Kiss Across Swords (Kiss Across Time Series)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “Who says that’s why we’re here?” Brody asked.

  “Who says it isn’t?”

  “Because we didn’t have the problem when we jumped here,” Brody pointed out. “We jumped, then we created the problem for ourselves.”

  Taylor chewed that one over. “Then why are we here? And when do we get to go back?”

  Brody shook his head. “No one knows. In four years, we’ve never been able to figure out a pattern. You know this as well as I do. This is the longest time we’ve ever been held in a jump and this is the first time we’ve never been able to bring one of us back in time.”

  “It’s the first time one of us in our own time hasn’t been there physically. Veris was in Europe,” Taylor pointed out. “And he was pissed at us.”

  “Pissed at you,” Brody amended. “And he wasn’t pissed. That’s putting it way too crudely. It’s never that simple with Veris.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say? I don’t have answers any more than you do. Veris was the one who seemed to understand more about this stuff than either of us. He certainly spent more time thinking about it.”

  Taylor hugged herself. “I want to go home,” she said truthfully. “I want Veris back. The real Veris. Our Veris. I like this one. I love this one. I do. But he’s not the real one who knows us so well. I want that one back.”

  Brody’s gaze cut away from her.

  “What?” Taylor said sharply.

  He sighed heavily. “I had a long night of staring into the flames last night,” he said at last. “And it occurred to me that we’re repeating your mistake from old Norway. We’re meddling in history again.”

  She felt a cold chill in her gut. “We’re fixing it,” she said sharply.

  “Are we?” he asked. “The problem with Veris’ past was that you were in it, when in the real past you didn’t exist.” He spread his hand, palm up, to indicate her. “Here you are again. What changes are you introducing this time?”

  Taylor bit her lip. “We’re trying to minimize those changes,” she said slowly. “Putting him back to where he should have been if I hadn’t been in Norway.” It was a pathetic attempt at denial and she knew it. So did Brody. She could see it in his face.

  “Maybe when we get back,” he said gently, “the Veris we knew won’t be there waiting for us at all. The Veris waiting for us will be totally different because of changes we make here and now.”

  Taylor shook her head. “No.”

  “Perhaps that’s why we’re here,” Brody said relentlessly. “Perhaps we’re here to pay the price for all our time travelling. Perhaps this is where the buck stops.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Something troubles you, my friend.”

  Brody stirred himself, looking up from the sand moving just ahead of his horse’s head. It grew hypnotic after a while, he realized. He looked at Veris. “I’m sorry. You said something?”

  Then he realized that they had both spoken Saxon and that Alexander was turning his head to listen, his eyes narrowing with sharp intelligence, a furrow between his brows. As Alexander could not possibly understand, Brody was not troubled. But he shifted back to French, anyway. “I apologize. My thoughts were elsewhere,” he told Veris. “You spoke?”

  “I did,” Veris agreed. His gaze shifted to Alexander. He did it without turning his head.

  The Fatimid was sitting cross-legged upon his horse, his reins between his calves, balancing a thick leather portfolio upon his knees. The portfolio acted as a simple desk for a parchment and a piece of thin coal-like substance which he was using to write upon the parchment. Brody wondered if it was lead. An early and simple pencil.

  “I am not good company this day,” Brody replied, for both Veris and Alexander’s ears. “My thoughts bother me.” That would give Veris a way to avoid speaking of anything he didn’t want Alexander to hear. They couldn’t drop into Saxon in front of him without raising his suspicions.

  Veris lifted a brow. “Indeed. I’ve had thoughts of my own that need sharing. They might serve to cheer you.”

  Brody cocked his head. “Really? What thoughts would they be?”

  “I have considered the matter at length, my lord. It would be my honor if you would accept me into your household as your knight at arms.”

  Alexander paused in his scribbles and looked at Veris, his eyes widening.

  “You wish Selkirk to release you?” Brody asked carefully.

  “I do.”

