The old man gazed up at his son. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to him but the words just wouldn’t come. At this point, actions would speak louder than words and he knew it. He had much to atone for. As the cold wind blew around them and the knights began to head back into the warmth of the tavern, Gorsedd dug into the pocket of his heavy cloak.
“I have something for your wife,” he said. “Mayhap… mayhap in some small way, this will emphasize my regret at my behavior. I hope it will.”
Cortez was trying not to feel pity for his father but it was difficult. He loved his father very much and the rift had greatly upset him.
“What is it?”
Gorsedd pulled out a piece of cloth, carefully wrapped around something, and as he unwrapped the ends, Cortez could see flashes of silver beneath. The great silver collar suddenly appeared, whole and bright and beautiful as it had been the day it had been forged. It was magnificent beneath the cloudy, cold skies and Cortez couldn’t help but reach out to touch it. So many memories in that one collar.
“The necklace,” he breathed. “You had it repaired.”
Gorsedd nodded. “I did indeed,” he said, looking up at Cortez. “I hope your wife will accept this. Your mother would have wanted her to have it and, in some small way, mayhap this makes your mother a part of your marriage. She would have been so happy to know your wife, Cortez. With this necklace, I believe your mother is giving you her blessing. I hope your wife will wear it with honor and accept the apology of a foolish old man.”
Cortez grinned. He put his hand on his father’s shoulder, giving the man a squeeze. “Let us go inside and ask her.”
Gorsedd nodded, broke into a smile, and then fiercely hugged his son, who returned the embrace firmly. Finally, Cortez could feel warmth again and hope. He could feel so very many things, not the least of which was his father’s genuine regret and remorse. For them, so many things had come full circle and for life in general, the great questing undertaken those weeks ago was now at a close.
Everyone had what they had come for; for Diamantha, it was Robert, and for Cortez, it was Diamantha. For Gorsedd… it was the understanding that life goes on and old family hatred should remain in the past. For Gorsedd and Cortez and Andres, it had no meaning. Life was good now and they intended to keep it that way.
The great questing, to all concerned, meant something different to each and every one.
EPILOGUE
Sherborne Castle
1313 A.D.
“Great Bleeding Jesus,” Cortez grunted. “Is everyone not ready yet? It will be a three-day journey to the Marches and you know I wanted to leave on time. What on earth is the delay?”
He was standing on the landing just outside of the great bedchamber he shared with Diamantha at Sherborne, watching his children scatter past him; two small boys, aged seven and four, ran down the staircase while three girls, aged twelve, ten, and nine years, ran into the chamber across from the master’s chamber and slammed the door. This level had two bedchambers, one belonging to him and his wife, and the other belonging to his daughters. But the boys had a chamber on the floor above and it seemed as if everyone was migrating in a great herd in front of him, in all different directions, and suddenly they were all gone except for one. Cortez called out to the last child remaining.
“Rhodri,” he addressed his eldest. “Where is everyone going? Are all of your brothers and sisters ready to depart?”
Rhodri de Bretagne was a very big lad, handsome and well-mannered, named for Gorsedd’s grandfather who had lost his life at the hands of Jax de Velt. He had been fostering at Blackstone Castle in Norfolk for the past four years and had only recently returned at the request of his mother, who had missed him very much. Moreover, the family was about to celebrate a milestone in their lives: the birth of Diamantha and Cortez’s first grandchild, Sophie’s son, and the entire family was heading to the Welsh Marches to visit Trelystan Castle, the seat of the great marcher lords, the House of de Lara. Sophie had married into the very big clan and the birth was cause for celebration for all concerned.
In fact, Diamantha had wanted all of her fostering children home for this great event, so the keep of Sherborne was full of brothers and sisters who had not seen each other in quite some time. Therefore, it was a bit chaotic. But neither Cortez nor Diamantha cared. They were simply thrilled to have all of their children home again.
“Father, the girls will not listen to me,” Rhodri said, sounding as if he was defending himself. “When I told them we had to leave, they yelled at me.”
