by Shea,Lisa
Sarah nodded. She picked at the roast hen, barely hearing what her parents said to her.
Finally, as the meal drew to a close, her father spoke up. “My dear, my duties are light today. Would you like to take a walk with me?”
Sarah’s heart lightened. She rarely had time to talk alone with her father, and looked forward to moments such as these. “Yes, gladly,” she replied with a smile.
In a short while the two were heading out the main gates, their feet moving along a shaded path. They walked for a spell in silence, enjoying the bird song and quiet forest shelter.
Sarah glanced sideways at her father. He had always been a steady rock in her life, a man of serene wisdom and firm action. “Do you think there is just one person for each of us?” she asked suddenly. “Like you and mother?”
Her father smiled. “I think what you will find in life is that having the right partner for you is not so much about finding just the right person, but in being just the right person.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sarah, confused.
“Some people are miserable with their lives. They do not like the way they are living and feel unhappy with their world. They seek out a person to come strolling into their life to make everything better. They want a soul mate who will appear, make them perfectly happy, and sustain that feeling forever.”
“That does seem like a nice idea,” commented Sarah with a smile.
Christopher shook his head. “Unfortunately it rarely works, for many reasons. First, if you cannot be happy on your own, it simply does not work for another person to ‘make’ you happy every day. Few relationships can survive under that strain. Next, who would want to be with you in the first place, if you were always unhappy?”
“So the key is to be happy?” asked Sarah.
“The meanest of peasants can be completely content with their lot in life – and the richest kings can be miserable,” mused Christopher. “We each have within us the ability to be happy with what we have. I am not saying we should be stationary. There is always cause to strive for something better, to improve ourselves each day. Still, these should be healthy, goal-oriented pursuits which we relish. Activities should not be forced, knee-jerk reactions to an existence we thrive on despising.”
Sarah thought to one of her patients who she suspected was in an abusive marriage. “What if you are trapped in a situation beyond your control?”
Her father nodded. “In a way, all of us have aspects of our lives that are beyond our control. I cannot change that I am male. You cannot change that you are my daughter. Yet so much of our world is within our control, if we only take the time and energy to confront the situation. There is always something in our life we can appreciate. There is always some small task we can do to make things better.”
Sarah warmed in relaxation, strolling alongside her father through the shimmering July afternoon. “I have been blessed in many ways,” she commented after a while. “I have a loving family, a secure home, and I am very content with my life’s calling. The problems I face are tiny compared with what many deal with every day. I do count myself as being happy.” Her mouth quirked as she looked up at her father. “Why, then, is my soul mate not here in my life?”
Her father glanced at her with a mischievous look on his face. “Maybe he is.”
Sarah looked away, blushing. “Just because I might be interested in a man – and I am not admitting here that I am – it does not mean at all that he is interested in me.”
“Then he is not right for you,” stated her father with firm conviction. “A partnership can never be about one person luring in the other or tricking them into a match. If you feel a man is perfect for you – and he does not feel the same way – then he is in fact not perfect for you. You are simply blinding yourself to the problems and focusing only on the advantages to yourself.”
“Surely there must be something to the alluring that women do,” Sarah felt obliged to point out.
Christopher nodded his head. “By all means, promote your assets – you are the only person who can make sure they are known properly to others,” he acquiesced. “But to try to go beyond that simply will not work out over the long term. I have several friends who were captivated by a woman who claimed to share their interests – fishing, riding, whatever it happened to be. Each man married with the expectation that he had a life-long partner he could trust and depend on.”
He sighed, looking down the path. “In each case, the woman was able to keep up the charade for a few months, but as time went on, her true feelings became known. Now the men feel taken advantage of and the trust – the cornerstone of any relationship – has been damaged. If the women had simply been honest and presented themselves truthfully, the relationship most likely would have been drawn together anyway and the men would have been far more content. As it is, the deception at the beginning seriously damaged their chances of a truly happy marriage.”
Sarah looked over at her father. “So you and mother went into your relationship with open eyes?”
Christopher chuckled. “Completely open. She was very forthright about the things she loved to do. For example she gently let me know that she would not have any interest in falconing with me. It was, in fact, a refreshing change from the other women who simply parroted an interest in each hobby of mine.”
He smiled fondly. “I have other friends I can falcon with. Only your mother is my confidant in life, the woman who I can trust with anything. I treasure her honesty more than anything else in the world.”
Sarah spoke half to herself. “So I simply have to wait, to see if what I am is what he wants?”
Her father gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “You are one of the three most special women I know,” he stated. “You are quite unique. Many men would be incredibly proud and fortunate to have you as their partner in life. Give it time. When it is the right match for you, you will know it – and so will he. Do not settle for someone who does not love you as whole heartedly as you love him.”
Sarah’s stomach twisted in doubt. She put her own arm around her father, and the pair walked in silence for a long while.
Sarah’s steps grew slower, her heart heavier, as she thought ahead to her afternoon task.
