by Shea,Lisa
The servants and soldiers went back to their packing task, but whispered amongst themselves and glanced surreptitiously over at the pair while they worked.
Jack fought a powerful desire to walk over and find out what was being said. He forced himself to stand by the gate with Peter, watching as Catherine sat on a bench with her package, talking at length to Lord Epworth. Lord Epworth paced back and forth, turning occasionally to make statements or ask questions. Catherine unwrapped the package, and Jack could see the flash of blue come from the codex she withdrew from the oilskin. Next to him, Peter sucked in his breath.
“It is the Codex of the Bowyers,” he explained, giving a low whistle. Jack glanced over at him, a question in his eyes. Peter continued, “It is an illuminated manuscript, with gold leaf letters, telling the full history of the Bowyers. There are even blank pages at the end of it, so that it can be added to. It is rumored to be a work of art.” He nodded over at the couple. “The cover is decorated with sapphires.”
Catherine was holding the book up toward Lord Epworth. Lord Epworth strode back and forth before her, his voice still low but his movements betraying his anger. Catherine did not move. She sat perfectly still, her gaze focused on Lord Epworth.
An idea coalesced in Jack’s thoughts, and he froze in place, transfixed by the scene. She had found a way to get free.
There was a change in the dynamic; Lord Epworth swore beneath his breath, reached out and took the codex from Catherine with a sharp movement. His response was sharp enough to be heard clearly across the courtyard.
“I will talk to Jack and Peter,” he snapped.
Then he had turned on his heel and was striding straight toward Jack. The elder man’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration.
Jack’s chest constricted as if stones had been laid on his ribs. He willed himself to maintain a neutral expression. He would not do anything to upset his father further, to disturb what Catherine had set into motion.
Lord Epworth pulled to a stop before the pair, his eyes sweeping between the two men with open suspicion. “You still swear you did not precipitate her behavior in any way,” he demanded, his voice clipped with hostility.
Peter and Jack both shook their heads, and Jack took a step forward. “I swear we did not, sir,” he vowed, his voice firm. “We only asked Catherine about the murders and about Shadow’s role in them.”
Lord Epworth held his gaze for a moment, then nodded, his face sagging.
“She is not going with me to Ireland,” he stated in a terse voice. “Instead, she is going near St. Albans, to talk with Lord Xavier. He could be instrumental in -”
He broke off sharply, and his jaw clenched. “I find her actions wholly inappropriate and will not discuss them further.” He took a long, deep breath. “I would appreciate it if she could go most of the way with your party. I owe at least that much to her family. She says she is ready to leave now.”
Jack nodded, maintaining an even tone. “If that is your wish, then of course we will comply,” he agreed smoothly.
Lord Epworth glanced between the two men, and his tone gentled slightly. “I will be departing next week,” he continued. “I will miss you both greatly. We have spent a lot of time together in these past years. I have watched you both grow. If you ever have a chance to come to Ireland - either to visit or to stay for longer ... please do.”
He stepped forward to embrace each man in turn. Then, with a final look, he walked back to the main stairs to stand with the courtiers there.
Jack looked for a moment at the man who had raised him from a teenager. Lord Epworth had been his mentor, and had treated him well.
As he watched, Maya sidled over next to Lord Epworth and coyly put her hand on his arm, fluttering her eyes up at him. Lord Epworth patted her hand absently, the move one of intimate familiarity.
Jack shook his head and turned to Peter. “Time to leave,” he prodded. He took a hold of his horse’s reins and waved at the other party members to move through the gate.
The three novices took the lead, running down the road, their exuberance evident in every movement. The elderly priest came next in the wagon, smiling from the driver’s seat, steering the horse with an experienced pull. He appeared quite happy at getting on the road to see his old friend.
Jack glanced back to check on Catherine. She was standing in the center of the courtyard, holding the reins of her dark steed. She looked back once at Lord Epworth, giving him a farewell nod. Then she turned and resolutely walked toward the gate.
Jack watched her as if she was moving in slow motion, her eyes focused forward. As she passed him in the gateway, she looked to the side for a moment, her eyes meeting his gaze. Her eyes were shuttered, unreadable. Then she was past him, moving down the road.
Jack glanced at Peter, and without a word the two fell in at the back of the group, side by side.
* * *
The group walked for an hour in the springtime sun, the three young men laughing and running back and forth up the road, enjoying the adventure. Jack found himself thinking about the life he had left behind and his prospects for the future. He would of course be welcome back at the cathedral when he returned, but Lord Epworth would be gone. He would have to deal with the new Bishop, would have to build a fresh relationship. He did not know if that path appealed to him.
Jack watched with attentive curiosity as Catherine walked in front of him, leading the black horse. He desperately wanted to talk with her, to apologize for his behavior in the previous week. He had not wanted to rush her; he had hoped she would initiate the contact, but he wanted to talk with her before the group stopped for their first break. He did not want to leave their first conversation to take place where there were active listeners.
