Highland Resurrection (Blades of Honor Book 2)

by B. J. Scott

  “By what authority do you search for these men on Scottish soil?” she asked. “And what makes you think you will find them here?”

  “To answer your first question, the men we seek may be posing as monks or priests, and I have been commissioned by His Majesty, King Philip of France, to oversee the search and apprehension of these men. We have the permission of your King Robert the Bruce to take any known criminals back to France with us should we locate them.”

  “I find it hard to believe King Robert would condone this,” Sheena snapped.

  “By apprehending these blackguards, we are protecting women and children, like yourselves,” Father Marquis said.

  Quinn poked his head out from behind Sheena’s back. “And what will happen to them if and when you find them?”

  “They will be arrested and taken back to France. There, they will be tried and executed,” Father Marquis said bluntly. “In fact, several of the men we seek were already slated for execution when they escaped.”

  Sheena glanced around the room, shrugged, then held her hands in the air. “As you can see, there are no men of that description here. Any men for that matter. I would ask that you leave at once.”

  “We were told there was a monk answering the description of one of the men we are searching for staying here with you and your son,” the first soldier said.

  “He is my brother not my son, and you’re mistaken,” Sheena replied. “There are no monks or fugitives hiding here. Now please leave.” She pointed to the door, praying they’d believe her and go.

  “I dinna think so.” The soldier reached behind Sheena and grabbed Quinn by the scruff of his neck, then dragged him forward. “Did I not see you in Berwick about a fortnight ago? You were accompanied by a monk.”

  Quinn peered up at the soldier. “I dinna think so. You must have me mistaken for another lad,” he stammered.

  “I’m not mistaken. In fact, I spoke to the monk and commented on how odd it was to see him in the company of a child. And if I recall correctly, he said he was helping out your sister because she was ill and could not come to town herself.” The soldier tapped his finger against his brow. “You dropped a sack of sweets, and I picked them up for you.”

  Quinn lowered his gaze, staring at the floor. “I . . . might remember something like that. But the brother who was with me was only helping me get some supplies we needed. Sheena was ill and couldna go to town, so he offered. But we havena seen him since.”

  “Liars!” Father Marquis closed the gap between himself and Sheena. He grasped her forearm, his nails biting into her flesh. “Tell me where I can find this monk. Brother Lazarus is what he calls himself.”

  “I have no idea where he is. Quinn is right,” Sheena replied. “The monk happened by when I was attacked in town several sennights ago. After he ran off my assailants, he offered me some medical attention before he left. We have not seen him since.”

  “That is very odd.” Father Marquis stroked his chin, then pinned Sheena with his stare. “I questioned a few of your neighbors and they said you have had a man living with you for some time now. A man who looks very much like the monk the lad was seen in town with. Your lover, perhaps?”

  Sheena nibbled on her bottom lip, unable to look the priest in the eye. “Well, they are wrong. I’m still recovering from my injuries and have no man living with me. Nor do I have a lover or want one.”

  Father Marquis dragged his finger along Sheena’s chin, tracing the scar. “Then perhaps he is one of your patrons,” he said smugly.

  Before she could stop herself, Sheena struck out, slapping the priest across the face. “How dare you speak to me like that? I have answered your questions and would like you to go.”

  Father Marquis rubbed his cheek. “You will regret that. And you’re also about to learn that what you want and what happens are two different things, my dear.” He faced the soldier. “Take the boy and let’s get out of here.”

  Panic squeezed her chest. “Take him where?” A show of fear could only make these blackguards feel more powerful, but she found it impossible to hide the nervous tremor in her voice.

  The soldier lunged forward, grabbed Quinn, then tossed him over his shoulder, the lad kicking and flailing, but to no avail.

  “Release him at once,” Sheena demanded. “What good will it do for you to take an innocent lad? I told you we dinna know where this Brother Lazarus is. He could be in England or who knows where by now.”

  “When you’re ready to tell the truth, let me know.” Father Marquis headed for the door. “Or when you see Brother Lazarus again, tell him to turn himself in and I’ll release the boy. Until then, he will be held at Coldingham Abbey.”

  “Please dinna take him.” Sheena tried to stop them from leaving by latching on to the arm of the guard toting Quinn. But she was no match for three burly men. One of the soldiers trapped her arms behind her back and held her at bay while Father Marquis and the soldier carrying Quinn left the hut, then shoved her to the ground and followed them.

  Sheena got up and rushed outside in one last attempt to reason with them, but it was too late. All three men had already mounted their horses and Quinn was laying across the front of one of their saddles as they rode off, leaving her in a cloud of dust.

  Terrified she’d never see Quinn again and uncertain what to do next, Sheena crumpled to her knees, sobbing. She had to find a way to get Quinn back and not betray Lazarus. No matter what the priest said, she did not believe Lazarus was the brigand he was claimed to be.

  After releasing a torrent of tears, Sheena slowly climbed to her feet. Ayton Abbey was half a day’s brisk walk for a healthy woman. In her condition it would take far longer, if she managed at all.

