twice before coming after them.”

  She took a deep breath, then pressed on. “They used every dirty trick I had heard of, and many more that they had invented themselves. They each wielded a sword and flail, so that they could do as much damage as possible without killing me immediately. They ... they seemed to enjoy it. It was all I could do to keep the blows from falling. Many times I could not do that.”

  Her voice trailed away, but she forced herself to continue. “In the end, it was their own arrogance that undid them. They felt that no person could stand up to these attacks. They became more cavalier, not protecting themselves during the blows. I saw that, and knew I only had one choice. When Craig went for my shoulder, I let the blow connect. He was not expecting that to happen, and it made him lose his balance for a moment. That was when I was able to send my own sword in to kill him.”

  Catherine paused a moment at the memory, then went on. “Carl went into a madness when he saw Craig fall. I do not think it ever occurred to him that they could die. His rage made him sloppy, and I was able to get in a blow to him after a few passes. He went down, and the fight was over.”

  Michael’s eyes were wide. “Then what happened?”

  Catherine looked up, her eyes holding calm acceptance. “I dropped like a stone,” she admitted without reservation. “As far as I was concerned, I was going to die, too. My wounds were serious. However, I knew that I had achieved my goals, the girl was safe, the lecherous pair were finally dead. Beyond that, I did not really care.”

  “Why you?” pressed Michael. “Why did you have to take action? Why not just report them to the authorities?”

  Catherine paused for a long while, realizing that she had said more than she meant to. The clearing was silent.

  Jack’s face was a mask of self-control. It was clear that he wanted to know more, and that he was holding his tongue with great effort.

  Finally Catherine nodded to herself. She turned to look over to Peter. “Could you bring me my sword, please? I imagine you put it back on my horse’s saddle.”

  Peter nodded and went to fetch the blade, bringing
it back to her in a few minutes. She drew it out of its sheath, looking with fondness down its length. Then she rested it on the ground and unwrapped the copper wire and green leather binding on the hilt.

  When she had removed them, she handed the blade to Michael. “There is an emblem that was tucked within the binding. What does that say?” she asked quietly.

  Michael worked out the letters engraved on the metal oval, now visible. “It says ... VERITAS,” he read slowly. “That means ‘truth’ in Latin.”

  Jack’s eyes flashed to Catherine’s, meeting them. “Veritas - the sword of truth,” he expanded to the young men. “That was the name given to the sword that the reeve of the Bowyers would wield. We thought that position was halted a hundred years ago, when the church took over those protective responsibilities.”

  Catherine laughed without mirth. “As if we would abandon our people because the church claimed they would do a better job,” she rebutted smoothly. “No, the position has remained in action, and we still hold tournaments every five years to choose a new reeve. The last tournament was held four years ago.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. “It is a swordfight to first touch,” she added lightly.

  “A fight which you won,” replied Jack, a smile growing across his own face.

  Catherine nodded. “Raymond, my cousin, was furious. He claimed that it was not fair, that in a real fight he could have easily bested me. Who knows, that could be true. However, these tournaments have been run the same way for hundreds of years. They cannot be changed because one man feels his chances were weakened by those rules.”

  She sighed, continuing. “Undaunted, then Raymond brought up another problem. I had been declared dead while we investigated the assassination attempt. How could I perform my duties when I could not be seen by outsiders?”

  “As a result, you invented Shadow,” Jack responded, awareness brightening his eyes. “With that cover, you could travel the lands and help keep order, all without it being known that Catherine was still alive. That is why you were there to rescue Walter, and why you helped out at the cathedral.”

  His brow furrowed. “If that is the case, why did you say you could not get involved when Michael twisted his ankle? Surely that would be exactly what the reeve would be doing.”

  Catherine’s gaze shadowed. “The council looked with hostility on the church which had stripped its power,” she ground out, dropping her eyes. “They held grudges quite admirably. I was instructed to stay far away from any church-related activities, although I made an exception in Peter’s case. I wanted to be able to see him when I could, even if it was in disguise. Which reminds me,” she added, turning to face Peter. “How did you know who I was, at the end of our duel?”

  Peter smiled gently. “Your speech was the first giveaway. I was hard pressed to think that you spoke so similarly just because you came from the same region. Finally, though, it was your shoulder injury. Jack had clearly not touched you, and it seemed an outrageous coincidence that you and Shadow both had a serious injury on the exact same part of your body. Once I realized that, everything else fell into place.”

  Catherine nodded, then turned solemn again. “I do not mind you all knowing my identity. However, if the church found out we were still active, there would be heavy repercussions on the Bowyer family. I would appreciate it if this stayed within our group.”

  The men all quickly agreed to this. Catherine lapsed into silence, and seeing that the conversation was over, the rest packed up for the day’s journey.

  To Catherine’s surprise, Father Berram came over to sit with her for a few minutes as the camp was being taken down.

  “My dear,” he stated in a querulous voice, “I am so glad that you are all right.” He patted her hand tenderly with his own.

