The Last de Burgh

But Lord de Burgh had lingered, asking more questions about Gwayne and the object he was given, despite the fact that Father Faramond provided few answers and Emery did not want to hear them. Although she had given little credence to Guy’s gossip about the order, she suspected that the less they knew about the Templars’ secrets, the better their chance of escaping retribution.

What did she care about their relics? And why should Lord de Burgh? His interest made her wonder whether he had his own reasons for seeking the hidden tunnels. She reminded herself to trust no one, yet she inched ever nearer to the man as she peered over her shoulder, half-expecting to spy something hurtling towards them through the blackness.

Although she did not want to believe that holy men were capable of murder, she felt a growing unease. Perhaps no Templar knights would be sent to trap them in the narrow passage, but other mishaps could be easily arranged—boulders, fire or flood—that would entomb them here, ensuring their silence. The thought made her glance back again and, though she saw nothing, Emery felt a jolt as she slammed into Lord de Burgh’s hard body.

‘In a hurry?’ he asked. His tone was one of amusement and, thankfully, he did not pause to look her way. But Emery was reminded that she had cause to be wary of everything, both in front and behind, here in the darkness.

‘We shall arrive at the end soon enough, if we tread carefully,’ he said.

And if they suffered no interference, Emery thought. But when they reached the church, what would they find there? ‘Twould be an easy task for someone to overpower Guy and plug the hole from whence they had entered.

‘The question is, where shall we go once we emerge?’ he asked.

At the great knight’s words, Emery’s steps faltered and she struggled not to stumble with dismay. She had been so concerned about escaping the Templars that she had been distracted from her purpose. But now the passage’s dangers receded, replaced by a new, greater fear.

‘I do not know where to look for your brother,’ Lord de Burgh said. ‘And we might roam these moors for days without news of him or Gwayne.’

Emery’s heart lurched, for she could not argue with the truth. And this man had done what he could to aid her; she could not expect him to dally with her for ever. As a de Burgh, he would have other commitments, perhaps even to the king himself. But if he gave up the hunt for Gerard, she would be left alone, with few resources and no mount, her quest doomed to failure and her future bleak.

‘Have you no notion where your brother might go?’ he asked.

Emery grunted a denial, unable to speak.

‘His first thought was for you, but having assured himself of your safety, perhaps he travelled on to others who merited his concern,’ he said. ‘What of your parents?’

Was he asking idle questions, or did he intend to continue the search? Emery felt so dizzy with relief at that possibility that she nearly reached out a hand to steady herself against his broad back. Instead, she swallowed hard and found her voice.

‘Our mother died in childbed and our father succumbed more than a year ago to a long illness.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said, investing the simple phrase with such sincerity that Emery could only murmur her thanks. Garbed as she was, she could hardly explain that she mourned not only the passing of her father, but the life she had once known.

‘Have you any other siblings?’

‘No,’ Emery said. It had just been the three of them, their father choosing to raise his twins alone—and together. Instead of being sent away or shunted aside, Emery had run free with her brother, schooled along with him in the skills of men. It had been both a blessing and a curse, for although Emery could not regret one moment of the past, it made the present that much harder to bear.

‘What of other relatives? Is there no one else with whom your brother might seek shelter?’

‘There is only our uncle,’ Emery said. ‘But I doubt that Gerard would go to him.’ Or would he? If her brother was desperate or feverish, he might head home, especially since he was not aware of the lengths to which Harold had gone to claim their heritage.

‘Why would he not go to your uncle?’

Emery drew a deep breath. ‘Harold convinced our ailing father to assign his property to the Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem. Then he convinced Gerard to join the order, conveniently giving up any claims he might have to his legacy.’

‘‘Tis not uncommon for men to provide for their widows and children in such a manner,’ he said. ‘Do you suspect your uncle of some ulterior motive?’

‘I suspect him of colluding with the master of the commandery to get what they both wanted,’ Emery said, her frustration spilling forth. ‘The brethren often had encroached upon our land, causing disagreements over the years. Now they have the disputed fields and my uncle has the manor he always coveted.’

‘And what of you?’