  Chapter 12

  A large stone crucifix stood sentinel at the entrance to the chapel of Ayton Abbey. Lazarus paused for a moment, bowed his head, and crossed himself. After mumbling a quick prayer, he proceeded down a long, dark corridor, stopping when he reached Simon’s cell. While he had no doubt his friend would be relieved to see him, Lazarus couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a huge mistake by leaving Sheena and Quinn behind. He knocked, then entered the room.

  “I’m glad to see you have finally come to your senses and returned home. But it’s no longer safe for you to remain here. Father Marquis or one the French agents could show up at any time, inquiring if we’ve had any news of your whereabouts.”

  Lazarus blew out a sigh of frustration. “I wish they would leave me be. I have nothing they want.”

  “They willna stop hunting for you. Not until they’ve found you and hauled you back to France.” Brother Simon moved to a desk in the corner of his cell, retrieved a piece of parchment from the drawer, then handed it to Lazarus.

  “What’s this?” Lazarus stared at the missive in his hand.

  “A letter of introduction. Give it to Friar Maxwell when you arrive at St. Peter’s Priory. He is expecting you. If you leave now, you can put many miles between you and Ayton before nightfall.”

  Lazarus crumpled the note, then dropped it on the floor. “I’m not proud of my decision to return to the abbey like a hound with his tail between his legs. And I have no intention of running.”

  Simon shook his head. “There is no shame in doing what is necessary to protect yourself. Since you’ve returned of your own accord, I hoped it meant you had reconsidered my offer and were prepared to do what was in your best interest.”

  “The only reason I came back was to protect Sheena and the lad. I feared you were right, and if I stayed in Berwick any longer, my presence might put them in jeopardy. A risk I’m not willing to take.” He moved to the window and peered outside.

  Brother Simon followed, then slid his hand over Lazarus’s shoulder. “I’m sure it wasna an easy choice, but I wish you would reconsider. Friar Maxwell is willing to shelter
you for as long as necessary, while Father Marquis canna wait to ship you back to France in irons. I honestly believe going to St. Peters is for the best.”

  “Best for whom?” Lazarus spun around to face his friend.

  “For you, my son.” Simon picked up the letter, smoothed the creases against his chest, then offered it back to Lazarus. “And, in time, the lad and lass will forget and forgive. As will you.”

  “You’re a thrawn man, Simon. Worse than a fox after a hen.”

  Simon shrugged. “When something warrants my tenacity.”

  “I willna desert them.” Lazarus placed the letter on the desk.

  “You may have no choice. If you go now, I’ll do what I can for them,” Simon replied. “You’ll be of no use to anyone if you’re dead.”

  Lazarus pinched the bridge of his nose, then shook his head. “If you expect me to consider your request, you must promise me you’ll watch over Sheena and Quinn until I can return. If possible, find them somewhere to live here in Ayton. Or perhaps in Burnmouth, where no one knows them, and they can start anew.” Lazarus glared at Simon. “Will you give me your word?”

  “Aye, if that is what it takes. I swear I will do everything in my power to protect them,” Simon replied. “But time is wasting and you must be away before Father Marquis finds out you’re here.” He grabbed Lazarus’s arm, ushering him toward the door. “I will pack for you and have your things sent to St. Peter’s.”

  “There you are!”

  The door to Simon’s cell flew open and slammed against the stone wall with a loud thud.

  Simon stood between the intruder and Lazarus. “What are you doing here? The cells of the priory are private sanctuaries for the brethren, and no one is permitted to venture beyond the chapel. I insist you leave at once.”

  Standing toe-to-toe with Simon, Sheena glared up at him. “I dinna care about your rules. I want to speak to Lazarus. Now! And I willna leave until I do.” There was no mistaking the anger and determination in her voice.

  “It is all right, Simon. Let her pass.” Lazarus grasped his friend’s shoulders and eased him aside.

  Given her disheveled appearance, windblown hair, shortness of breath, and reddened cheeks, Lazarus could tell she’d had a grueling trip. He moved forward and clasped Sheena’s hand. “Take a minute to collect yourself, then tell me what’s amiss. I understand if you are upset with me for leaving, but you’re not nearly well enough to travel this distance and—”

  “Upset hardly describes how I feel. Amiss? I’ll tell you what is amiss!” She yanked free of his grasp, then repeatedly pounded her fists against his chest. “I rue the day you came into my life.” She paused to suck in a gulp of air, then continued her tirade, hands flailing. “This has nothing to do with you nearly making love to me, then leaving. If you’ve had second thoughts, fine. But you lied to me, and now they have taken Quinn.”

  Lazarus restrained her wrists then gave her a gentle shake. “Tell me who has Quinn.”

  “Father Marquis and his men. They arrived at dawn, not long after you left, demanding I tell them where you were.”

  “They came to your hut?”

  “Aye. When I told them I had no idea where you were, they snatched Quinn, and said they wouldna set him free until you turned yourself in.”

  Her words hit him like a blow to the chest. “You should have told them where I was and perhaps they’d have spared the lad.”

  “I thought about it,” she confessed. “But despite what happened between us, I couldna bring myself to betray you to those horrible men. And Quinn would never have forgiven me had I turned you in. After they took him, it was too late.”

