Knight Errant: A Highland Passage Novel

by J. L. Jarvis

  Violet turned to unleash her annoyance upon him. “Oh, I never said that I understood. I’m just accepting defeat.”

  He took her chin gently and leaned closer. “It’s not a battle.”

  “Isn’t it?” Violet tried to be strong, but she couldn’t hide her worries. It didn’t help that he deliberately closed the distance between them until his mouth was inches from hers, especially when the memory of his last kiss was still on her lips.

  He gazed into her eyes. “No, it has nothing to do with us.”

  “Are you sure?” As soon as she said it, she regretted how needy she sounded. He had answered her question—not well, but it was the best she would pry out of him. She switched to a more logical approach and spoke gently. “Never mind. I was worried, but I get it. You don’t want to talk. We don’t have to. I understand.”

  That went well, except for the part that she spoke with false words. She didn’t understand, and she wanted to talk. Violet was beginning to understand why she had bad luck with men. Luck had so little to do with it.

  But to her surprise, Robert took her words at face value and went one better. “There’s a good lass.”

  Violet winced. Oh, well, it wasn’t a great start, but his finish was strong. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and kissed her with a candor his words clearly lacked. Apparently in lieu of actual words, kisses and touches were quantifiable benchmarks of love. Still, she had questions—and a hand that was now at the small of her back and still moving. Oh, screw metrics. She was on board with this new standard of measurement.

  He abruptly got up and leaned on the cave wall, staring outside.

  “Robert?”

  Without turning around, he said, “I’ll not have a child of mine grow up a bastard.”

  Violet didn’t know how to respond.

  He turned toward her and paced a few times. “We dinnae ken where we will be in a week, let alone for the rest of our lives. Until we do, I’ll not risk putting a child through what I went through.” He sank down and sat against the wall.

  All she could manage was a nod, for his sorrow made her heart ache.

  12

  THE FRIARY

  The journey back to Robert’s sixteenth century time went as well as Violet’s fear of heights would allow. As she and Robert walked through the gateway into the Blackfriars Monastery, Violet felt at ease. “It’s a little like coming home. Of course, for you, it is home.”

  “Aye.”

  Given his gruff tone, his answer was mercifully short. Coming home had done nothing for his spirits. Violet did her best to ignore it, as she had all day.

  Before long, his father approached them. Robert was not only aloof to Brother Thomas; he was barely polite. His manner didn’t escape Brother Thomas’s notice, but he deflected any awkwardness by inviting them to join the others at supper, which had just begun. As soon as his father looked away, Violet gave Robert a sharp look and was met with a clenched jaw as he turned away.

  So that was what Robert had been agonizing over. She should have known better than to believe he had handled it well when he first learned the truth. He had said nothing about it to her or to young Brother Thomas. Why would he have? The young Brother Thomas didn’t know who Robert was, nor had he yet lied to him. Robert had no quarrel with him—not yet. Violet realized that Robert had been biding his time, saying nothing to anyone until he and his father were alone.

  Violet was grateful to Brother Thomas and the monks at their table for the supper conversation, since Robert’s monosyllabic responses made it clear he did not wish to talk.

  When supper was over, they began to head back to their cells, but Robert stopped Brother Thomas. “May I have a word?”

  Brother Thomas may not have noticed, but Violet heard the edge in his voice.

  Brother Thomas pleasantly nodded. “Yes, but I'm sure you're exhausted. We can talk in the morning.”

  “We can talk now.” There was no mistaking the edge in Robert’s voice.

  His father eyed him warily. “All right. Let’s go to my workshop.”

  “Good. I’ll escort Violet to her room, and I’ll meet you there.” Robert started to lead her by the elbow.

  “No.” She looked from one surprised face to the other. “You’re not going to shuffle me off so you can have man talk.”

  In a quiet voice, Robert said, “This isnae the time for this.”

  Violet lifted her chin and met Robert’s eyes. She said softly, “It is, and I’m going with you.”

  It was no victory when he surrendered. He was choosing his battles and timing. Violet knew well that her battle was still coming. They walked along the cloister to the workshop.

  Once inside with the door closed, Robert wasted no time. “I should have kent what a liar you were when I saw you making false relics for donors.”

  Brother Thomas’s eyes closed for a moment, then he looked straight at Robert.

  When he offered no argument, Robert went on. “I grew up thinking my father was dead.”

  Brother Thomas nodded. “I regret that.”

  Eyes blazing, Robert said, “Do you? Do you regret it?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, that makes everything right, does it not?” Robert paced then turned to his father. “Do you ken how I found out?” He shouted, “I met you—in France—when you were younger. You knew it would happen, and you let me go there and meet you face-to-face.”

  “I did not know what would happen, but yes, I suspected you might.”

  Robert turned away, shaking his head.

  His father stepped around Robert until he was facing him. “If I had told you the truth, would you have gone?”

  Robert’s eyes flashed to his father’s, but he offered no answer, only the bitter sting of emotion that could not be masked.

  Brother Thomas said, “I had to make sure that you went.”

