by J. L. Jarvis
Robert closed the door to his cell and lay down on the narrow cot. He would wait to go see Sir Thomas until he was sure everyone was asleep. Until then, he would think of a way to get the scroll from the young Thomas—even if he had to steal it. Otherwise, he would have failed in the mission his father had entrusted to him, and he wouldn’t do that.
* * *
IT WAS STILL dark when Robert tapped on Sir Thomas’s door. Once inside, he told the truth about what had happened to the scroll. After all, Thomas had already experienced time travel, so convincing him that Robert came from the future wouldn’t be an impossible task. The greater challenge would be convincing Sir Thomas to let Robert take the scroll for safekeeping. Having only just met, Thomas could think that Robert had any number of plans for the scroll, none of which the young Sir Thomas would approve.
Robert had one final truth to explain, so he said it simply. “I am your son.”
Emotions flashed through Sir Thomas’s eyes until the possibility of its truth at last settled on him.
“Sister Claudine is my mother.” The truth of her death weighed on Robert as he looked at his father. He would never tell Thomas that piece of the future, for there would be agony enough when it happened. “I was raised as a foundling. No one ever knew your secret.” When Thomas remained silent, Robert realized the rest of the truth. “You didnae ken.”
“She’s with child?” Thomas turned away. When he had regained his composure, he wiped his face and turned back to Robert.
From the way Thomas peered at him, Robert wondered whether his father was examining each feature and ascribing it to one parent or the other. Perhaps that convinced him more than any words Robert could say, for Sir Thomas spoke as if saying the words might make sense of it. “Robert. My son.”
Sir Thomas gestured toward a chair. Robert sat while Thomas sat on the edge of his cot.
“I was young and full of dreams and ideals when I joined the Templars,” Sir Thomas said. “I could see only the glory of doing God’s work. And there was glory, but there also was hardship and blood. It wore down my ideals until I wanted nothing more than to go to the country and live the life of a peasant, doing simple things. That is what I eventually did. I returned to France and, as I worked, found the peace I had lost.”
Sir Thomas’s eyes lit with a fond smile. “I met Sister Claudine when she was quite newly arrived. They sent her to farm in the fields, but she was too gentle-born to know what to do. They lost patience with her, so they assigned her to me. At that time, I oversaw the relics and copied texts. My days, between prayers, were filled with the preparation of inks, preparing parchment, and copying texts into illuminated books. Claudine was a gifted student and an engaging friend to talk to.
“She was the ward of an uncle who had chosen her life for her, according to cost. Since being a nun was cheaper than getting married, she found herself there. As full of life as she was, she had never been given the chance to live. It was different for me. I had made my own choice, and I had been in the world and seen what it could be. By then, I was content to live my life apart.
“Claudine was everything good about life and the world. I looked forward to each day beside her. I knew my feelings for her had grown beyond what was proper, but I convinced myself that as long as I never expressed them, my feelings would do no one harm. But one day we were bent over a book we were working on, and our hands were so close. She told me she was taking her vows on the morrow. I traced a blue vein along her hand, and my resolve shattered. I poured out my heart, and she told me she loved me. We met in secret that night, and we lay in each other’s arms and dreamed of a future together. But what future was there for us? She was riddled with guilt, for although she had taken no vows yet, she blamed herself for causing me to break mine. We wanted to run away, but where to? I had no means to support her. We talked in circles until dawn then hurried back to our cells before anyone missed us. That afternoon, I watched her say her vows, knowing that she loved me.” Thomas choked back bitterness. “Later she told me that she would not have me stumble alone. Whatever happened, we would be together. And we were until her death.”
Robert gripped his father’s shoulder then sank onto a wooden chair and buried his face in his hands. He was with a man near his own age, who loved as he loved. But the man was his father. Sir Thomas put a hand on Robert’s shoulder. Using sheer strength of will, Robert calmed himself and looked up.
“If you dare trust me, I swear I will take the scroll somewhere safe.” Robert held up his palm. “But before you trust me, I must tell you about it.” Robert explained what had befallen the scroll.
When he was through, Sir Thomas retrieved the scroll from under the bed. “Guard it well, my son. See that it is put safely back in the hands of the Templars.”
“I will.” Robert took the scroll, and the two men embraced.
“You’re a fine man. I’ll credit your mother with that.” Sir Thomas smiled.
Robert smiled back, but grief caught in his throat, for he knew that his mother wouldn’t have the chance to shape his character. That task would fall to his father.
Just as he was about to leave, Robert turned back. “Tell me something. I need to get back to 1559, but the last time we went to the cave, instead of taking us where we wanted to go, it brought us here.”
His father gave the question some thought. “From my travels and those of the Templars I’ve known, I can only surmise that where travel through time is concerned, we are ruled by our destiny. Some might call it God’s will, yet I have seen men make choices that fly in the face of anything God could possibly want them to do. Perhaps the power is found in the stones themselves. I only know that there are no mistakes. We are taken where we need to be, even if we do not always understand.”
Robert’s brow creased. “I was meant to meet you like this?”
