The Crusader’s Vow: A Medieval Romance

by Claire Delacroix

  Fergus was clearly pleased. “An excellent notion, Leila. I thank you for it.” He fell silent then, focusing on his task, and Leila would not pester him when he wished to think.

  Even if he thought of beautiful Isobel.

  She felt Fergus draw away from her, as surely as if he had left the solar. It was as if an invisible wall was being built between them, brick by brick. Would she lose him completely on the morrow? What if Isobel confessed that she wanted him still?

  Leila wondered if he would return to her and Killairic, or if there would be some other reason—found by Isobel or by Fergus—for her new husband to linger at Dunnisbrae.

  She was not one to sit by and wait for results. She preferred to shape events herself, and this situation reminded her of a story.

  It might just be the perfect one.

  Leila cleared her throat. “If you do not intend to sleep, perhaps I might tell you a tale.”

  Fergus spared her a glance. “I thought your expertise was with horses.”

  “But I like stories. My uncle liked to tell stories as he worked, at least when he was occupied with quieter tasks like those you attend on this night.”

  A spark of curiosity lit in Fergus’ eyes. “What kind of stories did he tell?”

  Leila smiled. “Stories like this one.” She sat up in the bed and hugged her knees to her chest, closing her eyes and hearing her uncle’s deep voice. She could see the dustmotes dancing in the sun in his smithy, smell the horses and hear them rustling in their feed. “Once upon a time, there were two brothers who were the sons of a king. They were both virtuous and handsome. When the father died, the older brother, Shahriar, became King of Persia in his father’s place. The younger brother, Shahzenan, became the King of Samarkand, one of his father’s other possessions. They parted with much affection when Shahzenan departed to take custody of his kingdom. Both brothers subsequently fell in love and married, each then having a beautiful and beloved queen.”

  Fergus smiled but did not comment.

  “After ten years had passed, both kingdoms were prosperous and at peace, and Shahriar wished to see his brother again. He sent his vizier to Samarkand to invite his brother to come home for a visit. Shahzenan was delighted by the arrival of his brother’s vizier and by the invitation. After greeting the vizier in his camp and sharing a meal, as well as news of Persia, Shahzenan agreed to accompany the vizier to Persia. Though he had planned to remain in the camp for the night, the prospect of his departure made him yearn for the queen’s company. He wanted to share as many moments as possible with her before his departure and so he returned to the palace, late that night, and went directly to her apartment. Although he thought to surprise her, Shahzenan was the one surprised: he found a male slave making love to his own wife.”

  Fergus turned to look at her, but Leila continued, as if unaware that there were similarities between her tale and his situation with Isobel. “Shahzenan was outraged!” she said.

  “I can imagine,” Fergus noted.

  “Shahzenan had not even left for Persia and his wife betrayed his trust at the first opportunity. He was so angry at her faithlessness that he drew his blade and killed both wife and slave where they lay in her bed. Bitter and angry, he left the palace and stayed in the camp until the party rode out for Persia. He felt, in fact, so betrayed that he confided in no one. Shahzenan was filled with grief when he reached Persia, although the preparations his brother had made for his arrival lightened his heart. An entire wing had been added to Shahriar’s palace, just for him, with a view over his brother’s private pleasure garden. It was so beautiful and his brother’s warm greeting almost dismissed his disappointment in his wife. Shahriar knew his brother well and saw that something was wrong. He asked for the tale, but Shahzenan was aware of his brother’s happiness in marriage. He declined to share such a tale in his palace.”

  Fergus nodded understanding.

  “Shahriar thought to dissipate his brother’s sadness with revels,” Leila continued. “He arranged hunts and festivals, invited guests and ensured that every entertainment was available for Shahzenan. He did not fail to notice that his brother smiled and joined the festivities, but there was still a shadow over him. He believed his brother would confide in him in time, and he was right. For one day, Shahzenan declined to ride to the hunt and remained in his brother’s palace. The hunting party had not long departed when he looked out his window and saw a door open on the other side of the palace. The queen came into the garden with her ladies. There were twenty of them and Shahzenan thought they simply took their pleasure—but when the queen clapped her hands, they cast off their veils. He was astonished...” Leila yawned then and fell silent.

