CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rory was wildly uncomfortable being in the bailey of Southwell again. When Kieran rode into the bailey, several men ran out to greet him. They took hold of Liberator and Rory looked down to see many hands raised to her, offering to help her from the horse. Kieran didn’t hesitate in lowering her into the waiting sea of arms.
He dismounted behind her and took her by the hand, leading her across the dark bailey. Rory was somewhat in awe of her surroundings; there were torches everywhere, big burning things that lit up parts of the bailey like streetlights. Men on the battlements had torches as well, with the addition of dogs on leashes. Rory peered at the dogs through the darkness; they were tall, skinny dogs with long snouts. Greyhounds, she thought with amazement. She pointed up to the battlements.
“You have watchdogs?” she asked, incredulous.
Kieran glanced up to the parapets. “Better than soldiers,” he commented. “They smell changes on the wind and see things that men cannot. I took two dogs with me to the Holy Land for that purpose alone.”
“What happened to them?”
“Richard is fond of dogs as I am. He confiscated them and now they are the property of the king.”
She grinned as his expression slackened in a defeated gesture. They made their way across the vast and dusty bailey which, oddly enough, had two massive oak trees growing in it. One was next to the keep and the other was on the east side of the ward near the stables. They passed under one of the enormous oak trees as he took her to the steps that led into the keep. As was common at the time, the stairs were wooden and retractable, leading up to a second floor entrance. There was also a great stone forebuilding around the stairs, like a stone porch, that protected it during times of siege. If worse came to worse and the bailey was breached, they would close off the stone porch to protect the stairs. In a worst case scenario, they would simply burn the stairs to prevent an enemy from gaining access to the keep.
Kieran took her inside, up the stairs, emerging into the second floor. Rory, forgetting her apprehension, was completely fascinated with her surroundings. They had entered a tall-ceiling entry hall with thick-planked wooden floors. To the right was a doorway leading into a big room and a short corridor stretched out before them; she could see another enormous room at the end of the corridor. To her left was a wide, squat and steep spiral staircase that disappeared into the floor above. Great iron sconces were bolted to the stone walls, each one of them blazing with a torch spitting out black smoke. The entire vision was creepy, fascinating, and totally Medieval. The place smelled dusty, smoky, with a faint hint of grass.
“Wow,” Rory breathed as she looked around. “This place is amazing.”
Kieran smiled at her as a man approached him from the room down the corridor. It was a servant, an old man with stringy white hair and a hump in his back, clad in a blue-dyed wool tunic, hose and funky shoes with weird toes. Rory peered closely at the man as he approached Kieran and bowed deeply. She noticed that the shoes were made from wood and some kind of material, not leather. They were kind of like slip-on, canvas tennis shoes. She was intently inspecting the shoes when the man spoke.
“My lord Kieran,” he said happily. “God be praised for returning you safe from the land of the savages. Welcome home, m’lord.”
Kieran nodded. “My thanks.” He indicated Rory, who was still staring at the servant’s shoes. “This is my wife. You will treat her with all due respect.”
The servant turned his attention to Rory and the first thing she noticed about the man was that he had a big cataract in the left eye; the iris was milky. He smiled at her, with all of the three teeth in his head, and bowed deeply.
“Lady Hage,” he greeted. “We are honored.”
Rory smiled at the old man. “Thank you.”
Her accent caught the old servant by surprise; Kieran could read it in his face. “She is Irish,” he explained, rather distractedly. He was looking around, peering into the room to their right. “Where are the others I brought with me this afternoon? The Saracens and the boys?”
“The Saracens are in the knight’s quarters, m’lord,” the old man replied. “Sir Sean directed that they be given their own rooms. The boys have been shown to their room as well.”
Kieran nodded. “Excellent,” he replied. “You will spread the word that they are my guests and to be given all due honor.”
The old man nodded crisply. “Aye, m’lord.”
Satisfied that Yusef and Kaleef and the youngsters were taken care of for the moment, his thoughts began to turn to his own bedchamber. Now it was his turn to be taken care of.
“Is my room ready?”
The old man nodded again, indicating the stairs. “It is, m’lord,” he replied eagerly. “Your baggage was brought up this afternoon.”
Kieran began to remove his gloves. “Good,” he said, pulling at the fingers. “Where are my brothers?”
“In the great hall with your father,” he replied. “They asked to be notified when you returned.”
“Then tell them I am returned. My wife and I will take sup in my room tonight.”
The old servant fled to do his bidding. Kieran removed his gloves and indicated the stairs to Rory.
“My lady?” he smiled. “Shall we retire?”
Rory looked dubiously at the stairs; they were ridiculously steep, but wide. She wondered how in the heck she was going to make it up the steps in her long dress. With a shrug, she gathered up her skirt and carefully mounted the steps. Kieran was right behind her. They wound their way up to the third floor and Rory stopped on the landing.
“Now where?” she asked.
