Trusting in Faith - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 5)

by Shea,Lisa

  Reynald nodded his head. “Three … two … one!” he called out.

  Sarah pressed her legs into her mount’s side, giving the race the best attempt she could, but there was no contest. Rachel’s high strung horse was bursting off the ground in seconds, and it seemed that Rachel was drawing ahead with every stride. Still, Sarah gamely struggled to keep up, pushing her steed to his limits. She heard Reynald following along behind and wondered with a smile just how much he was reining in his own horse in order to let the two women race unimpeded.

  By the time Sarah reached the main gates, Rachel had dismounted and was handing her steed over to Lou with a casual flip of the reins. Rachel cavorted in delight as Sarah came into the courtyard. She lost no time in proclaiming her victory.

  “I won! I won!” she cried out, pronouncing her triumph to all within hearing distance. “I am the best!”

  Sarah pulled her weary horse in to a stop and slid off. “You certainly did,” she agreed with a smile, walking over to give her sister a gentle hug. “I am proud of you. You are an amazing horsewoman.”

  Reynald pulled in behind the two sisters, dismounting. “Very nicely done,” he offered to Rachel. “That was a fairly won race.”

  “My horse is one of the fastest in the stables,” boasted Rachel with pride. “He cost my father a pretty penny, but he was worth it!”

  A page came running into the courtyard, stopping when he reached the group. “Rachel – your father wanted to see you as soon as you returned,” he reported in quick staccato. Rachel flushed, then hurried after him into the main building.

  Reynald handed care of his mount over to Lou, then turned to face Sarah, who was unsaddling her own. He helped her remove the tack as he spoke.

  “You know, I am quite good with horses. I can help you select another mount if you wish,” he offered with quiet solicitude. “One that is a bit more fleet of foot.”

  By way of an answer, Sarah glanced down at his sword. “That weapon you carry – it is not very well adorned,” she commented with an appraising look. “I could find you several in our armory which are more decorative, with sapphires or rubies in their hilts.”

  Reynald automatically dropped his hand to his sword, a frown crossing his face. “My sword has proven itself in combat many times over,” he stated firmly. “I would not trade its reliability for a more gaudy blade.”

  A moment passed, then a sparkle lit into his eye. “I think you were trying to make a point?” he asked with a smile, bringing the harness to hang on its peg.

  Sarah nodded, patting her horse gently on his neck. “My steed is not the fastest here. That I fully accept. However, when he canters, he is as smooth as silk. I have carried women nine months pregnant to a surgeon without harm. I have brought newborn babies across great distances without waking them.”

  She chuckled softly to herself, leading her mount to his stall and pouring water into his trough with a fond smile. “He is not the fastest. That is fine. He is the very best for what I need, and it took me months to find him. I have had him for three years now, and every day I thank the stars that he is a part of my life. I would want no other.”

  Reynald’s mouth quirked. “You do not mind that he is not as handsome as your sister’s,” he commented half to himself.

  Sarah smiled despite herself. “To me, he is the most beautiful horse in the stables,” she replied, her eyes shining as she looked into those of her steed. “He has never faltered. He has been there for me at every turn. He is perfect for me.”

  She gave her horse a gentle kiss on the nose, then patted him and turned to leave. She was surprised to find Reynald standing in front of her, a distant look on his face.

  Reynald’s gaze sharpened, and he looked down at her steadily. She found herself blushing under the intensity of his gaze, but she did not waver.

  Then, after a moment, he turned and strode from the stable, leaving her alone and flustered.

  Chapter 6

  Rachel and Reynald were both absent from the table the next morning when Sarah joined her parents for an early lunch. She gave her father a gentle kiss on the cheek as she sat down next to him and her mother, digging with relish into the warm oatmeal. Sally brought her over some cider, which she downed with pleasure.

  Her mother leant over with a smile. “We will be riding into Mildenhall for the day, to do some shopping. Would you like to join us, my dear?”

  Sarah looked up at her parents, watching how they sat so comfortably together; how they still looked forward to spending time with each other after all these years. She sat back for a moment, then asked, “Did you know right away, when you met, that you would be so happy together?”

  Her mother’s peals of laughter filled the room, and her father chuckled ruefully. “Surely you have heard the tales, many times,” he smiled at her. “How we met at a local faire, drawn by our mutual love of dancing. We promptly dismissed one another as being far too stuck up for our tastes.”

  Mathilde nodded her head, putting a fond hand on her husband’s arm. “Your father was so tense and rigid, as if dancing were an act of penance for him rather than a releasing of joyful emotion. I told my friends that he would be the last man there I would consider marrying.”

  Christopher turned to Sarah. “I had walked hours in from a distant, dirt-poor village to attend my first ever Harvest Festival. When she laughed at me, I thought she was the silliest creature I had ever met, only concerned with who wore the fanciest outfit. I thought she treated me with disrespect because I could only afford a simple outfit – not an embroidered one as worn by the other young men of the area.”

  Sarah looked between the two. “Then you met again, later, on the road home?”

