Claire Delacroix (38 page)

“Perhaps Gawain knew about it because he had stolen it in the first place.”

Merlyn chuckled. “Or my father, not uncharacteristically, told each of us half of the tale.”

I touched his arm, sensing his regret. “Did I err in surrendering it?”

He gathered me close. “I cannot fault you for being deceived by Gawain’s lies. And I truly cannot be angered that you surrendered such a prize because you feared for my sorry hide.” He smiled at me so warmly that I blushed. “But I would have liked to have seen such a marvel. To have touched it, just once.”

“Do you seek saintly intercession?” I teased.

But Merlyn did not smile. He rose from the chair and set me on my feet, then strode the chamber beneath the solar. Curiosity demanded that I pursue him. The dog sighed at the inconvenience, picked up its bone, and trailed behind us.

Merlyn stood before one shelf in the chamber below, running his fingers along the volumes there. I felt drawn to his side and, when he continued his survey, I lifted his chemise and pulled the binding away from his wound.

It healed well enough, the scab like a line of rubies across his flesh. One end was less well healed than the other but, as there was no infection, I could scarce complain. I removed the binding and poked the reddish ends of the scar, satisfied that it healed well enough. “You are lucky, Merlyn.”

“Doubly so.” He winked, then granted me a small smile which heated my blood. “Will you hold this?”

I took the lantern he offered, lifting it so that the light shone over the leather spines of the books. I shivered a little as I stood beside him, for I could smell his skin and feel his heat. I watched his strong tanned fingers moved across the leather and could easily imagine his touch upon my flesh.

I was curious and made more curious by his murmuring to himself. “What do you seek?”

“More detail. I cannot remember all that is known of the
Titulus
and it may be of import.”

“Why?”

“It may shed light upon my attacker’s identity.”

“I thought you had guessed his name?”

“A guess never suffers from more evidence.”

I could scarcely argue with that.

“Ah!” Merlyn said finally, then pulled a trio of volumes from the shelf. I put his lamp upon the chest he indicated. He carefully opened the volume there, his finger winding a course over the dense text as he sought some crumb of information.

The vellum was old and turned to a rich golden hue. The ink was blacker than pitch, the script tightly packed as if to save space. The margin was wide, separated from the text by a heavy red line, and graced at intervals with fantastic animals and religious symbols. I spied a lion lying with a lamb, a martyr in torment, a priest driving lively demons from a penitent.

I watched in wonder as Merlyn read, his gaze darting back and forth as he made sense of the small lines that I could not decipher. He seemed to know this text, for he nodded in recollection of a passage here and there.

I confess that I felt an envy to my very bones in that moment. I lusted after the secrets locked in that parchments, secrets so much more tantalizing because they were forever beyond my reach.

I stretched out one finger and caressed the gilded ornamentation that seemed to mark the beginning of the text after every break. “What is this?”

“Hmm? The
Vita Constantini
of Eusebius of Caesarea.”

I frowned, feeling that he intended to make me feel ignorant. “I do not understand. You know that I have not had your experiences.”

“Nor have you had my opportunities.” Merlyn slipped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against his side. “You have no reason to be ashamed,
chère
.”

I kissed his throat and heard him catch his breath in a most reassuring way. I touched the book again. “What is it, then?”

“
The Life of Constantine
, the Roman emperor...”

“Who first became Christian. I know that much of his repute, at least.”

There was a twinkle in Merlyn’s eye as he opened another book. “And here is the accounting of one Egeria of what she witnessed on her pilgrimage to Jerusalem between anno domini 381 and 384.”

I stared at the volume in marvel. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Merlyn moved to stand behind me, trapping me between his hips and the high chest. I felt his erection against my buttocks and rubbed myself against him as he folded his hands around my shoulders. His flesh is of a different texture to mine, heavier and smoother, the dark hairs striking against his tanned golden hue. I liked the look of my hand laid atop of his, my foot upon his, his arms around my waist. We were wrought so differently, yet fit together so well.

I had an idea of quite a good way to pass the time until his trap was sprung. Merlyn bent and nuzzled the side of my neck and I arched back against him. He reached around me, one hand tapping the text, the other folding around my breast.

“It has been copied and recopied perhaps a hundred times, but here, in her accounting of the Easter festivities in Jerusalem, Egeria speaks of the
Titulus
.” His finger ran horizontally beneath the lines of text.

“Indeed?”

“She is speaking of the services held on Good Friday,” Merlyn said, his wicked fingers coaxing my nipple to a peak, then he began to read. “And specifically mentions the presentation of the
Titulus
along with a piece of the True Cross. She reports an incident of a pilgrim stealing a piece of the holy wood.”

“Indeed? How? Surely it was carefully guarded?” I tried desperately to sound intrigued. But I could play his game, as well. I slipped my hand between us and worked the laces free of his chausses. Merlyn inhaled sharply when my fingers slipped under the cloth.

