The Last de Burgh

by Deborah Simmons

  ‘How do all things come from the east? With those who have been in the Holy Land,’ Geoffrey said. ‘I can only speculate, of course, but from what I’ve pieced together of your tale, I would guess that Robert Blanchefort and another man, perhaps more, came across the prize while serving there with the Templars. After Robert returned, somehow it fell into other hands, perhaps several, before reaching Gerard Montbard.’

  ‘It might even have resided in a Templar preceptory as a relic or one of the spoils of war for a while,’ Emery said, ignoring Guy’s surprised glance.

  Geoffrey nodded slowly. ‘’Tis certainly possible, for some years have passed since Robert Blanchefort’s return. And ’tis possible that some, if not all, of those who are aware of its existence know only that it is gold and therefore precious, but do not realise its true significance.’

  Silence descended then, as they mused over that implication, for even Emery realised that any king or general or soldier going to war would covet such a talisman. Some might even claim it was the source of Alexander’s great power and try to use it to create their own empire.

  ‘I think at least one person knows,’ Guy said, lowering his voice as though someone outside the thick walls of Ashyll might overhear him. ‘And he wants it back.’

  * * *

  Emery lay awake again, her thoughts unsettled by the day’s revelations. Guy had several theories about what to do with Alexander’s mace and vacillated between schemes to present it to King Edward or to the Templars, who he thought might come after it anyway.

  Geoffrey had said little, watching Emery with those de Burgh eyes that seemed, if not prescient, then more knowledgeable than most. But Emery remained silent. Now that they had identified the statue, she remembered her conversation with Father Faramond and suspected that it did not belong to the Templars or anyone else from this country.

  Yet she had no idea how to return the sun god to its rightful owner. In a weak moment, she was tempted to ask Geoffrey de Burgh to fulfil his promise to aid her, but the mace was not his responsibility. And he had a wife and family who would not want him endangered over a contested piece of gold.

  Emery sighed. Despite Nicholas’s vow to Gerard and his tireless efforts on her behalf, the task did not fall to the de Burghs. The parcel had been sent to her and she would have to muster the courage to do what was right, if she could just work out how...

  Coming as it did in the midst of such dire thoughts, the low knock on the door made Emery stifle a cry of fright. But even the Saracen could not manage to infiltrate the fortified manor house and find her chamber. Could he?

  The sound of Guy’s soft voice soothed Emery’s fears and she loosed a sigh of relief until she realised that the squire would not disturb her at this time of night without good cause. Donning the robe that Elene had given her, Emery hurried to open the door. In the darkness, she could see little of Guy, but his voice cracked as he spoke.

  ‘He’s asking for you.’

  Emery did not need to wonder who and, as she followed, Guy told her the great knight had taken a turn for the worse. Nothing seemed to be able to ease his fever, not Emery’s tisane or anything Geoffrey de Burgh had tried. Suddenly, things looked bleak and Emery’s hopes for his permanent recovery premature.

  ‘But I thought this bout might be his last,’ she said.

  They halted before the great knight’s chamber and Guy turned to give her a grim look. ‘It might well be.’

  Emery’s heart nearly stopped at his words and all that they entailed, but somehow she stepped inside. Barely aware of the door shutting behind her, she realised that there was no one else in attendance. She had been given a private audience with Lord de Burgh. Was it in order to say her last goodbyes? At the thought, a sob rose to her lips.

  ‘Emery?’ His deep voice was so raspy that she nearly didn’t recognise it, but she straightened and moved forwards. By the time she reached his side she had regained some semblance of composure.

  ‘I’m here,’ she said, taking his big hand in hers. It felt warm, too warm, but she clung to it.

  ‘They keep giving me something to make me sleep, but I must...speak,’ he muttered.

  Emery was tempted to urge him to silence, yet she had been with her father in the end and she knew that sometimes there were no more opportunities to talk. So she listened, though she cringed at the effort it cost him.

  ‘I was wrong...about us,’ he whispered. ‘We must seize the day, grab hold of life...take what we can while we can. Love is too precious to throw away.’ His gaze found her own then and he squeezed her hand. ‘Nothing is impossible, if we but make it so.’