The simple question brought Emery back to her senses, for there her candour must end. Even if she trusted Lord de Burgh completely, there were some things she could not share. Thankful for the cloaking darkness, she drew a deep breath and chose her answer carefully. ‘I live in the old gatehouse … through an arrangement with the Hospitallers.’

For a long moment, he was silent, as if considering her situation, and Emery regretted her words. Although at one time she would have welcomed a champion such as this great knight to her cause, it was too late now, for both of the Montbard twins.

‘Perhaps we should pay a visit to this uncle of yours,’ Lord de Burgh said, ‘just in case Gerard stopped there.’

Now Emery well and truly had cause to rue her speech, for she could hardly appear at her old home in her current garb. Harold would see through her disguise in an instant, putting an end to her efforts to find her brother and ensuring her banishment. Her future would be bleak, indeed, and Lord de Burgh … Well, he would not look upon her so kindly once he discovered her ruse, for men did not like to be fooled, especially by women.

Her heart heavy, Emery tried to think of some argument against his plan, to no avail. But perhaps she could lead him to the manor and then hang back, citing ill will between Harold and herself. That would keep her from immediate discovery, yet should Lord de Burgh speak of her as Gerard’s brother, all would come undone.

‘Your fears are baseless, young Emery,’ he said, as though privy to her thoughts, and Emery glanced at him in alarm. It was only then that she saw the pale light of the church interior ahead, beckoning through the blackness.

‘We have reached the end without mishap,’ he added, and Emery realised he had been talking to her during their long, slow return in order to distract her. She blinked in surprise, uncertain whether Gerard would have done the same for his sister or if he even could. Somehow, she suspected only Lord de Burgh had the power to drive away dread and darkness with just the sound of his voice.

To her relief, when they exited the tunnel, no Templars awaited them, only an agitated Guy. ‘Where have you been? I thought you’d been trapped in there,’ he said. ‘Are you all right, my lord?’

The question seemed ludicrous, tendered from a slight young man to a great knight armed with sword and mail and wits to spare. Yet Lord de Burgh nodded and Guy appeared reassured. Although he looked ready to bombard them with questions, Lord de Burgh prevented them by speaking first.

While the great knight returned the heavy entrance stone to its original position, he related the conversation with the priest. However, he made no mention of where it took place. The omission not only proved that he was a man of his word, but Emery thought it just as well that Guy know nothing of the underground chamber.

The squire was leery enough of the Templars and their secrets, without hearing of a tomb-like effigy that sported real eyes and an eight-sided catacomb riddled with cryptic symbols. Yet, even without that information, Guy seemed eager for a mystery.

‘What do you suppose this mace is?’ he asked in hushed tones, as though somehow he might be overheard in the church.

Emery eyed him in confusion. A mace was a heavy club used to break armour in battle; surely a knight’s squire should know that simple fact. But, apparently, Guy expected something more exotic from the order.

‘Perhaps it is some sort of treasure,’ he said. ‘The Templars are rumoured to have vaults of gold and fleets of ships to ferry it across the sea.’

When Lord de Burgh made no comment, the squire continued. ‘Or it could be one of the precious objects they are said to hoard, such as the Ark of the Covenant, a piece of the True Cross, or even the Holy Grail itself,’ he said in an awed whisper.

‘I doubt they would refer to such things as a mace,’ Lord de Burgh said, drily, and Emery had to suppress a smile.

‘‘Tis said that they lost the True Cross to the infidels, and if they have any of those other things, why hide them away?’ the great knight asked. ‘They are more likely to put any relics on display and charge pilgrims for the privilege of seeing them.’

Although his words seemed harsh, Emery knew there was some truth to them, for the various orders squabbled over who could lay claim to the bones of the saints and such that drew veneration, donations and visitors.

But Guy would not be discouraged. ‘They are rumoured to have learned some hidden lore in foreign lands. Perhaps this mace is a part of it, an object possessing special powers that they know how to manipulate.’

Emery frowned. The only special powers she had witnessed below were those Lord de Burgh wielded with just a single gaze that had affected her like no other and one she had never seen him share with his squire. Glancing at the knight, she flushed and turned away, only to find Guy eyeing her speculatively.

‘Did anything else happen down there?’ the squire asked.