  Mathilde leant her head against Christopher’s shoulder. “It began to pour, and I took refuge under a willow by the side of the road. A few of the young men from the faire passed me on their stallions, but they did not even see me – they were too concerned with riding quickly to save their outfits.”

  She smiled up at her husband. “Then Christopher walked by. He immediately spotted me and came down to make sure I was all right. We spent hours and hours talking. I soon realized that he was not proud at all. He was shy and embarrassed of his less than fine attire. I saw that, when given a chance, he had just as much emotion and passion as I did.”

  Christopher fondly patted his wife’s hand. “I realized that she had been reacting to my attitude, not to my clothing. She was wholly enchanting, when I allowed myself to start afresh with her.”

  He sat back a bit, his eyes twinkling. “It is amazing how misconceptions can escalate. If you begin with the slightest mistake, you can build on it, bit by bit. Soon you are sure things are a certain way, and you feel you have ‘proof’ of your point of view. It is the way the human mind works. It likes to sort things logically. If you believe a person is a certain way, it is likely that you will pay attention to the items that support your belief and overlook any to the contrary.”

  A reply came from over Sarah’s shoulder. “How very true.”

  Sarah looked up and blushed; she hadn’t realized there was an audience to her discussion. Reynald stood a few feet away, looking down at her, considering her.

  Sarah saw that he was dressed for riding. So he did not like misconceptions? “Where are you off to today, then?” she asked with casual lightness.

  Reynald’s eyes shuttered for a moment. His eyes shot to look at Christopher’s.

  Sarah’s gaze followed his in an instant, and she turned to face her father. “You know what he is up to and are keeping it from me?” Her voice became firm. “Does this involve the so-called bandits?”

  Her father shook his head, patting her arm in a placating gesture. “No, no,” he reassured her. “It is just that I did not want to worry you before we had fully worked out the situation. There is some danger involved.”

  Sarah’s resolve sharpened. She had sensed something was afoot, and it bothered her that her own father was keeping informa
tion from her. “If there could be danger, then perhaps it is best I know of it now, since I am often out and about on my duties. Surely you do not think me so faint of heart that I would be unnerved by mere news of trouble?”

  Her father shook his head. “It is not that, but rather that Reynald asked me to keep his information confidential. It is up to him whether we can discuss the matter further.”

  Reynald sat beside Sarah, his face solemn. “I thought to keep you and your sister sheltered from my true task here. However, I see now that I should have made you aware of this earlier, and it was wrong of me to try to … protect you.” He looked again to Sarah’s father. “I leave it to you, what to say.”

  Christopher sat back. He spoke in a straightforward manner to his eldest daughter. “Reynald has been sent by his order to find news of three renegade knights. They have been spotted around this neighborhood, and their appearance coincided with a rash of crimes.”

  Sarah looked between the two men, confused. She had assumed that Reynald’s sister had been the main reason for his being in the family’s keep, and that his other business lay in distant parts. It had not occurred to her that his remaining tasks had anything to do with her home town.

  She focused on what her father had said. “Are you sure the crimes are related to them? Maybe the knights were simply tired of their duties and are heading home through our region.”

  Reynald slowly shook his head. “If only it were that simple,” he admitted with sadness. “One of them was a good friend of mine. His name is Charles. When his mother died a year or so ago, it affected him greatly. He fell into an association with two other men who were already being watched for suspicion of dishonorable behavior.

  “I should have done more to help him. I was busy with other things and did not make the time. Before I knew it, the three had vanished. Funds were missing from the treasury. They are wreaking havoc wherever they go.”

  He gave a sigh. “I still cannot believe Charles is aware of what is going on with his companions. It is part of why I asked to come after them – alone – to discern the truth.”

  He paused for a long moment. “I even came without a squire or escort; I am growing my hair out. That way I can better blend in with those who live here. I am doing all I can to acquire the information I seek quietly.”

  Sarah glanced over at her father. It was hard to believe that their quiet landscape could harbor such a threat. “Have there really been reports of serious crimes in our area recently?”

  Her father’s eyes looked weary. “At first there was the odd tale coming in about robberies, but we discounted them as the work of common criminals. Now it seems that there is more of a pattern to the reports. Reynald has been out talking with the victims, to see if descriptions of the attackers match his quarry.”

  Sarah gave a wry smile. “Well, I should be safe enough. I doubt highway robbers would be interested in stealing bandages and anti-nausea herbs.”

  Reynald’s eyes shadowed. “It is your personal safety I would fear for,” he gently reminded her. “They could do far more harm than simply steal a few baubles.”

  Sarah’s cheeks grew pink, but she nodded in understanding. “That is fair enough,” she agreed. “If they took me hostage, they could pressure my father into who knows what concessions.” She looked to her father. “If it is necessary, I will take a guard to ride with me when I go any great distance or must travel at night. I would not wish to cause any distress simply because I wanted to ride alone.”

  Her father pulled her close, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I knew you could be trusted to be sensible,” he commented with a smile. “It is one thing to defend yourself against a common criminal – but if a Templar comes after you, one of our guards would be hard put to even delay him enough for you to flee to safety.”