Jack dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Peter, then resolutely walked forward to catch up with Catherine. She moved with her head down, keeping aside her black horse. She had not wavered or changed her step since they had left the Cathedral.
When he drew alongside her, Jack took a deep breath. He had been rehearsing what to say for many days now, and it was the time to speak the words.
He looked over into her eyes, and all thoughts of speech fled. Although she was not making a sound, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Jack acted on instinct; he spun against her and wrapped her into a gentle embrace. Catherine resisted at first, her body stiff and angular. Then she gave a soft shudder, let out a long sigh, and folded against him in surrender. Her breath came in long, slow heaves.
Peter stopped a short distance behind when he saw what was happening. The four religious men meandered ahead, looking forward to the future. To Jack it was as if he and Catherine were in a world of their own; he was her pillar, her foundation. There was a tenuous tremble in her stance, a delicate hesitance in the way she allowed him to hold her close. Aching sympathy for the woman in his arms filled him, and he gently drew a hand down her hair, soothing her as he might a child.
A few minutes went by, then without a word Catherine gave herself a gentle shake, pulled herself slowly away and started walking forwards again, keeping her eyes low.
Jack called after her softly, his voice hoarse.
“Catherine ...”
Catherine held up her hand, motioning him to be quiet, not looking back. “Not today,” she replied quietly, her voice shaky. “Not yet.”
Jack stood still while she walked away from him. Peter caught up to him, waiting for him to remount. Together the two men followed behind the group, lost in thought.
* * *
Catherine said little when they stopped for an afternoon break, and she was equally silent when dinnertime rolled around. She ate the bread and cheese brought to her where she sat a little apart from the others. Her eyes were focused on the road in front of her, and her gaze was distant.
Jack respected her request and did not press her further, but his eyes stayed on her, concerned. While she may have found a solution to her situation that res
olved her own moral dilemma, she had still violated the demands presented to her by her council. As a result, she was now exiled from her family. She was without home, without support.
Jack sighed and tossed another stick into the campfire, watching as the sparks flared in the deepening dusk. He certainly knew how it felt to be without a real home. He wondered what the coming weeks would have in store for them all.
Peter came over and sat beside him. “I will take first watch if you want,” he suggested amiably. “It should be pretty quiet, with us being on main roads.”
Peter had spoken quietly, but Catherine answered immediately from across the fire. “I will take second, then,” she offered, her voice without inflection. “I know that I do not have to,” she added quickly, as Peter began to protest. “I am going to take a turn, whether you ask me to or not. We might as well make it official; we all need our rest.”
“I know you scouted often for the Bowyers,” replied Peter smoothly, “I do not doubt your ability to keep watch. Do you have a weapon?”
Without looking over, Catherine nodded toward her horse, which was grazing to one side with the other steeds. “Yes,” she stated without further comment.
Peter looked at Jack, who nodded. “I am third, then,” he agreed. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and Jack knew it was clear to his friend that they would ensure their own shifts overlapped with Catherine’s. They had worked together for many years and trusted each other implicitly. This trip was their charge, and they would not leave it in another’s hands.
The rest of the party was already curled up in cloaks. Catherine lay her heavy, black cloak down to one side and curled herself up in it, facing away from the fire. Jack found a location on the other side of the fire, and settled in to get his sleep.
Rest did not come quickly. All he could see was Catherine’s hunched up form, curled against the crisp nighttime breeze, her dark hair flowing down to the mossy patch she lay on. She seemed so alone, so sad.
He wished there was something he could do to help. For now, that door was closed.
Chapter 14
Catherine eased awake, the gentle warbling of birds drawing her into a morning drenched with delicate sunlight and whispers of fog. A hesitant sense of hope kindled in her breast. Her world was in turmoil, but for the first time in years her future held promise. She had deftly managed an intricate set of negotiations, had achieved possession of the book, and had convinced Lord Epworth to accept it.
She could remain in England. She was free of her obligation to flee with the elderly churchman and abandon those who depended on her.
The repercussions swept in on her, and a dense fog of pain swirled around her, enveloping her. These precious gifts had come at a heavy price. She could never return home, never see her loved ones again.
She reminded herself firmly that, had she stayed on her previous course, she would have been equally separate from those she loved. At least now it was on her own terms.
Drawing in a long, deep breath, she sat up, taking a fresh look at the beauty around her. She would not have to leave these hills and forests she adored. For the next few weeks she would be able to relax with Michael, John, and Walter, enjoying their company. And then, after that, the world stretched before her. There were many who relied on her assistance, who depended on her for their safety and security.
She put off any thoughts of Jack and Peter for now. That still remained unresolved. She would keep her eyes on the larger picture. She would be able to serve those she cared for, in the way she knew best.
Walter’s voice rang out warmly across the clearing. “Breakfast is served!” She smiled and rose, noticing that Jack and Peter were thankfully out on patrol, leaving her free to relax for the morning meal. She moved to join the three acolytes and Father Berram as they poured out ale and served sausages. The boys’ excitement about the upcoming trip bordered on bliss, and she found their enthusiasm was infectious. Her heart warmed with joy. When they bent their heads in gratitude after the meal was through, she joined them with pleasure. She had much to be grateful for. She was moving in a direction of her own choosing. Her beloved horse was with her. The air was fragrant with the springtime promise of flowers and sun.