He pointed up the stairs. “Keep going.”
She did. They reached the fourth and top floor and she came to a halt on the landing.
“Well? Don’t tell me to keep going.”
He snorted and pointed to his right. “Nay,” he said. “In here.”
They were in a small landing with two doors; one to the left and one down a small corridor to the right. Kieran pushed open the massive oak and iron door to the right and suddenly, an entirely new world opened up.
It was like a scene from a fairy tale; a massive fire blazed in a hearth that was taller than she was. Huge amounts of heat and smoke blazed into the room. The room was lavishly appointed. In fact, it looked more like a museum display. The bed was a massive four-poster deal with heavy curtains hanging from it. Next to it, instead of the traditional rushes, were enormous animal skin rugs. There were three of them, all identical cowhide and very beautiful. There was a magnificent table to her right, underneath the window, that had two equally beautiful chairs. Trinkets, knickknacks, chests, and other treasures were strewn around the room in organized Medieval chaos. The hearth for that gigantic fireplace had several bejeweled plates lining the mantel. Rory stood there with her mouth hanging open as Kieran moved around her, throwing his gloves on the table and pulling off his helm. She heard him sigh heavily.
“God’s Blood, ’tis good to return home,” he exclaimed. “I did not realize how much I missed it until now.”
Rory just stood there, overwhelmed with everything around her. She finally let out a strangled yelp.
“Ahhh!” she half-spoke, half-yelled.
He looked at her. “What is wrong?”
The oddest expression creased her face. Her eyes bulged and she grinned humorlessly. “Look at this place!” she cried with feigned dramatics. “It’s… it’s unbelievable. I’ve never seen such lavish Medieval wealth.”
He looked around, not quite sure what she was saying. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that it looks like the Emperor Caligula lives here.” She turned to him, amazement on her face. “I’ve refrained from asking this question because it really isn’t any of my business, but the entire trip home from Nahariya, you were throwing money around like you own a treasury. Just how rich are you?”
His brown eyes twinkled as he turned away and began to remove his tunic. “You are correct, madam. It is none of your affair.”
She wouldn’t let him off so easily. “I know I’m being nosy as hell, but where do you get your money? Do you rob people?”
He laughed and pulled the tunic over his head. “Nay, I do not rob people.” He bent over to pull off the chain mail hauberk. “My family is wealthy. I have inherited much of this wealth.”
“Will you please tell me exactly how wealthy?”
“Why?”
“Because I just want to know.”
“Does it make a difference in how you feel about me?”
She shook her head and turned away from him. “Of course not,” she said softly. “But the majority of Medieval people don’t live like this. Kieran, you live like a king.”
He pulled off the mail coat and tossed it on the table, proceeding to removing the rest of his clothing and watching his wife as she walked to the bed, inspecting the fabric of the curtains. Then she yanked them back, gazing at the well-appointed bed. She began to pull it apart, examining each individual piece and holding it close to the light of the fat taper near the bed. He sighed heavily as he pulled off his heavily-padded linen tunic.
“As Viscount Dykemoor and Sewall, I inherit the revenue from the lands left to me from my father’s father,” he said quietly. “I have also been left the expanse of land between Warrington and Liverpool from my mother’s family, including three baronetcies. Since those are heavily populated and rich lands, I am due the revenue from those as well, including a portion of the port revenue from the docks at Liverpool. I also hold three castles; Peveril, which is garrisoned for the king, meaning that Richard pays me for the garrison, plus Bucklow Castle and Rainhill Castle from my mother’s family holdings.”
She digested that. “Tell me your full title, including all of the little things you don’t consider important.”
He seemed reluctant. “I told you all of this before.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, you didn’t. Not everything.”
He hesitated a moment before proceeding. “I am Viscount Dykemoor and Sewall. I also hold the titles of Baron Hawkesbury, hereditary Lord of Deus Mons, Baron Mere and Heyrose, and Guardian of the King’s Gateway. When my father dies, I shall become the sixth Earl of Newark and Sherwood.” He lifted his hand in a resigned gesture, letting it slap back against his thigh. “Is there anything else you wish to know?”
Her eyes glittered as she processed the full extent of his nobility. “Yes,” she said slowly. “How tall are you and how much do you weight?”
She was toying with him, not taking him or his titles seriously. He appreciated that; most women treated him like God Descended when they discovered the extent of his wealth and titles. But not Rory; she didn’t care about his wealth or titles. She only cared about the man himself. He could be a pauper and it wouldn’t matter. He put his hands on his hips.
“I am six and a half feet tall and I weight more than twice what you do, so do not make light of either attribute,” he growled, although he wasn’t serious. “So if you truly wish to know how wealthy I am, I will not tell you. But I will tell you this; thanks to my mother’s family and King Richard’s generosity, I have more lands and wealth than my father. I do not believe he has ever quite forgiven me for that.”