  Brody took a breath. His heart was suddenly hurrying. He tried not to show it in his voice or mannerisms. “Do you believe Selkirk would have any objections to releasing you, Will?”

  “Aye, he might have one or two, but I believe I could point out more reasons that would be to his benefit.” Veris’ expression was grim and Brody knew he was thinking of Davina. Veris was actually going to tell Selkirk about Davina. A hint or a bald statement. Either way, he was going to use Selkirk’s wife as leverage for his freedom.

  It might be dangerous. If Davina learned what Veris planned to do, she could try to counter his attempt to escape her husband’s household…and her dungeon.

  Brody wanted to protest that Veris didn’t have to go to such lengths to barter for his freedom. History and Brody’s memory of the siege of Jerusalem told him that Selkirk would die tomorrow in the first attack upon the walls of the city. Veris would be free to seek a new master without this added danger.

  But things were different and now Brody couldn’t say for sure that Selkirk would be one of the early victims of the Fatimid swords.

  He glanced at Veris calmly waiting for his answer. Veris needed to break away from the poisonous Davina for his own sake.

  Brody nodded. “Arrange it, Will. As soon as possible. I’d welcome a knight with your skills into my household with open arms.”

  Veris nodded. “As soon as possible, then,” he said gruffly.

  But he seemed to be holding back a smile.

  Brody didn’t bother hiding his.

  * * * * *

  The sun was level with the tops of the highest buildings of Jerusalem when they arrived back at the city.

  Theirs was a heroes’ welcome, for water and fresh food had grown so dangerously low in the nearly three days they had been gone that people from the northern and western camps fell upon the wagons of food and water with almost manic delight. Only quick thinking by the more level-headed senior leaders kept the water barrels whole and unbreached, as they inserted guards in front of the desperate allies and went about ladling out first rations of fresh supplies immediately, straight from the wagons.

  Brody helped Taylor down from her wagon, over the tops of the heads of soldiers and camp followers and carried her back to their tent on the back of his horse. Veris accompanied them part of the way.

  “I will leave you here,” Veris said, reining in his horse.

  Brody halted, too. “You meant what you said earlier?” he asked softly, in Saxon.

  Taylor looked from one to the other, puzzled.

  Veris nodded. “Yes, by the gods,” he said flatly. “There are reasons for why you came into my life.” He dropped his gaze to Taylor. “Both of you, I think.”

  She shivered and Brody’s arm tightened around her.

  Veris looked back at Brody. “This must be at least one reason. If it isn’t, I’ll make it one. I’ve been looking for a way…an excuse. You’re a damn fine excuse. A worthy one.”

  “She’s not going to agree with you on that,” Brody told him. “Watch your back. I won’t be there to ward off spears, this time.”

  “I will.” He grinned, turned his horse and headed north, parallel with the long line of tents and encampments sitting out of bowshot of the western walls of the city.

  “He’s quitting Selkirk?” Taylor said, in English.

  “Yes.”

  “And coming to work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that what happened before?”

  Brody shook his head. He was wa
tching Veris ride away. “Not exactly,” he murmured. “But the end result is almost the same. He ended up a knight in my household. If Selkirk lets him go without a fight and if Selkirk can handle Davina.”

  “What could Davina do to Selkirk?” Taylor asked. “I thought Selkirk fought in the siege tomorrow. You said he did, originally. But you sound worried, like Davina might hurt Selkirk, or foul up Veris’ plans somehow.”

  “All bets are off,” Brody said gently. “Davina obeys no laws. That is the reason Veris had to deal with her, the first time around. She already tried to assassinate him once, out here in the desert. That didn’t happen last time. Now, with all the changes that have happened, I can’t begin to guess what she may do. We are moving through country as undiscovered as the future.” He looked down at her and smiled gently. “Let’s go get you a more comfortable bed for you to pretend to be frail upon.”