Sir Thomas smiled. “I would like to think so, but perhaps it has more to do with Claudine or Violet—perhaps even the scroll. If it is meant to be somewhere, then it’s possible no one can truly destroy it.”
Robert nodded. “I would like to think that.”
Sir Thomas said, “You are not God. You are merely a man. If you fail in your mission, someone else will succeed.”
“But I want to succeed.”
“Of course you do. But if you worry about things you cannot control, you’ll be of less use to anyone. Give your all, then do not look back.” With that, he embraced Robert. “Godspeed, my son.”
Robert left with the scroll and a dozen questions his father wouldn’t be able to answer until he was older. So he went down the hall to Violet’s cell and tapped on her door. The door opened, and Violet slipped silently into the hall.
11
THE SEA VOYAGE
A ship bound for Orkney sailed from Perth Harbour at dawn with Robert and Violet upon it. After stops at two ports on the way, their ship pulled into Wick Harbour, where Robert and Violet disembarked. She clung to Robert’s arm, feeling weak from the seasickness she had suffered the full length of the journey.
As they walked along the busy quay, Robert said, “Will you not even try to ride?”
Violet shook her head. “Right now, it’s all I can do to walk. And you know how I feel about riding. I have tried. It didn’t go well. Can’t you forgive this one flaw? It’s my only one.” She lifted her eyes, fully expecting him to laugh.
Robert suppressed a smile. “I suppose that I can.”
Violet slipped her hand around his elbow. “You’re too good to me, Robert.”
“Aye.” He grinned and kept walking until they found a stable with horses for hire.
Minutes later, they were riding along the coastline from Wick to Castle Girnigoe. Violet lifted her face to the wind and took in the staggering beauty. Steep, rough-sided cliffs faced the edge of the water with a defiance that dared the sea to confront them, which it did with unforgiving persistence. The wildness of this place appealed to her, and she found herself longing to stay.
&
nbsp; Before long, the castle came into view. Jutting out into the water, it looked as bold as the rough cliff that formed its foundation. They presented a letter from Brother Thomas, which gained them admission to the castle and inside the keep. They were led to some chairs beside an inviting fire, where they waited. Soon a male servant entered and asked them to come with him. They were led into a library, where a gentleman sat at a desk. After introductions, John Sinclair, 3rd Earl of Caithness inquired about their journey and spoke of the weather, by which time, all were comfortably seated. By now, Violet was used to being introduced as Robert’s wife. He had convinced her that doing so made their traveling alone together more proper.
Robert said, “My Lord, I’ve come to deliver something that was entrusted to me with instructions to leave it in the hands of a Sinclair.”
Lord Caithness lifted a brow, clearly intrigued. Robert offered him the quiver containing the scroll. He took it with interest and removed the scroll. As he uncoiled the linen, his eyes widened.
With a quick glance at Robert, he said, “Do you ken what this is?”
“Not entirely, no. Two hundred years ago, a Templar knight left it with the Blackfriars for safekeeping. Circumstances are such that we now feel it should be in the hands of a Sinclair. It is now where it belongs.” Robert maintained his posture, but his shoulders relaxed now that he was eased of his burden.
Lord Caithness eyed Robert quizzically. “Do you ken what it says?”
Robert shook his head. “My lord, I am only the messenger. But I do ken its value and that some would have it for themselves. It would be best to find a safe place to hide it.”
Lord Caithness gave a somber nod. The next moment, his mood shifted. He smiled first at Violet then Robert. “Will you stay and sup with us?”
With a quick glance at Violet, Robert turned to his host. “Thank you for your generous offer, my lord, but I’m afraid we must be on our way. We’re for Perth in the morning.”
With a nod, Lord Caithness thanked Robert for his service in delivering the scroll and wished them both well.
With the scroll safely ensconced in Castle Girnigoe, they left the castle and rode alongside the cliffs on their way back to Wick.
Robert had been quiet since leaving the castle, so Violet glanced back and said, “You must be relieved.”
“I’ve done what I set out to do.”
“Yes, you have. And that must bring a good feeling.”
He answered with a grunt.
* * *
BY THE TIME their ship pulled into Perth Harbour, Violet had made up her mind not to board a ship ever again. The North Sea had afflicted her with the worst seasickness she had ever known. Soon after their feet touched ground, Robert found them a room in an inn, where she could rest and regain strength enough to climb the hill to the cave so they could travel back to the Perth of Robert’s time. Although he was reluctant to admit it, he was not fully recovered from his injuries, so he welcomed the rest.
Every part of her trembled as Violet attempted to climb the stairs in the inn. Robert slid his sturdy arm about her waist and practically lifted her, step by step, to the top of the stairs. Part of her fought her dependence upon him, but as weak as she was, that part lost. Unable to manage on her own, she was grateful for his strength and was reassured by his confidence. He had reason to be, for he was a formidable man. But for all of the power he wielded with a sword, his tenderness astonished her most.
As if reading her thoughts, Robert pulled back the covers and set her gently upon the bed. As he tucked the bed linens about her, he said, “I’m afraid it’s not so nice a room as you’re used to in your time, but ’tis the nicest I could find.”