When they approached the back end of the keep, Sarah saw the men drilling in the fields. Reynald was in amongst them, working with two of the younger guards, sparring against both of them in turn. Sarah watched the Templar in admiration. His skill with the sword was graceful and controlled. Equally impressive was his patience with the lads as he corrected their swings with calm encouragement.
She was half tempted to change and join in the practice, as she sometimes did, to keep her sword skills from getting too rusty. She knew she could not. She had other things on her mind today, and she put aside her desire.
“I will be heading out to Devizes in a short while,” she informed her father as they stood watching the men. “It is a well-traveled road, but if you wish I will take along one of the guards as a precaution.”
Christopher nodded without hesitation. He raised his voice and called out to the men. “Cedric, I need an escort for my daughter,”
The burly guard looked up from his sparring instruction, running a hand through his short-cropped black hair. Reynald laid a hand on his arm, then trotted over to stand before the two.
“Cedric is busy here, but if I am not being presumptuous, I will gladly go in his place,” he offered, looking between the two. “My rounds are complete for the day, and I am at your leisure.”
“By all means,” agreed Christopher contentedly. “I will leave you to it. I could use some practice time myself.” He gave each a nod, then headed into the keep to change.
Reynald looked down at his own outfit, which was covered in dust. “Perhaps I should change as well?” he asked with curiosity. “Where will we be going today?”
“To a cemetery in Devizes,” explained Sarah, her face somber. “You are fine; my frien
d will not mind at all how you are dressed. She was always a simple soul, possessing a most beautiful heart.” She paused for a long moment, lost in thought. Seeing a waving mass of daisies nearby, she walked to them and gathered up a bouquet of the white flowers. When she had them settled in her arm, she turned.
“I am ready to go now, if you are.”
By way of answer Reynald wiped down his sword, sheathing it with one easy motion. Together they walked over to the stables, and in short order they were heading down the sunny road side by side.
Reynald did not speak as they traveled, and Sarah was glad to let the silence grow around them. Her heart shadowed, melancholy and lost, despite the streaming sunshine and medley of wildflowers which lined the lane. It was just one year ago now … one long year since that tragic day. She felt rather than saw Reynald’s looks of concern, and was glad that he did not break the silence.
The cemetery at Devizes was behind their stone church, surrounded by a low grey wall of fieldstone. It was quiet as they approached and tied up their horses, the lines of grey markers standing resolutely in the summer sun. There was the drone of a bumblebee as it moved amongst flowers in the far corner of the yard, but other than that sound the area was silent.
Sarah moved through the grass to the stone she sought, the grave standing alone in a back corner. The marker was small and simple.
Ysabel Brown
Aged 16
Loving daughter and sister
Sarah knelt before the stone, laying the flowers before it in a blanket. Reynald had come to a respectful stop at the entrance to the cemetery, and she was alone in this holy place. She let her head drop, thinking back to that long night, to the look in her friend’s eyes, the long gaze of sadness and understanding. The quietly whispered words, “You did your best.”
The tears came, and she let them flow unhindered.
There was a noise behind her, and Sarah turned, then rose to her feet in one smooth motion. A young man in his early twenties was stumbling along the side wall of the church, heading in their direction. His clothes were dirty and torn, his dark hair an unruly shock. He glanced up, seeing the cemetery was not empty, then his eyes narrowed in fury. He drew his sword in one angry movement.
Reynald’s own blade was out in an instant. The Templar stepped to fully block the opening in the stone wall.
The scruffy man’s voice was a low growl when he spoke, shot through with seething hatred. “This is not your battle, Sir,” he directed at Reynald dismissively. “That woman desecrates the ground she stands on. She has no right to be here!”
Sarah took a few steps forward, staying behind Reynald but moving so she could be seen. “Ethan; I am sorry to intrude on your day of remembrance. We will leave you in peace.” She wanted to say more, but held her tongue, not wanting to inflame an already tense situation.
The surly man shook his head. “Leave me in peace? How can I ever find peace? My sister is dead. You took her from me!” He took a menacing step forward, his sword held high.
Reynald held his position, dropping slightly into a more defensive stance. He did not say a word; his eyes never left Ethan’s.
Sarah kept her voice low and soothing. “I did everything I could to save your sister,” she vowed. “It was too late – she had already lost too much blood …”
Ethan’s eyes went wide with fury. He cried in anguish, “so it is my fault?!”
He charged.
Reynald blocked, Ethan spun to attack again, and the clang of metal on metal rang out into the stillness. Sarah was frozen in shock, unable to move. Her skills were clearly no match for either man who parried and thrust in furious rhythm. She was rooted, unable to turn and run for help.
If Reynald was hurt, or killed …
As she watched, she realized that Reynald was holding back, blocking more than attacking. He was redirecting the blows, carefully timing his own movements to push Ethan to retreat, to build distance between the aggressor and his prey.
A shout came from the other side of the church. In a moment a larger man rounded the corner - a taller, sturdier version of the wild-eyed swordsman before them.
The man raced forward. “Ethan, God’s blood! You are on holy ground! Put up your weapon!”