Cortez looked at his son, lifting his eyebrows drolly. “They yelled at you?”
Rhodri nodded seriously. “Loudly,” he insisted. “They were loud.”
Cortez shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And that frightens you?”
Rhodri stood his ground. “Sometimes they throw things, too,” he said. “Allegria threw a shoe at me yesterday. She is a very mean girl!”
Cortez couldn’t help the wry expression. “Lad, do you realize you are quite a bit bigger than they are?” he asked, almost rhetorically. “You could have forced them to come.”
Rhodri cocked his head. “Could you force them to come?”
Cortez backed off, but not entirely. “Aye,” he said. “I can. Diamantha?”
He called out to his wife who was inside their chamber finishing with the last of the packing. From inside the room, they heard her muffled reply.
“What is it?” she called.
“Sweetheart, can you please attend me?” Cortez responded politely.
As he and Rhodri eyed each other, confident that the rebellious girls would soon be defeated, Diamantha appeared, her hands clutching a blanket for the new baby that she had been trying to pack. Her bags were nearly full, however, and it was taking a bit of effort. In the dimness of the landing, she smiled at her son first before turning to Cortez.
“What is it?” she asked.
Cortez opened his mouth to speak but Rhodri interrupted his father. “I tried to tell the girls that we must leave and they yelled at me,” he said. “Papa wants you to tell them we must depart.”
Diamantha lifted her eyebrows and looked at her husband, who merely nodded his head as if it were an entirely serious matter. Diamantha shook her head reproachfully.
“And you cannot do this?” she hissed, holding up the blanket. “I am not quite finished packing the baby’s items.”
Cortez lifted his shoulders. “They throw things.”
Diamantha turned her head. She didn’t want her husband or son to see that she was about to laugh. “You are both bigger and stronger than they are,” she said, but she dutifully went to the door on the opposite side of the landing and rapped on it heavily. “Allegria? Isabella? Juliana? If you are not down in the wagon by the time I finish packing, and I am nearly finished, then I will take my hand to your backsides. Is that clear? Your father is coming in to collect your baggage, so you had better be prepared.”
She could hear hissing and shuffling behind the door. Satisfied, she turned to her husband and eldest son. “There,” she said. “I have tamed the wild beasts for you. All you have to do now is go in and collect their bags. That should not be too hard, should it?”
Rhodri looked embarrassed while Cortez merely grinned. “You are a marvel of womanhood,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her cheek. “A goddess divine. A….”
Diamantha put a hand over his mouth, grinning as she pulled away. “Enough flattery,” she said, looking at Rhodri. “Go upstairs and get your brothers, Rhodri. Cruz and Mateo are already packed. I finished up their things myself last night.”
Rhodri pointed down the stairwell. “They are already down in the wagon, Mother.”
She reached out and patted his cheek. “Thank you, my son,” she said, seeing so much of Cortez in that handsome little face. “Go to them. I will finish packing and meet you down there.”
Rhodri turned obediently, heading for the stairs that led down to the
ground floor of the keep and subsequently out to the massive bailey of Sherborne. Cortez stole another kiss from her and turned for his daughter’s chamber but a word from his wife stopped him.
“Cortez, wait,” she said. When he paused and looked at her, expectantly, she continued. “Do you recall those years ago when we returned from Falkirk with Robert’s possessions? Do you recall how we discussed giving them to Sophie for her first son? Where did you store those items? I should like to bring them for her now.”
Cortez nodded in both remembrance and agreement. “They are in my solar,” he said. “I put them in a chest. I shall have the chest put on the wagons.”
Diamantha put the blanket aside. “Let me see what is in that chest first,” she said. “I never did look through everything when it was brought back. I… I suppose I did not have the strength. Did you ever look through his things?”
Cortez shook his head, trying not to think back to that time, a time that had been so wonderful yet so terrible. It was a time that had given him a secret he had kept from his wife all these years. With time, the guilt of bearing it had eased, but it had never gone away completely. Now, with the mention of Robert Edlington, it threatened to return.