  Lazarus was determined to make things right. “Dinna fash, you’ll have Quinn back. I swear.” He tried to pull her into his embrace, but she pushed him away.

  “They accused you of some terrible things,” Sheena snapped. “What is it about your past that you dinna see fit to share with me? Why would a priest want you so badly that he would take a wee lad prisoner?”

  Lazarus hung his head. “I told you I was in Europe and the Holy Land for quite some time.”

  “Brother Lazarus. Your vows,” Simon cautioned.

  Lazarus held up his hand and shook his head. “I’m fully aware of the oath I took, Simon. But she does have a right to know.”

  “You said you were doing work for the Catholic Church. But they accused you of robbery, rape, and murder.”

  “What they told you is a falsehood.” Lazarus paused to suck in a deep breath. “I was a member of the Temple of Solomon. I served as a crusader during the Holy Wars, protecting pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem in search of their religious roots.”

  “A Knight Templar?” She gasped and clutched a hand to her throat.

  Lazarus nodded. “Aye.”

  “Why would you go to the Holy Land, when your home was here in Scotland? If you were so hellbent on fighting, there was a war for independence going on here against the English.”

  “I was summoned by the Pope to serve. And since I believed I owed my life to the Catholic Church, I felt obligated to go,” Lazarus replied. “Only those of noble blood, or men from a prestigious clan were accepted to knight’s status. Since I knew nothing about my background and was no more than a monk’s apprentice, a foundling, I was considered unworthy.”

  “Yet you wear the Templar ring.” She pointed to his left hand. “I noticed it, but I never thought about the connection before now.”

  “When I first arrived in the Holy Land, I was as a sergeant, one of a group of men who formed the light cavalry and were servants to the knights.”

  He twisted a band of gold, adorned by the Templar crest around his finger. “When the French king became more determined than ever to destroy the order, and many of my brethren were dead or imprisoned, I was promoted to the highest rank and made a knight.”

  “I’ve heard tales about the horrific battles between the Knights Templar and the Muslims in the Holy Land. And later, about the torture and persecution they suffered at the hands of King Phillip the Fair. That would explain your nightmares,” she whispered.

  “Amongst the many sacred vows I took, one was secrecy. I swore never to disclose anything about the Knights Templar to anyone. We were forbidden to have any family ties or relationships, other than with God and our Grand Master.”

  Sheena touched his arm. “You could have told me. I thought we had something special between us.”

  “To tell you about my association with the sacred order, would mean breaking my vows. It is hard to change your ways when you have lived by those rules for so many summers. It becomes a part of your very existence. I also believed the less you and Quinn knew about my past, the safer you’d be.”

  “Yet you break your vows now,” Sheena said.

  “Aye. Nothing is more important than Quinn’s release. Not even my word to God.”

  Simon stepped between them, a canvas sack clutched in his fist. “I know you’re concerned about the lad, but you must be away. I’ll see what I can do to smooth things over with Father Marquis. Once he finds out you’re gone, there is no reason for him to hold Quinn.” He handed Lazarus the bundle. “I packed a change of clothes, some food, and a plaid for your journey. You must be off.”

  “You’re leaving?” Sheena asked.

  “He must,” Simon said. “If he stays, he will be arrested, sent back to France to stand trial, then executed.”

  “Father Marquis said as much. But I prayed it wasna true.” Sheena clutched the sleeves of Lazarus’s tunic, peering up at him.

  “Aye. The king of France has some fool notion that I know the whereabouts of a group of Knights Templar who escaped his father’s wrath with a treasure of great fortune and several priceless religious articles.” Lazarus glared at Simon, then stroked his fingertips acro
ss Sheena’s lips. He swallowed hard against the lump of emotion rising in his throat. He wanted to hold her close, to kiss her, and tell her everything would be fine. But he knew that was not the truth.

  “I did considered leaving Ayton, but only in order to protect you and Quinn. But things have changed. I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’m certain the lad is safe and at home in your arms where he belongs.” In a moment of weakness, Lazarus pressed a kiss to her cheek, then strode toward the door. “Wait here with Simon.”

  “What are you planning to do?” Simon asked.

  “I’m going to see Father Marquis and demand he release Quinn at once,” Lazarus said. “Dinna try to stop me.”

  “This is insanity,” Simon replied. “He will turn you over to French King, and Philip will see you tortured, then executed. If you leave now, there is still time for you to seek sanctuary in the Highlands.”

  Lazarus paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I willna go anywhere when the lad needs my help. I told you before, the time has come for me to stop running. If the only way I can free Quinn is by turning myself in, so be it.”

  Sheena rushed to his side and clasped his hand to her chest. “Are you certain there is no other way?”

  “I’m afraid not. Father Marquis was sent here to find me, and he stands to profit from a large reward upon my capture. He will do whatever he must to attain that prize. Even if it means harming an innocent lad.” Lazarus pried her fingers free, then smiled. “I do have strong feeling for you, Sheena, and what happened between us last night means more to me than you’ll ever know. I will take those memories with me, and go willingly to my grave. As long as I know you and Quinn are safe.”