  He took a long, rattling breath and closed his eyes, while Emery blinked against the pressure behind her own. ‘I was wrong, too,’ she said, ‘to hide the truth.’ She cleared her throat, thick with emotion, and forced herself to go on.

  ‘When my father was ill, my uncle convinced him to sign over his wealth and lands to the Hospitallers, who were to provide for my brother and myself. Although ’tis not an unusual arrangement for widows or young children, it was not what I would have wished for us. And after my father died and we were both accepted into the commandery, ’twas revealed that we were to take orders. My brother was happy to do so, while I was not...’

  Emery hesitated, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable, which is what she had thought at the time, as well. ‘I was grieving and upset and was pressured by others to abide by my father’s wishes. So I took the vows.’

  There. ’Twas out in the open now, the secret that she had kept for so long, first out of a desire to protect herself and later out of a desire to protect the man whose hand she held.

  ‘When you found me, I was living apart. Although I understand that women are allowed at some commanderies, the priest at Clerkwell wanted to send me to Buckland, a female house far from my home.’ Emery’s voice broke. ‘I balked and we settled into a compromise of sorts.’

  ’Twas a compromise that she had violated when she fled without leave, which is why she planned to go directly to Buckland now. Perhaps the women there would treat her offence more leniently, though she would pay for her actions the rest of her life...

  Emery ducked her head at that admission. ‘When I took those vows, I didn’t see any other choice. Nothing in my narrow world gave me hope for a different future. I didn’t dream that some day a knight errant would come into my life and tempt me to all that I could no longer do and make me want all I could not have.’

  Emery drew a deep breath. ‘I couldn’t imagine...you.’ She lifted her gaze to him, but he was so still that for one terrifying moment she thought he’d left her. Only the slow rise and fall of his great chest told her that he carried on, and in that instant, she was forced to acknowledge the one final secret that she had kept even from herself.

  She loved this man.

  Her heart constricted so that she struggled for air and it took her some time to speak. ‘But you came into my life and made me wish to follow you anywhere,’ Emery admitted, her voice breaking as she eyed his prone form. ‘Please don’t go where I can’t follow. You promised never to leave me.’

  But he gave no sign of having heard her and, finally, Emery slumped forwards on the bed, silently giving vent to her grief.

  * * *

  Emery must have slept, for the next thing she knew, she heard voices, low and urgent, and someone was opening the shutters. Guy had returned, along with a bleary-eyed Geoffrey de Burgh and an older woman who carried a bowl of water. Aware that she was still in her nightclothes, Emery mumbled an apology and slipped away while they attended to him.

  Outside his chamber, a servant asked her if she wanted something to eat, but Emery’s stomach churned at the thought and she shook her head. Returning to her room, she slumped against the door wearily. The bed was as she had left it, hours ago, as though awaiting her return. But she knew she would find no rest there.

  Stepping forwards, Emery automatically reached out to straighten the b
lankets, yet something made her pause. She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to believe her eyes at the sight of a brightly coloured design upon her pillow. With trembling fingers, she reached for it, only to draw away in shock and horror.

  ’Twas a piece of the Moorish Game.

  Choking back a cry, Emery would have called for Guy or raced to his side, but as she stared at the four curved swords depicted there, she noticed something different. Like the other one left upon her bed, there was writing upon this card. Had Gerard left her another message?

  Shaking, Emery snatched up the heavy parchment, only to realise ’twas not her brother’s hand. Nor were the Latin words any he would write. Swaying upon her feet, she let the paper slip from her grasp as she realised the significance of what was written there.

  To heal him, return what you hold.

  Emery blinked numbly down at the fallen card with its violent image and vile missive. Her first instinct was to step away, for its promise was likely false, a desperate bid to obtain the statue. Yet, who other than the Saracen would even possess such a thing? Only Gerard, Emery thought bleakly, but her brother would not offer such a bargain, no matter what state he was in. And even if the Moorish Game was known to others, this card clearly was part of a set, with its four swords so similar.

