It was clear that her confession had offended him, but she was glad it had been uttered aloud all the same.
As she watched, the man from the tavern left the latrines, but did not stride back to the tavern. Where was the boy? Christina peeked over the shrubbery, peering through the rain. She heard the man’s footfalls but could not see where he had gone.
“Kerr!” Fergus shouted from the barn. Christina could see him in the portal, silhouetted by the light and peering into the night. “Come eat before you must go without!”
There was no response, save the patter of the rain. Fergus said something to the others in the barn, then Christina saw him don his cloak and march out in search of his squire. He appeared to consider the tavern, but strode to the latrines first.
Christina wondered who the other man had been and where he had gone, fighting a sense that it was folly to reveal herself as yet.
Then Fergus shouted and she knew she had chosen aright.
“Zounds!” he bellowed. “Help me!”
What was amiss?
Christina saw the company spill out of the barn in response to Fergus’ cry. Even the men in the tavern spilled out to look, their curiosity kindled, and she saw lights swinging in the darkness as several strode down the hill to explore.
Was that the silhouette of a man entering the barn, after the others had left?
Christina picked up her skirts and moved quietly through the forest, intent upon finding out.
* * *
The boy, Kerr, was dead.
Poisoned, even.
Wulfe had seen much in his days, but he would have been happy to have not witnessed this. Poison was an unkind way for any person to end his life and could not have been by choice. By the time the men reached Fergus, the boy’s color was wrong and his face twisted with pain.
Wulfe knew the matter could not end well.
Gaston and Fergus tried to aid the boy, and Gaston shouted for his lady wife, who knew aught of healing, to assist. The lady, to her credit, strode through the mud and rain in what had to be her only clean and dry kirtle, and did not shirk the task.
It was too late though. Kerr was convulsing when the men poured out of the tavern, shouting drunkenly. Wulfe surveyed the company gathered there, hoping to spy some clue as to who had done this foul deed.
All appeared to be concerned and fearful.
But all were not there. Fergus, Duncan, and Gaston tried to aid the boy, Bartholomew watching worriedly. Stephen and Simon had followed Wulfe and watched with undisguised horror. Hamish was paler than was his wont as he watched his fellow squire suffer. Though Kerr was not popular, no one wished such a fate upon another.
Nay, someone had wished this fate upon Kerr.
Christina was missing, as was the count, Everard, whom she so disliked. It was impossible that they might be together. Joscelin was not present, but then, he and Everard had gone to the tavern to play at dice.
That habit of Everard’s troubled Wulfe, for it gave credence to Christina’s assertion that the count was not who he declared himself to be. Surely, no pious man would play at dice with such enthusiasm?
And where was Everard? Wulfe was certain he could identify Joscelin’s portly figure among the silhouettes of those approaching from the tavern.
Where was Christina?
Wulfe thought at first that the squire Laurent was missing, then spied the squire in the shadows behind Bartholomew. When Wulfe saw that Laurent did not carry the saddlebag, he feared that Kerr’s state was providing a timely distraction.
Had Christina tried to intervene?
Wulfe left the group and hastened back to the barn, fearing what he would find.
The saddlebag was gone.
There was no sign of Christina. She could not have taken the saddlebag into her own care, for she knew it no longer contained the treasure. Or had she striven to deceive another? Had she drawn the villain’s attention to herself to protect another? Fear welled within him.
Wulfe realized that the barn was darker than it had been and saw that one of the lanterns was gone. He pivoted and found Duncan fast behind him. The older man’s gaze flew to the spot where Laurent had been hugging the saddlebag and he paled.
“Zounds,” he whispered.
So, Christina had been right.
“We must find it before it is taken far,” Wulfe said through his teeth, though in truth he was more concerned for Christina.
“Curse this rain,” Duncan muttered. “We cannot discern a trail.”
The pair strode into the night again, searching the darkness for some hint of the prize’s location. Someone had carried it from the barn and could not have gotten far. The hue and cry from the vicinity of the latrines disguised much sound, but there was a sudden glimmer of light in the forest on the far side of the tavern.
Duncan must have seen it as well, for the two men strode into the rain as one. That distant light disappeared, but they crept close to the spot, endeavoring to make no sound at all. It was clear that Duncan had stalked prey as well, for his identification of the spot where the light had flared was nigh identical to Wulfe’s own.
Where was Christina?
Wulfe thought he could discern the silhouette of a figure and put a hand out to halt Duncan. That man had already frozen in his steps. The figure was too tall and heavyset to be Christina, but cloaked so that his identity could not be discerned. Had Christina been injured? Or had she returned to the other group?
They eased closer in silence, Wulfe’s thoughts filled with questions.
The figure bent over something, moving furiously. There was a sudden cry of fury, then a crack of some item striking the ground. The figure came crashing toward them so suddenly that Duncan was shoved aside and Wulfe scarce managed to step out of the way. He made to pursue the villain, but something was cast at him.
He ducked and something shattered against the tree by his side. It was only when the pieces glittered that Wulfe realized it was the lantern from the barn.
The villain’s favored weapon.
