The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7

by Kathryn Le Veque

  That was going to change the situation quite a bit.

  As Peter listened to his father and Marcus and Alexander discuss the coming implications, his thoughts inevitably turned to Liora. His father was making plans for his future, sending him to command an enormous castle on the Marches, something that would take all of his time and focus. He didn’t mind going, for this was what he’d been trained for his entire life. He knew that the name de Lohr brought great expectations. But what he didn’t like was the fact that it would mean leaving Liora just when he was coming to know her. Hell, he didn’t know her at all and he knew that, but he was loath to surrender the momentum of the moment.

  Off to the wilds of the Welsh Marches and leaving behind the blue-eyed beauty he was so smitten with. He debated about keeping silent on it, but the more he listened to his father and Marcus speak, the more he realized that he didn’t want to keep silent. He was feeling something he’d never felt before and he needed advice.

  Something inside him had awakened.

  He couldn’t seem to keep it quiet any longer.

  “May I interrupt?” he asked, watching his father and Marcus and Alexander turn to him. “Forgive me, but I have something on my mind that does not have to do with the king and rebellions and warfare and I am afraid if I do not speak of it now, I may never have another chance. Will you hear me?”

  Christopher looked at him curiously. “Of course, Peter,” he said. “What is it?”

  Now, the focus was on him and he was sorry he’d spoken up. But then again, he wasn’t. He didn’t know what he felt, only that he felt compelled to speak of what he was feeling. He wasn’t impulsive by nature but, in this instance, he was. There was something inside of him that needed to be heard. Looking at his father, he said the first thing that came to mind.

  “I’ve met a woman,” he said simply.

  Christopher stared at him a moment before a smile spread across his bearded lips. “Is that so?” he said. “You? I do not believe it.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Then I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

  Peter tried to think of how to follow up that brilliant first statement. He wasn’t very good at talking about what he was feeling, although it had come rather easily with Marcus because Marcus wasn’t his father, who could be an emotional man. He looked to Marcus, who was gazing back at him with an expression that suggested he wasn’t pleased that Peter had spoken up. He’d told Peter not to bother his father with this infatuation because Christopher had enough to deal with, but Peter couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

  “I met her yesterday,” he said. “I was riding escort to some of the warlords entering London for the conference at Hollyhock, but I caught sight of Agnes de Quincy and her father and that sent me running for cover. I ended up in a kitchen yard belonging to the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Papa… she has hair the color of a raven’s wing and eyes the color of the sky. I have never seen such magnificence. She is witty, intelligent, compassionate… she is perfect.”

  Christopher was very much enjoying his son’s confession, a welcome respite from all of the war chatter. Peter, who swore repeatedly that he had no time for women and was most resistant to any suggestion of a betrothal, was apparently not so oblivious to women as he pretended to be.

  “I am pleased,” he said. “What is her name?”

  “Liora.”

  “Family name?”

  Peter avoided the question. “She has a little brother named Asa who runs with a gang of little street toughs,” he said, chuckling. “The boy is about seven or eight years of age. Douglas and Myles could learn something from this lad. He shoots pebbles with surprising accuracy and evidently has enemies in a similar boy gang on the next street. I’ve not met her father or mother yet, but they live in London. That’s actually where I was today… I was with her. We were simply talking, of course, but just being in her presence made me feel like a giddy squire. I’ve never felt that way in my life.”

  Christopher was still grinning, listening to his son speak of an infatuation that clearly thrilled him. “I seem to remember feeling that way in my life,” he said. “As if you are walking on clouds.”

  “I have been walking on clouds since yesterday.”

  “Do not keep me in suspense, then,” Christopher said. “Who is this woman’s family?”

  “She’s perfect, Papa.”

  “I understand that.”

  “She is also Jewish.”

  Christopher blinked and the smile faded from his face. “Jewish?” he repeated. “You know this for certain?”

  “Her father is King John’s jeweler.”

  Christopher’s smile vanished completely. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but it was clear he was mulling things over. “The king’s jeweler, if it is the one I am thinking of, was Richard’s jeweler also,” he said. “I only know this because Richard once sent me to collect something from the man many years ago. Haim ben Thad is the name, if I recall correctly. Is this the same man?”

  “It must be because she said her father’s name was Haim,” Peter said, but he could see that his father wasn’t so thrilled with the conversation any longer. “Papa, I know this is not ideal and given I have only met her yesterday, I should not even be speaking to you about her, but she’s different from the other women I have known. She is not spoiled by fostering in great homes where they teach the girls how to be petty and selfish and vain. She can read and write several languages, so she’s scholarly. She is warm and humorous, and her beauty… Papa, you’ve never seen such beauty in your life. Everything about her sings to me and, like the siren’s call, I am drawn to her.”

  “Drawn to her?” Christopher repeated, frowning. “That’s all well and good, lad, but men like you do not cavort with the jeweler’s daughter. You enjoyed the company of a pretty woman today, so leave it at that.”