“Nay,” he said softly. “I suppose I did not particularly want to. I simply packed everything away.”
Diamantha understood. “Then we should probably take a look now just to see what we will be giving her.”
Cortez took her hand and escorted her to his solar, which was in a wing of the complex of Sherborne that was separated from the keep. The great stone buildings that made up the complex of Sherborne were cool on this day, a bright day in spring that had dawned quite cold. In fact, the entire spring had been unseasonably chilly. By the time they reached the well-appointed solar that smelled of rushes, Diamantha was rubbing her arms against the chill.
Cortez went over to a great wardrobe that was situated behind his well-used desk, a cabinet that held his writing implements, law books, and other things. It was quite cluttered. On the bottom shelf was a rather large chest, and Cortez pulled it out, setting it upon his desk. As he bent over to pull out the broadsword that had once belonged to Edlington, still in its scabbard, Diamantha opened the top of the trunk.
The first thing she saw was Robert’s tunic, the one he had been wearing when he had been wounded. So many memories tumbled upon her, memories she hadn’t thought of in years. Some were sad, some were not. With a sigh, she carefully pulled out the tunic and held it up, inspecting it. It was dirty and yellowed with age, but the impact of the sight of it was not any less powerful.
“Do you suppose she is going to want this?” she asked.
Cortez set the broadsword down on the table, looking at the tunic. “Has she ever seen it?”
Diamantha shook her head. “I never showed it to her. I never saw the need.”
Cortez put his arm around her shoulders, his gaze on the tunic that held very heady memories for him. Once again, he could feel the sorrow of that day, a day that had changed his life forever. It was a struggle not to linger on the reflections.
“We can bring it,” he said softly. “She is old enough now that she may want to see it. It will be her choice whether or not she wants to keep it.”
Diamantha nodded and carefully folded it, setting it aside. The chest contained a saddlebag, one of two that Robert had owned, but the second bag had never been located. She pulled the bag out and set it on the desk next to the chest as Cortez untied the top and opened it up.
He pulled out knitted gloves, a knitted cap, and two tunics that had belonged to Robert. Diamantha took the tunics, inspecting them.
“I remember when I made these,” she said, almost wistfully. “Robert had put on weight and they were too tight, but he insisted on wearing them. I told him he looked as if he were wearing a sausage casing.”
She chuckled at the memory, as did Cortez. But when the laughter died, Cortez watched her expression, wondering if the humor was giving way to sorrow.
“How do you feel seeing all of this again?” he questioned.
Diamantha shrugged as she carefully refolded the tunics. “I suppose I feel sad that he never got to see Sophie marry,” she said honestly. “I am sad that he will never know his grandson, his namesake. But beyond that, I do not miss him if that is what you mean. I know it sounds terrible to say this, but had he not died, I would have never married you, and you and I have had a perfect life together. I have a beautiful family and a wonderful husband… I am very thankful for my life.”
Cortez smiled faintly at her, warmed by her words. He reached deeper into the saddlebag and pulled out a small dirk, a pair of hose, and a small sewing kit. He set them all upon the table as Diamantha carefully examined everything. The last few items in the saddlebags belonged to a writing kit. He pulled out an inkwell and quill, tightly wrapped in a leather pouch, a sanding phial that still had sand in the bottom of it, and a pouch containing sheets of vellum.
“Robert was keen on writing,” Diamantha said, scrutinizing the sanding phial before opening up the vellum pouch. “In fact, he used to… God’s Bones… Cortez, I think some of this vellum has writing on it.”
Carefully, she pulled it out. There were several sheets of uneven size and width, and three of them had writing on them. As Cortez lit the taper on the desk so they could see more clearly, Diamantha held up the first sheet with dark, somewhat smeared lettering on it.
“Can you read this?” she asked Cortez.
He took the vellum, peering at it in the dim light. His eyesight had never been the greatest and over the years, it had grown steadily worse, so it took him a moment to see what had been written. After reading a few sentences, he grinned.