Praise be that it rained with such vigor and there could be no fire. Wulfe would have chased the fleeing figure, but a woman spoke softly behind him.
“Wretch,” Christina whispered.
Wulfe spun to find her bending over a lump on the ground, Duncan at her side.
She was hale!
When he drew closer, he could see that there was a round rock before her, partly unfurled from protective layers of cloth. The saddlebag itself could be discerned, discarded to one side.
“He knows it was a trick,” Christina said with no surprise.
Duncan nudged the rock with his foot and exhaled. “I must say that I am relieved.”
“Is the real treasure safe?” Wulfe asked her with quiet urgency.
Christina nodded without hesitation.
The men exchanged a glance.
“What did you see?” Duncan asked. “Do you know who it was?”
“I have no proof,” Christina said. “For I did not see him clearly. When all ran to the latrines, I saw a silhouette return to the barn. By the time I drew near, that person left the barn again, carrying something. I followed, hoping to see his face, but when he lit the lantern I was behind him. I tried to move closer, but I was not quick enough.”
The thought that she had been so close to the villain, the one who would kill to gain the treasure, struck fear into Wulfe’s heart. That she knew the location of the prize and what it was only made him fear more for what could have happened.
“You should not have taken such a risk,” Wulfe chided. “We know this villain will kill to see his ends achieved. Do not put yourself between him and his prize!”
Christina lifted her chin. “My life is mine to risk as I so choose,” she said softly. “And I will always choose the greater good.”
“You could have been injured!” Wulfe protested, but her expression did not soften.
Duncan looked between them, his expression thoughtful, and Wulfe lo
oked away.
“What happened at the latrines? Why the hue and cry?” Christina asked and Duncan shook his head.
“The boy was killed.”
Christina gasped. “Not Laurent?”
The older warrior grimaced. “Nay, it was Kerr, and there will be hell to pay for that, you can be certain.” Wulfe looked at the Scotsman without comprehension. “The adored nephew of the lady Isobel, the betrothed of Fergus. She will never let him forget this, of that you can be certain.”
“You do not like her much, do you?” Christina asked softly, but Duncan only gave her a hard look as a reply.
“My view is of no import in this matter,” he said gruffly.
“What else did you see?” Wulfe asked Christina.
“Only a man and a boy came from the tavern to the latrine. The man left and the boy did not. While I sought a glimpse of him, I lost sight of the man.”
Wulfe nodded, wishing some soul had seen the man clearly and witnessed the poisoning of the squire. He did not doubt that the villain had planned the matter to be exactly thus.
“Poison?” she asked. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Duncan verified and she grimaced.
“No soul deserves such a fate as that,” Christina said quietly.
“Mark my words,” Duncan said grimly. “The lady Ysmaine will be blamed for it, for she was the one who bought poison in Outremer.”
But someone had either stolen poison from her, or bought more. Frustration roiled in Wulfe that this villain should be so fortunate so consistently.
Or perhaps he was merely experienced in his vice, and knew how to ensure his deeds were not detected. He recalled Christina’s conviction that the man she called Helmut had killed at least twice.
He should be brought to justice.
Duncan bent then and rolled the rock into its cloth, then placed it in the saddlebag again. The others could be heard returning to the barn. “I say we keep the feint,” he said, his tone practical. “For it may prove to be of use later. I will tell Fergus, and undoubtedly Laurent will learn the truth, but I would ask that the others not be told.”
Perhaps the fiend would reveal his knowledge.
They nodded agreement and returned to the barn individually, ensuring that they blended into the company unnoted. All were present by the time the company gathered in the barn again, and Wulfe wondered where the treasure might truly be hidden.
He knew that he was not the sole one in the company who wondered as much.
Surely Christina would not take such a risk again?
* * *
The company was restless, even once they were settled for the night in the barn. The foul deed committed upon Kerr might have been an unwelcome guest at the board. Lady Ysmaine was pale and sat wrapped in her cloak by her maid. Evidently she was estranged from her husband on this night, doubt about the origin of the poison having done its work.
Laurent was pale, that squire’s gaze flicking from one knight to the next, as if in fearful anticipation of some recrimination. Everard and Joscelin had returned to the tavern to play at dice.
Hamish wept quietly for his fellow squire, or perhaps out of shock, and Fergus looked grim. Duncan patted the weeping boy’s shoulder, but clearly was not accustomed to granting comfort. Stephen and Simon sat together, near Wulfe, and looked very young. Wulfe leaned against a pillar, booted ankles crossed, and his features lost in shadow. The lantern flickered and Christina wondered whether they would sit in silence until the light was gutted.
She could not bear it.
“Perhaps we have need of a tale to distract ourselves from the night’s events,” she said brightly, not truly surprised when many turned to her with relief.
“Do you know whose feast day it is today, my lady?” Stephen asked, and she smiled at the boy for encouraging her effort.
“Indeed. Today is the feast day of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus.” She spread her skirts with her hands, recalling the details of the story. “They were seven men of good families who were of an age with each other and good friends, as well. The lived in the days when Decius was the emperor and were all Christians. Decius sent word to Ephesus that temples should be built for the Roman gods and that all were to worship them. Any who refused to do so would be executed. So great was the fear amongst the people of Ephesus that friends betrayed friends, fathers betrayed sons and sons betrayed fathers.”