  Emery shook her head. Whether the Saracen or someone else, how had that person gained entry to her chamber in the darkness? She shivered at the thought that she had been tucked in bed, seemingly safe, earlier in the night, vulnerable to any attack. Had the villain hoped to find the mace and leave her for dead as he had her uncle?

  Emery’s hand flew to her throat in a protective gesture, her heart pounding. She even glanced around the room, as though someone might, even now, be waiting in the shadows. But there was no place to hide and she released a low sigh of relief.

  Perhaps she was letting her imagination and fear get the better of her. It could be that someone from the manor had overheard her story and, lured by gold, had concocted this ruse. But when Emery stared down at the card at her feet, she knew differently. Despite the temptation to dismiss it or ignore it or rid herself of it, she felt certain the message had come from the Saracen.

  And he had left it for her, not Lord de Burgh and not Guy. Perhaps he knew somehow that the prize was hers to give or that she had been mulling over this very predicament earlier. Well, now she had her answer, for here was the opportunity she had desired. She could return the mace to its rightful owner, as well as aid the great knight.

  If she didn’t get killed in the bargain.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dressed once again in her brother’s clothes, Emery sent for Guy and Geoffrey de Burgh to come to her chamber, rather than meet them at Nicholas’s bedside. To their credit, they did not question the summons, though they both looked dismayed by her garb. But before either could comment, Emery held out the card.

  Guy gasped and stepped back at the sight, while Geoffrey took it gingerly, examining the parchment from all sides. ‘Is this one like the others?’

  ‘Yes,’ Emery said, with a grim nod.

  ‘“To heal him, return what you hold”,’ Geoffrey read aloud, eliciting another gasp from Guy. ‘And do you believe it?’

  Again, Emery nodded.

  Sighing, Geoffrey reached up to rub his eyes with his palms and she wondered how long it had been since he’d slept. ‘How would this person, the one you call the Saracen, know of my brother’s sickness?’

  ‘He collapsed the day before we arrived here, which would be evident to anyone watching us. And the last day of our journey, ’twas obvious that he was unwell,’ Emery said. She glanced at Guy. ‘At one point we were forced to lay him across his destrier and we were...discussing the situation loudly enough for someone nearby to hear.’

  ‘That only proves he knows of the illness, not that he will help Lord de Burgh,’ Guy protested. ‘He’s more likely to break my lord’s neck!’

  Geoffrey frowned. ‘’Tis true that he might be playing upon our fears, but there is no denying that those in the east have access to ancient texts and curatives that we do not have here.’

  Guy snorted. ‘’Tis a trap to steal the statue!’

  ‘Which might well belong to him,’ Emery said, softly.

  Guy ignored her. ‘He cannot be trusted,’ the squire said. ‘He is a murderer who will stop at nothing to get what he wants.’

  Since Guy’s opinion was clear, Emery looked to Geoffrey de Burgh. When she met his gaze, she sensed a kindred spirit. If any chance to save Nicholas existed, however slim, they must take advantage of it. ‘Then we will give him what he wants,’ she said.

  Geoffrey nodded slowly. ‘I will treat with him, on my brother’s behalf.’

  But Emery shook her head. ‘The message was left for me. I’m the one who has the mace and I am the one who must return it.’

  ‘The message was left for you because he would rather face a woman, or someone he deems a scrawny lad, rather than a de Burgh,’ Guy said, his voice shrill with a mixture of outrage and fear.

  ‘Then we shall see she is well protected,’ Geoffrey said. ‘I have several knights here and a couple of excellent archers, who can be well placed to shoot a man from the heights.’

  Emery shook her head. ‘He is too clever to walk into a trap. He is like a phantom, slipping in and out of your own manor, without notice, and would surely see anyone, even those hidden, intent upon harm.’

  Once again, Geoffrey de Burgh loosed a weary sigh and rubbed his eyes. ‘Then I can’t let you do it,’ he said and Guy grunted his approval.

