CHAPTER NINE
Rory learned right away that driving the amazing pony cart was not as easy as she thought. Kieran gave her and the boys a lesson, although Bud, the older boy, apparently already knew how to drive a rig. In fact, he got in the cart and took it in a circle around the stable yard neatly, much to the cheers of Rory and his brother. Little David seemed much more willing to smile and laugh than his older brother did. Bud was a very serious and guarded child.
A couple of stable hands helped load up Rory’s trunks on the cart, securing them on the flat bed and taking up all of the space. Kieran saddled Liberator himself. The horse was too snappish to let anyone else near him. He loaded up his saddlebags and possessions, alternately focused on what he was doing and on Rory and the two boys as they practiced on the cart. He had to stop and grin as Rory tried to drive the cart in a circle as Bud had; she had the ponies going in opposite directions. Bud swooped in to save the day and got the ponies going in the right direction again.
Even though they didn’t exactly speak the same language, Rory and the boys were doing an awful lot of communicating. It was mostly through hand gestures and a few Latin words, but the point was getting across. And Kieran was growing increasingly enamored with his wife, watching her communicate most animatedly with two orphaned boys.
He was already madly in love with her, but watching her interact with the two starving children was a sight to behold. She was patient, kind and helpful. She praised Bud repeatedly for his skill in driving the little cart, to which Bud seemed unsure how to react. It was quite clear early on that neither boy was used to anyone being kind to them. But that prospect had abruptly changed. She was happy and friendly with the boys, who seemed a bit overwhelmed with everything.
Kieran turned back to securing his possessions on his saddle, listening to Rory communicate with the two young boys. Then she climbed onto the wagon and took the reins herself. He wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing when he suddenly heard a yelp. Turning sharply to identify the source, he saw Rory sitting on the ground in the middle of the stable yard laughing her head off. Bud had hold of the pony cart so it wouldn’t get away but it was obvious what had happened. Kieran stopped what he was doing and made his way over to her.
Little David was helping her stand up. Rory was still laughing as Kieran got to her.
“I assume you are uninjured.” Kieran’s lips were twitching with a smile.
She shook her head, brushing off her bum. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
Kieran nodded. “Bud seems to be much better at it. You had better let him drive until you become more practiced.”
She nodded, rubbing her backside. “I agree.”
Kieran watched the boys corral the ponies and straighten up the cart. He put his arm around her shoulders. “Are you ready to leave?”
She nodded. “Whenever you are.”
He kissed her and let her go, moving to the boys and telling them to bring the cart around so Lady Hage could climb on board. They did so and Kieran helped his wife onto the seat next to Bud. David jumped on the back, his legs hanging over the edge of the cart. He seemed quite happy and even smiled at Kieran. Kieran winked back.
With the pony cart heading out to the road, Kieran mounted Liberator and, as the morning deepened in the sleepy coastal town of Marseille, they were well on the way to Paris.
*
Nine days on the road to Paris had been better than the three weeks on the boat, but not by much. The travel by land had been an extremely harsh introduction into the Medieval world. All of the books and education in the world couldn’t prepare Rory for the reality of it. It had been beyond belief and not nearly as interesting as she had hoped. It was, for the most part, hellish. She tried not to hate every moment of it.
On the ninth night since leaving Marseille, they were still two days short of Paris. Traveling on the open road for days on end had seen them stop every night at a small town and finding some kind of inn or tavern. Rory had stories upon stories of bugs, vomit in rooms, sleeping in a dormitory, constant rain and other things she considered horrendous. Kieran had done his best to make sure she was always comfortable and happy but it had been a struggle.
Traveling during this time was nothing as she knew it. She had to keep reminding herself of the fact and simply accept it. No rest stops, restaurants along the road, trains, planes or automobiles. After the third night of travel when they had stayed in a very small town with no inn, spending the night in a musty stable, Rory made a silent vow to never again whine about the conditions. There was no use in complaining because Kieran was doing the very best he could. The man had a great deal of wealth with him and she knew that he would beg, buy or steal whatever he had to in order to obtain the best for her. If staying in a musty stable was the best, then she would trust him.
But the one thing she was rather adamant about was a hot bath. Kieran did his very best to ensure she had one available every night. The last four days had been particularly miserable, as they had been subjected to nonstop rain and it had been very, very cold.
They’d had to stop in a small town three nights before to purchase warmer garments for the boys, which had been something of a process. There were no stores in this time period where one could simply go and purchase anything they needed, so Kieran had tracked down a merchant with several children and bought most of the children’s ready-made clothing. Bud and David came away with new tunics and hose, plus a variety of heavier outerwear that was put to good use. The boys had been amazed; they’d never had anything other than rags to wear. They told Kieran that they felt like kings.
