by Amity Grays
It had not taken long for word of his visit to spread to the ears of his enemies. He had hoped to have more time, but time, once again, had not served in his favor.
His brother’s words came back to haunt him.
“The dreams are only guides, my brother. If their paths are not followed, nothing is certain.”
Omont slipped the stone inside Lucas’s leather boot before handing him his most precious possession. “Federic will come for her. You must let her go.”
Looking lovingly down toward his small bundle, Lucas’s eyes began to mist with sorrow. “Are you sure there is no other way?”
“I am sure of but one thing. There is only one place she will ever again be safe.”
As though sensing the heartbreak to come, Edeline cried, reaching out her tiny arms to her father, begging him to take her back.
Omont had always assumed it would be he who led his dear child down destiny’s path. But it seemed his path was to take another direction. To protect her, he had no choice. He would have to lead the beast away.
“God give you speed, my cousin,” Lucas said.
“And you, my dearest friend.” Pulling on his reins, Omont turned his mount and headed back toward a fate destined to be his.
Brines Castle, Harfleur, France, One day forward
Federic’s hurried steps echoed off the castle walls, with their high gothic arches and bright gold coatings. Despite the raging storm outside, the once lively castle was now uncomfortably quiet and hollow. Its long halls no longer captured the joy and prayers of its inhabitants. Instead, they sat as a silent reminder of their more recent cries of despair.
How had it come to such an end? So many good and honorable men rewarded by those they had served with such cruel and unjust deaths. It would be his fate as well if he were to be caught—not that destiny would be changed. His fate was set one way or the other, by duty, honor, and his belief in the cross. He was not afraid of what was to come, for he would gladly jump into the arms of the Lord and let Him choose his end.
He stopped just outside the chapel. The sound of loyal but disheartened servants weeping for those they had lost, for those they would lose, and for their own bleak and uncertain futures, slipped through the closed doors. His hand hovered momentarily against the massive wooden structure. If they were meeting in the chapel, then they already knew. At least he’d be spared the role of bearer. He took a deep breath and quietly stepped inside.
Three knights kneeled on bent knees, bowed in prayer before the altar. The castle’s few remaining servants sat scattered amongst the small wooden benches, weeping and waiting to do their masters’ biddings.
Federic watched the knights and wondered what would become of them. Three braver men he had never known.
Roncin, a natural born leader, was as noble as he was bold. He had taught his men to fight with honor and courage, only to have them destroyed by those who fought without.
Lucas, a man of great humility and spiritual devotion, had lived his whole life for a church which had now left him condemned.
Hemart, his dear friend, a giant of a man with a heart equal his size, would undoubtedly be lost outside the Templars’ realm.
Bowing his head, Federic added his own silent prayers for his brothers who had passed and his brothers who remained.
The straightening of armor clattered throughout the small room as the three knights slowly stood, their long white mantles falling to the heels of their simple, unadorned shoes. Three solemn faces turned toward Federic.
“Is it true?” asked Lucas.
Federic nodded. “They captured him near Beaumont. He’s been taken to Paris.”
“And the others? Were any spared?” asked Roncin.
“None,” Federic said sorrowfully. “They kept their faith till the end, dying with honor and blessed for their strength.”
Roncin covered his face with his hands and raged against the men who had taken their brothers, their friends, their fellow Templars. “Monsters, not men—that is what they are!”
“They will be the ones to answer in the end,” Federic said, offering the only comfort he himself had found. “The Lord has seen their deeds, as He has seen our brothers’ sacrifices.”
A little girl with curling gold hair and bright blue eyes peeked out from behind one of the long flowing draperies. She smiled at them all before dashing back behind the heavy cover.
“They will be looking for her,” Federic said. “If we do not leave now, it could well be too late.”
Looking back at the small lump behind the drapery, Roncin smiled at the tiny giggles. There was no laughter in his eyes, however, when they returned to Federic. “Are you sure this is the only way?”
“I am sure of very little these days, my friend. But I have never known the priest to be wrong.”
“You are a braver man than I, Federic Depuis.”
“I gave my word. It holds me bound.”
Three silent nods spoke more than words. They were all men of honor, living by a code both sacred and trusted. None would break that trust, especially to a man as honorable as Omont Montague. Now jailed for his knowledge rather than any crime, he would be beaten without mercy. But for the sake of the righteous, he would keep his silence and, in the end, most likely, suffer the same fate as his brother. And because Omont was such a man, Federic would keep his word, regardless of its price.
“Federic is right. It is time for them to go,” Lucas said, breaking the silence. “We cannot count on the storm lasting much longer.” He stepped away from the group and toward the curtains.
“Come on, my precious Edeline.” Reaching inside the draperies, he pulled out the giggling bundle. He kissed her long and lovingly on her forehead, burying his face in the soft warmth of her curls. Tears rolled unguarded down his scarred countenance as he handed her to Federic. “Perhaps we are the monsters,” he suggested.
All four men stood silent. If the priest was wrong, and not one could deny some doubt, then they were sending the child to a premature end. But fate had forced their path through despair and into darkness. It would take a blind leap of faith to once again break through to light. So, Federic took the little girl into his arms and hid her within his large surcoat.
