Her Knight Protector

Yet the next morning they had had a visit from Hubert of Ravenshurst. At first he had been charming, offering to buy the treasure for a huge amount of gold. Had they accepted his offer, it would have made them rich, but Katherine’s father had denied all knowledge of the object the English knight sought.

‘It is better to pretend to know nothing,’ he’d told her after their visitor had departed. The Lord Hubert had made no threats, but his manner had shown them that he was angry at being refused. ‘Remember that if you should become the custodian of our treasure, Kate.’

‘What can you mean?’ Katherine’s eyes widened in fear. ‘You are the custodian, Father.’

‘If something were to happen to me, you must go to your uncle. You know that he hath been the steward of Grunwald in my absence. If I die, he will become the rightful owner. You will have nothing, Kate, but he will take you in for my sake. Besides, there is no one else you can trust.’

‘I pray you will not speak of dying! I would rather you gave the…treasure to the Lord of Ravenshurst.’

‘Never!’ Her father’s eyes had glinted with unaccustomed anger. ‘I would rather die than give that devil such a precious thing, Kate. His very touch would despoil it. No, it must go to the church, as you said, for all men to see and revere.’

‘Oh, Father…’ She had looked at him helplessly. Was it pride that made him speak so foolishly?

She wished that she had argued further. She had been against selling the treasure, but, realising the threat to her father, she would have done anything to be rid of it. Anything except hurt him.

Now she wished that she had thrown his precious treasure into the river, but it was too late. Her father was dead and the burden had passed to her, for it was a burden. She knew that she could not simply give it up. Her father had made her promise the day he placed it in her care that she would do all she could to see that it was taken to a place of safety. She must carry on as he would have wished, no matter her own feelings.

Maria knew only that she carried something precious on her person. Katherine could not burden her with the whole truth. If she had been able to reconcile her conscience, she might have rid herself of it, for her father’s death had made it hateful to her, yet she knew deep within herself that she could not do such a wicked thing.

What she carried belonged to the whole of Christendom. It must be placed in a great church, somewhere worthy of its significance where it could be seen and appreciated by those who needed it most. Her father had spoken of approaching the Pope himself. They had been so close to achieving what they set out to do, but now her father was dead and she did not believe that the Pope would listen to her. She would probably not be granted an audience and she would share her secret with no other, for even amongst the priests and cardinals there was greed and corruption.

Her father had bid her go home if he died, and in her troubled mind she saw it as the solution to her problem. Somehow she must get her sacred trust home to France. Once she was at her uncle’s manor in France, she would be able to decide what must be the fate of this precious thing. Her uncle was Baron Grunwald now. Surely he would know what to do? Yes, she must see the cup safe before she thought of her own future.

What were a few small lies in such a cause?

Katherine’s thoughts turned towards the knight with the merry blue eyes, remembering the way her heart had raced when he opened them to look at her. How fair he was to look upon! No man had ever caused her to feel that way before and she smiled at her own foolishness. To let herself dream of this man would be folly indeed. He had thought her a child, and that she had not been in many years. Not since that terrible night at Acre, when she had seen people she loved as friends hounded from their homes and killed like rats in the street.

Her father had told her that such things happened in war, that even the best of men might behave badly when the blood-lust was raised in him, and she knew that what the knights did that day was a part of war. Yet it had haunted her dreams for months and even now she was not completely free of the memory.

Because of that memory, she was vaguely uneasy about telling the whole of her story to the knight who had charged so valiantly to her rescue. She was grateful for what he had done for her, but she dare not trust him with the complete truth.

Something of the importance and value she carried might turn the minds of even the most honourable of men.

Chapter Two

A lain was strangely restless as he woke with the dawn. He had not slept well and it was not simply that both he and Bryne had sensed they were being followed the previous day. As yet there had been mere glimpses of a horse and rider in the distance. At times they had travelled through steep valleys hemmed in by towering hills to either side, at others their way lay through dense woods or past small villages, where they bought food. At no time had the secret watchers attempted to come closer—but why were they there? Perhaps more importantly, what did they want?

The previous night they had camped close to a river. Alain was thoughtful as he walked down to a secluded spot where he intended to bathe. A brief swim in its cool waters would help to clear his mind and cleanse his body. He liked to bathe more often than was the custom in England, a habit he had learned from Arab friends in Palestine. For, despite his desire to free the Holy City from Saladin, he had found it possible to make friends with men of all faiths and nationalities. Indeed, he had found the Arab culture of peace and learning pleasant, and, had it not been for his strong faith, might have stayed happily amongst them.

He was feeling out of sorts with himself this morning as he flexed his muscles, easing off the ache of lying on the hard ground, though he did not know why. But perhaps the act of bathing would relieve the tension that had built in him of late, the feeling that he was missing something, that his life had no real purpose.

‘You are a fool, Alain de Banewulf,’ he told himself with a wry smile as he walked to the nearby river. ‘What is it that you want of life? Why can you never be satisfied?’

The answer was something that still eluded him, as it had for years past. It was as if he searched for something that might never be his, a sense of fulfilment and of peace.

Stripping off his clothes, which were the simple tunic and close-fitting hose of a soldier, and did not include the suit of chain-mail he wore for battle, Alain plunged into the river. He came up gasping and gave a shout of pleasure. The water was cold, but wonderful. How good it was to feel young and alive! His mood was shaken off and he was glad that he had chosen to slip away for these private moments.

He swam across the river with quick, powerful strokes, enjoying the energy that surged through him, then turned over on to his back, floating lazily as he let himself think about the things that had played on his mind during the night.

