“Oh, my goodness.” Rosalind took in the sight of the small yellow-and-grey bird that alit on the rail nearby. “It cannot be.”
Randel’s grin stretched wide across his face. “It is. The Syrian serin, at last.”
He stood and took a step toward it. “What are you doing all the way out here on this ship, you silly little fellow?”
The bird twisted his head and eyed Randel, but did not flee. It let forth its long, trilling call.
“’Tis so lovely,” Rosalind whispered. “Shall I fetch a net?”
“That is what I had hoped for. But after all we have been through on this trip, I am thinking that every one of God’s creatures deserves to be free and choose their own paths in life. What think you?”
“I absolutely agree.” Rosalind stood and joined him, slipping easily under his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder.
“I want to marry you soon,” Randel said against her hair. “Aboard the ship. Then there shall be nothing my parents can do to stop us.”
“Perfect.” And it was. The sky above her seemed to radiate with God’s pleasure. The ship took on a special sort of glow. She was overcome with a wash of warmth and pure joy. A lightness, a cleanness swathed about her. She felt as if she just might float away. She now had a true destiny, a true purpose. She would embrace her future and never again make the mistake of striving to earn her own redemption.
Then they melted back into another kiss. One of many they would share throughout a lifetime together.
Epilogue
Rosalind slid from her horse, nearly teetering as her pregnant belly pulled her forward. Randel caught her in his arms and swiped snowflakes from her lashes.
“What on earth?” A shocked Lady Gwendolyn handed her babe to Sir Allen and ran toward her with all the speed and agility Rosalind remembered. Motherhood had not slowed the woman down one bit.
Gwendolyn nearly crashed into her as she swept Rosalind into a fierce hug. “We heard word from the city that you would be coming, but I had no idea!” She waved to Rosalind’s stomach. “What? Who?”
Then her former mistress glanced to Randel’s sheepish grin and back again to Rosalind. Her eyes lit with merriment. “No! You two?”
“Married safe and sound aboard the ship nearly half a year past.” Randel chuckled.
“We thought we were the ones with a surprise.” Sir Allen joined them, holding a baby girl in his arms. “Welcome Randel, Rosalind. And you as well, Sadie.”
Sadie bounded toward him for a hug, then stepped back to admire the child.
“Oh, she is beautiful.” Rosalind cooed over the pretty babe as well. Soon she would have her own child, and she would protect it with all of her heart, mind, and soul this time.
“But she is not the only surprise,” Gwendolyn teased.
“My family?” Rosalind asked. Sadly, they had heard no word from Randel’s family at all while they had been in Edendale. Surely they must have heard of the crusaders return. It seemed they did indeed plan to cut him out of their lives.
“Rosalind, your family is safely installed in your cottage,” Sir Allen said. “You shall see them soon.”
She sighed in relief. Thank the good Lord, for she missed them so and regretted the distance that she had let grow between herself and her mother. She and Randel wanted family about them to help raise their child.
“This surprise is more for Sadie, now that I think about it.” Gwendolyn, the fierce knight, giggled like a young girl. “Come out already!” she called.
Lady Merry and Lord Timothy spilled from the castle portal and into the courtyard. Merry held a child as well, a little boy, perhaps a year older than Gwendolyn’s babe. And a little girl, three or four years of age, hid against Timothy’s leg.
“Merry, Timothy, Wren!” Sadie shouted, and the hugging continued.
“We heard that the ship had passed London, and just had to come and fetch Sadie home,” Timothy said.
“It has been too long,” said the tiny, dark Lady Merry.
Rosalind took in the scene before her. An entire courtyard of women warriors. Lady Honoria would be so proud.
But then it struck her that if even Merry and Timothy had heard of their return, surely the Penigrees knew of their arrival, likely even of their marriage, and had chosen to ignore them. Oddly, no one seemed to have any recent word of Randel’s family at all, but they did live quite far from the capital.
“Sorry that we lingered longer in Edendale than we expected,” Randel said, “but we had much to attend there.”
“How fares the capital?” asked Sir Allen.
“Well,” Randel said. “Very well, in fact. It seems the people have embraced the Duchess Adela completely now that they know her brother perished in the Holy Land.”
“Plus, she had nearly an extra year to win their trust,” Rosalind added.
“So was your crusade glorious?” Gwendolyn asked with a wistful expression upon her face.
“It was hard,” Sadie replied honestly.
“And complicated,” Randel said.