She cuddled tight against his chest.
He couldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t. It would make what he had to do impossible. His own fate, he could handle. Hers, he wanted no part of.
Lucas pulled the stone from his boot and placed it into Federic’s hand. “If they catch you…”
“I will toss it into the sea. Now I must go,” Federic rushed, knowing if he thought about it much longer he might just go back on his word. He turned swiftly, heading back the way he had come.
Hemart followed behind him. “Are you sure I can’t accompany you to the banks,” he asked in his abnormally deep baritone.
Federic stopped and turned toward his lifelong friend. He knew it would be the hardest on him. Laying his hand reassuringly on Hemart’s shoulder, he emphasized his last wishes. “Do not follow me, my friend, for on this journey we must part. You belong with the others.”
“Federic, you realize—”
“I know what it is I do, and I know what it is I protect. Is there any greater honor?”
Hemart bowed his head and admitted sadly, “There is not.”
“Then stay, and pray it be the Lord’s hands that capture us.” With that, he turned and made his way through the long, silent halls and out into the storm.
The rain beat without mercy against his face as he dashed through the night.
Braguard, his loyal charger, ran as though he, too, understood the importance of their mission. Sweat mixing with rain saturated the stallion’s black heavy coat. He, like his rider, was a warrior. Thick of body, but agile and swift, he was every bit as noble a sight as the man who sat proudly upon him.
As Federic flew across the rugged coastline, he barely noticed the raging waters below. White angry wisps of the ocean’s brew lifted h
igh above their stone barrier. The sky held its own battle as streaks of white fury cut through the thick, rolling, gray cover, lighting the darkness and then quickly vanishing behind the clouds.
By the grace of God or the will of angels, they made it to the bank without incident. Although he’d seen no one, he had not been able to shake the feeling he was being followed. If it were the king’s soldiers, surely they’d have shown themselves by now. Perhaps they were waiting for him to round the jutting cliffs ahead. It would be their way—to ambush him when he was cornered.
Again thunder roared and lightning’s veins lit the earth. That time he saw them—no more than a fleeting glimpse. Just like the lightning, they were there and then gone. He held tight to Edeline as he charged up the rising cliff.
She clung tightly to his middle, frightened, no doubt, by the violent thunder that rocked the dark sky.
From his lips, words of prayer rang into the night. They were captured by the wind, then lost in the storm. The heavens parted, and a bright white rod lit the sky as Braguard, ordered by his master, jumped from the cliffs of France into the raging sea.
Chapter Two
Realm: Los Angeles, California, Current Day
GRABBING THE SATIN TIE in his rough hands, Federic began loosening the knot. “It’s suffocating,” he grumbled.
Edeline had seen the scowl, watched him fidget and knew it wouldn’t be long.
“No you don’t,” she said, swatting at her father’s determined fingers. “This is a black-tie event. You are not going to embarrass Alison by showing up in an old cotton shirt, jeans, and those ratty old work boots.”
Dodging her attempts to interfere, he swatted back at her punishing hands. “I look like a gorilla shoved into this suit. If she doesn’t like me as I am, then—”
Edeline caught her father’s hands in hers and held them still. “Quit acting like you don’t have feelings for Alison. I’ve watched you watching her.”
“I like her fine,” he admitted, finally surrendering his satin foe into her capable hands.
“You like her plenty.” Taking hold of the narrow end of the tie, Edeline slid the knot back up to the collar of his freshly pressed shirt.
Lifting his face slowly to hers, Federic grinned. “She’s a fine woman.”
“Yes, she is,” Edeline agreed, laughing when her father turned and dashed away toward the hallway mirror.
Her father was more than slightly interested in the lovely Alison, but for some reason he was having a hard time admitting it. Edeline had a sneaking suspicion she was the reason why. He’d always been very protective of her, perhaps because for years it had been only the two of them.
They had moved to the states when Edeline was a toddler. Shortly after, Father Tom had offered Federic not only a job, but also a home. Living in the small cottage near the back of the parish for years, their lives were built almost entirely around the church and each other. But it couldn’t stay that way forever. She was twenty-four years old. Someday she hoped to fall in love and marry. With all her heart, she hoped her father would do the same.
Afraid of leaving him alone too long with the tie, Edeline followed her father into the hall.
A quiet man by nature, tonight he was walking well outside his comfort zone to accompany Alison, the Event Coordinator for the parish, to a fundraiser for the local food bank. They were becoming good friends. With time, Edeline hoped it would grow into something more.
Puffing out his cheeks, Federic leaned forward to blow fog across his reflection. Slowly the image cleared. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what she sees in me.”
Edeline smiled as her reflection joined his. “She sees her knight in shining armor.”
“A knight dressed liked a gorilla. I never thought I’d see the day.” Taking one last long look into the mirror, he shook his head and sighed. “I’m old. When did I get so old?”
Lifting up on the tips of her toes, she kissed his freshly shaven cheek. “You’re not old.”
Federic took her into his arms and squeezed her tight. “Thanks for helping me polish up, Edeline.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” Laying her head lovingly against his shoulder, she grinned. “You’ll be the handsomest gorilla there.”