Bud and David, in fact, had been a joyful addition to the group. After the first few days of moderate standoffishness, little David, in particular, seemed to warm to Rory. When both boys figured out that neither the knight nor his lady were planning on abusing them, the warmth came quickly. Bud seemed to relate better to Kieran and followed him around, essentially becoming something of a page, which Rory thought was very sweet. Kieran showed extreme patience and kindness with the boy which made her love the man that much more. Plus, it was very good practice for what was to come.
Rory began to suspect it once they left Marseille. She just wasn’t feeling right and the nausea she had experienced on the boat never went away. In fact, it was fairly constant. Not enough to vomit but just enough to feel lousy. She attributed it to the food, the travel and the shock of the situation, but when her monthly cycle didn’t come, she began to suspect something so troubling that she could barely contain herself. Certainly, pregnancy was something she knew would eventually happen, but she just wasn’t prepared to think about it or acknowledge it at the moment. In fact, it horrified her.
So she ignored the thought on the entire trip. But as each day passed and her cycle didn’t come, she grew increasingly frightened. She began to count the weeks since the first time she and Kieran made love, remembering back to the time when they had been running from Corbin shortly after Kieran had been brought back from the dead. She had succumbed to her feelings for the man and they’d had passionate sex for most of the night. By her calculations, that had been almost seven weeks ago. It was plenty of time for a pregnancy to gain root and announce itself.
With that knowledge, her mood darkened. The rain was miserable, the travel was miserable, she felt horrible and she was absolutely terrified to give birth without the aid of modern medicine. No prenatal care, no hospitals, no ultrasounds… just midwives, surgeons and, if she was feeling particularly angry about it, alchemists and witchdoctors. As a modern woman and a former Pre-Med student, the possibilities were horrifying. Her anxiety was building.
Two days out of Paris, they were staying in a fairly nice inn compared to what they had known up until that point. Closer to the city meant better accommodations. Kieran had sought out the most expensive, nicest inn he could find and procured two rooms, one for him and Rory and one for the boys. He wouldn’t have gotten the second room for the boys but Rory had insisted. Kieran thought the boys could just as easily have slept in the stable but she wouldn’t hear of it.
It was pouring rain outside as Kieran had the innkeeper and a couple of burly men bring in a tub. This one was actually a big, copper bath tub rather than a pot or a wash tub. It was meant for baths. After it was filled with steaming water, Rory pulled off her wet clothing and climbed in. Kieran sat next to the tub, eating their meal and stripping off his own wet clothing in between gulps of wine and big bites of beef. He kept up a running chatter about what would happen when they reached Paris but Rory silently lathered up her body, seemingly lost in thought. He noticed but thought she was simply tired. When he asked her a question and she didn’t respond, he tapped the side of the tub with a big, greasy finger.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
She had been picking at her wet toes, thinking she needed a pedicure. “What?” her head came up and she focused on him, realizing he was talking to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
He smiled faintly at her. “I know you did not hear me.” He sat forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands hanging. “In fact, you have not heard a word I have said the entire time. What is troubling you, sweetheart?”
She shook her head. Then she burst into tears. Kieran wiped his greasy hands off on his breeches and put a massive hand on her back.
“I know this has been difficult for you,” he said soothingly. “You have shown remarkable resilience throughout this journey and I am very proud of you.”
She wept painfully. Then she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her clean, wet body against him. Kieran rocked her gently.
“What is wrong, sweet?” he whispered into the side of her wet head. “Why do you weep so? Am I such a horrible husband?”
“No.”
“The boys; have they done something awful and you are afraid to tell me?”
“No!”
She struggled not to get hysterical, but these tears had been building up for several days. “I’m so scared,” she finally murmured. “I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”
“What about?”
“I’m going to die,” she wept deeply. “I don’t want to die, I really don’t, but I know I am.”
He fought off a smile at her dramatics. “You look healthy enough. Just how is Death going to take you away from me?”
“In childbirth,” she wept. “Do you know what the mortality rate for childbirth was during this era? About fourteen deaths for every one hundred children born. That’s almost twenty percent.”
He chuckled softly; he couldn’t help it. “I would not worry overly,” he said. “There are many fine midwives and physics. You needn’t worry about this right now.”
She gazed up at him with her wide hazel eyes. Tears trickled from the corners. “Yes, I do,” she replied, “because we’re going to have a baby in about seven months and I’m scared to death.”
He didn’t react at first but there was a long delay before he replied. “Are you sure?”