  Catherine smiled gently down at the stooped figure, seemingly so frail that the gentlest of breezes would blow him over. He had been quiet throughout much of the journey, and she had begun to think of him as unaware of what was going on around him.

  “Thank you, Father,” she responded with a smile. “Soon we will have you to your friend’s house, and this traveling will be done with.”

  “I look forward to that,” agreed Father Berram with a nod. “Father Oswold is dear to me.” He looked over toward the wagon, and Catherine helped him to stand, then boosted him into his traditional spot in a nest of hay. Michael climbed up to take the reins, and in a moment they were underway.

  Chapter 17

  The next few days drifted by in languorous relaxation for Catherine. The mornings were spent strolling through the warm spring sunshine, helping the acolytes learn and improve their skills. During the afternoons, Peter took on the training while she and Jack walked hand in hand, sharing the simple pleasures of being together. In the velvet of night, when the rest of the world slept, they shared the watch, unveiling their turbulent pasts to each other’s tender care.

  Jack had not pressed Catherine about her childhood abduction, nor about the reason she had faced Carl and Craig. His understanding warmed her immensely. There were some things she was simply not ready to broach yet.

  It seemed all too soon when they began to near Oxford, the junction where Catherine had to break off to take her own path northwards toward Bedford and Lord Xavier. The parting lay heavy on her mind as she sat alongside Jack in the moonlight, the gentle rustle of leaves stirring all around them.

  Catherine raised her hand in the air before her. She ran her thumb along the brown ring, her eyes moving to meet Jack’s somber gaze.

  “I promise I will come back to you when our tasks are over,” she vowed softly. “There is still so much I would like to tell you, so much I would like to learn about you. After I finish this mission at hand, I should be able to speak more freely. However, it is critical that I first meet with Lord Xavier. I believe even more strongly now that he holds the key to much of what has gone on. Now that I am no longer pretending to be dead, I can finally press him for the truth.”

  Jack nodded in acceptance. He ran his hand tenderly through her hair before drawing her into a strong embrace.

  Catherine sighed with pleasure, willing herself to remember every moment of the evening. If only she had met him years ago ... but maybe it would not have been the same then. She might not have been ready to give up her independence.

  Jack’s voice rumbled out against her. “I still wish that I could accompany you on your path, or that you could put the trip off and come with us instead,” he murmured.

  She shook her head against him. “You cannot make this trip with me,” she replied. “I must do this alone, for several reasons. You need to finish your journey with the boys and Father Berram. I will be back to you soon enough, and the roads here have been quite peaceful.”

  When Peter took over the watch, Jack came with Catherine to lay down by her side. Jack’s eyes were steady on her, and eventually Catherine drifted off into a deep sleep under his watchful gaze.

  Morning dawned with a gentle drizzle. After breakfast, Catherine gave each party member a gentle hug, and wished them all good travels. When she came to Jack, she simply pressed her hand against his chest, feeling where the carved flower lay nestled there. He put his own over hers, pressing it against him, his thumb moving gently against the brown ring she wore. He held her gaze for a long time.

  She gave a nod. “I will find you soon,” she promised softly.

  “I will be waiting,” he responded with a smile. “Stay safe.”

  She mounted and nudged her steed to a walk. When she had reached the horizon, she turned and stopped for a brief look back, her hand held high in farewell. Then she moved forward again and the party disappeared beyond the hill.

  * * *

  Jack watched her vanish from sight, his heart heavy. Turning, he prodded the group into motion, taking the road on toward St. Albans.

  Father Berram perked up into greater alertness as they neared the hometown of his childhood friend. The three lads focused with fresh enthusia
sm on the fascinating adventures they would find in the town.

  The land became more forested and they began to pass a greater selection of travelers. A pair of elderly nuns strolled past them, enjoying a leisurely walk home. A red-haired farmer and four bright-eyed girls passed them in a cart, delighting in a trip to visit relatives. Four merchants in gaudy outfits on horseback, their leader a small man with tight blond curls, overtook them, offering a selection of knot-work jewelry before continuing on their path.

  Jack drew solace from the relaxed cheer of their fellow travelers. The roads were safe, and the weather was warm and fresh. Catherine would have a good time of her trip.

  With five days left in their journey, they drew into the ring of towns surrounding Oxford. While they were generally avoiding inns and public locations, their path would take them right through the Christ’s Church environs, and they agreed to stay there the next evening.

  The thought made Jack nervous. He was comfortable protecting the group in the wild, where he could stand watch and listen for horses. In the middle of a bustling town, with people on all sides, it would be nearly impossible to ward off a determined assassin, if indeed any lurked about. But was there really any danger? It seemed that the past troubles had evaporated, leaving them with a quiet calm. Still …

  Jack ended up spending the night contemplating ways to keep the religious men safe, and devising methods he might coordinate with Peter to handle sleeping arrangements. When Peter came on watch, Jack talked with him at length about the issues, ending up with no sleep at all. He laughed it off with Peter as the two shook the others awake.