  “Astonished by what?” Fergus asked when Leila did not continue. “What did he see?”

  “I will have to tell you tomorrow,” she said, glad to see that the tale was working as she intended. She yawned again, not having to feign her exhaustion, then slid down beneath the covers and closed her eyes. It was warm and she was tired.

  Fergus came to the side of the bed and clearly was not as sleepy as she. “But what happened?” he asked, his interest clear. “What did the queen and her attendants do?”

  “I will continue the tale tomorrow night, after your return,” Leila said. “It is too long a tale for so late at night.” She yawned again. “We must have some sleep before the dawn.” She closed her eyes. “It seems that Agnes is not the sole one tired after this day.”

  She felt Fergus sit on the side of the mattress. “But Leila, you cannot go to sleep yet. I am curious about the tale.”

  “You will have to wait to find out,” she managed to murmur. She rolled over and burrowed into the warmth of the bed. Even as she dozed, she was aware of Fergus looking down at her and could sense his impatience. She could only hope that his desire for more of the tale would be sufficient to encourage him to return promptly and to join her abed the next night.

  The scheme had worked for Scheherazade. Leila burrowed deeper in the bed, recalling Calum’s claim that she would need a man to keep her warm at night.

  And Fergus saw her with a baby boy.

  With blue eyes.

  The prospect left Leila’s lips curved in a smile when sleep claimed her completely.

  Thursday April 28, 1188

  Feast Day of the martyrs Saint Didymus & Saint Theodora

  6

  Fergus did indeed have a guardian angel.

  She was his new wife.

  When he finally joined her abed, Leila did not awaken. She turned and curled against him, her move so natural and trusting that they might have been wedded for a decade. He held her close and reflected upon his good fortune to have such a sensible woman as wife. He liked that she was concerned for him, and that they spoke so honestly to each other. And yet, the passion had risen between them with rare force—and it had not been satisfied with one meeting abed.

  Fergus wanted her again. Indeed, his desire was well beyond his expectation, so fierce that he did not trust it would be sated soon.

  It was an appealing notion, to have enduring desire for one’s spouse, and a marvel in a match wrought of good sense. Fergus savored it when he should have slept. It was good fortune, to his thinking, for a child to be conceived in affection.

  He was surprised to feel his own contentment.

  Ultimately, Fergus did sleep, for he awakened when the shadows were just beginning to dissipate. He left the warmth of the great bed with reluctance, knowing he had to depart soon to return by the evening meal, as he had promised. He was tempted to awaken Leila with a kiss, or a greater seduction, but feared his departure would be delayed too much. He rose in the shadows and dressed in haste, returning repeatedly to the bed to look down upon her.

  Even as the sky lightened in the east, Leila slept, her lashes dark against her cheek, the sound of her breathing soft in the solar. Fergus watched the first rays of sunlight touch her features and his heart clenched in admiration. She was so delicate yet so fier
ce. He liked when she created a plan for them both. He admired her honesty and her clear thinking. He respected her determination to create a new home for herself and the future she wanted.

  And that must lie at the root of his persistent desire. Fergus did not doubt that a glimpse of Isobel would be like a dagger plunged into his heart. He prepared himself for the sight of his beloved with another, knowing full well that he would find it wrenching, even more devastating that the news had been.

  Perhaps it was wiser to feel admiration and affection for one’s wife, instead of love.

  Fergus bent and touched his lips to Leila’s brow, savoring the softness of her skin and the little sigh of contentment that she made. He tucked the furs protectively around her, then unlocked the door of the solar. He stared at the key, then returned to Leila, sliding his hand beneath the covers to put the key to the solar in her hand. She did not awaken but her fingers closed around it instinctively. He could see the cord for the key to the treasury around her neck and imagined she would put them together when she awakened.

