“Richard has already helped quite a bit this morn. But I would be grateful if you prepared dinner for tonight when we return.”
“Of course, Father.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Father Stephen turned and moved off toward the church.
When he was out of sight, Richard guided Mercy out of the hallway, back into the kitchen.
“I want to go with,” Mercy objected in a quiet voice.
“No. I will search the cathedral. You need to stay here and find Thomas. Ask him about his family. Where he came from. Where he met the other children. There may be more information there.”
Mercy was torn. She wanted desperately to go with them and search the cathedral. But if Richard was right, the boys might have information about the bishop. She had a horrible feeling of anxiety. “I don’t think we should split up.”
Richard’s look softened. He glanced back at the door.
Mercy thought he heard something, until he turned back to her.
He pulled her against him and lowered his lips to hers. He held her tightly, brushing his lips across hers, teasing her with flicks of his tongue. She sighed softly and he swept into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
Swirls of desire flooded her, and she embraced him, pulling him close. Her body came alive, igniting with need.
Richard gently pulled back, gazing into her eyes. “I’ll be back. I promise.” He stepped away from her and steadied her with a hand at her waist, before leaving.
Mercy stared after him. A whirlwind tossed her mind about. She blinked. He was no longer her Eoos. The commanding kiss was powerful and expert. He had found himself. A confident knight of the realm.
Chapter Twelve
Richard dismounted his horse behind Father Stephen. He had convinced Father Stephen to loan him a robe to wear in the hopes no one would recognize him. It was a little too short, but it would do. Mercy had done an adequate job of darkening and cutting his hair, and he had shaved. He hoped it was enough to keep from being identified.
The cathedral rose far above his head, and bells rang out. It reminded him of a smaller Canterbury Cathedral. He pushed the images and thoughts aside. He was here only to find Kit.
Father Stephen pointed to the tall tower where a large cross was situated. “That was struck by lightning two years ago. Bishop Devdan had it replaced.”
Richard stared up at the cross. “Isn’t that an ill omen?”
Father Stephen shrugged. “Many saw it as such. Now that it is replaced, the talk of evil and omens has died down.”
Not by all, Richard thought. He followed Father Stephen toward the door. If he could only find Kit. He longed to see Mercy smile and hold her child. He wanted her to be happy. Despite her dishonesty about his identity, he admired her. She was steadfast in her concern and protection for her boy. He couldn’t explain it, but he wanted to please her. He wanted to remain at her side even though he knew she would hand him over to the bishop to get Kit back.
Father Stephen pushed the door open. He stepped into the corridor that was lit by tall windows on either side of the door. “This way leads to the cathedral. That to the monastery.”
“The monks all serve the bishop?” Richard asked, peering down the corridor toward the monastery.
“We all serve the Lord,” Father Stephen replied. He nodded to a monk who passed them from the cathedral, heading toward the monastery.
Richard was surprised at his answer. He followed him down the corridor. “As a servant of the Lord, if you saw something…” He gaged his words. Father Stephen might be loyal to the bishop. He might not know what the bishop was doing with the children. But Richard did. “…suspicious, you would be required to report it.”
“Suspicious?” Father Stephen stopped and turned. “Probably not. Proof would be required. Are you referring to something in particular?”
“No. No.” Richard ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just that you say your loyalty is to God.”
“It is.”
“And yet, men are fallible. Human. Any man can be corrupted.”
“We all do our best. I am not here to judge.”
“If you’re not here to judge, how could you report evil if you saw it? How would you know it if you saw it?”
“Evil?”
Richard nodded.
“God guides us all. I hope he would give me the courage to do the right thing.” Father Stephen pointed to a small statue in an alcove on the wall. “This is Abraham. God ordered him to sacrifice his only son.”
Richard stared at the small statue of an elderly man looking up toward the sky with a young boy at his side. “The story of Abraham was never one I understood. Why would God tell Abraham to sacrifice his only son? Why would Abraham do it?”
“God wanted Abraham to prove himself loyal. He wanted Abraham to prove he placed his faith in God completely above all else, even his own son.”
Richard ran a finger along the boy statue’s head. “And what of the boy? What of the child? He was just a pawn?”
“The child was saved. God did not have Abraham harm him.”
Richard couldn’t stop thinking of Kit. “The child was innocent,” he whispered. “Scared. It wasn’t fair to him.” He shook himself and looked toward the monastery. “Are there any boys here, at the cathedral?”
“I have never seen any children here.”
Richard turned to the statue. The children should never be sacrificed. They were innocent. Unlike Bishop Devdan. Why he hadn’t known the bishop taking the children was Devdan until recently, escaped him. He couldn’t remember Mercy voicing the bishop’s name. But once he got his memory back and realized who the bishop was, everything fell into place. Now, there was an urgency to find Kit.
When he looked at Father Stephen, Richard found him gazing at him in thoughtfulness. “Shall we continue?” Richard asked.
The Father nodded and continued toward the cathedral.
Mercy didn’t wait long after Richard and Father Stephen left before beginning her search for Thomas. She scoured the church thinking the boy would remain close for safety and for food. When she couldn’t find him, she remembered she had first seen him in the village near the apple merchant. After exploring the church, she went into the village.