She watched him closely a moment, her smile fading. She moved towards him, her thoughts turning to Richard and the Crusade for some reason. His tremendous wealth brought about darker facts and reasons.
“Do you remember what I told you when we first met?” she asked softly, putting her hands against his bare chest when he pulled her into an embrace. “About Richard being captured and held for ransom by Leopold of Austria?”
Kieran’s expression darkened as he recalled the conversation they’d had. It seemed like a thousand years ago but, by their timeline, it was really only a couple of months ago. He remembered his outrage and frustration as she had told him what was to happen to Richard in the future.
He nodded slowly. “I recall.”
Her fingers caressed his flesh gently. “It took Richard’s supporters over a year to raise the money to free him. In fact, his mother, Eleanor, pawned the crown jewels. The ransom demand was one hundred and fifty thousand gold marks.”
“She will not have to pawn the crown jewels,” he said. “I can supply them with the money in a day.”
Her touch grew firmer, her eyes imploring. “That’s what I thought,” she murmured. “Kieran, I’m not so sure you should. If you do, you could change the course of history. I’m not sure how to explain this, so bear with me. For all intents and purposes, you were dead two months ago. At least, you were no longer a factor in the history of the world. No children, no wives, nothing. I would assume that meant Sean inherited the title of Earl of Newark and Sherwood.”
Kieran nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, he would have.”
“Then any children he had would be his heirs.”
“Correct.”
She sighed, trying to put her thoughts into focus. “But that’s all changed,” she said. “Now you’re back, you’re a major player in England’s history, and I’m back with you. Not only that, but I’m pregnant with what will presumably be another earl of Newark.”
“I understand your reasoning.”
“Good,” she continued. “Here’s the problem. You weren’t even supposed to be here but, for some reason, we were both brought back to your time. We were both brought back for a reason so powerful that Fate or God or whoever you believe in realized they had made a mistake and brought you back to accomplish something that will change the course of history. The problem is this; we don’t know what the purpose is and I’m terrified that if we change it too much, the world as I know it will cease to exist. I might even cease to exist. I might not even be born. Does that make any sense?”
His expression darkened as he understood her line of thinking. “So what are you attempting to say? That I should not pay the ransom for Richard?”
She sighed, laying her head against his bare chest. “I’m just saying that if we change things too much, I might disappear. I’m here for a reason, but I don’t know what that reason is. You’re here for a reason. Maybe it just revolves around the Crown of Thorns; maybe that’s the only reason you’ve been brought back. But why me? Why am I here? And will I do something inadvertently, with all of my historical knowledge, that will change history forever?”
He held her close, his face on the top of her head. “I do not know how to answer your questions,” he murmured. “You are far more knowledgeable about this than I am. But I will say this; the thought of losing you scares me more than anything else on earth. I would stay locked in this room the rest of my life if the alternative meant I would lose you.”
She lifted her head from his chest, gazing up into his strong, handsome face. “I don’t think we need to do that,” she said. “I’m just saying that we should probably think about it very carefully before we do anything at all, including bailing out Richard.”
He nodded, studying the fine lines of her face, the way her big hazel eyes reflected the light. “Agreed,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “Do you think we need to analyze my need to take a bath?”
She chuckled and pulled away. “God, no,” she said. “I think we need to scrub you down.”
He snorted, watching her move away from him to remove the heavy cloak she was wearing; it was covered with hay. Then he moved around the bed to the other side of the room. Looking up from picking the hay off her cloak, Rory noticed there was a doorway that he disappeared through. Curious, she skittered after him.
She emerged into a smaller room set into the corner of the massive keep. It took her no time at all to see that it was a privy, and a big one. There were two toilets cut into one wall, which was actually just a big stone seat with two holes chiseled into it. And the other side of the room had an enormous copper tub that was lined with linen. There was a basin and pitcher, plus a big screen made out of carefully-woven grass to shield the bather. Rory stood there with her mouth open.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, putting her hands on her hips as she inspected the room. “A master bathroom.”
He looked at her as he sat on a stool and began to pull off one of his boots. “Sean and his wife have the adjoining chamber,” he said. “I allow them to use this room also.”
She could see the second doorway in the chamber, connecting it to the other bower. The door was half-open and she could see a nice room beyond but not nearly as lavish as Kieran’s. She watched him as he removed the other boot and stood up.
“Do your brothers ever get… well, jealous of everything you have?” she asked.
He shook his head. “They have a good deal themselves. Sean is Baron Walcot, a gift I bestowed upon him before I went to The Levant. The Walcot baronet was mine, through my mother, but I gave it to Sean because he deserved it. The Walcot baronet brings in about thirty thousand marks a year, making Sean a very rich man. Both Christian and Andrew have lands as well. In fact, Christian is the sole heir to the lands of the Wyvern, which are the most mystical and revered lands in the ancient kingdom of Mercia. Those lands are rich with farmers and stock. Therefore, think not that my brothers are destitute, because they are most certainly not.”
