A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series (15 page)

“Yes,” William answered, but his mind was on other things. More blood. Broken vows. How he despised himself for being a fool. How could he ever have hoped to give up the sword? It was his destiny. Every time he swore it off, he was pulled back in. Either to defend himself or someone he loved. There would always be blood. No matter how much he prayed. There would be no more praying.

“Life is too short to be angry with someone you love,” Grace said softly.

William tightened his hold on her. “Aye. That it is.” After Emily, after everything he had experienced, he knew how right she was. “Is that why you left? Because you were angry with your father?”

She took a long moment to answer. “I suppose that was part of the reason. I was angry with him because he betrothed me to you. I made assumptions about you like everyone else.”

“Correct assumptions.”

“No. I had the image of a monster, a devil. But you are nothing like that.”

William remained silent. He was a monster. And he had to kill again to avenge Emily. He had to take another life.

“Why didn’t you pray at the chapel?” she wondered.

William stiffened. When Grace shifted her gaze to look at him, he couldn’t meet her stare. “He doesn’t hear my prayers.”

“I thought that, too. I used to pray for a knight to come and save me. To help me escape. When Curtis was killed, I thought God had abandoned me. But I was wrong. He hears all prayers.”

William looked at her in disbelief. “Then why was Emily killed?”

She sighed softly. “I don’t pretend to know His plans. But I believe that everything happens for a reason. You have to trust.”

William shook his head. “I did trust. For years. I had faith. I sought His forgiveness. And this is how He repays me? By taking Emily?”

Grace placed a hand on his arm. “William --”

“No.” He pulled his arm from her grip. Hellfire whinnied and tossed his head in response. “Enough is enough. I’ve done everything. Everything I was asked. And more.”

She dropped her hand. “Did you really kill the archbishop?”

His fists tightened around the reins and Hellfire danced to the side before William righted him. “I’m as guilty as the rest of them.”

“What happened?”

William thought back again to that fateful day. His jaw clenched tight. “I was a fool.”

William had never intended to harm the archbishop. That was not the plan. The archbishop stood his ground, refusing to obey Reginald’s command to come forth and allow himself to be taken to the king. And now Reginald was set on death. William knew he had to get the archbishop out of the cathedral before Reginald did something they would all regret. His friend was already far too angry to think rationally. William lurched forward, followed by the others, hoping to reach the archbishop first. He grabbed hold of the archbishop’s white vestment, his hand fisting in the archbishop’s garments, attempting to drag him from the altar.

But Reginald also grabbed hold of Archbishop Becket and pulled at him, trying to force him away from the altar.

The archbishop seized hold of one of the pillars as if it were a lover. He fought back, shoving Reginald from him. “Don’t touch me, FitzUrse! You owe me fealty and obedience, you who foolishly follow your accomplices.”

Reginald stumbled back away from Archbishop Becket before he righted himself. His face reddened in embarrassment and anger and he lifted his sword over his head, threateningly. “I don’t owe fealty or obedience to you who are in opposition to the fealty I owe my lord king.”

One of the monks rushed to the archbishop’s aid, placing himself protectively before the archbishop to defend him from Reginald.

No, William thought. No. He fought harder to free the archbishop from the pillar, tugging at his arms.

A louder murmuring came from the group of monks Hugh was holding back with his brandished sword at the rear of the cathedral.

Richard seized the monk who was protecting Archbishop Becket and tried to disengage him from the archbishop, twisting his arms away from the archbishop.

William pulled at the archbishop’s robes, trying to wrench him from the pillar he clung to.

Archbishop Becket inclined his head as if praying. Around him, chaos swirled in a vortex of confusion. “I commend my cause and that of the Church to God, to St. Mary and to the blessed martyr Denys.”

With a cry of outrage and frustration, Reginald brought his sword down. The monk wrapped around the archbishop held up his arm to stop the blow. The sword hissed through the air, cutting the monk’s raised arm and landed on the archbishop’s head. The monk cried out, clutching his wounded arm and staggered away.

Blood flowed down the side of Archbishop Becket’s face.

The scene froze. The monk recoiling in horror, blood staining the archbishop’s face. William lifted his sword. If he could knock the archbishop out, he could yet save him. He brought the flat part of his sword down upon his head. It landed with a hollow thud.

Archbishop Becket still stood, but stumbled away from the pillar.

Reginald shoved the archbishop with a mighty push. The archbishop fell to his knees and elbows.

The archbishop was weakened. William reached for him. They could now drag him from the cathedral and bring him to the king.

Richard lifted his sword high in the air as William moved forward, his hand outstretched to seize the archbishop. But it was already too late. Richard brought his weapon down with such force that it cut deeply into Archbishop Becket’s head, slicing through his skull, moving through his head, to the stones below. The sword hit the stones with a loud clang and the metal blade split in two.

The archbishop collapsed. Blood flowed from his split head over the stones and down the steps.

Monks from the rear of the cathedral wailed and moaned.

William stared, horrified. His breath came in puffs. His heart raced. What had they done? His gaze lifted to the statue of Mary. She stared at him in silent condemnation. He should have stopped it.

Richard backed quickly away from the blood and dropped his broken sword.

The monk who had led them to the cathedral rushed toward them, taking the stairs to the altar. He placed his foot on the neck of the archbishop. Archbishop Becket did not move; he stared up with wide eyes. The monk kicked his brains across the floor and smeared the blood across the stones. “It is done, knights. We can now leave this place. He will not get up again.”