“And worth it,” Rosalind concluded. “We have so many stories to tell you all.”
“Let us head indoors.” Allen gestured to the castle. “’Tis cold out here.”
“Ah, the cold is a nice change from the heat of the Holy Land.” Randel pulled their sacks from the horses, and they turned toward the steps.
But a clatter of hooves caught them all up short.
A woman followed by several knights cantered through the gates and into the courtyard. The thin, austere-looking lady with greying hair pulled to a stop in front of them and dismounted.
Neither Sir Allen nor Lady Gwendolyn said a word in greeting.
After an awkward moment of silence, Randel sucked in a deep breath. He braced his shoulders as if waiting for a blow and stepped toward the woman. “Mother. What a nice surprise.”
Rosalind’s stomach clenched. She had come after all.
“Oh, my baby, you are home!” The woman held open her arms to Randel.
A confused Randel moved closer. “I did not know if you would welcome me. I did not join the Templars.”
“And I have heard that you married a peasa . . . or I should say, a fellow crusader.” She yet held out her arms, and Randel hesitantly embraced her.
“Yes, a valiant woman and a fellow leader,” he said.
His mother held him by the shoulders and looked him up and down. “I am just happy that you are safe and well. The rest of that is behind us now. I was foolish to make such demands.”
“I do not understand,” Randel said.
Nor did Rosalind.
The woman swallowed hard. “I am afraid I have sad news. A pox swept our castle. I have only just recovered and been released from the quarantine. My son, you are now the Earl of Penigree. It was God’s grace that you were far away when it happened. And that you made it back home to us so soon.”
“What? Father? My brothers? All three of them? Surely not!” Tears welled in Randel’s eyes.
“I am sorry. There is no easy way to share such news.”
He shook his head. “I cannot believe they are all gone.”
“But you are here.” His mother cupped his cheek with her hand.
Rosalind’s heart swelled with compassion for her husband. The news was difficult. Then again, he had been ready to relinquish his family ties. But she still did not know if they should trust this woman.
“I saw a serin.” Randel clearly remained at a loss for words. “But I did not bring it home.”
“How splendid. But you are all that I wish to see,” his mother said.
He led her by the hand to Rosalind. “I would like you to meet my wife. Lady Rosalind Penigree, I suppose.”
Rosalind’s head spun as she realized it was true.
“My daughter.” The woman embraced her as well, then pulled back in shock. She pressed her hand to Rosalind’s bulging stomach. “And my grandchild! The future heir to Penigree.”
&n
bsp; The woman’s eyes filled with happy tears.
“Come inside with us, Mother,” Randel said. “We have much catching up to do.”
Rosalind clutched tightly to Randel’s thick winter cloak. “I cannot believe it,” she whispered.
“Well, you must.” Randel chuckled. “We shall face this new challenge, together.”
Rosalind of Ipsworth, now Lady Penigree, sighed in wonder. Randel would make an ideal leader for his people, and she would lead by his side. Everything in their lives had led them to this point.
She would never have dared to dream of such a future, yet it sat well with her soul.
Historical Notes
Historically speaking, this is the hardest book I’ve ever undertaken. While there is much research available on the politics of the crusades and the battles fought, there is very little available about day-to-day life in the Holy Land at that time. Everyday issues are often ignored by history because they are taken for granted by the chroniclers. I was able to find little snippets here and there that helped me to picture the clothing, architecture, food, etc. . . . I learned that the crusaders in those areas tended to fuse the native and European cultures. However, the best fact I found was the simple explanation that life in that part of the world changed little from around 1000 AD until today.
Suddenly things became much easier for me because my husband is from Lebanon—which was called Tripoli and was the northern part of the Kingdom of Jerusalem at the time of the crusades—and I have made several extended trips to that part of the world. My familiarity with Middle Eastern customs and religions is a large part of why I chose to write this story in the first place. I have even been caught in Lebanon during fighting between the Muslim group, Hezbollah, and the Israeli forces. So I understand the challenges they face in that part of the world.
Now you might be wondering why I included women and children on crusades. Of course at this time battle was primarily for men. It was the men’s responsibility to protect women, not the other way around. And yet, perhaps because of the religious fervor surrounding the crusades and the pilgrimage nature of them, there is ample record of women and children going along as well. Sometimes even whole families.
