“Do you know him, Father?” Jacques shouted above the din.
“Of course, and he’s older than I by at least five years. I’m surprised that he would take on such a mission. I must talk with him about his intentions.”
Realizing that Pope Urban II had completed his speech, many of the spectators crushed forward to volunteer for the Crusade, so Pope Urban vacated the platform to avoid being overrun by the masses.
Luc pressed forward through the crowd, towing Ian and Jacques behind him in his wake, while Ian dragged the three horses, skittish from the noise and chaos, along behind him.
With Raymond in sight, Luc closed the distance until arriving at Raymond’s side, clasped his shoulder, and said, “My old friend, what a grand day it is to see you here.”
“Luc, it is good to see you, also.” Raymond spread his arms to welcome his old friend and they hugged.
Ian pushed first one spectator, then another, making room in the crowd for Luc, Raymond, Jacques, himself, and their horses.
“Let us make our way to the front of Notre Dame where we might find an open place to talk,” Ian suggested.
With Ian in the lead, the foursome elbowed, pushed, and shoved their way clear of the assorted perfumed aristocrats and clerics, and odorous, unwashed peasants to the front steps of Notre Dame. Ian tied the reins of their horses to a post near the steps of the moody black stone cathedral.
Luc asked Raymond, “Are we not getting a little senior to take on such a venture?”
“No, my friend, I’m ready and look forward to doing something useful with the graying years of my life. I would be honored if you would pilgrimage with me.”
Embarrassed at being asked, Luc replied, “I am not the knight I once was, but I have two stalwart young men who are anxious to go. You’ve met my son, Jacques?”
“Ah yes, we met several years ago. You’ve grown to a handsome young man.” Raymond shook Jacques’ hand.
“Thank you, sir.” Jacques deferred to the Count.
“And this is Ian, Jacques’ friend, whom we think of like a son.”
“Good to meet you also, young man.” Raymond shook Ian’s hand, a strong firm grip.
Luc’s face took on a serious expression. “Raymond, would you consider letting these two fine young men accompany you to Jerusalem? They could serve as your personal bodyguards.”
“What a fine idea! I haven’t given my arrangements much thought yet, as I’ve just now volunteered, but I appreciate and will seriously consider your offer.”
Ian and Jacques could barely contain their enthusiasm. “We’re skilled knights,” Jacques blurted out.
Raymond smiled at Jacques enthusiasm. “I plan on taking every precaution for this venture and will not leave until next fall, after harvest, if you can wait that long.”
“They have preparations to make also. Next fall is soon enough. Thank you, Raymond.”
“Thank you, Luc. It’s been fortuitous that we met here this day.”
Nine
Ian and Jacques gave in without resistance when Rosemarie suggested they take a break from warrior training and their leisure time pursuits of blacksmithing and designing war weapons, and join her and Esmeralda on a picnic. It was a warm glorious day as can only occur in southern France in the late spring. The sun shone bright causing the wildflowers to open their petals wide and capture all the rays possible from late morning until early afternoon. Bees buzzed the wildflowers sometimes more than one to a bloom. The birds chirped and flitted from tree to tree finding juicy insects in abundance.
Rosemarie brushed the twigs and leaves away from a flat spot in the shade of an ancient oak. She laid her red and white checkered blanket on the ground and smoothed it out.
Ian watched her nesting instincts and observed for the umpteenth time that Rosemarie was somewhere between plain and beautiful, but closer to beautiful as young women often are. She had been blessed with fine features, clear smooth skin, bright blue eyes, and honey blonde hair. She stood about 5 and a half feet tall and about eight and a half stones fitted into a small waist and buxom figure. He could fall in love with her if he hadn’t already become like an accepted member of the family.
Ian placed the picnic basket in the center of the blanket. Rosemarie sat on the blanket and Ian lay on his back next to the basket, and looked up at the sky through the branches of the tree.
“If there is a Heaven . . .” Ian began, “I hope it’s like your father’s estate and every day is as delightful as today.”
“If there is a Heaven, I hope the same and that we’re all together in it as we are today,” added Rosemarie.