William stared at the fallen archbishop. He lay at the top of the stone steps on his side, his hands still clasped as if in prayer, his white vestments stained with his blood. They had come to take him to the king. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to die!

William’s cold eyes stared straight ahead. His lips thinned with anger. “I was wrong. We were so young. So foolish. We sought to garner the king’s favor. The plan was never to kill him. We wanted to arrest him, take him before the king.” He shook his head. “But Archbishop Becket was obstinate and defiant. Righteous. We were all angry at Becket’s audacity to refuse the king.” He stared straight ahead. He could not take it back. It had been one moment in time. One moment he couldn’t stop replaying over and over. One moment that followed him through his life with devastating consequences. Slowly, the anger drained from him. He could no longer capture that moment than he could the last breath, the last sunrise. “I just wanted him to let go of the pillar. I raised my sword. But he refused. I brought down my sword... I never meant to hurt him. I meant it as a threat. If I could have knocked him unconscious we could have just carried him back with us...”

Grace stroked his arm, encouragingly.

He had never told anyone the story before. He had kept it hidden inside, embarrassed by it. He felt compelled to continue. As if now that it was started, he couldn’t stop it from escaping his lips.

“It got out of hand. I never meant...” He shook his head, his brow furrowing in anguish. “I think it was Richard who cut him next. I still just wanted to carry Becket back to the king. But we were angry. And it seems...maybe irrational. I hit Becket on the head with the flat part of my sword, hoping to knock him out. Hoping to save him. We could still arrest him. But it was not to be. The archbishop was struck once more and fell forward. Reginald cut him deep. And then Richard raised his sword and...”

Silence fell around them for a long moment. The leaves of the trees rustled. The footsteps of the horse's soft clops could be heard.

“Do you think me a monster now?” William asked softly.

Grace wrapped one of his hands with both of hers. “A monster? Nay. I imagine that if the archbishop had gone with you, there might have been a different outcome. I imagine that if you had gone to talk to him alone, there might have been a different outcome. As it was, too many factors contributed to the death of the archbishop for it to have been any one person’s fault.”

William turned his head to her, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I killed him! There is no mistaking that.”

“Nay. Yours was not the killing blow, was it?”

“I could have stopped it. I could have saved him...”

“Nay. You could not have stopped it.” She squeezed his hand. “You could not have saved him.”

William was silent, staring down at their entwined hands. He refused to believe this. He could have saved him. But he didn’t. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could never have saved him.

Grace put her hand on the side of his face and he lifted his gaze to her. “I think there is only one thing to do now.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Forgive yourself. God has forgiven you already.”

William scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“Because He sent you to me.”

CHAPTER 17

W
illiam stared at her large
trusting blue eyes. God did, indeed, send him to her. But was it some sort of mockery? She was so beautiful and forgiving and gracious. His heart ached. She was everything he could ever want. And he could never have her. She deserved so much more than he could offer.

He ripped his gaze from her. It wasn’t forgiveness God was bestowing on him, but further punishment. His jaw clenched hard.

She lifted her hand to his cheek, her fingers trailing a soft touch over his hard jaw. “I love you, William,” she whispered.

Startled, he snapped his gaze to hers. Disbelief held him as still as a stone statue as she pressed her warm soft lips to his. He shook his head. “You can’t...” He breathed against her skin. She refused to be put off and continued the kiss. He couldn’t deny her and didn’t really want to try. With a groan, he relented and returned her kiss. She was a temptation he couldn’t resist. He hardened instantly and shifted his position. When he pulled back to look down at her, even more confusion erupted in him. “I don’t understand. After everything I told you.”

“Because of it,” she insisted. “All this time, they’ve made you out to be this horrible demon who killed the archbishop in cold blood.”

“I did.”

“No. You didn’t. You tried to save him. The entire time. All you wanted to do was bring him before the king.”

“That’s all any of us wanted to do. In the beginning.” He looked away from her. “It got out of hand.”

“Oh, William,” she sighed and framed his face with her hands, gently lifting his gaze to meet hers. “You are not the monster others see you as. You’ve treated me with the utmost courtesy and chivalry.”

William shook his head firmly. “You can’t love me. Think about it, Grace. There is no future, no family, for me. Any offspring I produce cannot be christened. I am excommunicated. Think about what you are saying. What that means.”

“We’ll make it work. If you are willing.”

Her voice held all the excitement he should have been feeling. She said she loved him! And he knew he loved her. That was the problem. Because he loved her, he would never subject her to a marriage with him.

She straightened as realization crept through her. She clasped her hands and looked down. “Perhaps I am not what you want.”

“What? No! I mean...” He had never allowed himself to hope. She was so beautiful. She was everything he wanted! But he had never dared to hope. Never thought it might be possible... He cupped her chin. “You are everything I want.”

Those brilliant blue eyes grew wide with excitement. “Then you do...? You will...?”

“I love you, Grace. I suppose I have from the very first day I saw you.”

With an excited squeal, she threw her arms around him. Startled, Hellfire rose up slightly on his hind feet, throwing Grace back into William.

William laughed as he hugged Grace. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. Perhaps Grace was right. Perhaps the Lord had forgiven him.

Suddenly, William heard a growing noise. The thunder of pounding. He reigned in Hellfire, keeping his arm around Grace, and looked toward the noise. Horses. Horses riding hard.

Grace heard the familiar sound of the pounding hooves a moment later. It wasn’t one horse. It sounded like an army.