What was the Lady Katherine of Grunwald up to? And what secret was she hiding? He had thought Bryne too suspicious at the start, but after two days in the lady’s company he had changed his mind. For certain she had something on her mind—something she did not wish to share with her companions.

Hearing the sound of someone splashing in the water a little further downstream, Alain turned his head to look for the source. Now he could hear laughter. Evidently, someone was enjoying the water as much as he was.

He could hear voices calling to one another—the Lady Katherine and the dragon, if he were not mistaken. His keen senses told him that they were just past the bend in the riverbank, hidden from his view by the fronds of a weeping tree.

‘You should not take the risk, my lady.’

‘I am safe enough, Maria. Sir Alain is an honourable knight and his men would not dare to anger him. Besides, I needed to bathe. I felt so dirty.’

‘Well, you are safe enough with me to watch over you, for I would kill any man who dared to spy on you.’

Alain smiled to himself, amused by the force of this avowal. He would put nothing past the dragon. His head had been tender for some hours after the last time she’d hit him and he would not want to risk it again.

He would not frighten them, he decided, and swam carefully back to the bank, pulling on his clothes quickly as he felt the chill of the early morning air. He was just fastening his low-slung sword belt when he heard the scream.

Katherine was in trouble! He ran towards the sound and then stopped in surprise as he saw something totally unexpected. A woman was struggling with two ruffians, but it was not Katherine. This woman was taller, older, more voluptuous and very beautiful with long blonde hair tumbling down her back.

Alain did not stop to consider. Drawing his sword, he gave a roar that had oft sent shivers running through Saladin’s warriors. As he descended on the three, the men gave him a startled glance and let go of the woman. They then ran off towards a group of three horses and, seizing the bridles of two, mounted and rode off into the woods.

The woman looked at Alain, gave a cry and swooned as he reached her. Sheathing his sword, he knelt beside her on the dry earth and laid his head against her breast, listening for her heartbeat. Thank God she lived! Even as her eyelids fluttered open, Alain felt a heavy blow across his shoulders from behind. It sent him reeling and he lay winded for a moment, then as he pushed himself over on to his back and looked up, he saw Maria standing over him, moneybag in hand.

‘You should be shamed to treat a lady so!’ she cried, her eyes flashing with righteous fury.

‘You hit me again!’ Alain said and sat up. ‘Be damned to you, woman! You are too hasty with that weapon of yours. I was merely trying to decide if the lady was breathing.’

The beauty was sitting up. She looked far from pleased as she stared at Maria, her full red lips forming a sulky pout.

‘Foolish wretch!’ she cried, clearly none the worse for her adventure. ‘This brave knight hath rescued me from those rogues who were trying to abduct me. You might have killed him.’

‘Nay, no matter,’ Alain said. For some reason the obvious hostility between the two women made him want to laugh out loud. Maria’s look was enough to frighten the dead and the other’s was…puzzling. He would swear that she had been thwarted in some way. He was on his feet now, offering his hand to the damsel so recently in distress and now evidently recovered. ‘You must forgive her. Maria thought she was protecting you from my wicked intent—is that not so, Maria?’

He got nothing but a scowl from the dragon, but the beauty accepted his hand gratefully, rising a little unsteadily and giving a sigh. For a moment she swayed as though she might swoon and then she smiled. Alain felt breathless of a sudden. He could not recall ever having seen such a smile or eyes that shade—they were such a deep blue that they might almost have been the colour of violets. He knew a fleeting but urgent desire to lie with her.

‘I am the Lady Celestine De Charlemagne,’ she said, her fingers trembling in his. ‘My husband was Baron De Charlemagne…’ A deep sigh escaped her soft red lips, a single tear seeming to escape from the corner of her eye. ‘My lord was killed at Acre and many of his people with him. I— I am in some trouble, sir. For I have no one to protect me, though I have family who would take me in if I could but reach France.’

‘Celestine…is that truly you?’ Alain turned his head as he heard another voice and saw that Katherine had joined them. He noticed that her hair was wet, as was her tunic, which clung to her and revealed the budding curves of her young body, curves that had previously been hidden from his gaze. For the first time he was aware of her as a woman. Bryne had been right; she was not a child despite her appearance. But she was looking at the Lady of Charlemagne and she did not seem pleased to see her. ‘What are you doing here? I believed you had accepted the protection of—of the Lord Hubert of Ravenshurst.’

‘Katherine!’ Celestine gave a little scream of delight and ran to her at once. ‘My dear child. How are you? Everyone thought you dead. We heard of your poor father’s tragic demise and believed…but I am so pleased to see you.’

‘Celestine?’ Katherine gave her an uncertain look. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I was forced to escape,’ Celestine said and bit her full bottom lip. ‘I must tell you that I was terribly deceived in Ravenshurst. He can be charming, but I vow he is an evil man. I have heard such things… No! I must not speak of it, for if he knew I had heard his secrets he would kill me. Pray do not ask me, Katherine, for I cannot bring myself to think of such things.’

Katherine was silent. Celestine had once been her friend, for they had worked together to tend the wounded during the terrible siege of Acre. Then, when Celestine had chosen to become the Lord Hubert’s companion, she had wondered if it was from her that he had learned of her father’s treasure. She could not be certain that Celestine had known, but she believed that it was possible. Celestine may have heard her father speaking to her or even caught a sight of his writings concerning his discovery, for they had often been left lying on his couch in their pavilion, and the older woman, being a trusted friend, had come and gone as she pleased.

‘How did you know where we were?’ Katherine could hear the suspicion in her own voice and regretted it as she saw Sir Alain give her a questing look.

‘Come, my lady,’ he chided softly. ‘This lady is in some distress, as you were when I rescued you. The least you may do is to take her to our camp and make sure that she has whatever she needs for her comfort.’