Dunford was a busy village, the main road lined with merchants and buyers. It was crowded, and she stepped to the side of the candle maker’s shop to watch the throngs of people in the street, some riding horses, some on carts, many on foot. Mercy realized she would never find Thomas if he didn’t want to be found. There were too many places for him to hide.
She stopped at the apple merchant’s wagon.
He smiled as she approached, and held out an apple. “I have not seen the little runt today.”
She handed him a coin and took the apple. “Thank you.”
Then, she remembered the merchant told her that Thomas must live on the north side of the town. She headed back toward the church. She happened to glance back at the town to find the apple merchant speaking with two soldiers. Shivers of apprehension raced down her spine when the merchant pointed his cane at her.
She turned and hurriedly moved away from the main street. The crowd thinned and she expected the soldiers to come after her at any moment. She cut through a farmer’s wheat field, chancing a glance over her shoulder. The street remained empty. She breathed a small sigh of relief. She was being foolish. They didn’t know her in Dunford. Who knew what the merchant was speaking with them about. She needed to focus on her mission of finding Thomas. She neared a farmer’s house made of wattle and daub. It was quiet except for a bird chirping. The golden field of wheat swayed gently in the breeze.
A child would need protection from nature, from the rain. Perhaps she should search for a run down, empty house? Or a cave?
She heard the clank of a blacksmith’s shop as she came to the house. It stopped suddenly when the pounding of hooves sounded. Instinctively, Mercy ducked behind the mud wall of the farmer’s house. After a mo
ment, as the sound grew, she chanced a look around the side of the house.
A dusty cloud rose from the road and Mercy could see two horses galloping along it. They stopped at the edge of the field of wheat where she had entered. A path of crushed wheat led to her. They glanced toward the farmhouse and she pulled back. They must be looking for her!
Father Stephen had led Richard through the cathedral. There had been no sign of any children, only glassy-eyed saints staring at him with recrimination. The longer he stayed, the more uneasy and anxious he became. He interrupted Father Stephen’s tour. “May I see the monastery?”
Father Stephen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you searching for something in particular?”
Richard studied a statue of St. Paul, a bearded prophet holding a sword in one hand and a bible in the other. “I am considering a life in the holy order,” he lied. The saints were already looking at him with displeasure. What was a little lying in a cathedral in comparison to his past sins?
Father Stephen’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You should speak with Abbot Luke. He can guide you better than I.”
Richard nodded but immediately regretted his words. He wanted as few people as possible to know he was here. He was afraid someone would recognize him. As they walked toward the front of the cathedral, down the corridor, he heard muted talking. Nothing wrong with that in a cathedral or monastery. But then, he heard something that made him pause. He reached out and clasped Father Stephen’s arm.
The clink of armor echoed through the corridor.
“I would like to pray for direction before I speak to the Abbot.” He stepped back, casting a wary eye down the hallway.
“Of course.” Father Stephen turned.
Richard wished he had a sword. If this was the bishop’s soldiers, he would have nothing to defend himself with. His best options were to stay hidden or run. He couldn’t help Kit if he was in the dungeon…or worse.
He returned to the cathedral and paused, glancing back down the hallway before he entered. He expected knights to come rushing down the corridor to apprehend him. He was being foolish, he knew. How would they know he was here? Unless… His gaze snapped to Father Stephen.
“You wanted to pray…?” Father Stephen encouraged uneasily.
Furious, Richard grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall. “Do you know who I am?”
“You are Richard!” Father Stephen exclaimed.
Richard pushed his face closer, snarling, “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes! Yes! Sir Richard le Breton! Yes! I know.”
“You contacted the bishop. You told the soldiers.”
“I sent word to the bishop. Yes!”
Richard growled softly. He should have known the church was no sanctuary for him. But it wasn’t him he was concerned about. “Mercy. Is she in danger?” His fingers curled into the Father’s robe.
“No,” he said quickly. “I would never do that to her.”
“You already have. She is searching for her son! The bishop took him from her. If he knows I’m here, he knows she is.” Richard tossed Father Stephen aside and hurried into the cathedral. There had to be another way out. He paused and looked back at the Father who was slowly standing. “How do I get out?”
Father Stephen appeared frail and shaken, frightened. He pointed to the altar.
Richard hurried across the stone floor of the cathedral to the altar. Suddenly, soldiers rushed into the cathedral. He raced behind the altar, searching for a door, a passageway, anything to escape. He couldn’t find a doorway. Had Father Stephen lied to trap him for the bishop?
“There! There!” The soldiers raced up the center aisle.
Grimacing, Richard desperately scanned the wall behind the altar. He stepped back, turning to search the room for another way out. That was when he noticed the hallway off to the side. He rushed toward it…
…only to be greeted by more guards. He was trapped.
Mercy’s heart pounded. Where could she run to escape the soldiers? She had to escape! She moved to the opposite side of the farmer’s house, searching for a tree or brush that would offer her cover.
“This way!”
The soldiers were coming closer. They couldn’t catch her! She had to be free to find Kit! There was no cover across the farmlands. If she ran, they would see her. No cover on the road. She turned the corner, pressing herself up against the wall of the house.