She shook her head in awe. “How is it that one family has so much?”
“I told you; we are descended from the kings of Mercia. When the Normans came, we were able to keep most of our lands in exchange for loyalty.”
She went to sit on the stool that he had vacated, watching him move for what looked like a small door in the wall. She thought it was a dumbwaiter, although she’d never heard of such a thing in Medieval England. But, sure enough, he slid open the door, bellowed “water”, and shut it. Then he went to the basin and poured water from the pitcher into the big, marble bowl.
“What is that thing you just shouted into?” she asked.
“What?” he looked to see what she was pointing at. “That is a lever; there is a shelf in there that, when pulled by a winch, lifts items from the ground floor up to this room.”
She leapt up and ran to it, sliding the door open and peering inside. “It is a dumbwaiter,” she commented. “I’ll be damned. I’ve never heard of one in a castle from this era.”
He knew she was mumbling more to herself than to him, inspecting everything with her scientist’s mind. He washed his hands, his face, just as several servants entered the chamber from Sean’s room, carrying with them buckets of steaming water. Rory moved out of the way as the servants moved quickly and efficiently, filling up the giant, copper tub in little time. As she sat on the stool in the chamber, watching the activity, she noticed that the same servant who had greeted Kieran downstairs had entered their bedchamber with a giant platter of food. The servants all left as quickly as they came, shutting doors behind them. Abruptly, Rory and Kieran were alone again.
Kieran was already stripping off his breeches. They ended up in a pile on the floor and he sank into the tub, sighing heavily as he settled down. Rory rose off the stool and went over to the tub, inspecting it and him.
“Do you want some help?” she asked. “I have a bunch of soap and oils that you can use.”
He began splashing water all over his head, sending droplets onto Rory. “Nay, madam,” he said. “I do not wish to smell like a woman.”
She chuckled and stepped back, out of the line of splashing water. “It doesn’t all smell like flowers,” she said. “I have a bar of soap that smells like sage and pine.”
“I am content as I am.”
He might have been but she wasn’t. Rory disappeared into their chamber, hunting down the trunks that had been completely emptied. She began to search for the contents and discovered them all neatly stacked on the shelf in one of the two enormous wardrobe cabinets in the room. The soap she was searching for was a milky-colored lump with flecks of green. Laying her hands on it, she took it back into the privy chamber.
Kieran was still splashing water all over his head. Rory went up to him, grabbed him under the chin to force his head up, and began lathering up his head.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, though he didn’t pull away. “I told you that I did not want to smell like a woman.”
“Shut up,” she said lightly. “Splashing water all over you isn’t going to do a bit of good. You’re not really clean unless you’ve used soap. It gets rid of the dirt and bacteria.”
He groaned as she scrubbed his head. “Good God,” he growled. “I’ve not needed soap for thirty-two years and…”
“Enough,” she snapped, moving to soap up his neck and shoulders. “I’ve been dealing with your sweaty, dirty body for weeks now and I think I deserve a clean husband for once.”
He just growled, but now it wasn’t so entirely angry. She was soaping his shoulders and back, massaging him at the same time, and he was quickly succumbing to her. The woman had magical hands. She moved around to his chest, soaping him, rubbing him, and Kieran could feel himself growing hard. There was such powerful chemistry between them that his physical reaction to her was almost instantaneous.
“You are a tyrant, Lady Hage,” he muttered.
“I know.” She came around front, washing his face. “Stop pretending that you don’t like it.”
“Get in this bath with me.”
She saw that twinkle in his eye, the familiar sexual desire. She shook her head. “Not now,” she said, splashing water on his cheeks. “Let’s get you clean first and then I’ll think about it. Stand up.”
He did, with a full-blown erection in her face. Rory just shook her head at him again, trying not to giggle as she soaped around it. She moved from his belly to his back to his buttocks and down his muscled legs. Kieran’s erection never went down and she finally succumbed to her own lust for her husband’s hot body and soaped his testicles, pleasuring his massive member with her mouth until he begged for mercy. When he climaxed, she let him spend himself on the swell of her breasts.
Exhausted, sated to the bone, Kieran collapsed back into the bath and lay back against the slope of the tub, his head resting on the back. Rory wiped off her breasts with a corner of the linen he was going to use to dry himself.
“You are a witch, Lady Hage,” he groaned, satisfied. “You cast a spell upon me and I can only think, hear or taste of you.”
She smiled at him, rinsing her hands in the bathwater. “So I’m a witch and a tyrant, am I?” she said. “You must think very highly of me.”
He grinned, his eyes still closed. “You are also my angel,” he murmured. “I worship you.”
She laughed softly. “Nice save, buddy.” She leaned over the side of the tub and kissed him; he put his wet hand against her back affectionately. “Do you want me to shave you?”
He sighed heavily. “Perhaps later.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I told Brethel to bring food. Has it arrived yet?”
She nodded. “They brought it when they brought your hot water.”