Violet lay with her eyes shut and sighed. “It’s not a swaying hammock on a ship’s gun deck, which makes it heaven.” She tried to smile but gave up.
The corner of Robert’s mouth turned up as he bent to place a soft kiss on her forehead.
* * *
SUN SHONE through leaded panes as Violet awoke with terrible thirst but without the nausea that had plagued her since boarding the ship. A night’s sleep on dry land had cured her. She rolled over to get up and find water, but an arm repositioned itself over her. Robert had fallen asleep by her side. He had been with her every night of their travels but never in her bed. On the ship, although he had rarely left her side, they each slept in a hammock. To feel him spooned against her felt good and right. She belonged in his arms.
“Are you all right?” His breath was warm on her neck.
Violet smiled. “I’m thirsty. I was going to get some water.”
He placed a soft kiss just behind her ear then got up, went to the pitcher and basin, and poured a cup of water. He sat on the bed beside her while she drank it. Violet finished and set the cup on a bedside table. Robert absently followed her hand with troubled eyes.
Before she could ask what was on his mind, Robert said, “Are you able to eat?”
“Yes, I’m much better.”
With a nod, he said, “Good. Then we’ll break our fast then go to the cave. We’ll try to go home—to my home, that is—if you’re up to it.”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Robert, is something the matter?” Violet searched his dark eyes.
His face brightened as he shook off his mood. “Oh, aye. I’ve a fierce hunger.” He put his hand over hers. “I’ll go see about having some breakfast brought up.”
“No, I’ll go with you.” Robert started to rise, but Violet gripped his sleeve and pulled him back down. “Don’t go.”
She leaned closer and managed a kiss before he gently but surely put his hands on her shoulders and put distance between them. After all they had been through—and after confessing their love—they were in a room with a bed, and she wanted more than his words. She wanted him. But instead, he arose and got dressed.
Violet hugged her knees to her chest. “Robert?”
Without looking up, he pulled on his boots. “Aye?” When she did not answer, he looked at her.
She studied him for a moment. “What’s on your mind?”
His questioning look dissolved as a grin took its place. “Food!” He gave her a kiss on the forehead then went to the door, where he paused. “Take your time, lass. I’m away to make sure that a fine feast awaits you when you come downstairs.”
He was gone before she could respond.
For the rest of the day, Robert was attentive but distant. The odd mixture confused her, but he evaded any attempt at serious conversation. After her first few attempts—which he fielded with a skill she could not help but find impressive but also transparent—she gave up and accepted his light, playful mood. It was a new side of him she hadn’t seen. Since she had met him, they had always been under pressure, and often in danger, as they sought to deliver the scroll. With that accomplished, the burden was lifted. Perhaps that was all that this mood of Robert’s was: his desire not to worry—or even to think. Was he not entitled to that much?
So Violet and Robert enjoyed their day, slowly working toward the cave. Their plan was to arrive at the cave before dark and to spend the night there. Robert insisted that Violet stop to rest often. She needed to save strength for the climb, which went well.
Violet would have liked to think that her climbing skills had improved, but in fact, having Robert close behind her, coaching with his strong arms at the ready, had more to do with it. Although having him so close was its own distraction, she wasn’t complaining. As preoccupied as Robert had been throughout the day, she took what closeness she could get with a measure of gratitude, though she was still somewhat frustrated. Robert’s mood grew worse.
By the time their only light came from the fire Robert had lit at the mouth of the cave, Violet said, “I can’t take any more. You’ve got to tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
Violet took a deep breath and exhaled. “What I’ve done. You’ve been brooding all day. For the past hour, I’ve carried on a one-woman conversation, and—fascinating as I m
ight be—I could use some input.”
“Some what?”
“Input. Oh, sorry. It’s a computer term.”
“Computer?”
“Never mind. My point is: are you angry with me?”
Robert’s eyes widened. “Angry? With you?”
Violet met his shocked look with a frank look of her own. “It can happen—and has, more than once.”
“Not with me. Well, perhaps once—when you ran away to the bridge.” He stared off into the distance for a moment. “Then there was the fact that you wouldnae even try to learn how to ride. Oh, and—”
“Never mind!” Violet held up her hands to stop him. “Point taken. But let’s just talk about today. You’ve been in a very dark mood.”
“Aye, I suppose I have.”
“There’s no supposing about it. You have, and I want to know why.”
Robert moved closer to Violet and put his arms about her. He held her face and kissed her. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her again.
Putting her brain on hold, Violet let him kiss her. His ploy nearly worked, for her priorities practically shifted. It was he who inadvertently set her back on course. As they kissed and she sought to be closer to him, he backed away in what had become a recent pattern—a pattern she did not enjoy. That reminded her of her original question: his mood—his foul mood, truth be told—which he had repeatedly refused to explain.
“‘I’m sorry’ isn’t an answer,” she said.
“I’m afraid I’ve nothing better to offer. ’Tis my own problem, and I’ll work it out.”
“Can’t you talk about it?”
“Talking doesnae make everything better.”
Violet let out a frustrated sigh as she stared at the fire. “Fine.”
Robert squeezed her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you understand.”