Shining down through the tall, nineteenth-century brick buildings which made up LA’s quaint district of Morrow’s Haven, the sun hit against Edeline’s back, warming her skin but never quite reaching the chill beneath the flesh. Typically she loved her early evening strolls past the many specialty shops lining the path to her favorite used bookstore, Paperback Adventures, but not tonight.
Despite seeing nothing which would validate her suspicions, she’d been unable to shake the feeling she was being watched. It trickled down her spine, pulling her attention away from the tiny shops and toward the shadowed doorways, distant corners, and countless tinted windows which covered the beautiful old buildings. Nothing was out of the ordinary, yet the feeling remained.
It was probably her overactive imagination fueled, no doubt, by the many mysteries she’d been reading as of late. Still it was unsettling, especially when in the back of her mind sat her father’s endless warnings.
“Don’t take chances, Edeline,” he’d always say. “That sixth sense has more common sense than the rest of them put together.”
He was probably right, but she saw no one, or at least no one who seemed to be paying her any notice. Spotting her destination, she quickened her steps into a near run. Distracted by the persistent unease, she nearly fell through the doors of her friends’ store.
“Hey, Eda,” Paul Dowen greeted her from his post behind the counter. He put down the wire and pliers he held in his hands. “Everything all right? You look a bit…frazzled.”
“Phobic is more like it,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve been reading too many suspense novels, I suspect. They’ve got me imagining hidden goons and invisible stalkers.”
“Ah…” He grinned, his dark curls bouncing as he nodded his understanding. “That can do it to ya. There’s nothing like a good suspense to bring about an irrational case of the ‘heebie jeebies.’ If you’re looking for another hair-raising read, we just received in—”
“No.” Holding out her hands, she waved away the suggestion. “This time I’m sticking to something a little less spooky—possibly a romance.”
“Romance?” His brows lifted in mock terror. “Yikes, sounds scary to me.”
“Your wife tells me you’re very romantic.”
“My wife has an amazing imagination.” Grinning from ear to ear, he turned to open the stairwell door behind him. “Speaking of my wife, I better let her know you’re here, or I’ll never hear the end of it. Amanda,” he yelled up the narrow passage, “Eda’s here.”
A moment later, a petite brunette wearing an excessively large pair of glasses and a warm, welcoming smile emerged from the nearly hidden door. “Where have you been?” she demanded, approaching Edeline for a hug.
“Helping Dad get ready for his date.” Wrinkling her nose at the huge, black-rimmed monsters nearly engulfing her friend’s face, she snickered. “What are you wearing?”
A bright pair of magnified brown eyes moved back and forth toward the black frames sitting across the bridge of her dainty little nose. Amanda chuckled as she pulled the large glasses from her face. Handing them back to her husband, she explained, “They’re Paul’s magnifying glasses he uses for beading. I borrowed them to pull a sliver from my heel.”
“They’re very attractive.”
“You’re one to talk,” Amanda said, nodding her head toward the old, battered, khaki-green, bucket-style fishing hat sitting atop Edeline’s head. “I really wish you’d reconsider the hat.”
Edeline had won the hat off Father Tom almost fifteen years prior.
“Fair and square,” he’d said with a grin as he pulled off his favorite fishing hat only to pull it down over her nine-year-old face. “Hope it brings you better luck than it did me.” Glancing down towa
rd his scrawny little trout, he’d released a sorrowful sigh.
Edeline had simply adjusted the too-large hat the best she could before picking up her winning trout. “You can win it back next trip, Father Tom.”
But he never had, and she’d realized some time back he never intended to. The hat was just one of the priceless treasures she had collected through the years.
“What’s wrong with my hat?”
Batting her lids in disbelief, Amanda laughed. “What’s right with it? If I had hair like yours, I’d wear it proudly for the world to see.” Her gaze progressed down over Edeline’s one-size-fits-all T-shirt and seriously worn jeans. “And if I had your body—”
“Your body’s beautiful, honey,” Paul said, peeking over the rim of his huge black glasses and giving her an exaggerated “once over.”
Shaking her head at his antics, Amanda smiled. “Thanks for the ogling, dear.”
“My pleasure.” His dark brows waggled roguishly as his fingers continued to weave.
A flash of silver drew Edeline’s attention to the intricately beaded bookmark Paul was making. His work was the best she had ever seen, finely detailed masterpieces built to mark one’s place in whatever wonderful world they might be reading. Edeline’s admiration was easily reflected in the numerous bookmarks lining her shelves and dangling from her various reads. She watched him work.
Looping black and red cord, he added another silver bead. It was nearly finished and absolutely stunning. “I want that one,” she told him when, on his final loop, he added a tiny silver rose.
“Nope.” His now-magnified green eyes sparked with mischief. “I promised you I wouldn’t let you buy another. Don’t you remember?” He grinned so wide his dimples emerged through his closely cut, black beard.
“Paul,” he mimicked her, putting his hands on his hips and his nose in the air, “no matter what I say, no matter how much I beg, do not—do not let me buy another bookmark.” He batted his lids and pursed his lips. “I’m going to Paris. I need to save my money.”