“Good.” He rubbed her back fondly, drinking in her sweet, rosy-cheeked face. “Perhaps we should eat first and retire early. Tomorrow will be a…”
He was cut off by many voices, male voices, he recognized. Rory didn’t even have time to stand up before the Hage brothers burst into the chamber via Sean’s room. As Rory rose to her feet, Sean smiled sweetly at her, took her hand to help her stand, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Lady Hage,” he greeted kindly. “It is good to see that you are well.”
She nodded gratefully. “I am, thank you,” she replied. “I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.”
Sean’s dark eyes glimmered at her. “No trouble at all, my lady,” he said and turned to his brother. “Why are you up here? We were waiting for you in the hall.”
Rory stood back as Sean, Christian and Andrew clustered around the tub. Kieran looked up at his brothers with irritation on his face.
“Can a man not have some time alone with his wife?” he demanded. “If I wanted you here, I would have sent for you.”
Sean snickered as Christian and Andrew looked rather dumbfounded. They all looked at Rory, standing primly several feet away from the tub. Then Kieran’s words finally occurred to Christian.
“God’s Blood,” he muttered, turning away from the tub and dragging Andrew with him. “We have interrupted them.”
Kieran reached out and grabbed his brother by the leg before he could move away completely. “Fortunately for you, you have a keener sense of timing,” he said. “Five minutes earlier and I would have taken your head off.”
As the brothers snickered, Rory turned beet-red and fled the bathroom. Kieran was on his feet, sloshing water out of the tub.
“I was jesting, sweetheart,” he called after her, grabbing the linen towel slung over the woven partition. “Do not be angry.”
She called something back to him that none of the brothers, save Kieran, understood. It was an insult he would not repeat and wriggled his eyebrows at his brothers.
“The child has made her extraordinarily sensitive,” he explained. “I must watch what I say or she will fly into a rage.”
Sean nodded in understanding. “As did Maggie. Great Gods, I remember those days with fear and awe.”
“Then perhaps you can help me navigate these unfamiliar waters,” Kieran said as he wrapped the towel around his waist and moved into his big, warm chamber with his brothers on his heels. He saw Rory standing in front of the wardrobe, tucking away the sage and pine soap. “I was jesting, sweet. I am sorry if I upset you.”
She closed the doors to the wardrobe and faced the group. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, studying the trio of unfamiliar faces. “Besides, I just thought you’d like to be alone with your brothers.”
Kieran smiled at her, dropping the towel right then and there. She tried not to blush as he went to the other wardrobe and threw open the doors, looking for something to wear. It apparently didn’t bother him that he was stark naked with his brothers and wife in the room. Worse than that, his erection hadn’t died down completely and Rory found herself wishing the floor would swallow her up. She reopened the wardrobe that had her possessions in it and pretended to busy herself as Kieran found a pair of leather breeches and pulled them on. Meanwhile, Christian and Andrew were over at the food on the table, throwing off the cloth and inspecting the offerings. Kieran caught sight of what they were doing.
“Get back, you hounds,” he admonished. “My wife has not yet eaten. You can scavenge her leavings.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Rory saw that he was at least partially dressed and she reemerged from the wardrobe and shut the door.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m really not that hungry.”
Kieran went to her, bare-chested and delicious, and led her over to the table, shoving his brothers aside. He sat her gently.
“Eat,” he kissed the top of her head.
She reached up and touched his big hand as it rested on her shoulder. “Do you think Bud and David can come up and eat with me? They’re probably really scared, being in a strange place and all. Please?”
Kieran couldn’t deny her, although his family might think he’d gone mad. No sooner had he sent a servant to collect the boys than his father was suddenly bursting into the room.
“Here you are,” he boomed, shoving open the door. “I found myself alone in the hall and assumed you were all up here.”
Rory was startled by the door flying open and the big, booming voice. When she saw who it was, she immediately lowered her head. She was terrified that any words exchanged with the man would have her throwing punches at him. So she kept her head down and shoved a piece of white cheese into her mouth.
But Jeffrey ignored her completely. He went straight to Kieran. “What’s this I hear that de Corlet tried to murder you?” he demanded. “And this story of a holy relic; Kieran, is it true?”
Kieran scratched his head and went in search of a tunic. “Aye,” he said simply, finding a soft, unbleached, linen tunic and pulling it over his magnificent chest. “It is true; all of it.”
Jeffrey’s brown eyes flickered dangerously. “That petty bastard,” he growled. “I will gather a thousand men and lay siege to his father’s home. I’ll wipe the man from the earth!”
Kieran held up his hands. “That will not be necessary,” he said. “But I do need your advice. You must keep your wits about you and not think with your sword.”
Jeffrey opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it. Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands behind his back and made all attempts to look composed. Kieran, eyeing his father, pulled on another pair of boots.
“Do you know the entire story or must I repeat it?” he asked, somewhat subdued.