“It’s a story,” he said. “He has written about a family of rabbits. He must have written it for Sophie.”
Diamantha nodded eagerly. “He loved to write little stories for her,” she said happily. “What a blessing this is – now Sophie can have it for her son.”
Cortez set the vellum down and picked up the next one. He read a couple of sentences. “This seems to be a letter to George,” he said. “I am sorry we did not know it was here. I am sure George would have liked to have seen it.”
Diamantha looked at the letters. Since she did not know how to read, it all looked like scribble to her. “How sad,” she said with regret. “He never did recover from Robert’s death. It was one of the last things he said before he passed away last year, do you recall? He said he was glad to die because he would see his son and wife again. What a terrible thing to be so lonely.”
Cortez nodded in agreement, thinking on George Edlington and how he spent a great deal of time at Sherborne since Robert’s passing. He did it to be close to Sophie, but he eventually became a grandfather to all of their children. The end of his life had been very full. As he thought on George, he took a look at the third piece of vellum. After reading the first few words, he looked at Diamantha.
“This is addressed to Sophie,” he said.
Diamantha eyed the letters on the vellum, some of them smeared and dulled with age. “What does it say?” she asked.
Cortez returned his gaze to the yellowed vellum with the faded writing on it. Quietly, he began to read.
My dearest Sophie;
My days are long and my nights longer. I miss you and your mother fiercely. I know you are too young to understand why I have gone away, but please know it was not because I wanted to. It was because my king, and my country, had need of me. I pray for a swift end to this conflict so that I can return home to you and your mother. In my dreams, I can see your smile and hear your laughter. Sometimes, I see rabbits or butterflies all around, and I can imagine that in their beauty, I see a glimpse of you. You are a breath of wind, the song of a bird, or a flower petal that blows away on a breeze. You are all these things of beauty to me and if the fates are unkind and I never see your face again, then know that throughout this journey, I have been comforted by the life I see around me. It re
minds me of you. I pray for the day when we will be together again, my little flower, in this life or in the next. But know that if my life ends today, I will be with you, always. I will be in the song of a sparrow or in the patter of a gentle rain. As you are with me now, so will I be with you until the end.
Your loving Papa
Cortez had tears in his eyes as he finished. He couldn’t even see the vellum anymore. He looked up at Diamantha to see tears streaming down her face. Stifling a sob, she wrapped her arms around Cortez’s waist, her head upon his shoulder.
“He loved her so much,” she whispered, wiping at her face. “Although I am sorry we did not find this letter sooner, just as we did not find George’s letter sooner, I cannot help but be grateful that we found it now. This will have so much more meaning to her as an adult than it would have as a child. But I wonder why he never sent it to her? Why did he keep it with him?”
Cortez hugged her tightly, thinking on that day so long ago when Robert Edlington had ended his life on his own terms. He’d never faulted the man his decision. In fact, he had always understood his motives. Let them remember me as I was. Now, they had.
“I do not know,” he said softly. “Mayhap it was something he wrote right before his death and never had time to send it. Or maybe it was a sentiment he wanted to keep with him, something to remind him of his daughter. Whatever the reason, it does not matter, for Sophie will soon have it and she will know how much her father loved her. In fact, he has described how I feel about her, also. It is how I feel about all of my children, but it is particularly how I feel about you. As you are with me now, so will I be with you until the end because my quest, always, has been you.”
He quoted the last of Robert’s letter with his own sentiment on the end of it, a phrase that had been the core of their marriage. Diamantha hugged him tightly.
“It is beautiful,” she whispered. “Truly beautiful.”
They remained in a tight embrace for a few moments longer, lingering on Robert’s adoring letter, until they were forced to pack up the chest, remembering the children waiting for them. Their children, born from a love that had been forged in sorrow and fire, a love that was stronger than the bonds of earth, and held together by a little Posey ring that Diamantha had never taken off her finger.
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