“They did not betray each other?” Stephen demanded, his incredulity clear.
“They did not,” Christina said. “But they confessed to their faith and were chastised by the emperor himself. Because of the affluence of their families, he granted them a reprieve and bade them reconsider their choice. Instead, these seven friends gave all their wealth away to the poor, then retreated to a cave in the hills to take refuge from the emperor. There they fasted and prayed.”
“They must have become hungry,” Stephen guessed.
Christina saw that Simon was listening intently and that Laurent’s eyes were wide. Perhaps Laurent recognized the alternate version of the story of the companions of the cave. Christina smiled at the girl to reassure her and “Laurent” tentatively smiled back. “They did, and one of their number, Malchus, dressed himself as a beggar to go into the city and try to get them some food. While there, he heard that Decius had decreed the seven friends should be hunted and brought to their execution. He returned to the cave to warn his fellows, and though they consulted, it seemed their martyrdom was inevitable. They prayed for strength to face the coming trials. By the grace of God, they fell into a deep sleep and were discovered thus by the emperor’s men.”
The boys leaned forward.
“The emperor himself came to look upon them, for they could not be roused. Indeed, they might have been struck to stone. So, the cave was walled up, lest it was a trick to allow them to escape. Two of their fellow Christians, Theodorus and Ruffinus, wondered whether they might be witnessing a miracle. They had the tale of the seven friends written down and tucked the scroll into a chink between the rocks that secured the entrance to the cave. And so the martyrs were nigh forgotten.”
Christina lifted a finger. “Until, some three hundred years later, heresy abounded in the city and the Christian emperor feared for the souls of his citizens. God knew that a miracle was needed and so he urged a shepherd to build a shelter on the side of the same mountain where the seven companions had taken refuge in their cave. To build the shelter, the shepherd removed the rocks that had blocked the entrance to the cave. With a breath of will from God, the seven friends awakened. They believed they had slept but a night and were hungry indeed. Malchus offered to again go into the city for bread and also to learn how the hunt for them was to proceed. Once again, he dressed as a beggar, and once again, he left the cave, fearing he might not return.”
“But the city was not as Malchus recalled. Instead of the new temples built by Decius, there were churches everywhere. The people openly professed their faith in Jesus and he could make no sense of it. He wondered whether he had gone to another city in error, for this one bore so little resemblance to the one he knew. He thought his wits addled by hunger and tried to buy bread, but the baker would not take his coin.”
Laurent sat up. “A hue and cry was raised, and a crowd gathered, for the coin was ancient and valuable,” the squire said. “The baker thought this man must have stolen it, while others thought he had found a treasure and should share its location. As you might imagine, he was most confused by all of this.”
Christina smiled. “The crowd demanded that the man they believed to be a stranger prove his origins. The man gave his name and that of his parents, but no one knew of any of them.”
The boys looked between Christina and Laurent, who smiled at each other even as Laurent continued. “He cried out in vexation, for still they called him a liar, and demanded to be taken to a magistrate of the emperor. When he named the emperor who he knew ruled the territory containing the city, the crowd fell back in awe. He could mak
e no sense of their reaction and asked what was amiss.”
Christina dropped her voice. “The baker told him that emperor had been dead for centuries. But the Christian emperor who now ruled the city came to see Malchus. He believed he saw the hand of God in these events and begged to be taken to the cave. There he embraced all seven of the men who had slept so long, saluting them as saints. The hidden scroll was found in the chink and read aloud, and the people rejoiced, for their true faith was restored by this evidence of the truth of the resurrection. The seven friends laid down to sleep then, and this time they did not awaken. They were laid to rest in golden coffins and the cave was embellished with gold and other riches. It became a shrine, a great holy place that was testament to the power of God and the promise of life beyond death that he offers us all.”
There was silence when Christina finished her tale, but it was not so melancholy as it had been. The rain still pounded on the roof and the barn still smelled, but something had changed.
She felt the weight of Wulfe’s hand land upon her shoulder. “I thank you for this reminder on this night,” he said quietly. “Let us all pray for Kerr’s immortal soul and hope that each of us has the chance to awaken to new promise.”
New promise.
As Christina prayed, she began to think of home, of old promises and legacies. For the first time, she dared not just to wonder but to hope that there might truly be a new beginning for her.
It was no surprise that she wished for it to be with Wulfe.
Wednesday, August 12, 1187
Feast day of the martyrs Saint Andeolus and Saint Tiburtius, and of the virgin Saint Waldetrudis
Chapter Fourteen
Christina was appalled to realize over the ensuing weeks that she had been utterly mistaken about the knight Gaston’s regard for his lady wife.
It was enough to shake her conviction that the greater good must prevail.
She had believed that Gaston and Ysmaine had found love in their marriage, despite their match being recently made. But it had been clear on the night of Kerr’s death that Gaston thought his wife responsible for the squire’s demise. She had hoped his mood would pass, but it had only grown more vehement. Indeed, Christina began to fear that Gaston might put his wife aside.
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