The group packed and set into motion. She had known it was coming, but even so her stomach flittered with butterflies once the boys had run ahead, and Jack’s sturdy presence gently approached her. She had not been able to cope with a discussion yesterday - not then, not when her world had just been rearranged like a pretzel. Now that she’d finally gotten a good night’s sleep, and time to rest and think, she could be ready for his questions.
“Catherine,” began Jack cautiously, giving her a chance to put off the conversation. She nodded for him to continue, and he did so, his speech coming quickly. She could tell that he’d been running over this discussion in his mind for some time.
“I want to apologize for my outburst at the cathedral. I was caught up in powerful emotions, and I took them out on you. Please forgive me.”
Catherine took in a deep breath, remembering the fury of that afternoon, the near loss of control. “I am sure we both said some things we did not mean,” she replied after a moment. “We have a new start here; let us take advantage of it.”
“You brought the Bowyer codex down for Lord Epworth’s safe keeping,” continued Jack, his voice easing. “A way to preserve the Bowyer legacy, as your council had requested?”
Catherine nodded hesitantly in agreement, her shoulders uncoiling slightly. Perhaps he would leave the argument in the past, would truly let them begin afresh. “It was the only compromise I could hope for,” she explained. “In the end I knew I simply could not run away to Ireland myself. There is still too much to hold me here.” Her face became somber. “I had to stay with or without the council’s permission.”
Jack’s eyes shone with admiration. “I am sure they will come to respect your choice, and see that it was for the best.” He paused for a moment, then looked at the road stretching before them. “Peter mentioned that the codex was stored in London, but that is quite a distance from Worcester. Had it been moved somewhere closer?”
A hint of a smile tugged at Catherine’s face. Many men before Jack had been amazed by her horse’s speed and stamina. “No, it was still in London,” she agreed smoothly.
“But that is a good four day ride from Worcester,” protested Jack, his face bright with disbelief. “You were only gone seven days; there is no way you could have gotten there and back again.”
Catherine patted her steed’s neck fondly. “Oh, I had some help,” she offered, giving her beloved stallion a gentle rub.
Jack looked up at the horse, his eyes tracking to the white blaze on his forehead. Catherine remembered suddenly how Jack had seemed defensive as she had approached the cathedral. She was hit by the knowledge that he had seen the horse when she had met him as Shadow, deep in the rainy woods. A chill swept through her, and she realized that she had stepped into a trap of her own making.
Jack’s voice went cool. “That is Shadow’s horse,” he stated with certainty.
There was a long silence. Catherine’s smile faded, her hope dimmed, as the feared-for danger blazed into a threatening reality.
“Yes,” she replied finally, her voice hollow.
A harsh note of anger flared into Jack’s voice. “You did run straight to Shadow. And after I told you of his heinous crimes?”
Catherine’s fury roiled up from the depths, and her hands clenched. He had no right …
Peter pressed his way between the two, his eyes moving sharply left and right, creating space with his body. A long moment passed as they walked down the road three abreast, a tense silence hanging in the air.
Peter’s voice was placating but firm. “Catherine, I need to ask you something.”
Catherine’s throat tightened. “You can ask, but I may choose not to answer,” she bit out. She could sense what was coming. Her world closed in around her.
Catherine stared down the road, tension delving into her shoulders, turning them to stone. “Yet you are undoubtedly digging into a double homicide,” she snapped.
Jack’s voice was sharp. “Carl and Craig were honorable men – it is my duty to avenge them, and why you continue to --”
Peter held up a hand to quiet him. They walked a few paces in silence again, and then he turned back to the woman at his side.
“Catherine,” he offered quietly, “When I saw your wounds, I was ready to kill whoever had done it to you. I would not have hesitated.”
Hope drained out of Catherine’s soul. She had naively thought that the issue would fade away, would become a distant memory. She had dreamt that she and Jack could create a new start together, could find joy ...
Tears trickled down her cheek, and she shook her head sharply, keeping her gaze down so the men would not see her turmoil. She willed herself to keep walking forward, first one foot, then the next.
She had chosen her path. She would live with the consequences. She took in a long, deep, shuddering breath, and let it out again. All that remained was to give an answer that protected the innocent ones. She knew her words could destroy all chances for a relationship with Jack, but there seemed to be no other choice.
She kept her head lowered as she spoke. “Carl and Craig were indeed hunted down and slain by Shadow,” she confirmed in a quiet, flat tone.
Jack gave a low oath, but Peter put a hand on his arm, turning again to Catherine.
“Because …?”
Catherine’s throat closed up. She would not lie, not dishonor the women and girls whose lives were cruelly stolen. She could also not reveal the full truth; it would only taint the futures of the innocent victims who remained alive.