She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks. “Uh huh,” she replied sadly. “I think that’s why I’ve been feeling so horrible the past few weeks, although that damned boat didn’t help anything. Plus, my boobs are sore and my period is about a week late. That just never happens with me, ever. It’s not like you and I have ever used any birth control so I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”
Kieran’s gaze held steady for a moment, but that was as much self-control as he had. As Rory watched, his jaw went slack and his eyes took on the strangest glimmer. She could feel his grip tightening around her and then, suddenly, he was off the chair and on his knees. He pulled her against him fiercely and buried his face in her bare bosom. Startled, Rory forgot her tears for the moment as Kieran practically crumbled in front of her.
“Kieran?” her hands were on his head, trying to lift it from her chest. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
He refused to let her go or allow her to lift his head. He just held her, tightly, and she stopped trying to force him to look at her, unsure what was going on with him. Suddenly, she wasn’t so scared anymore. She was more concerned about Kieran at the moment so she simply put her arms around his head and held him against her breasts. She wasn’t sure what else to do.
The fire crackled in the hearth, the only sound in the room. After what seemed like a small eternity, Kieran finally lifted his head. She looked at his expression, trying to read what he was thinking, and was shocked to see that his eyes were moist with tears. Before she could ask him why he was so upset, he put his massive hands on her cheeks and looked her in the eye.
“I am the most fortunate man in the entire world,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes glittering with jubilation. “To be so blessed is something I hoped for but did not expect. I did not want to be disappointed. But you… you have made me the happiest man to ever walk this earth. I cannot explain it more than that.”
His unadulterated joy touched her deeply. It eased her fear a great deal and she began to feel some of his joy.
“Really?” she grinned timidly.
He nodded, kissing her so sweetly that her entire body tingled with delight. “Really,” he whispered against her lips.
The tears came again as she felt his adoration, his sheer delight. She was exhausted and hormonal, giving in to the gentle kisses he was raining over her face.
“I want the best midwife and surgeon in the country,” she sniffled.
“I promise you shall have it,” he murmured, dragging his lips across her jaw. “You and my son shall have the very best of everything, I swear it.”
“It could be a girl, you know,” she reminded him.
He reached a hand over and picked up the big, linen sheet she used to dry off, picking her up and wrapping her up tightly in it.
“My mother had four boys,” he said. “My father also had two brothers and his father had three. Male children run heavily in my family.”
“Would you be disappointed if it was a girl?”
He gave her a look that suggested she was mad. “Of course not,” he said. “Would you?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, drying off. “But I’m still really scared.”
He smiled at her. “No need, sweetheart. I promise I will not let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?”
She couldn’t tell him no. Smiling weakly, she nodded. “I believe you.”
His smile broadened and he kissed her again. “Good,” he said, putting her to her feet. “Now, I am going to procure some food. Will you be all right while I am gone?”
She could see that her news had changed everything; she could just read it in his face. He was going to treat her like she was made of the most fragile, breakable glass for the next seven months and she nodded patiently. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’d really like white bread, butter and honey if they have it.”
“Of course.” He was heading for the door, lighter of mood than she had ever seen him; he was usually fairly serious and calm. He looked like a giddy teenager. “Anything else?”
She looked at him, laughing. “You look silly.”
“Silly?”
She nodded, grinning. “Like you’re bouncing around all over the place.”
He suddenly moved back to her, cupping her face in his enormous hands and kissing her deeply. “I am,” he murmured, kissing her swiftly one last time and moving back to the door. “I shall return.”
“Okay.” She turned away, looking for her clothes. “Bring Bud and David when you come back. They’re hungry, too.”
“As you say, madam.”
Kieran shut the door, leaving Rory hunting for her clothing. He moved down the short hallway to the sturdy, stone staircase that led into the main room downstairs. His head was still spinning with the news, thrilled beyond measure. A son, he thought to himself, someone to carry on the Hage name, a proud reflection of his proud parents. The next Viscount of Dykemoor and Sewall, heir to the baronetcies left to him by his mother. He was full of big plans for his son already as he hit the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. As he entered the smoky, dark area of the inn where there were a few tables for eating, he was met by the tall and rather debonair innkeeper.
The man had short, dark hair and an elegant air about him. He greeted Kieran with a swift bow.
“My lord Viscount,” he said. “Someone came here a short time ago asking if I knew of an English knight by the name of Kieran Hage. I told him no and sent him away.”
Kieran’s expression didn’t change although he felt some trepidation. “Did he say what he wanted?”
The innkeeper shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he replied. “But he was very dark. A Moor.”
“A Moor?” Kieran’s trepidation deepened. “Did he give his name?”