Faced with the direct question, Emery could not find her voice, so she was thankful when Lord de Burgh answered.

‘No,’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’

Had he felt what she felt? Emery dared not look towards the knight and Guy did not answer. Although she suspected the squire was not talking about Templar catacombs, if Emery had made any other discoveries in the darkness, she intended to keep those secrets close.

Chapter Four

Nicholas’s steps slowed as he followed the narrow stairs upwards, and he bit back a grunt of weariness. He had pushed himself too hard today after the night hours spent on the road, though he would not admit as much to his squire. But he had been loath to quit the search, looking for any signs of Gerard in the area and asking amongst the villagers and at the outlying farms.

When the hunt had yielded nothing, Nicholas had turned his thoughts towards the uncle’s home Emery mentioned. But by then the rain-clouds were gathering and several anxious looks from his squire made him wary of punishing his body through a storm. And though he said nothing, Emery’s exhaustion was obvious, so instead of pressing on, they sought shelter at the manor in Roode.

The owner, Odo of Walsing, was not in residence, but his steward, Kenrick, had provided them with a meal and the promise of a bed and Nicholas was glad of it. Although he’d slept outside in foul weather more than once, he hadn’t the stomach for it these days and he was certain Emery was not accustomed to such accommodations.

At the top of the stairs, Nicholas took the opportunity to catch his breath while Kenrick presented them with a cosy room, complete with a fire in the hearth to chase away the dampness. Nicholas stepped inside, only to find himself alone, for his companions hung back as though reluctant to cross the threshold. In fact, Guy wore an expression of disapproval, although the accommodations were a marked improvement over the inn where Nicholas last sought lodging.

‘Where are we to sleep?’ Guy asked, frowning.

‘The bed is big enough for all of us,’ Nicholas said, nodding towards the heavy piece that took up most of the space. When his squire blanched, Nicholas shrugged. ‘Or you can lay your pallet on the floor,’ he said, removing his sword.

‘But what about … Emery?’ Guy asked.

‘I’m sure Kenrick can find an extra pallet for him,’ Nicholas said and the steward nodded.

Still Guy did not move. ‘Here?’ he asked, in a shrill voice.

‘Yes, here,’ Nicholas said. Although most servants bedded down in the great hall, when travelling Nicholas kept his squire close at hand, and he intended to do the same with Emery. One of the reasons he had chosen not to make camp outside was because of the protection provided by the manor walls. Nicholas had no idea what was behind the attack upon Gerard, but Gwayne might not be the only threat to the Montbards, and he planned to keep both Emery and Guy safe from harm.

The thought made him glance towards where they lingered on the threshold, Guy poised as though to prevent the boy from entering. ‘You want us both to stay with you? All of us? Together?’ the squire asked, as though slow of wit.

What had got into him? ‘Yes, you can put your pallets on the floor,’ Nicholas said. ‘I’m sure there is room enough around the bed.’ The steward, hovering nearby, nodded again, but lingered. He was hanging on to every word of the unusual exchange, obviously eager to pass on any and all gossip relating to a de Burgh.

‘But …’ Guy began, only to trail off as he became aware of the steward’s attention.

‘But what?’ Nicholas asked, impatiently. ‘Would you rather sleep elsewhere? If some kitchen wench has invited you to join her, then just say so and be gone.’

Guy’s mouth dropped open and he muttered to himself as he passed the gawking steward, Emery on his heels. Having no further excuse to stay, Kenrick finally took his leave with a low bow.

The matter seemingly settled, Nicholas turned away, shaking his head at his squire’s latest foibles. He tried to make light of Guy’s superstitions, but he was losing his patience. Then he felt a familiar stab of guilt, for how much of Guy’s transformation was a result of what had befallen him?

Loosing a low sigh, Nicholas pushed the thought aside and concentrated on removing his mail. Although a shortened coat that he wore over his tunic, it was heavy, and after setting it aside he stretched, easing his sore muscles.

He paid little heed when a servant arrived with Emery’s pallet, but was relieved to see another with a bowl of water and a sliver of soap. Nodding his thanks, Nicholas was eager to wash the road from some of his body, at least. But when he would have stepped forwards, Guy moved in front of him.