  “But I don’t want to leave it at that,” Peter insisted. “Why should I have to? She’s a cultured, elegant, beautiful woman. Why must I leave it at that?”

  Christopher leaned forward on the table, looking at him without a hint of warmth. After a moment, he simply lifted his eyebrows. “Surely you cannot be serious about this,” he said. “What more do you want?”

  “To court her.”

  Christopher shook his head firmly. “A Jewess? Lad, you know that the Christians and the Jews do not mix, or if they do, they do not mix well. Her religion, her heritage, is entirely different from yours.”

  “That does not mean I cannot learn about it,” Peter said, pushing himself up from the floor and standing on his feet. “That does not mean that I cannot understand it and understand her.”

  “And then what? Do you really think that simply understanding her and her religion will make for a good marriage?” Christopher shook his head again, his annoyance growing. “Let me be perfectly clear on this matter, Peter – religion is of no matter to me, but it matters to a great many people. I would rather see you marry a godless woman of good character than a Christian woman with an immoral soul, so do not think I hold any prejudice against the Jews because it would be untrue. I knew many during my time in The Levant and they were kind, welcoming people. But they are also very devoted to their religion and they do not marry outside of their faith. If you pursue this infatuation, then you will find that out.”

  He wasn’t being cruel about the situation, merely factual. Peter felt that he was discouraging him, not wanting to see his son hurt.

  But he wasn’t ready to give up.

  “What if one of us converts?” he said. “What if she converts to Christianity or I convert to the Jewish religion? What then? Would that solve the issue?”

  Christopher’s annoyance was growing with his son. “Ridiculous,” he said flatly. “If you become a Jew, then you lose everything. There are no Jewish knights, Peter. The knighthood is based on service to the Catholic Church, so you would have to renounce everything. And then what? What would you do to earn money? Become a mercen
ary? Who is going to hire you? No Christian overlord in England will, so where will you go? What will you do? Or do you just intend to live on my good graces for the rest of your life?”

  He was hammering at him and Peter was feeling increasingly defensive. “So she can convert to Christianity, then.”

  Christopher threw up his hands. “You would force the woman to leave everything she knows and bring her into a world that is completely unfamiliar to her?” he said. “How happy would she be? How happy would you be? You would have a miserable wife on your hands who would more than likely grow to resent you. Is that really the life you would want? I can say with certainty that it is not the life I would want for you.”

  It wasn’t usual for Peter and Christopher to be at odds. They adored each other, as father and son should, so the lack of parental support for Peter was difficult to stomach. Christopher gave no sense that he would even be willing to help, which thoroughly upset Peter. He wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings with his father against him.

  “Then I thank you for your advice, Father,” he said, struggling not to become angry. “Forgive me for troubling you and speaking about my feelings. It will not happen again.”

  With that, he turned on his heel, storming out of the solar. He heard his father call after him, but he ignored the man. He was positively furious. Just as he reached the mural stairs that led to the upper floors, someone grabbed him by the arm. Peter balled a fist and whirled around to throw a punch, but Alexander held up his hands.

  “Ease yourself, Peter,” he admonished softly. “Your mother would frown greatly if you spilled my blood over her floor, not to mention the fact that Christin would probably come after you with a dagger. Do you dare provoke my wife’s wrath by striking me?”

  Peter immediately relaxed and lowered his fist. “I do not want to discuss it further, Sherry,” he said. “I know you mean well, but I really have nothing more to say.”

  Alexander looked at him, studying him in the weak light. “She sounds astonishing,” he said quietly. “Liora, I mean. Am I to assume she feels the same way about you?”

  Peter sighed heavily, seeing that he was going to have to talk about it whether he wanted to or not. “I suppose,” he said. “Truthfully, I do not really know. She looks at me with such… power, Sherry. I do not know how to describe it, but when she looks at me, it as if the world around me ceases to exist. All I see is her. Yesterday, we had a short but perfectly wonderful conversation and today, it was like I’d found a missing piece. Being with her, talking to her, seemed to fill a gap inside of me that I never knew I had. I am not sure I can describe it any better than that.”

  Alexander was a wise man. He had a way about him that naturally drew men to him, a command authority that was comprised of a strong presence, intuition, and intelligence. Everyone in the family was extremely fond of Alexander and Christin most of all. She adored her husband. Peter had to admit that he did, too. He was the big brother Peter had always wished for.

  “I will not discount what you are feeling even though it has been a very short amount of time,” Alexander said. “Infatuations can be like that sometimes. Mayhap you should give it a little time and see how you feel in a few days.”

  Peter shrugged. “That was what Liora said.”

  “She is right.”

  Peter scratched his head wearily. “We may not have all the time in the world, you know,” he said. “Papa has some of the warlords coming here tonight, including The Northerners, to discuss pulling out of London and the king’s proposals. For all I know, we could be heading to the Marches tomorrow.”

