Blades of Valor (27 page)

Isabelle reached into the large sack she hefted around the hospital grounds each day and extracted a smaller bag.

“For Mary,” Isabelle said to Elizabeth. “This herb is what will stop her pain.”

It was bog bean and grew in marshy places. Its white flowers made it easy to find, and Isabelle was grateful that she had it in good supply and didn’t need to use silver or gold to purchase it from an apothecary.

Isabelle ground up the herb with a small mortar and pestle, then sprinkled it into a cup and added water.

“Drink this,” she told Mary. “But it’s bitter, so plug your nose as you swallow.”

Isabelle smiled as she watched the little girl grimace.

“I feel better already!” Mary proclaimed.

Isabelle knew that wasn’t from the herb. She never failed to be amazed at how people could begin to heal just by believing in the steps given to make them well. But by nightfall, the digestive problems would be almost gone for Mary.

“She’ll have to come back tomorrow,” Isabelle told Elizabeth. “And the day after. We can only give her a little at a time.”

“Thank you!” Elizabeth said.

“And for you,” Isabelle answered, as she searched through her sack. “Chew on this tiny piece of root; it will help your cough.”

The huge smiles on the faces of both girls were enough reward for Isabelle.

“Off you go,” Isabelle said.

As they walked away, holding hands, Isabelle saw past them. To a boy with red hair and a huge smile.

Rowan!

Isabelle hurried toward him. As she reached him, he knelt on one knee, and then rose and spoke with his usual gravity and earnestness.

“M’lady, I have returned to serve you.”

She laughed. “I’m a far cry from being a knight’s lady. But if you still want to pretend you are a knight, I’ll pretend to be a lady. And if you want to serve me, well, many are the sick and frail on these grounds.”

“I wonder,” he said, “if you could be convinced to serve the sick and frail farther to the north?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been looking for you for days,” Rowan said. “Everywhere in London, I asked if there was a young woman who served as a healer. But I was right, wasn’t I? You were brave enough to leave the prison of a castle and power and wealth.”

“Rowan,” Isabelle said, “I’ve never been happier. I’ve learned that a person can ask forgiveness from the Almighty and that a heart can be changed.”

“Thomas?” Rowan asked. “His heart is changed?”

Isabelle laughed. “I speak of myself! As for Thomas, I’ve learned that a person should not live a life of envy or longing. Truly, I am happy.”

Occasionally, she’d see a handsome nobleman and wonder if someday there might be a husband for her. But she knew that whatever was ahead, it was far better than living a miserable life with a man she detested.

“And when your silver and gold is gone?” Rowan said. “How then will you continue your work?”

“I live in the present day,” she answered. “It’s the best I can do.”

“What if a family of wealth became your benefactor? Could you then continue?”

Isabelle snorted. “Certainly. But that will happen when pigs fly.”

“I suppose that would be possible if I threw one from the ramparts of my family’s castle,” Rowan said. “But why would a lady so good in heart as yourself wish me to inflict cruelty on an innocent animal?”

It took a moment for Isabelle to realize the implications. “Your family’s castle?”

“I am, after all, Rowan Harcourt,” he said grandly, with a bow and sweep of his arm. “At your service.”

“You must jest.”

“Never! If you would be kind enough to follow me back to the carriage where the Harcourt footmen await, I’ll tell you the story as we travel to the castle.”

Rowan smiled. “You are willing to help the sick and frail there too, are you not, m’lady?”

Epilogue

T
homas thrilled to the touch of the sword atop his shoulder.

It was a private and quiet ceremony in the uppermost chambers of the castle of Magnus, with Sir William, Lord Hawkwood, and, of course, Katherine, who held the sword.

“This is our own form of knighthood,” she said softly. “An unseen badge of honor.”

“It is enough,” Thomas replied as he rose. “Worth more than the knighthood granted by Queen Isabella, more than this kingdom officially given us by her royal charter.”

Thomas felt a sorrow, however, for the continued existence of the Immortals needed to be kept hidden from many of those who waited below in the great hall to begin a feast of homecoming for him:

Tiny John, now more a young man than the rascal sprout he remembered before exile.

Robert of Uleran, the valiant sheriff of Magnus who had survived his imprisonment and resisted all promises of the Druid priests.

The Earl of York, joyful to be reinstated to his seat of honor.

Gervaise, a man of simple faith who had oft comforted Thomas and provided him escape from Magnus at the price of a barely survived beating by the Druid priests.

Even the puppy, Beast, that had traveled across half the world, then back again, was present at this most surreal reunion of Thomas’s loved ones.