‘Wouldn’t you rather have a bath, my lord?’ the squire said. ‘I’ll see if one can be prepared in the kitchens.’

Again, Nicholas wondered whether some serving maid from below had caught Guy’s attention. It was not like the squire to seek fleeting female companionship, but Nicholas could not blame him. ‘If you wish a bath, go seek one out,’ he said. ‘I am for bed.’

‘Then let us all to bed,’ Guy said. ‘We had better sleep in our clothes in case of attack during the night hours and so as to leave quickly come the morning.’

Nicholas was still gaping at the suggestion there would be a midnight raid upon Roode’s little manor when Guy blew out the candles that stood nearby, reducing the light to that of the fire.

‘Do you know something I don’t?’ Nicholas asked, losing his patience. ‘Has Emery confided something to you that I should know?’

The look on Guy’s face was comical.

‘Because unless you are aware of some scheme to assail us while we sleep, I hardly think we are in any danger inside these walls,’ Nicholas said. Turning away in annoyance, he pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside. Let Guy sleep in his clothes, for he had not been wearing mail all day.

When Guy slunk away, suitably chastened, Nicholas moved to the bowl and splashed some water on his face. Then he dampened the soap and began working it over his arms and chest. The coolness on his skin felt so good, Nicholas tipped his head back and sighed.

He had learned to appreciate such small pleasures and the soothing ritual was bound to relax anyone, even his overwrought squire. In fact, Nicholas was about to urge his companions to partake of the water, too, but a glance in their direction gave him pause. While Guy was tending to their gear, young Emery was staring at Nicholas with something akin to shock.

Was the boy dismayed by his scars? Although Nicholas had his share, they were of no account and he opened his mouth to reassure the boy. But just then Emery’s gaze met his own and Nicholas’s response was both swift and inexplicable. Sudden heat rushed through him, along with a sharp awareness, and he felt the same strong connection he’d known when he looked at Emery in the darkness of the tunnel.

Just as it had before, Nicholas’s surroundings fell away, the manor, his squire and all else, until there was only Emery, whose bright blue eyes were barely visible in the firelight. The moment might have lasted for ever or only for a heartbeat, but when the boy looked away the bond was broken.

‘I—I must use the garderobe,’ Emery stammered. Scrambling towards the doorway as if the devil himself gave chase, the boy pushed by Guy without a backward glance.

‘Good idea,’ the squire said as the fleeing figure passed him.

Nicholas turned away, unwilling to let his squire see his dismay. Was he feverish? Had he been stricken with some new malady? Nicholas finished his ablutions in silence, unease overcoming his earlier enjoyment.

Drying himself with a scrap of linen, he sat down to remove his boots, but left on his braies. Although he suspected no attack from outside forces, such was his custom whenever staying in a strange place. He had learned from his brothers how to leave in a hurry and a naked man was vulnerable in a fight.

Lying back upon the bed, Nicholas heard Guy settle on to his pallet. The firelight lent a soft glow to the room, which should be enough to guide Emery’s steps when he returned. Nicholas felt a stab of concern over the lengthy absence, but he doubted there were any threats within these walls. And he was not about to go after the boy.

With an effort, he turned his thoughts elsewhere, considering his plans for the morrow, when they would retrace their steps, heading back towards the Hospitaller commandery. For if Emery lived in the ‘old gatehouse’, then the uncle’s residence must be nearby. And whether Gerard was there or not, their search for him likely would end since there was nowhere else to look. No matter what the outcome, Nicholas’s quest would be over, as well as his association with Emery.

Nicholas shifted restlessly at the thought, balking at the approaching end of both. He had come to realise that he needed a task, something to be doing until he could do no more. And as for Emery … Nicholas shifted again as he acknowledged his odd kinship with the boy.

There was something about Emery that reminded him of home, which might explain the peculiar yearning that had struck him. Emery was obviously devoted to his brother, making Nicholas recall his own siblings with new affection. For a moment, he wondered about them and the changes these past months might have wrought, only to push such thoughts aside.

He also dismissed his plan to teach Emery some of his skills. He could not take on another squire, and he was not sure of his own abilities, considering the weariness, flashes of heat and strange giddiness that had come over him today. He would rather not start something he could not finish.

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