  * * * * *

  Veris paused only long enough to wash up and change before presenting himself to Selkirk. It had been years since his heart had beat in time with his emotions, but now he found it was hurrying along, squeezing and banging against the inside of his chest. If no other sign had indicated so, this alone told him his decision was sound. His body was awakening once more to simple pleasures, more human responses and stimulus, instead of being dead to anything but the most extreme forms of pain and pleasure.

  Selkirk greeted him with arms spread wide and a big smile. His hand shake was firm and his pat on the back hearty and accompanied by fulsome greetings and praise.

  “The hero of the hour!” Selkirk declared. “You have done me and the Selkirk name proud, William! The northern lords and their households are relieved of their dire circumstances tonight because of you.” He grasped Veris’ forearm with his left hand while still shaking his hand. “I will not forget this, William.”

  He let Veris’ hand go, then turned and picked up a cup of wine from the small table standing by the big shield chair that went everywhere with him. “Tonight in the small hours we roll the siege engines up to the walls of the city. It would have been an impossible task with no water to soothe our mouths and bellies, but you have changed that.” He lifted the cup up to Veris and drank a mouthful.

  “You exaggerate my part in the matter, my lord,” Veris replied. “I reported to Brendan of Norwich and followed his orders. It was his man who found the water and Norwich’s skill and leadership that ensured the water arrived here inside the three day limit that Toulouse demanded.”

  Selkirk’s cup lowered a little. “But still, you succeeded!” he insisted.

  “I followed a leader,” Veris replied. “An excellent leader. One that I would prefer to continue to follow.”

  Selkirk put his cup back on the table. “William, you are making no sense at all. Three days in the desert have parched your innards.”

  Veris smiled grimly. From the narrowing of Selkirk’s eyes, the man knew exactly what he meant. He simply wanted Veris to speak the words aloud. Veris tucked his thumbs into his belt and looked Selkirk in the eye. It meant dropping his chin a fraction to do it. “I wish to be immediately released from your services and your household, my lord.”

  Selkirk took a moment to absorb it. “Immediately? Impossible! We are on the eve of war, man! I cannot possible deprive my retinue of one of my best knights. It is out of the question.”

  “I will be fighting tomorrow, no matter which shield is on my tunic,” Veris replied evenly. “The Christians will not lose my skills. Is that not the more important question here?”

  Selkirk hesitated.

  “You have for the last three days survived quite happily without my services,” Veris pushed on. “You’ve managed to build a siege engine without my oversight. I saw it out there as I came into the tent. I presume Richard managed the matter while I was gone. I trained him and know his abilities. He knows how to handle men well. You will not be without a good second once I am gone.”

  Selkirk grew angry. “You already speak as if the matter is settled.”

  “It is,” Veris said sharply. “Understand, my lord. I am leaving whether you wish it or no. I am simply trying to help you agree to the matter.”

  “Agree?” Selkirk’s face turned red. “Do you know what I will do to you if you dare leave without my authority?”

  “Or my Lady Selkirk’s, either?” Veris added.

  Selkirk sucked in his breath, as if he were trying to catch back words. He coughed and cleared his throat. When he finished coughing, his face was mottled white and red. He sank down onto the big chair, breathing hard and rubbed at his temple.

  He bowed his head and for a long moment he said nothing.

  Veris understood then that Selkirk had been trying to fool himself that the rumors were not true, that his wife had not been systematically cuckolding him for the duration of their marriage.

  If Selkirk truly understood the depth and style of her betrayal, he would attempt to kill her and then discover what manner of creature he had married in fact.

  Veris pulled the length of cloth from his tunic, stepped forward and dropped it onto Selkirk’s knee. The blood was old, now. Crusty and stale, but any fighting man would recognize the stains for what they were. The stains had soaked across most of the cloth, but the Selkirk shield and Davina’s stylized “D” were perfectly clear.

  Selkirk didn’t try to pick it up. “What is this?” He tried to speak with a demanding, authoritative voice, but it came out weak. Broken.