  Robert lifted his chin as he shut his eyes and exhaled. Violet wanted to reach out to him, but she could only watch. He looked as if he had internal bleeding that no one would know of unless they loved him. And she did. But Brother Thomas’s eyes held back pain. She was torn, for she knew Robert’s anguish, but she saw Brother Thomas’s too.

  Robert went to the window and stared into the night sky. “Everything was a lie—who I was, who we were to each other. But one thing was true. I was always alone.”

  “We would have lost our home.” His father put his hand on Robert’s shoulder, but Robert pulled free with a jerk of his shoulder.

  “Oh, aye. Not to mention the shame it would have brought upon you.”

  “And on you.”

  “I was already a bastard. Just in case I forgot, one of the other boys would always remind me. But at least I had my pride and my honor. I knew what was right, and I did it—which is more than I can say for you. For you not only lied to me, but you lied in God’s name—robbing graves and passing the bones off as relics with no qualms. Oh, yes, now I have a father. And I am ashamed.”

  Robert grasped Violet’s wrist and pulled her along as he stormed out of the room.

  * * *

  HE LED her all the way to her cell and, making sure no one saw them, went inside and closed the door. Violet had never seen anger like this. His eyes had the same focused energy as when he’d fought off attackers. He moved with the same singular purpose that shut out everything except what he needed to survive. She touched his arm, and he turned, looking almost startled.

  “Talk to me,” she said.

  His eyes bore through her with an anger that made her uneasy. “No. No more talk. No more doing the right thing so people will see that I’m more than a bastard. No more.”

  Words wouldn’t help him, yet she felt compelled to say something. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head and turned toward the door. He stopped there, leaned his arm on the door, and buried his face in his elbow. Nearly silent, he stayed there as minutes went by.

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “If I could, I would
take the pain for you.”

  He turned to her with red eyes. “I believe that you would.”

  Violet slipped her arms about him and laid her head on his chest.

  “Oh, my love.” He held her head, rested his cheek on the top of her head, and sighed. “I’m so weary of doing what’s right, and I’m weary of being alone.”

  He touched his lips to her forehead. It was a small kiss, like a spark that floats up from a fire and is gone in the darkness. But this spark landed and burned. Robert clutched at her shoulders and slid his palm down to grasp thick folds of cloth, tugging at any clothing that got in his way. Layer by layer, he unlaced and freed her while she unfastened his doublet and pulled off his clothing until skin was bared to meet skin. In the stark cell—naked, trusting, and driven by need—they joined their warm bodies, hiding their longing and bliss in hushed sighs and moans until they lay spent and entwined. Content to drift off to sleep, they left pain and sorrow outside, where it would wait until morning.

  * * *

  A LOUD RAP at the door woke them. Violet called out, “I’ll need a few moments.”

  Through the door, shuffling feet and unintelligible murmurs grew fainter. When both were dressed, Violet pressed her ear to the door. Moments passed with no sound from outside. She faced Robert, who was standing behind her. Taking hold of his doublet, she pulled him against her and breathed in his scent.

  He leaned against her, pressing her back to the door, and quietly moaned in her ear. “Dinnae tempt me.” He proceeded to tempt her with a languorous kiss.

  With a bracing breath, Violet gently pushed him away until he took a reluctant step backward. She slipped through the door first and watched as black robes disappeared around the corner. She tapped the door, and Robert slipped out of her cell unobserved. Together, they rounded the corner and walked along the corridor.

  One of the monks saw them and rushed to Robert. “Come, Brother Thomas is ill. He’s been asking for you.”

  Robert hesitated, but Violet gripped his arm and urged him along until they arrived at Thomas’s cell. Several monks unwittingly blocked the doorway, but when they saw Robert, they parted. Violet followed Robert with her hand in his. Brother Thomas lay in bed with a pale sheen on his face. Robert sat in the chair by his cot. Thomas curled his fingers over Robert’s sleeve as if trying to tug it. His lips moved a bit, but no sound came out. Robert bent over and brought his ear closer.

  His father looked up with searching eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Robert’s eyebrows drew together. A moment passed, during which Violet thought she might reach out to do what Robert could not. But Robert put his hand over his father’s and gripped it tightly. Blinding tears filled her eyes, and she knew little more than the fact that the son had returned to his father and put aside whatever lay between them. In that moment, love for Robert rooted itself so deeply within her that Violet would no longer feel whole without him.

  * * *

  A WEEK LATER, Brother Thomas could manage a few steps with assistance, but he quickly grew tired. Outside, he sat and lifted his face to the sun. “We must enjoy days such as this, for we don’t know when the next one will be.”

  Robert saw Violet seated on one side of his father, and he sat down on the other. The birds were in full-throated song on that glorious day.

  Brother Thomas leaned back against the bench and took several uneasy breaths. “After we arrived here, the abbot guessed Claudine’s secret. With no choice, she confirmed his suspicion that she was with child, explaining that she had confessed her sin and been cast out of her convent in Paris. She arrived in Laon, where I took pity upon her and escorted her here, hoping that she would find mercy and perhaps a new home. The abbot could have cast her out, but he did not. We took that as a sign of his mercy and, perhaps, of God’s forgiveness.”