“Go around. I’ll go this way.”
No, Mercy thought. She would not let them find her. She stumbled over a branch. She reached down to grasp it, preparing to use it as a weapon. A hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. Startled, she jumped back.
Mercy saw Thomas tucked under a bush near the bottom of the house. It appeared he was beneath the house. He pressed a finger to his lips and signaled for her to come with him. He moved the bush aside and Mercy quickly slid down to where he was.
Darkness engulfed her.
Thomas pushed the bush back into place. Together, they huddled beneath the house, behind the bush in the quiet dark, watching. It was only a few moments later that footsteps sounded and the light from between the branches of the bush was broken by shadows.
Mercy pulled back, hoping the soldiers wouldn’t find them in the hole.
“Where did she go?”
“Into the house.” The guards moved away. There was a pounding that sounded further away.
Thomas took Mercy’s hand and led her deeper beneath the house, into the darkness. It wasn’t a hole. It was some sort of tunnel. Mercy had to crawl as she followed Thomas. She couldn’t stand because the passageway was too small. Thomas crawled beside her. The small tunnel seemed to go on forever. She thought she heard other rustlings behind her. She was grateful that Thomas was with her. But where was he taking her? It had to be better than being caught by the bishop’s soldiers.
Thomas moved in front of her as the passageway narrowed. Pebbles and small rocks were scattered in the dirt of the passageway. Mercy’s palms and knees repeatedly fell on them as she crawled forward. She ignored the pinch of pain and continued after Thomas. Her hands brushed over dirt. She adjusted her skirt repeatedly so she wouldn’t trip over it. “Thomas,” she whispered.
“Shhh,” Thomas answered quietly, quickly.
The darkness was complete, surrounding her in nothingness. Panic ate away at the borders of her sanity as her mind began to play tricks on her. She felt something slide over her hand, and she yanked it back. She heard the soft rumble of dirt collapsing and hurried after Thomas. Where were they going? What if she lost him? Would she stumble around in the darkness forever? She pushed the swelling terror aside. At least the soldiers wouldn’t find her. But would she survive?
The air was stale and heavy. She took a deep breath and got a mouthful of dust. She coughed hard.
In front of her, Thomas paused until her fit of coughing stopped. “We’re almost there,” he whispered. “Put one of your hands over your mouth.”
Mercy did as he directed, but it didn’t help much because she had to use it to crawl forward. They moved quietly then. Mercy followed him, knowing the end would be coming soon. The tunnel was longer than the farmhouse and she wondered where the end would be. Or maybe it was her mind wishing to be free of the confinement. What if the cave collapsed? What if they were trapped? Shivers of anxiety and dread danced across her back. Just as she thought she could take no more, just as the fear was about to take over, she saw a light ahead. At first, she thought it was a reflection or a play of her mind. But as they neared, the light increased. She saw that the tunnel, and yes, that was what she was in, opened ahead. She had never been so grateful to see light before. A wave of fresh air moved over her like a wave. She inhaled deeply and let out a little sigh.
Thomas paused to look back at her.
Now she knew why he looked so dirty. He crawled around in these caves. “I’m alright,” she admitted with gratitude.
He moved forward until he fell from the opening, his bod
y disappearing before her. Then, he reappeared, standing.
When Mercy came to the opening, Thomas held a hand out to help her. A small cave opened before her. It was an enclosed cave with small animal bones and blankets and debris scattered about on the floor. Two other holes just like the one she crawled out through were on the cave wall. Escape routes, she guessed. This was his home. This was why no one could ever find him.
She took Thomas’s hand and he helped her out of the tunnel. When her feet touched the floor, she dusted off her dress and mumbled a thank you to Thomas. Three other boys stood huddled together near one of the holes, eyeing Mercy with distrust. They were just as dusty as Thomas and wore ragged clothing. They seemed to be around the same age as Thomas.
Her gaze moved over the boys. One looked as though he was going to dive into the hole and scurry away at any moment. These were the other boys Father Stephen spoke about. She grinned, greeting them, “Good day.”
None of them replied.
She glanced at Thomas. “Thank you for your help.”
Thomas shrugged. “’twas nothin’. The bishop’s men were after ya. Anyone who is an enemy of the bishop is our friend.”
That seemed to relax the boy about to run. He ran a dirty sleeve across his nose. He was the smallest one. He was thin, his clothing hanging off his body. His dark hair hung over his eyes as if he were hiding from someone.
Mercy’s gaze took in the other two children. The one in the center had his arms crossed. He had brown hair and a blackened eye. Was he a fighter as Richard was, or had some adult done this to him?
Her gaze moved to the other boy. His eyes were dark, and his lips were a thin slash. His hair was pushed back from his face. Mercy gasped slightly. She knew him! His face was thinner than she remembered, and longer, older. She took a step closer to look into his eyes. Older eyes, but still a child. “Rafe?”
Distrust and apprehension filled his eyes. He took a step away from her.
“It’s me. Mercy. Mercy Brooker.”
His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept over her. “Mercy?”
A Knight With Mercy - an Assassin Knights novel Page 11