  “Norwich took that from the body of the man Lady Selkirk sent to assassinate me, out in the desert. She had him dress like a Fatimid and shove a spear in me from behind. You have reparations to make to Norwich, Selkirk. His lady took that spear, not I.”

  Selkirk gripped his chair arm. “She died?”

  “She lives, but only because I and one other between us know enough about war wounds to make it so,” Veris told him harshly. “But I won’t fight another day wearing the shield of a house that plots against me. I’m quit of Selkirk as of now.”

  “You have proof of this?”

  “You’re holding it,” Veris growled.

  “A piece of bloody cloth?” Selkirk picked it up in his fingers. “I could cut any sow’s throat, sop up the blood and cry murder, too.”

  Veris nodded. “Then ask anyone in your household under my command who went on the expedition. They’ll confirm the details. Ask around Norwich’s camp. Inspect the shoulder of Norwich’s wife. Look at the wound she carries. Then, when you’re ready, try to find a Selkirk archer called John. A tall young fellow with pale skin and blue eyes something like mine. He’s been missing since the expedition set out for water three days ago. You won’t find him because Norwich buried him in the desert after beheading him, because he tried to kill me with a spear on your wife’s orders.”

  Selkirk grimaced. “I know the man of whom you speak,” he said tiredly. He sighed. “I release you, Will. You are right, an immediate release is better.” Selkirk couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

  Veris unhooked his hands, letting them move away from the quick drop to his sword hilt. “I will go at once.” He moved level with the big chair where Selkirk was still sitting hunched against one arm and hesitated. The words were there. Get rid of your wife, Selkirk. Don’t just put her aside. Kill her, take the head and heart, burn the body and salt her grave and even then, sleep with a spear by your bed.

  But he remembered, all at once, that Taylor had tried a simple gambit with Selkirk: to borrow Veris for her husband’s expedition. Selkirk had won and refused to give her his best knight. Instead, Selkirk had sent Veris at the head of his own expedition to win political influence with the northern lords.

  Selkirk had made Taylor feel like a fool for his own gain, while Taylor had beggared herself for Brody’s sake.

  Veris looked at Selkirk now and his heart hardened. He straightened up and kept walking toward the tent flap. Let Selkirk stew in his own household troubles. He deserved them.

  He pushed aside the fla
p and stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. It felt extraordinarily fresh and pleasant out here, for all that it was hot, dry and dusty and the raw, dazzling sunlight bothered his eyes more here than ever it did in England.

  As he stood adjusting to the sun, Davina rounded the far corner of the tent and came to a halt.

  Shock slithered over her face and was quickly gone as she adjusted to the fact that her gambit to kill him had failed.

  She painted a smile on her face and came toward him. She was slender and tall and dark-haired, not unlike Taylor, but that was where all similarity ended. Her slenderness held no feminine softness, even though she covered it with cloth and womanly accoutrements on occasions, or like now, with her own version of her husband’s tunics and leggings. Her breasts were small, as were her hips and there was no sweet hour-glass curve at the waist and hip.

  Her eyes were the most alluring thing about Davina. She watched Veris now with what most outsiders might consider to be a blank, polite expression, but Veris knew to be a hungry one.

  “Everyone tells me you are a hero, Will,” she breathed, sliding her hand up his chest toward his neck, trying to raise his pulse.

  He caught her wrist in his. “Explain why,” he growled. “Why have John try to kill me?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I sent him to spy on you, not kill you.” Her other hand slithered, snake-like, around his neck. “Her beauty and allure is on the lips of every man in the western camps. Now rumor is spreading here in the northern ones. I know your drives, your needs. Three days with only her loveliness to look upon? I admit, I was jealous. I sent John to watch you and report back to me.”

  “Bullshit,” Veris told her, grabbing her other wrist.

  She blinked. “What?”

  Veris yanked her wrists away from him, so that her hands weren’t touching his flesh. He assessed her. “It wasn’t Tyra, it was Brendan,” he said. “You sent John to spy on Brendan and me. John’s attack happened immediately after we—”