When Ethan hesitated, the man reached around, ripping the sword from his grasp.
Reynald stepped back warily, looking between the two men with caution.
Sarah breathed in relief. “Elijah, thank God. I am so sorry …”
Elijah shook his head, taking in deep breaths. “It is I who should apologize for my brother’s behavior,” he growled out, looking down in anger at the younger man. “He has been in a state all day, but I never thought … I should have kept him at home.” He looked over at Reynald, scanning him appraisingly. “You are not hurt, Sir?”
Reynald lowered his sword, shaking his head. “I am unharmed.”
Elijah’s brows rose in respect. “Then you have a good arm, Sir, for my brother is well known for his skill. I am glad he has met his match.”
His gaze returned to meet Sarah’s. “You know that none in our family hold you responsible for what happened to Ysabel,” he added, his voice gentler. “Ethan’s impetuous behavior aside, we know you did all there was to be done. It was already too late for hope.”
Sarah dropped her eyes, guilt filling her. “I will leave you to mourn in peace.”
Elijah prodded his sullen younger brother to slide a few paces to the side, and Reynald moved to stand between them and the dirt path, his posture at high alert. Ethan’s face remained mottled with fury, his eyes glancing quickly between Sarah and Reynald’s ready blade.
Sarah kept her eyes lowered, walking quickly along the narrow path. As she moved past the pair, she could feel Ethan’s eyes boring into her. She was nearly by when his sharp voice stung at her back.
“Your sister, I hear, has spread her legs for coin,” Ethan shot out in a snide tone.
Sarah froze mid-step, fury flaring through her at the wild charge. It was all she could do to keep her hands stationary, to not lower them to the weapon at her waist and make him pay for the slander. She took in a deep breath. Anything she began, Reynald would be forced to finish for her. Ethan was simply insane with grief. He was lashing out.
Even so, it took all of her force of will not to defend her sister. She let out a long exhale. Then she put one foot down in front of her, then a second. She focused on the motion.
Ethan was not done. “Speaking of your sister … how is your fiancé Dirk doing? Oh, wait, he is your ex-fiancé now, is he not?”
Sarah felt the blow as a physical attack, and she nearly doubled over in pain. Her face went white; her breath gasped out of her in shock. How could he know? How could anyone know? She could not turn … she could not move …
A hand gently took her right arm.
She set back into motion, leaning against Reynald. She moved alongside him around the corner and across the front of the church. Finally she could breathe again. She focused on the horses before them, going through the motions of checking the saddle. Then she pulled herself up on her steed and turned his head toward home.
* * *
Sarah let five minutes pass in silence, then ten. Reynald did not ask anything, did not so much as look at her inquisitively. He had laid his life on the line for her without question or hesitation. She knew she should say something, but could not bring herself to begin. Finally she forced herself to speak.
“Thank you for defending me,” she murmured. “I had no idea that Ethan would be in such a state. Indeed, I had hoped to slip in and out unnoticed.”
“It was my honor,” responded Reynald, his voice low. He did not ask anything further, keeping his eyes on the forest and trail ahead.
Sarah appreciated his silence, and almost gave in to the temptation not to speak one more word. However, her honor could not allow it. He had put himself in harm’s way to keep her safe. He deserved an explanation.
“Ethan’s sister was
unmarried, and her lover was a visiting musician, only in town for a week or two,” she began. “Ysabel was a sweet girl, but rather naïve. When she realized she was with child, she hoped she could bear it without anyone noticing and leave it on the church steps. She had heard one too many fairy tales, I am afraid.”
Reynald nodded in understanding. He did not interrupt, but stayed at her side, a ready listener.
“Ethan found her in labor and was furious. He spent time berating her for getting into this situation rather than fetching help. He was a squire for a local knight and his first thought was how this would damage his prospects. By the time I was called for, there was little hope for the girl. I tried my best, but she was gone.”
“I am sorry for the family’s loss,” mused Reynald. “As to the brother, I can see why he is so upset,” he added, his face somber. “However, if he wishes to be a knight, he should learn to own up to his mistakes, rather than blame another.”
Sarah shook her head. “He has abandoned that path now. He stays home all day, submerged in a gloom. I am afraid he has lost his way.”
“I hope, for his sake, that he finds a new one,” commented Reynald quietly.
Sarah knew there was more to be said, but her will faded. She turned her gaze to the ground passing beneath the horse. The riders lapsed into silence, moving easily as the sun slowly tinted the sky from turquoise to deepest crimson.
Chapter 10
When Sarah awoke the next day, butterflies instantly began fluttering in her stomach. She always became nervous when heading out to the wanderers’ location, and with the added complication of Reynald, she was overcome with an additional dose of trepidation.
He seemed almost too good to be true, with his care for her family and his concern for others. His protective duties as a Knight Templar, watching over innocents, drew her in to trust him with her own thoughts. Still, with all he had said about his sister, she knew that his main reason for being here was a serious mission, given to him by his superiors, to find the three renegades.