“By the way, I thought Jacques and Esmeralda were going to join us,” Ian said, wary of Rosemarie’s intentions.
“They’re already here somewhere. They have their own blanket.”
“Do they have their own picnic basket also?”
“No, Bumpkin, food is the last thing on their minds. They’re going to eat with us when they’re ready.”
“Ahhh, springtime and a young man’s fancy turns to romance.”
“Spring, summer, winter, fall; it’s all one continuous season with my brother, the ladies’ man.”
“I see, and what about Rosemarie?” Ian pulled a long blade of grass, placed the end into his mouth, and began to chew.
“I’m too young to know of such things.”
“Ha, you are much older and wiser than I.”
“Do you know the meaning of Rosemarie?” she asked in her coy voice. She reached out and gripped a forelock of Ian’s hair.
Ian tried to gently pull back to loosen Rosemarie’s grip on his hair. “No.”
“It means wild flowers. I don’t mind living up to my name.” She yanked on the forelock of hair. “If we’re to fool around, we should do it today . . . now.”
“Ouch! Fool around?” He sat upright. “Today? What do you mean?” Ian’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.
“Many of my mother’s friends think you are father’s illegitimate son from another woman, a red-haired woman. They bob their heads and wag their tongues passing rumors like garrulous old biddies. But I think Father is secretly amused by the humor of their suspicions.”
“Your father is a great man. He would not cheat on your mother.”
“No, he wouldn’t. His loves in order are my mother, his wine, his family, and his estate.”
Ian leaned back, releasing his lock of hair from Rosemarie’s thumb and index finger grip. “Does it bother you to come in third after his wine?”
Rosemarie leaned in closer to Ian, sniffing at his face like a getting acquainted puppy. “Are you wearing my brother’s cologne? If so, it suits you. And no, it doesn’t bother me, because my father has such a capacity for love that third place with him far exceeds first place with so many men.”
Ian caressed Rosemarie’s cheek affectionately. “And today; what’s so special about today?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you, nor is anyone else, but almost everyone already knows except you.” Rosemarie looked deeply into Ian’s clear green eyes.
“What?”
“At supper tomorrow, father is going to announce that if you will accept, he’ll adopt you into the family. You will be my brother, Jacques’ brother, Luc’s adopted son . . .” Rosemarie paused.
Ian stared into the remote distance, unblinking, shocked at Rosemarie’s confidence. His mind reeled at the revelation. He replied, “I’m but a poor Irish farmer, why would he honor me so?”
“Don’t you understand? He loves you. You’re the son he lost. We all love you, Bumpkin.” With her declaration, Rosemarie kissed Ian full on the lips and held the kiss for a long time.
Ian broke away slowly, his naturally ruddy face even redder with blush and stammered, “I love you too . . . all of you.”
Rosemarie stood, withdrew a second blanket from the picnic basket, and taking Ian by the hand, led him into the grove. As she spread the blanket on the smooth ground beneath a large oak tree, she said,
“Even I, Rosemarie, might feel awkward about what we’re about to do after you’re my adopted brother.” She lay down on the blanket and gave him a ‘come hither look.’
Ian felt excited about the prospects of Rosemarie’s charms, but considered his relationships with Jacques, Luc and Gabrielle. Can I violate all their trusts with their sister and daughter?
Rosemarie made kissing gestures and wiggled her extended fingers as if to say, what are you waiting for? Ian lay beside her, and she immediately kissed him fully on the mouth. Surprised by the suddenness, he started to pull back, but she grasped the back of his head with both hands and held him in place. The warm soft moist feel of her lips overcame his reticence, and he enjoined her kiss with his own forwardness. She enhanced the kiss by grasping his left hand and placing it into the bosom of her blouse. Ian enjoyed the foreplay and let Rosemarie take him to each new level of intimacy.
She was obviously intending on going all the way, and he was willing to be led. He tried to make their joining as enjoyable for her as it was for him, and it was enjoyable for him. He felt only slightly less awkward with Rosemarie than he did with Fiona, his only other romantic encounter, on their last night together.