  Robert leaned his elbows on his knees and absently played with the petals of a wild flower he had picked.

  Brother Thomas went on. “For a time, life was quiet and good. If anyone saw through our story, they did not voice their suspicions. We were drawn into the rhythm of life here.”

  Robert watched the breeze stir the leaves of a nearby tree.

  Violet spoke, shaking her head. “Didn’t you ever want to go away and live on your own like a family instead of keeping your secret?”

  “How? We had nothing—no money, no property. Even if we could have managed, what would happen when the baby was born? We had to think of what was best for the child. We would have a home where we could watch Robert grow, and he would be raised and educated for a life we could never have given him. Claudine wished that for him. How could I deny her?”

  Robert crumbled the flower and watched the petals fall to the ground. “Could you not have told me that you were my father? Perhaps not when I was young, but what stopped you when I was grown?”

  Brother Thomas’s forehead was lined with regret. “After lying for so many years, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth.”

  “Everyone knew I was a bastard. I’d heard it often enough. How could this be worse?”

  “Children are cruel,” Brother Thomas said, looking off into the distance. Slowly, he shook his head. “No, you were better off not knowing.”

  Robert slammed his hand on the bench and leapt to his feet. “Och! Dinnae tell me that you were protecting me.”

  His father took in a ragged breath. “I was protecting her memory. Raising questions would have served no purpose except to make things worse by dragging her name through the mud a second time. It would have dishonored her and you as well.” His breathing grew increasingly labored, drawing Violet’s concern.

  She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Brother Thomas, let’s go inside and rest.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re too kind.”

  A warm smile bloomed on her face. “You’re the first to see that in me.”

  “I can’t understand why. Are the men in your time so unobservant?”

  Violet lifted an eyebrow. “They have different priorities for what they choose to observe.”

  “Then they’re fools.”

  Violet tilted her head in agreement and started to smile, but Brother Thomas winced and faltered. Robert lunged toward his father and caught him, then he slipped an arm about Thomas’s back for support. Robert’s eyes met Violet’s, sharing a look of concern. Thomas winced and bent over, clutching his chest, while his other hand gripped Robert’s arm. Robert lifted his father to his feet, but Thomas sank to the bench. Violet called out for help.

  Through his pain, Brother Thomas struggled to speak, “The abbot.”

  * * *

  HE NEVER REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS. His dying words were for the abbot, so the abbot was summoned from Edinburgh to bury him. Without hesitation, the abbot agreed, which gave Robert a measure of comfort.

  The day after Brother Thomas was buried, Robert sat outside with Violet on the same bench where the three of them had last spoken.

  Violet watched some monks make their way through the cloisters. “Everyone thought so highly of him.”

  “Except his own son. He thought I despised him.” Robert made sure his face revealed no sign of the guilt that tormented him. “I held him to an impossible standard, and now it’s too late.”

  Violet turned toward him. “Too late for what?”

  “To tell him I forgive him.” He swallowed and looked away. “That he was always a father to me. I loved him like one.”

  Violet slipped her hand into his, and they sat in silence until evening shadows stretched over the grass from the trees.

  Within days, Robert had come to know both his mother and father as they once were when they were young. Having known them was a gift, but their loss followed too quickly after. Now he was alone and adrift, which wasn’t a new feeling. He had felt it in varying degrees for most of his life, so returning to that state should have been easy. It was not.

  The next morning, the abbot found Robert outside, walking alone in the garden before Vi
olet was up.

  “May I speak with you?” the abbot asked.

  “Aye,” Robert answered.

  “Come to my office when you’re finished here.” Without waiting for an answer, the abbot walked away.

  Robert watched as he happened upon some of the monks and shared a few words with them. After, he cast a sharp look back at Robert and rounded the corner.

  13

  THE OFFER

  Robert took a seat in the office Father Abbot was using while he was in Perth. The abbot seemed far more inclined to engage in light conversation than Robert, who was too caught up in his personal grief to contribute to any discussion. Besides which, it felt strange to be with him after seeing him in the past. That visit had been brief enough that the abbot was unlikely to remember it, but it had not been years for Robert. He would have to be careful not to let anything slip that might betray him or invite questions he could not easily answer. Thus on his guard, Robert remained aloof and gave the appearance of manners, waiting until he could retreat to his cell.

  Robert looked up to find Father Abbot peering expectantly at him. He had missed something. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  The abbot offered a sympathetic smile. “’Tis not a bad life here, is it?”

  “No, I’ve had far better life than most, and I’m grateful for it.” He met the abbot’s steady gaze, but something flickered in the abbot’s eyes. It was gone before Robert could decipher it.

  The abbot rested his arms on the desk and leaned forward. “I’d like you to think about something.” He looked at Robert with a crooked smile. “We’re in need of someone like you in Edinburgh.”

  Robert smiled. “Do you mean as a monk?”

  “Aye, I do.”

  Robert shook his head. “I once thought I might go down that road, but I’m led in another direction.”

  “The lass?”

  “Aye.”

  “So you love her?”

  “I do.”