  Alexander put a hand on his shoulder. “All I am saying is not to rush into anything,” he said. “Sleep on it. Think about it. I am always here to talk to if you need someone to listen. Your father… he is bearing the weight of a country on his shoulders right now and may not be the best person to speak to. His concerns are great, Peter. You know that.”

  Peter nodded. “I know,” he said. “I do not mean to burden him but, to me, this is a serious situation. I only wanted his thoughts on the matter, not his condemnation.”

  “He did not condemn you,” Alexander said. “He did, in fact, give you his thoughts.”

  Peter’s gaze lingered on him. “You think he is right, don’t you?”

  Alexander shrugged. “In many ways, he was exactly right,” he said. “Do not forget that I spent time in The Levant with your father, too. What he said about the Jewish people and their dedication to their religion is exactly right. They are a people who keep unto themselves.”

  “But there have to be times when they marry outside of their faith.”

  “Probably. But not without great sacrifices from one person or the other.”

  He was saying what Christopher essentially said, only kinder. It gave Peter something more to think about, but it didn’t discourage him.

  “I want to speak with a rabbi,” he said. “I want to find out what kind of opposition there is. I want to know why I have found a beautiful woman who makes me feel faint every time I look at her and I cannot marry her.”

  Alexander could see a passion in Peter that he’d never seen before. That told him that, perhaps, this was something more than an infatuation. “The Great Synagogue is in London,” he said. “Surely you could go there and speak with one of the rabbis.”

  Peter had hoped to go with Liora when she spoke with her rabbi, but he was coming to think it might be better if he were to speak with a rabbi without her. He wanted facts, and truth, and he didn’t want Liora there to feed his emotions. Already, she fed them and in this case, that was only working against him. As he stood there with Alexander, he knew what he had to do.

  And he’d keep his father out of it.

  “Thank you,” he said, reaching out to put a hand on Alexander’s arm. “You have given me something to think about without making me feel like a fool.”

  Alexander smiled faintly at him. “Do not think too badly of your father,” he said. “I suspect he is sad that he angered you, so keep that in mind. I am sure he did not mean to.”

  Peter shrugged, forcing a smile at Alexander before continuing up to his chamber. There would be a gathering that night and more discussions with the warlords, and he would be part of it, but right now – this moment – was his. He had plans to make and things to do.

  No matter what his father said, he wasn’t going to give up.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Click… click… click, click, click…

  The tick of the abacus filled the air of the shop on the Street of the Jewelers. Haim ben Thad’s stall was like all the other stalls on the avenue, which was essentially a small fortress unto itself. As with all jewelers and bankers, they had a private security force that protected them from thieves and robbers. These men were usually Jewish and very well paid. Some of the shops were built from stone, making it more difficult for clever thieves to break through walls, and Haim’s shop was one such stall.

  It was the strongest shop on the avenue.

  Haim inherited the shop from his father, and his father before him. He received direct shipments of jewels and purchased his gold from the goldsmiths on down the avenue. Every shop seemed to specialize in something different on the Street of the Jewelers, although some of them overlapped. Most everything was custom made, though there were a few pieces made specifically for sale to rich lords who didn’t want to wait for something to be specially made.

  Haim had it all.

  He had two lesser partners who helped with the stall, salesmen, and four jewelers who did the most exquisite work. Haim himself also worked as a jeweler and he was one of the very best. He had more business than he could handle but, most importantly, he had the business of the king. In fact, he was making a massive golden belt for the king which, he’d only been told two days ago, the king wanted to turn into a necklace. There were twenty-seven gold links, each link set with a jewel, but the gold alone made it extremely heavy. Still, it was becoming increasingly fa
shionable for men to wear those heavy gold belts and once London saw the king wear such a belt around his neck and shoulders, it would become all the rage.

  On this day, Liora was sitting on the second floor of the shop, at a table overlooking the street below. Her father was an excellent jeweler, but his business sense was often lacking, leaving it up to his wife and daughter to manage his books. Since Liora’s mother, Ruth, was busier with the household and raising a wild son, Liora had taken over handling her father’s financial affairs.

  Today, she was determining the accounts for the month and how much her father was owed.

  Click… click… click, click, click went the abacus.

  Then she would write the figure down in the ledger.

  Unfortunately, she’d made a few mistakes this morning because her mind wasn’t completely on the ledgers. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Peter. She’d thought about him all night, making it difficult to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Peter kissing her fingers at the livery and it was enough to cause her heart to leap. He’d been so sweet and gentle and romantic, something she’d never experienced in her entire life and something she was most definitely drawn to.

  For better or for worse, she was drawn to him.

  It seemed so surreal, however. She still couldn’t believe the events of the past couple of days, events she had never believed she would ever experience. Her entire world was her family, her religion, and her way of life. It just didn’t seem possible that something out of the ordinary should alter that.

  But something was.

  It was both terrifying and thrilling.

  “Zeeskeit?”