“Nay, my lord.”
“Did you watch him leave? Which direction did he go?”
The innkeeper motioned for Kieran to follow him and they moved through the main part of the inn where several people were sitting, drinking. The innkeeper opened the large and surprisingly well-fitting front door, pointing down the avenue.
“Down there, somewhere,” he pointed. “Perhaps he has gone to ask other innkeepers if they know you.”
Kieran’s dark eyes studied the street; the sun had set and the cobbled streets were muddy and shadowed. The only light was from the windows of various homes and establishments along the avenue and Kieran continued to study the area, looking for any tiny measure of movement. He saw nothing. Stepping back inside the tavern, he pulled the innkeeper with him and shut the door.
He dug into the purse he kept inside his leather vest and slipped the man a couple of coins. “Take your finest meal up to my wife,” he told the man. “If she wants to know where I am, you know nothing. Is that clear?”
The innkeeper nodded. “You shall be obeyed, my lord.”
“And she wants white bread with butter and honey. Make all effort to obtain it and you shall be well paid.”
“It will be my pleasure, my lord.”
“Good. Now, go.”
The innkeeper swiftly moved away and Kieran opened the front door, slipping out into the dark and cool night. Although he was without his armor, he still had two dirks shoved into his boots and would be able to defend himself if necessary. More than anxiety, he was deeply curious as to who would be looking for him. It was possible that assassins had followed them from the Holy Land, but based on the description of the man from the innkeeper, he wasn’t entirely sure why a Moor would be looking for him. He didn’t know any Moors. His curiosity grew.
There were two other taverns on this road, lesser establishments than the one he was staying in. He slinked up to one of them, staying close to the wall as he peered into a window. Whiffs of stanky air met his nose as he watched the people inside, looking for a dark and swarthy man. His eyes studied the room. Not seeing anyone that fit the description, he moved on.
The next tavern was further down the road, almost to the edge of town. He made his way to the structure but the windows were over his head and difficult to look in to. He tried several times to prop himself up to take a look. Unable to achieve this, he made the decision to go inside.
He was tense as he entered the crowded establishment, smelling of smoke and roasted meat. There were a few oil lamps throughout the room but most of the light came from the blazing hearth that was spitting a good deal of smoke into the room. Kieran moved into the room, his brown eyes moving about the room, studying faces and body language, looking for the Moor that had been searching for him. All he saw were pale-skinned people looking at him with equal suspicion, so he backed his way out of the room and left.
He quickly returned to his tavern, focused on returning to Rory and the joyous news she had delivered. If a Moor was looking for him, then he suspected they would find each other soon enough. It would put him more on his guard, which was already in overdrive after Rory’s news. He had to get her home and safe inside the massive walls of Southwell.
He blew into the tavern, taking the stone steps two at a time. Moving swiftly down the hall, he knocked heavily on the door to his room. No doubt, Rory would bolt it. He could hear voices inside, mostly hers, and assumed she was talking to the boys. The next thing he saw was her smiling face.
“Hi,” she said, opening the door wide. “Look who’s here.”
Kieran entered the chamber, his gaze moving immediately to the other occupants. He saw Bud and David, sitting at the table eating, and someone else standing near the hearth. As recognition dawned, his jaw dropped.
“Yusef?” he said, disbelieving, his gaze then moving to a tiny old figure seated at the table. “Kaleef?”
Yusef appeared exhausted and unshaven but smiled warmly at his friend. The old alchemist did the same, waving a gnarled hand. Kieran moved into the room, shocked, and put a gigantic hand on Yusef’s shoulder. Yusef returned the gesture, genuinely glad to see his English friend.
“My friend,” he greeted Kieran. “I am so glad to see that God has protected you in your journey.”
Kieran just stared at him. “You are the Moor who has been looking for me?”
Yusef nodded. “Old Kaleef and I have been following you for weeks. We had hoped to find you very soon.”
The surprise of Yusef’s appearance was replaced by a very strong sense of anxiety. There was obviously a powerful reason behind their appearance. Kieran’s warm expression faded, his brown eyes focused on the Saracen.
“Why have you been looking for me?” his voice lowered. “Is something amiss?”
Yusef’s warm smile faded and his eyes flicked to Rory and the two young boys. “Perhaps we should speak in private.”
Kieran took him next door to the room where the boys were supposed to be sleeping. It was tiny but private. Shutting the door, he turned to his Saracen friend.
“What is going on?” he demanded quietly. “Why in God’s name have you followed me for weeks?”
Yusef’s smile was gone. “I had to locate you,” he said. “I have news.”
“It must be very important.”