Jeffrey, too, was calming. “Sean told me everything.”
“What did he tell you about the holy relic?”
Sean, standing over near Rory, spoke up. “I told him everything you told me,” he said. “Father knows that the savages used you as a peace envoy to Richard. He knows that Simon tried to kill you because of it. He knows you brought the relic home.”
Kieran looked at his father. “As I told Sean, my only goal was to make it home alive,” he said. “Now that I am here, I would seek your advice on what to do with the relic. It is no longer a gift of peace. That opportunity is long gone.”
Jeffrey appeared thoughtful, seriously pondering the problem. “Are you sure the savages did not lie to you? Is it really Christ’s Crown of Thorns?”
Kieran’s reply was to turn for the wardrobe that held his belongings. He opened the doors and began rummaging around, drawing forth a big, leather satchel. Rory, on the other side of the room, recognized the bag as he laid it on the bed. The first thing he pulled out of it was something she identified immediately; his journal.
It brought her back to the day when they had first discovered Kieran’s suspended corpse. His possessions had been hastily buried with him, including the journal, and Rory had latched onto it right away. Because of the age of it at the time, it had been difficult to read the parchment pages. They were old and brittle. But she had read enough to know that Sir Kieran Hage was a man among men. She had fallen in love with him before she even met him. As she saw Kieran lay the journal out, she rose from the table and went over to the bed.
Rory picked up the journal as Kieran dug around in his satchel and pulled forth the box he had been seeking. Plain, unassuming, made of precious wood and woven fibers that she assumed to be papyrus or something like it. It was about nine inches by nine inches, perhaps three inches high. Kieran lifted the latch on the top and opened the box, peeling back the rough linen and revealing the treasure inside.
By this time, Jeffrey and the three Hage brothers were leaning over the bed to get a glimpse of what the box contained. They could all see the rather pathetic bundle of vines, faded and hardly spectacular. Long thorns that looked more like small branches adorned the circlet, some of them having broken off during the passage of time. Rory remembered thinking the first time she saw it that it hardly looked like something of such powerful holy significance. But the aura radiating from it, the feeling when she got when she looked at it, told her otherwise.
The first thing Jeffrey did was reach down in an attempt to pick it up. Rory’s scientist instincts kicked in and she smacked his hand away.
“No,” she grabbed the box and held it tight against her chest. “Don’t touch it. It’s over a thousand years old. If you touch it, it’ll fall apart.”
Jeffrey looked at her; it was the first time since entering the room that he had acknowledged her. His jaw began to flex and he suddenly thrust a finger in her face.
“Listen to me, lass,” he hissed. “I make the rules here. I can do whatever I want without the likes of you telling me otherwise.”
Rory’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t touch this,” she growled. “It’s old and fragile. You can look all you want, but don’t touch it.”
“You’ll not tell me what I can or cannot do in my own home!”
“Do you want to look at it or do you want to argue with me?”
Jeffrey looked at Kieran, his eyes wide and accusing. “You will allow her to speak to me in this manner?”
Kieran met his father’s gaze steadily. “Speak to you in what manner? She has said nothing horrific or disrespectful. She simply asked you not to touch it because it is very fragile.”
Jeffrey’s mouth popped open. Sensing an explosion, Sean, Christian and Andrew exchanged nervous glances. Rory saw their expressions and swiftly sized up the situation. She could choose to butt heads with the man or she could kiss his ass. She suspected that, being the earl, he would respond far better to a supplicant lady. As much as it would kill her to pacify him, she suspected that Kieran would rather have her behave submissively than duke it out with his father. For Kieran’s sake, she would try to ease the situation. She really didn’t want to spend the rest of her life battling with the man. Before Jeffrey could respond, she spoke.
“I’m sorry if I was disrespectful,” she forced out the words. “I didn’t mean to be. But you have to understand that this relic is extremely fragile and can’t be touched. Look at it this way; the last person to touch this, other than the Muslims, was Joseph of Arimathea. Before him, it was Christ.”
Jeffrey wasn’t following her but he wasn’t yelling at her, either. Rory put the box back on the bed and pointed at the wreath. “Look here,” she indicated. “See the dark stains on the end of these thorns that stick out on the interior of the crown? That’s the blood of Christ; the real blood. You don’t want to wipe that off, do you? We need to leave the imprint of Christ on this. It’s the only physical evidence we have of the man. We… we need to treat this like it’s Jesus’ body. Would you put your hands all over Jesus and lift him out of a box?”
Jeffrey’s angry gaze moved between the box and Rory. He finally settled on the contents of the box for several moments before turning back to Rory.
“How do you know so much about this?” he asked, still not entirely friendly.
Kieran answered. “She is most knowledgeable in matters of the Church and her word is beyond question,” he said, realizing his father and Rory had not yet formally met. “Father, this is my wife, the Lady Rory Elizabeth Osgrove Hage. She will answer to Libby. Her family hails from County Connaught.”