Generally women supplied water and provisions and tended the wounded. But it was also considered proper for them to man launching weapons and shoot bows and arrows from a distance. According to Moslem legends of the crusades, there might have been some women disguised as knights fighting on the front lines, although European records do not concur on this issue. Certainly in times of desperation, women throughout history have done what they must and fought for their lives.
“The Children’s Crusade” had two waves in the early 1200s. Thousands of children followed visionary young teens and set off on crusade, but there is no record of any reaching the Holy Land. Many died along the way, others turned back, and it seems some might have been lost at sea. I wanted to complete that legend, while still presenting the vast complexities of the crusades.
Bohemond and his family are pretty hazy characters, at least in the available English language research. For that reason I took more liberties with them than I generally do with actual historical figures. I also decided to use the real-life locations of Tripoli and Beirut, since I felt like that part of the world would be very foreign to most readers already. However, the smaller villages and prisons were my own inventions.
Can you imagine my delight when I realized that St. Francis of Assisi was in fact traveling the Mediterranean at the same time as my crusaders? I had to let them cross paths so that the inspirational man could make a cameo. And in case I have any readers who are knowledgeable about Catholic theology, I need to explain that while at this time in history abortion was considered a sin, it did not carry the punishment of excommunication as it did in later times.
As in my other books, I used a slightly archaic, slightly British version of English for ease of reading, rather than attempting to imitate Middle English. And I utilized the King James Version of the Bible, since it is the oldest standard English version available.
Now to the toughest issue: Should the crusades have been fought at all? In the beginning, the Christian countries of Europe were trying to turn the tide of hundreds of years of Muslim invasion and oppression. They wanted to kick the Muslims out of Europe and take back land lost by their Christian brothers and sisters in the Byzantine part of the world. I would contend that those reasons were as solid and justifiable as those fueling any war in history. But war is messy.
From the start motives were mixed. Some wanted power and money, while others had altruistic motives. Sometimes crusaders from different European countries cooperated; sometimes they undermined each other and broke treaties that other groups had made. Some crusades were led by strong, chivalrous leaders, and others turned into riotous mobs. And almost always the new crusaders from Europe failed to understand their enemy and the complex social structure of the Middle East.
Muslims are people just like us. There are many types, both religiously and ethnically, and I am blessed to call many Muslims my friends. While there is, in fact, much violent and negative teaching in the Muslim holy book, the average Muslim person just wants to live a peaceful and prosperous life. They want to be surrounded by friends and family and bring some good to the world. On the other hand, perhaps even more so today than during the crusades, there is a deep religiously based hatred instilled in children throughout the Middle East toward the Christians and especially the Jews. That sad reality cannot be ignored.
But there is one more interesting factor to keep in mind. Much like Rabia in the story, Muslims have been coming to Christ in surprising numbers during recent years. Some through dreams and visions, and many others through the new openness brought to that part of the world by satellite television and Internet.
I hope that in taking this historical trip, you were spurred to think about these same conflicts that are still troubling our world today. And you have seen that, all politics and strategy aside, true freedom can only be found within.
Acknowledgments
I have been blessed with so many partners who have helped me along my writing journey: the ladies of Inkwell Inspirations and Wenches Writing for Christ (oh yes, you read that right), Hampton Roads Christian Fiction Writing Fellowship, a supportive family and church, and many wonderful friends. Thank you to all of you! I would also like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to all the members of my Dauntless and Chivalrous launch groups, who helped get this series off the ground. I also recently discovered the added blessing of the British Medieval History Facebook group, which is always ready to answer, and debate at length, any historical questions I might have.
A special thanks to my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, who stuck with me through the challenging early years. Also to my editor Karen Schurrer, who always provides the right balance of constructive criticism and encouragement. And of course to the whole Bethany team, who have done such a great job with everything from cover design to marketing and publicity. Thank you also to Marisa Deshaies, Darlene Turner, Suzie Johnson, and Angela Andrews, who critiqued this book.
My final and most heartfelt thanks to my writing partner, the Holy Spirit. In God I live and move and have my being. I could never do this alone!
Dina Sleiman holds an MA in professional writing from Regent University and a BA in communications with a minor in English from Oral Roberts University. Over the past twenty years, she has had opportunities to teach college writing and literature, as well as high-school and elementary classes in English, humanities, and fine arts. She lives in Virginia with her husband and three children. She can be found online at www.dinasleiman.com.
Books by Dina Sleiman
VALIANT HEARTS
Dauntless
Chivalrous
Courageous
dinasleiman.com
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Courageous Page 31