  He knew, without doubt, that all of his treasures were safe in her care.

  In the kitchens, Fergus found Agnes, sleeping on a pallet before the glowing coals on the hearth. She had to be shaken awake after her day of labor, but sat up with a jolt when she realized it was him. “My lord!”

  “Shhh,” Fergus said. “Do not awaken the others. I would simply ask you to take hot water to my lady wife when the sun has risen.”

  Agnes blinked. “She bathed last night, my lord.”

  “She did, but it is her custom to bathe twice daily. A bucket of hot water will suffice in the morning, then the tub at night.”

  Agnes wrinkled her nose but did not speak.

  “Tell me what you are thinking, Agnes,” Fergus said.

  “But you will think me impertinent.”

  “Honesty is the best choice, Agnes. You should always tell the truth at Killairic.”

  The girl nodded and lifted her chin. “I only wonder that she would bathe twice a day, my lord. I hope such excess does not make your lady ill.”

  Fergus smiled, well aware that many of his fellows thought a weekly bath excessive. “I doubt it will. It has been her practice for years, and that of her people for centuries, if not more.”

  Agnes, it seemed, could not hide her doubt. “If you say as much, my lord.”

  “I will be back this evening and perhaps as glad of a bath as she.” He nodded and straightened but before he could take a step toward the stables, Agnes stood up.

  “Is it true, my lord, that you ride to visit Lady Isobel at Dunnisbrae?”

  “It is. I will return by the evening meal, to be sure.”

  “Would you take a message to my brother for me, my lord? He serves the ostler at Dunnisbrae and I have not seen him for over a year.”

  “Of course,” Fergus said.

  She curtsied, her gratitude clear. “His name is Nolan, my lord, and it is said that we look alike.”

  “And what message would you send him?”

  Agnes thought about this for a moment, her brow puckered in a frown. “Just that I missed his company at the Yule and hope to see him soon.”

  “It shall be done, Agnes.” Fergus nodded at her. “Do not labor too hard this day,” he said, his tone teasing for he guessed it would be otherwise. At the girl’s grimace, he strode toward the village where he would summon Hamish, then on to the stables, Tempest, and the promise of seeing Isobel.

  * * *

  Duncan was not surprised to see Fergus in the stables so early, but he was disappointed. It seemed to him that a man should linger abed on the morn after his nuptials and he did not trouble to hide his disapproval.

  “You will still ride north this very morning?” Fergus asked, his mood clearly merry. “Do you not take more with you than this?”

  “I need little on this journey but my wits and my blade,” Duncan replied. “I will break my fast in your father’s hall, though, and ride out with a full belly.” He gave the younger man a sharp look. “Do you not intend to break your fast with your new wife?”

  “Leila is sleeping yet, and I would leave at dawn.”

  Duncan shook his head and could not bite his tongue. “Leaving the bed of a loyal woman to gaze upon a faithless one.”

  Fergus paused in grooming his destrier to turn to Duncan. “You still disapprove, but I will perform this errand today.”

  “I think a man should appreciate every advantage that comes to him. You are more fortunate to have Leila as your wife than you could have been with the other.”

  Fergus’ tone cooled. “You never liked Isobel.”

  “I never trusted Isobel. I have seldom seen a woman so intent upon her own advantage, to the exclusion of all else.” Duncan closed a saddlebag, tugging hard on the strap. “Her faithlessness has done you a favor, at least. You might have been wedded to her otherwise and paid a higher price than four years of chastity.”

  Fergus shook his head and returned to the grooming of Tempest. “That is harsh, Duncan.”

  “Did you never guess her faithlessness?”

  “Never!”

  Duncan had suspected as much but was still startled to hear Fergus say it aloud. “I thought you had eyes in your head, lad, never mind the Sight. My mother would have said that one wished for honey on both sides of her bread and more besides.”