  Sarah had not been considering fleeing as an option, but she bit her tongue and nodded to her father. These were all quite remote scenarios they were discussing, and there was no need to argue over something which would probably never happen.

  She looked up at Reynald. “Well then, good luck on your interview visits. I hope they are productive in helping you find the men you seek.”

  Reynald stood, looking down at her for a long while. “As do I,” he stated finally, his voice gentle. He nodded to her parents, then turned and left the room.

  Sarah’s father turned to look at her after Reynald had gone. “I would like to keep this from your sister,” he advised her. “It would only upset her, and we know well her headstrong spirit. I will simply ask the guards to keep an eye on her when she leaves our walls.”

  Sarah nodded. “As you wish,” she agreed. Standing, she nodded to her parents before heading out toward the gardens, lost in thought. She found that her mind returned to Reynald often as she spent the day in quiet labor, tending to the sage, dill, and lavender.

  * * *

  Sunday morning dawned with gentle sunshine, and Sarah dressed herself in her traditional Sunday best, looking forward to the time in the chapel.

  As the familiar sound of the litany washed over her, she found herself giving thought to the nature of what Reynald did every day for his chosen life’s work. He protected pilgrims from all walks of life – high and low, rich and poor – who had decided to make the long, arduous journey to Jerusalem.

  Sarah contemplated how difficult that trip must be, the miles to travel through all types of weather, along varying landscapes. Although many people she had met expressed an interest in going, only one person she knew had actually invested the time and effort to go there and return. His tales of the trip ranged from humorous to downright frightening.

  Sarah imagined the hundreds of individual people, each making that life-changing decision for whatever personal reason. Did they have a dying wife? A child in need of a proper spouse? Had they lost their way in the world and were seeking new direction? Maybe they had done a great wrong and were seeking redemption.

  Each person, no matter how mean or base their background, was watched over along their journey by these knightly guardian angels. The Templars did not charge for their services. They looked out for the travelers without pride or notice. It was due to their ever-vigilant watch that the pilgrims could reach their destination unscathed, and return home again.

  Sarah’s eyes drifted ahead to rest on Reynald’s strong shoulders. He sat in the pew two rows before her, alongside Rachel. His eyes were fixed on the priest, and he appeared engrossed in the sermon. His black hair was brushed back from his face, falling in soft curls to his shoulders. She imagined him standing alongside a quiet, dirt road in a foreign landscape, far from his homelands, ensuring that people he had never met made their journey safely …

  Reynald turned suddenly, meeting her gaze with questioning eyes. Blushing fiercely, Sarah dropped her own eyes to stare down at her hands in her lap. She had heard that people could sense when they were being looked at – surely it could not be true! She forced her gaze to remain fixedly on her clasped hands for the rest of the sermon.

  Sunday afternoon in her home was set aside for reciting passages from the Bible to each other, and if any visitors came, in quiet discussion with the guests. To her surprise, Reynald joined them in the sun-drenched sitting room. The family members passed a candle around from person to person, each recipient choosing a passage to share with the group. Reynald appeared to pay close attention to each recital, listening intently to what was being said.

  When Sarah was done with her passage, she looked to her right, where Reynald sat, relaxing in a leather chair. Leaning forward, she handed the candle over to Reynald.

  “You do not have to speak, if you do not wish it,” she stated courteously as she offered him the candle. “Feel free to pass it along to Rachel.”

  Reynald smiled as he received the candle from her. “I would be quite proud to participate,” he responded with grace. He only took a moment to settle himself, and began.

  His voice was slow, rich, and almost melodious
as he spoke.

  “Psalm 15 - A psalm of David”

  “Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?”

  “He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from his heart and has no slander on his tongue, who does his neighbor no wrong and casts no slur on his fellow man, who despises a vile man but honors those who fear the Lord, who keeps his oath even when it hurts, who lends his money without usury and does not accept a bribe against the innocent. He who does these things will never be shaken.”

  Sarah was caught by the words. They resonated within her. She wondered for a moment if Reynald had meant them as a prod to her, to speak the truth about the location of the gypsies – but looking up into his eyes, she felt sure that this was not the case. This passage had special meaning to him. She could see it clearly in his gaze.

  She wondered just what had driven him to take on such a rugged calling, living his days out so far from his home. She wondered how he sustained himself over the years, risking his life each day for the pilgrims who traveled his roads.

  Reynald nodded his head in reverence, then passed the candle along to Rachel. She nibbled grapes idly for a while as she pondered. Sarah sat back peacefully in her chair, taking a sip of mead from the table beside her. She truly enjoyed these quiet Sunday afternoons, a chance to rest and reflect after a week of hard work.

  Rachel cleared her throat, and all eyes turned toward her.

  “John 8,” began Rachel in a smooth, clear voice.

  Sarah fought to keep her face serene, to prevent a smile from slipping into view. This was one of Rachel’s favorite passages. Sarah appreciated that Rachel felt much put upon and unappreciated. Each time Rachel recited these words, Sarah tried her very best to find new meaning in them, to understand how Rachel felt. This was another chance for her to relate to her sister. She wanted to give this her best effort.