“Our task is not complete.” Lord Hawkwood interrupted Thomas’s thoughts. “For I cannot believe that the Druid circle will not somehow, sometime, begin to rebuild.”

He smiled. “But I believe we, as Immortals, will now be able to continue our task. Searching out and keeping the treasures of knowledge. And passing on that task to future generations.”

“This is why we call ourselves Immortals?” Thomas asked. “For the battle will always continue?”

“No, Thomas. It is far more important than that. Each of us is born into a mortal body, but our souls are immortal. The choices we make in the mortal body have eternal consequences, for truly, all humans are immortal.”

“Nothing more than that?” Thomas asked.

“You sound disappointed.”

“In a sense, I am,” Thomas admitted. “What a great and glorious name: the Immortals. As if, perhaps, we have a secret herb that extends our lives. Or a water that—”

“Stop!” Lord Hawkwood was stern. “You are about to make the mistake that diminishes any of us who cannot look beyond the daily drudgery.
You are immortal.
Give thought to that. You are a creature of this universe, designed to first live in a human body—a body that is just a cocoon for something great and glorious that will emerge after your last breath on earth. But during each breath you do take while alive, give heed to the understanding that you are eternal. When you truly understand this, you will wake each day and celebrate how this world is merely a transition into the journeys that await us beyond.”

Thomas closed his eyes. He reached out with his mind in a prayer, and for a moment, it felt as if his soul had joined angels in a chorus of joy, as if for that moment, God had opened a window to give him a glimpse of eternity.

Yes! He was immortal.

He opened his eyes, and something in his gaze must have given Lord Hawkwood an indication of a new and heightened awareness of identity.

Lord Hawkwood smiled. “Each of us is eternal. But in this world, we still serve to help the cause of good. This was Merlin’s directive. To recognize that we—like all humans—are immortal creatures, but in calling ourselves Immortals, we also vow to serve all of humanity.”

His voice resonated with growing passion. “There will be a day,” he said, “when a renaissance, a rebirth of the sharing of ideas will take all of us forward into the dawning of a better age. Until then, let us ensure that Magnus stands quiet, unknown, and on guard against the age of darkness.”

Sir William, unexpectedly, began to laugh.

“Well spoken, Lord Hawkwood,” Sir William finally said through a broad smile. “But first we need future generations. And
I
will not see our task complete until you and I become grandfathers.”

Katherine giggled.

Thomas felt his jaw gape open.
To be sure,
he thought in confusion,
Katherine and I have pledged marriage, but we have not yet spoken of children.

Then another thought struck him.

“What is this of which you speak?” he blurted to Sir William. “If—”

“When,” Katherine corrected.

“When,”
Thomas corrected himself, “our marriage results in … in … little ones, it strikes me that Lord Hawkwood alone will become a grandfather. Who is it that
you,
Sir William, expect to arrive with a babe in swaddling clothes to provide an heir?”

Lord Hawkwood’s laughter boomed in great gales. Sir William joined him, then Katherine.

Thomas fought bewilderment. Finally, he roared his words to be heard above the laughter.

“What is it?”

Sir William found his voice.

“Thomas,” he said, “you showed such insight into the untangling the past, we all assumed you already knew.”

“Knew what?” Thomas snapped. Mirth had reddened all their faces, and he did not enjoy being the source of their amusement.

Sir William moved closer and embraced him, then stood back.

“Thomas,” he said, “Katherine is my daughter. Born, as you were, during exile in the Holy Land.”

“But … but …,” Thomas sputtered.

“Yes,” Sir William said. “It will be I who gives her hand away in marriage as you two begin to reign over Magnus. And Thomas?”

“Yes?”

“I could not think of another man I would welcome more as my son than Thomas, Lord and Earl of Magnus.”

See where Thomas’s journey began

Before Magnus, Thomas was an orphan with a destiny. Catch the beginning of his journey in
The Orphan King,
book 1 of Merlin’s Immortals.

Follow the story of orphan Thomas as he works to retake the kingdom for the Immortals and then is caught between Druids, corrupt noblemen, and unknown enemies. Can secrets from his past conquer the evil he now faces and save his kingdom?

Outcast and posing as a beggar, Thomas, the Orphan King, races against time to discover ancient knowledge that the Druids and Merlin’s Immortals have been seeking for centuries. However, everything he stands for is tested when he comes face to face with the secret he’s been hunting.

Read an excerpt from these books and more at
www.WaterBrookMultnomah.com
!

More great Young Adult fiction
from
Sigmund