  Emery had expected as much, but she knew they could not stop her. Instead of arguing, she faced Geoffrey, gazing directly into the dark eyes so much like his brother’s, and stated her case. ‘You must know that I would do anything to aid him.’

  Geoffrey appeared torn between hope for Nicholas and concern for her. ‘But this man might accept the statue and give you no remedy in return. He might even kill you for your trouble.’

  Emery did not look away. ‘’Tis a chance I am willing to take.’

  ‘It’s not a chance that Lord de Burgh would be willing to take,’ Guy said, turning to appeal to Geoffrey. ‘My lord, you sent a message to the earl. Surely he will have an answer that will help Lord de Burgh, without endangering Emery for no good cause. Let us wait until we hear from him.’

  But Geoffrey shook his head, his expression bleak, and gave voice to what Emery was thinking. ‘We dare not wait.’

  * * *

  Emery did not delay, pausing only to shoulder the worn pouch with its heavy burden and to don her short sword. The weapon would be little help against the Saracen, who had killed a Templar knight, as well as her uncle. But she would rather be armed, especially if the Saracen didn’t know she was a woman.

  Although Guy wondered aloud where she was to find him, Emery suspected that he would find her. He was unlikely to approach her within the manor walls, where he might be seen or trapped or marked by an archer, as Geoffrey de Burgh had suggested, so Emery had her mount readied and soon was headed out of the bailey.

  She had not allowed herself time to indulge her fears, but as she left the protection of the de Burghs, she felt a chill at what lay ahead. Earlier, she had been too set upon her course to dwell upon its consequences, but now they became all too clear. ’Twas one thing to face threats with Lord de Burgh and Guy at her side and quite another to ride out alone to confront a killer. She drew in a sharp breath, trying to bolster her nerve, only to freeze at the sound of her name.

  ‘Emery!’

  Turning, she was surprised to see Guy riding towards her. Had she forgotten something, or had he some last-minute message from Geoffrey? For an instant, she had the horrifying thought that Nicholas no longer had need of a remedy and she stifled a cry. But the squire did not look grief-stricken, only fearful, and Emery loosed a sigh of relief.

  Yet her relief did not last long. She glanced about her, worried that Guy’s sudden appearance might m
ake the Saracen wary. Although she could see nothing, she knew their pursuer was out there, watching and waiting, and she shivered.

  When Guy reached her, he was red-faced and Emery let him catch his breath. Obviously, he was here to tell her something important, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he said.

  Emery blinked in surprise, but before she could respond, he rushed on. ‘It’s been the three of us through all of this and I won’t have you go alone now to meet...’ His words trailed off, as though he were unable to finish, though ‘your doom’ or ‘your death’ both seemed likely.

  He held up a hand to stop her protest in the manner of Lord de Burgh. ‘You saved my life once and I would do what I can to save yours.’

  Emery shook her head. ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ she said. ‘You and Lord de Burgh gave me back...myself, which is more than enough.’ Suddenly she felt the prick of tears, as though this was the farewell she had hoped to avoid. She swallowed hard. ‘You might scare away our quarry.’

  Guy snorted. ‘He’s always seen us in each other’s company, so if we aren’t, he might think I’m hanging back, planning an attack.’

  Emery realised the squire might be right. He must have sensed her capitulation, because his expression grew more resolute. ‘The three of us have banded together and it’s going to take more than the Saracen to separate us.’

  If only he knew, Emery thought. She had not shared the truth with anyone except Lord de Burgh and now was not the time to speak of the future. She could only concentrate on the present and, despite her misgivings, she was heartened by the squire’s presence.

  She knew that Guy was no great knight and her own skills were few, yet the terror that had gripped her when she was alone was gone. Now this journey seemed little different from the others they had taken together, except for the absence of the man to whom they both were devoted.

  Thoughts of Nicholas reminded Emery why she had accepted this task, yet she hardly dared hope that her purpose would be served. She suspected the Saracen of offering what she most desired in order to gain his prize, whether he could deliver or not. For even if those in the Holy Land knew more of healing, ’twas unlikely that this man possessed such wisdom.