Afterwards, Ian rolled over onto his side and stared at Rosemarie in the muted light beneath the tree. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, her bare legs smooth and creamy white, her face flush with the aftermath of their pleasure. Ian thought of his time with Fiona. Love was love and sex was sex, but somehow they blended. He felt love for both Fiona and Rosemarie. Having spent more time with Rosemarie, he loved her more even though he felt a kindred spirit with Fiona.
Ian lay back down beside Rosemarie and dozed off, startled awake by her shaking him.
“Ian, we need to go. Jacques will be looking for us.”
Ian shrugged off his grogginess, got to his feet and pulled up his trousers. He assisted Rosemarie to her feet. She adjusted her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair to arrange it more as it was prior to her romantic encounter.
“Thank you,” was all Ian could think of to say.
“Thank you, yourself. You’re like a big horse; a workhorse, effective, but awkward. We’ll work on that.”
Unsure of how to respond, Ian didn’t reply.
Jacques approached them with Esmeralda in tow. They had a light skip to their step, which even Ian was able to interpret as a romantic afterglow. Jacques stared at Rosemarie and Ian as if examining them for hints of the same activity. “Ian, have you been violating my sister?” Jacques asked in an inquisitive rather than a condemning manner.
“No, we both swooned to the sumptuousness of the food and the splendor of the day, and dozed beneath an oak tree,” Rosemarie replied in a voice that implied she felt it was none of Jacques’ business what had transpired.
Jacques grinned at her deadpan answer. “I see, perhaps it was Ian who was violated. It’s not my concern, in any case.”
Ten
Luc raised his glass and proposed a toast, “To Ian and Jacques, my sons, the future Crusaders.” All present raised their glasses in salute. Luc continued, “When I say my sons, I mean it literally.” Looking directly at Ian, Luc said, “If it please you, Ian, I have submitted papers to legally adopt you as my son and knight you in the House of LeFriant.”
Ian felt flustered, even though Rosemarie had forewarned him of this event. He looked at Luc, then around the table and, unable to remain stoic, felt tears roll down both cheeks in what seemed like torrents. The family patiently waited for his response, until Ian replied, “I am most honored and humbled that you would adopt me, a lowly farmer.” Ian wiped his eyes and cheeks on the sleeve of his shirt.
Luc drank the last of his wine and nodded to a servant to refill his glass. “Ian, my boy, you’ve been a blessing to our home. First, you save Jacques and our taxes from brigands, then you save me from choking to death on a morsel of cheese, you cure Gabrielle from an uncomfortable illness, and then you help save our last shipment from highwaymen.” Luc paused for effect. “Now you plan on saving the Holy Land for the Christians. You are more than a humble farmer. You’re a treasured member of our family.” Luc held up his glass, “To Ian.”
“Hurrah, hurrah,” the family chimed in together.
“Ian, you know that I love you as my son. Jacques was my second son, and he wouldn’t have inherited my estate had his older brother, Jean, survived. Thus, it is with you. You cannot inherit the estate, but Jacques can. This does not change my love for you or for Jacques; it’s historically how our inheritance rules and traditions work. Second, third and further sons typically become monks or soldiers, or tradesmen, or find their way on other paths.”
“I know, Father, and I feel privileged to address you as Father. You need not concern yourself. I didn’t agree to become part of your family for wealth or station.”
The old gentleman put his hand on Ian’s shoulder and, looking him in the eyes, said, “I know your heart my son . . . and am proud to call you son.”
“I’m already a landowner in Ireland. I own half a farm in Innisfallen, Eire, and when my Uncle Dylan passes away it will be all mine, as he has no heirs.”
Ian noticed Rosemarie stared at him with a new respect. Jacques and Luc both seemed pleasantly surprised. “A landowner, this is a wonderful revelation,” Luc said after a moment.
“Yes, it is,” Rosemarie said with a smile. The rest of the family paused in their chatter to listen.