Yusef was exhausted; he sat heavily on the small bed in the room and removed his turban, wiping his brow with his hand. “Right after you left, a knight by the name of du Bois found me,” he began. “Do you know him?”
Kieran nodded slowly. “Rhys is one of my closest friends. What did he say?”
“He told me that one of de Corlet’s men broke faith and confessed all to the king, including the fact that you were not a traitor as de Corlet had told him.” Yusef watched Kieran’s expression tighten. “When Simon found out that the king knew of his lies, he fled. It is believed he has fled back to England, just as you are. I had to warn you, Kieran. You are both heading home and I did not want you to be caught unaware in case you came upon him.”
Kieran stared at him, his jaw ticking faintly. “Do you know when he left?”
“I was given this information the day after you sailed, so I imagine that de Corlet departed around the same time you did.”
Kieran lifted an ironic eyebrow. “If that is so, it is a wonder we have not met up at some point before this,” he said slowly, eyeing Yusef. “Does Simon know I am returning home also?”
“I do not know. But if I could guess, I would say that he does not. How could he?”
Kieran shook his head, slowly. “He could not, unless he found out by happenstance.” He took a deep breath, murmuring thoughtfully. “So Richard knows that I am innocent? Praise God.”
“I knew you would want to know that as well.”
Kieran sighed heavily, as if a great weight had been lifted. “Of course,” he muttered. “I mean… well, it means a great deal. It means that I am not returning home with the cloud of treachery hanging over my head.”
“It was unjust that you should.”
Unjust indeed. Kieran chewed on that a moment before turning away, his mind rolling with tumultuous thoughts. He couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the implications, the ominous tidings to come. Simon was heading to England. He swore, at that moment, that if he ever saw Simon again, he would kill the man. No words, no greetings or threats. He would draw his sword and plunge it into the man’s belly, taking great pleasure in watching Simon die. For all of the anguish and agony Simon had caused, Kieran would make the man pay a thousand times over. But before he got caught up in too much reflection, he turned back to Yusef.
He gazed down at the dark head, knowing how much the man had risked to come and find him. He was deeply touched and more than grateful. A lesser man would not have bothered. But Yusef was proving himself to be a man of great strength of character.
“You are a true friend,” Kieran said quietly. “I want you to come back to England with me. I will provide you with lands and wealth of your own. When I tell my father what you have done, he will agree. Will you accept my gratitude?”
Yusef gazed up at him, his weary eyes glimmering. “You are generous, my friend. But I did not do it for reward. I did it because you are an honorable Christian who was turned upon by those you trusted. My commander, El-Hajidd, trusted you enough to carry his message of peace to your king. I have such respect for you as well.”
“Does El-Hajidd know you are here?”
“He is the one that told me to come.”
Kieran nodded faintly, feeling more gratitude than he could express; enemies who were no longer enemies. It spoke a great deal about the bond that was building between them, the trust that transcended race or religion. Kieran felt privileged to be a part of it.
“You may have been my enemy once, Yusef, but no longer,” he said sincerely. “I would trust you with my life.”
Yusef nodded, an exhausted but pleased gesture. “As I trust you with mine.” He stood up, unsteadily. “Now that we have expressed our undying friendship and gratitude to each other, do you suppose that I could have something to eat?”
Kieran laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Absolutely,” he said, practically pulling the man to his feet. “The food is not as good as what you are used to in your land but it will do.”
“It will have to,” Yusef replied. “Anything but pork, of course.”
“Of course.” They emerged into the hall and Kieran turned to him. “There is something I would like to know, however. Why is Kaleef with you? Why bring a fragile old man?”
Yusef shrugged. “He has nothing left since his home was burned. He wanted to come with me so I brought him. He says he has never seen green hills before and he hears that England is full of them.”
Kieran lifted an eyebrow as they reached the door to his chamber. “Full, indeed,” he said, hand on the latch. “But his presence is fortuitous. My wife has informed me that we are expecting a child and I will be comforted to know that Kaleef is with us.”
Yusef smiled brightly. “That is good news, my friend. I congratulate you.”
Grinning, they went back to the room where Rory, the boys and old Kaleef were. Warm conversation and food flowed for most of the evening, until Yusef was so exhausted that he could no longer keep his eyes open. He and Kaleef slept in the same room as Bud and David, who were a bit frightened by the two swarthy and unfamiliar men. Kieran had to convince the boys that the Saracens meant them no harm. Still, the children slept in the corner. Bud stayed awake, vigilantly, most of the night.
When Kieran and Rory were alone, he confided in her about the true reason for Yusef’s appearance. She reacted as he knew she would; she threatened to kill Simon single-handedly.