Rory decided to throw caution to the wind. She figured she had nothing to lose by being nice to the guy, so she smiled at Jeffrey. “It… it’s an honor to meet you, my lord, and to be a part of this family.”
She certainly was a beautiful woman. Jeffrey stared at her as she smiled, thinking he’d never seen such a lovely lass. There was something about her beauty that softened him, made him feel slightly giddy and weak in spite of his strong opposition to the marriage. He hadn’t felt that way since he’d been a young lad. He found himself focusing on her completely.
“Tell me of your family.” He crossed his big arms expectantly.
Rory didn’t hesitate; she knew that if she did, it would look like she was lying. Just as Kieran had said, her lineage was obviously extremely important to Jeffrey and she was somewhat prepared. Pulling on everything she had ever learned about the Irish, she just started talking.
“My family descends from the high kings of Ireland,” she said as if she had been reciting such a thing all her life. “We are born directly from the great high king, mac Murchada, chief of the Clan Tomaltaigh. My uncle, Uriah, is a great overlord and a very educated man. My father is a great warrior. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
As Kieran stood beside his father and grinned at his wife’s strong stance, Jeffrey seriously pondered her words.
“Who is your father?”
Rory thought on the father she’d only met once in her life; she had been the result of her mother’s one night stand with a married Marine sergeant. “His name is Lucas,” she replied evenly. “I’m an only child.”
“Do you have lands? Property?”
She did look at Kieran, then. She didn’t want to lie too much and back herself into a corner. She already felt bad enough about elaborating on her lineage. “No,” she shook her head. “Everything was confiscated and my father fights for our liege.” Well, he sort of did. He was in the Marines and he did what the President of the United States told him to do.
That seemed to throw Jeffrey for a loop. He cleared his throat loudly and looked at Kieran, suddenly nervous as if he thought she might blame him for the English confiscating her family’s lands. He was suddenly anxious to be off the subject.
“Very well,” he said, turning back to the box on the bed. “Tell me what else you know of this diadem.”
Rory’s attention moved to the box also, thankful that he wasn’t pressing her further about her family. “That’s about all I know,” she replied. “It’s extremely fragile and Kieran has gone through hell to bring it back to England. Now, the question is what to do with it and I think I have a suggestion.”
All of the men looked at her. “What is your suggestion, sweetheart?” Kieran asked.
She looked up into the expectant faces, thinking hard on what she was about to say. Frankly, she was surprised they were allowing her to speak up in this extremely male-dominated society. She tried to be very respectful, not wanting to come across like she was smarter than the rest of them. It would be a sure-fire way to garner resentment and she really didn’t want to do that. She realized that she very much wanted Kieran’s family to like her, including his blow-hard father. Or, at the very least, accept her.
“This gift was meant for Richard, for the Christian armies, as a peace offering,” she began, scratching her head. “If I recall, Prince John has a fairly adversarial relationship with the Church right now. He doesn’t like them and they don’t like him. It hasn’t reached its zenith yet but that will come and he’ll make a complete ass out of himself. Anyway, my suggestion is this; present the diadem to the Archbishop of Canterbury as a gift from Richard the Lionheart. It’ll cement Richard’s relationship with the Church, make him look like a holy hero, and further cement a wedge between John and the Church.”
They were staring at her like she was speaking in tongues. Some of Rory’s confidence slipped and she looked at Kieran. “Right?” She wanted reassurance.
Kieran gazed at her a moment longer before looking to his father. “A brilliant plan,” he said. “Do you not agree?”
Jeffrey’s gaze was still lingering on his son’s wife and her incredibly odd speech and bizarre words. He looked at his son. “What did she say?”
Kieran put his arm around his father’s shoulders. “She said that I should present the diadem of Christ to Hubert Walter as a gift from the king. It will present Richard as a strong supporter of the Church and a devoted servant of the Pope.”
Jeffrey pondered the situation, now made clear to him by Kieran’s understandable words. Rory watched his face, finally speaking to Kieran as she nodded her head at his father.
“Maybe your father should present it,” she said, somewhat exaggeratedly, hoping he’d take the hint. “It would bring the Church’s blessing to the entire family.”
Kieran took the hint. “Absolutely,” he agreed, removing his arm from his father’s broad shoulders. “Perhaps we should all go to Canterbury as a family and present it. What say you, Father?”
Jeffrey was looking at the crown now, his brown eyes glittering with thought. Sean, Christian and Andrew watched the man’s expression, wondering what he was thinking. He could be a difficult man to predict, especially in light of the fact that the reasonable suggestion was made by a woman. Rory was feeling increasing apprehension. She looked around the bed to the faces of the Hage men, seeing both approval and hesitation. When she came to Sean, he smiled faintly and winked at her. She smiled back.
Jeffrey, arms still crossed, moved away from the bed and began to pace pensively.