Ian noted Rosemarie’s approval and continued, “A landowner, but of a poor hardscrabble farm at best. My father inherited the farm from my grandfather. He married my mother when they were young and he tried to be a farmer, but after a few years, he followed my uncle down the warrior’s path. My father was killed, an unnecessary death in a long forgotten battle. My grandfather was old and ill, so my uncle returned home to care for his father, and after a time, my uncle married my mother and raised me as his own.”
Rosemarie leaned in closer to Ian and asked, “Do you resent your uncle, taking your father’s place?”
“Not at all. My uncle had been in love with my mother when they were all young, but my father won her heart. My father was not a practical man, ‘a romantic adventurer’ my mother, God rest her soul, used to say. My uncle was probably a better father to me than my own father would have been had he remained at home. My circumstances have given me the freedom to pilgrimage to Jerusalem and partake in whatever adventures cross my path.”
“Sounds like you have a bit of your father in you,” Jacques commented while pouring a small glass of wine.
“Pour me one of those,” Luc said to Jacques, changing the subject. “We need to celebrate Ian’s becoming a part of our family.”
“One last comment,” Ian added, “My hope is that one day I’ll be able to return to Eire and take Jacques, my new brother, along to see my homeland.”
Rosemarie frowned at Ian.
Ian realized she might have felt slighted, perhaps contemplating accompanying Ian to Ireland herself. He hadn’t considered the possibility.
Luc said, “I hear Eire is a most agreeably beautiful country, all green.”
“More shades of green than you could ever imagine, including emerald green,” Ian replied.
“My sons, please join me in the drawing room for more wine and conversation,” Luc asked, although he was never refused. He led the way from the dining room to the drawing room without comment. Jacques and Ian obediently followed.
Waiting at the door, Luc allowed them to enter and closed the door. “Ian, please sit. Jacques, please bring your father a small goblet of cognac, half full, and glasses of wine for yourself and Ian.”
Ian observed the fire in the fireplace had already warmed the comfortable room, with its plush upholstered furniture, thick carpet, and original oil paintings on the walls. Luc’s portrait as a young man hung conspicuously over the fireplace. In the portrait Luc was wearing a dark red jacket with gold braid from the time when he served his king as a noble knight; his h
air was brown and his eyes blue gray. The smile on his face was of a man who knew his place in the world and enjoyed it.
The fire flickered, lit the room with a warm glow, and spit out an occasional red spark as the sap from a pine log sputtered and burned. Luc had probably instructed one of the servants to start the fire earlier.
Jacques handed Luc his goblet of cognac, Ian a glass of wine, then sat on the sofa next to his father.
Ian noticed a shield placed conspicuously in the corner by the fireplace.
Luc voiced his ‘harrumph’ for attention, then said, “Ian, would you please bring that shield over here to me?”
Ian walked to the corner, picked up the shield, and carried it to Luc. He noticed the odd design.
“Ian, I had Louis make this shield especially for you. I had our family genealogist and heraldry expert try to find your family coat of arms and crest. He traced your line as coming from the tribe of O Donnchadha, or son of Donagh, but couldn’t find an accepted coat of arms. So I created one for your family, and submitted it to Raymond’s seneschal along with your new combined coat of arms. Louis painted the combination coat of arms on a new shield. You are now Ian O’Donoghue LeFriant and this is your personal crest. Your family motto is Nunquam non Paratus which means Never Unprepared.”
Ian studied the shield as tears streamed down his cheeks. The shield had an eagle on white background; over a red fox on green background on the right and a red fleur-de-lis on a black background on the left. “It is beautiful, thank you, Father. And thank Louis for his workmanship.”
“I only hope it serves you well in battle, my son. When you visit Eire, have someone in your nobility include both of your coats of arms in their armory.”
Jacques raised his glass of wine and said, “To my brother.”
Ian stepped back to his chair and reverently set the shield against the side of the chair as he sat.
After taking a couple of slow sips of cognac, Luc looked at Jacques and then at Ian and said, “You boys know that I love each of you very much. Jacques, as my second born natural son, I could not stand to have anything untoward happen to you . . . and it would kill your mother.”
The Honorable Knight Page 8