  “Perhaps she deserves so much honey as that.”

  “Why? Because her face is pretty?” Duncan scoffed. “It is her nature that is of greater import, or should be.” When Fergus did not reply, he continued. “Perhaps beauty does have a way of distracting a man from the truth of a woman’s heart.”

  Fergus turned to eye Duncan. “You suspected all along that she would not wait?”

  “I doubted she would tolerate any inconvenience to herself or her own desires,” Duncan admitted. “Your absence for four years would certainly be that.”

  “But surely love should last a lifetime.”

  Duncan decided this might be his last chance to grant a measure of advice to the younger man. Who knew what awaited him in the north? He propped his hands upon his hips and confronted Fergus, his tone challenging. “Was it love that compelled her to accept your hand? Or was it advantage?”

  Fergus’ expression became guarded. “Speak bluntly, Duncan, if you please.”

  “Careful what you wish for, lad,” Duncan advised with a smile. Fergus neither replied nor changed his manner. Duncan sighed and spoke his mind. “Lady Isobel is a beauty and born to a good family but not a powerful one. Her lineage will be hers forever, but beauty fades. Her father’s ability to secure an alliance with her marriage would diminish every year after she began her courses.”

  “Four years is a long time to wait, then,” Fergus mused.

  Duncan chose not to add his other thought, even though he had been encouraged to speak plainly.

  Fergus eyed him. “And what of your time away from Radegunde?”

  “It is much the same,” Duncan acknowledged, his heart squeezing a little at the mention of his beloved. “She counts the days more precisely than I do, because she desires a houseful of children. Her years to bear them are limited and I do not doubt that she will resent each day that passes without such effort on our part.”

  Fergus’ gaze brightened. “You were going to say something else a moment ago.”

  “You will think it unkind.”

  “If it is honest, kindness is no measure. Confess it, Duncan.”

  Duncan pursed his lips, for he was no diplomat. “There are women of wit and wisdom whose merit as wives only increases with their age. I believe that Radegunde is one such, and I will be glad to have her hand in mine.”

  Fergus, of course, did not miss his implication. “But you think Isobel is not such a woman,” he guessed.

  Duncan winced. “I believe she might feel the passing of time more keenly, or her father would. I make no excuses for her, a broken promise is still a betrayal, but I must
wonder if there were other factors she found persuasive.”

  “And I will wager that you think Leila of a similar ilk to Radegunde.”

  Duncan smiled. “Perhaps you do see clearly, after all, lad.”

  “Love must be of import, Duncan,” Fergus insisted, and Duncan wondered who he sought to convince.

  “Love might need time to blossom, as it did for Gaston and Ysmaine.”

  Fergus did not reply to that, and Duncan could only hope he would think upon it. Tempest was saddled and Duncan heard Hamish outside the stables with his palfrey. The younger man came to him and offered his hand. “I wish you Godspeed, Duncan, and every blessing on your journey,” Fergus said. “May you find what you seek and secure a home for yourself and Radegunde.”

  “I thank you, lad.”

  “We have talked of this before, but you know you are welcome at Killairic.”

  “And I know that my path lies north, that my future must be built upon my past.”

  They embraced then, and Duncan knew he would miss the younger man’s company. When Fergus spoke, his voice was husky. “One of us should be joyous in marriage, Duncan, and that task now falls to you. Ride forth and prove to me that love can conquer all.”

  “Do not be so quick to dismiss your chance of a good match,” Duncan scolded. “You may not be able to see past the shadow of this disappointment, but I do not believe myself to be the sole one of us destined to happiness.”

  Fergus did not look convinced.

  Yet.

  He returned to Tempest and swung into the saddle, riding the beast out of the stable and speaking to Hamish. As Duncan turned back to the hall, where he would break his fast, he heard the horses canter through the village and then to run. He believed that Fergus had already found the wife he deserved, if that man would but open his eyes to see the truth.

  * * *

  Leila awakened with the sense that someone was nearby.