“The Hage family has always been a supporter of the king and the Church,” he said thoughtfully. “If we were to present this holy relic to the archbishop, it would bring unimaginable honor to us. All of us, united, presenting this most remarkable gift would bring us glory as we have never known. And Kieran will be there to confirm that it is, indeed, the Crown of Thorns that Jesus Christ wore upon his crucifixion, rescued from the savages that have overrun Jerusalem. Kieran saved Christ’s crown and now it is where it belongs; in England!”
He was growing more and more elaborate with his speech. Rory looked at Kieran to see his reaction but Kieran was focused on his father.
“Then we ride for Canterbury?” he asked.
Jeffrey turned to face his sons, his face alive with pride and excitement. “We leave on the morrow,” he said decisively. “We will take a thousand men with us to show the strength of the Hages. And when we approach the cathedral at Canterbury, it will seem as if God’s mighty army has…”
He was cut off by the sounds of alert going off on the walls outside. Kieran and his brothers rushed to the windows which overlooked the gatehouse and the road leading into the city. Although it was dark, they could see a faint black tide on the horizon, spreading out like ants. Flickers of light signified torches, an ominous sight. Kieran knew, even in the dark, the sight of an army approaching. Kieran shouted down to the sentries.
“Who is it?” he bellowed.
The sentries on duty shouted up to him. “A messenger has come, my lord,” one man called up to him. “The prince has come to see Lord Jeffrey.”
Kieran looked at his father with some shock. “John is here?”
Jeffrey looked equally shocked. “That skinny bastard?” he spat. “I do not want him on my lands. I will…”
Sean cut him off, looking to Kieran as he did. “We need to mobilize the men and close the gates,” he said as Christian and Andrew raced from the room, already knowing what must be done. “Is there any possibility that the prince knows you are here?”
Kieran shook his head. “It is doubtful though not impossible,” he said. “We stopped in London before coming north and I had an encounter with Somerset knights. It is possible word of my return made it back to the prince.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.” Rory spoke up before she could stop herself. “The guard on the wall said that the prince was here to see your father. If the prince knew you were here, wouldn’t he say that he was here to see you?”
Kieran nodded in agreement. “He would,” he said, looking between his father and Sean. “It is my suggestion that we welcome the prince’s visit and make no mention of my return home, at least not yet. I am curious as to why the prince is here.”
Jeffrey took a calming breath, eventually nodding. “Agreed,” he said, moving for the door. “The man has never paid me a visit in his life. He must have a very good reason and I, too, am curious to know it.”
The men were moving out of the chamber and Rory spoke up again. “Can I say something?” When they turned to look at her, she tried to look as respectful as possible. “Please?”
Kieran’s expression was warm. “What is it, love?”
She clasped her fingers at her mouth thoughtfully. “Is Simon a supporter of the prince?”
Kieran lifted an eyebrow. “I never knew him to be. But, then again, I did not know the man was capable of turning against me. Anything is possible.”
She nodded as if to agree with his assessment. “Since we know he fled the Holy Land about the same time we did, is it possible he made it home before us and went straight to the prince?” She dropped her hands, shrugging faintly. “He could have told John anything about you, including the fact that you have a holy relic. Who knows? Maybe this visit has something to do with Simon’s return.”
Kieran and Sean looked at Jeffrey. “It is as good a possibility as anything,” Sean said. “Perhaps Simon went to John with the same lies he told Richard.”
Jeffrey’s eyes were fixed on Rory. He regarded her for a moment before turning away, heading from the door.
“Then we shall be vigilant,” he replied firmly. “I will tolerate no slander of my son within the walls of Southwell.”
Jeffrey and Sean quit the room but Kieran paused, returning to Rory and taking her in his arms. He held her tightly.
“Stay here,” he murmured, kissing her tenderly. “Finish eating and go to bed. I will come to you when this is finished.”
She looked at him, her eyebrows flying up. “Are you kidding? Do you really think I’m going to sleep when Prince John is here? My God, Kieran, the man is legendary, even in my time.”
The warmth faded from his eyes. “You are, under no circumstances, to leave this room in any way. Do you comprehend?”
She pursed her lips in an exaggerated pout. “Not even a peek?”
“If you peek, I will spank you so hard that you shall not be able to sit until this child is grown.”
Her pout grew. “You’re mean!”
He kissed her nose, her mouth, swiftly and let her go. “Aye, I am.” He jabbed a finger at her. “But you will listen to me or you will pay the price.”
She made a terrible face at him, sticking out her tongue. His firm stance fractured and he laughed at her, shutting the door behind him.
With a grin on her face, Rory went to the window to watch something no modern person had ever seen. She was so excited that she was nearly beside herself, in spite of the fact that John was not a particularly favored historical figure. She found herself wishing that Dr. Dietrich and Dr. Peck were with her just so they could experience the magic, too. Dave Peck, in particular, would have gotten a huge kick out of all of this.
The arrival of a legendary Medieval prince.