“Indeed, it was, as all treasures should be.” Merlyn smiled devilishly at me, then bent and kissed me soundly. His tongue rolled in my mouth, his kiss teased and tempted, his hands made my breasts tingle. When he lifted his head, I was flushed and my blood boiled. His mischievous expression gave me but a moment’s warning before he slipped his hand beneath my skirts and touched me boldly.

I moaned at the caress of his fingers between my thighs.

Merlyn cleared his throat and read further. “The faithful were permitted to kiss the relic, and it was in this act that one bit off a piece to steal it.”

I laughed despite myself and the subject matter. “People are the same through all of Christendom, are they not?”

“Indeed, they are. And that is why I suspect that even what Egeria saw and kissed was not lost in its entirety.”

I fought to keep my thoughts ordered. His fingers made the task an arduous one and I moved against him like a wanton. “Do you think this piece was stolen? A fragment so big could hardly have been bitten from the rest.”

“But it could have be claimed earlier.” With his free hand, he lifted the volume that he had first grasped.

“Eusebius and the emperor,” I remembered.

“Rumor maintains that when Constantine’s mother Helena travelled on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, she discovered the True Cross and the
Titulus
.” Merlyn frowned at the text. “Though I can find no mention of it here, and Eusebius accompanied the empress upon her journey. But there was considerable construction in the wake of Helena’s visit, including a lavish new church upon the site of the crucifixion.”

“As might be built to house a marvelous relic.”

Merlyn lifted a third volume. “Which brings us to Cyril, who was appointed to be Bishop of Jerusalem in 349, after Eusebius’ and Helena’s departure. I enjoy his commentary, for he was unafraid to say what others might not and did not care that he was often banished from his own see.”

I smiled. “I can well imagine that you might feel an understanding for such an uncommon churchman.”

Merlyn’s chuckle made his chest rumble against my back. “And better yet, in the letter I recall, he complains about the proliferation of holy relics, specifically about the number of pieces of the True Cross.” He clearly knew this document, for he sought the passage with some familiarity of the rest.

I was fascinated. How many of these tomes had Merlyn read?

“Ah! Here, in his letter to Emperor Constantine II, he talks of the True Cross and
Titulus
gracing Jerusalem.” Merlyn’s was animated, so animated that his caress slowed.

“So it had been found.”

“And it was venerated.”

“And already there were those who lied about the provenance of the wood they granted or sold to others.”

“You miss the point,
chère
,” Merlyn insisted. “The True Cross was found, as was the
Titulus
. Some of those fragments were genuine. In certain circles, there is speculation that the
Titulus
was split after Helena’s discovery, the part of the inscription regarding Nazareth taken by Helena to Rome, the rest left in Jerusalem. The Jerusalem fragment has not been seen for centuries. The Roman fragment has not been displayed publically since the early twelfth century.”

“In certain circles?” I echoed. “Is that why you possess these volumes? So that you could concoct a likely explanation for whatever relic you sought to sell?”

“I told you that I have left that trade,
chère
.”

“But still I do not understand why you took it at all.”

“There were several reasons.” Merlyn stroked the leather binding upon one book, his profile telling me little of his thoughts. Then he spoke low, so low that I had to strain even in this small space to hear him. “Here is one. Because there are true relics, treasures which can be found by one who gathers the hints and searches diligently.”

He turned to me then, his face so alight that I understood with sudden clarity something of Merlyn I had not guessed before. He loved the hunt. He savored the prize.

He believed.

Merlyn’s eyes glowed as he spoke. “There is something about genuine relics,
chère
. You can almost feel the power of intercession coursing through them, you can sense that which gives succor to so many souls. It is an honor to hold one, even for a moment.” He shook his head. “Surely it is only proper that such a prize is within reach of the faithful. I thought that surely in a trade filled with rogues and pirates, there was room for one man to trade honestly.”

The discovery of a genuine relic, in all its rarity, was what made his trade worthwhile. My heart leapt, for no villain with a blackened heart would have cared for genuine relics, save that they might fetch a better price.

I had to play the devil’s advocate. I had to know the worst of it even as I hoped for the best. “Even if you also traded in forgeries?”

Merlyn shook his head. “If I could not prove or disprove the provenance of a piece, I told the buyer as much. If the relic was overtly false, I would not trade in it. It was the only way that I can make my peace with this trade.”

“You believe what I found to be genuine.”

“I know it is,
chère
. I know it, but not by words in any volume or evidence it carries within it. I sense it. I know it with my very innards and my instinct is a finely honed one.” Merlyn shoved a hand through his hair. “No matter that if it is genuine, and if people know of it, that would account for the desperation of some nameless soul to possess it.”

“How so?”

“The
Titulus
has been seen by few but is known by many. Indeed, it has been vigorously sought over the centuries. It is one of the great relics and its power would be significant.”

“It certainly has had a powerful influence on your family’s fates.”

Merlyn ignored my wry comment. “And here in Scotland, we have buried a king who had difficulties gaining respect some decade ago, and have crowned one this very year whose ascension was challenged by powerful foes. Fortunes have been made and lost by the favor of these kings, no less their ability or inability to enforce their wills. I would wager that some soul needed the approval of the king and needed it badly enough that he dared not let another lay claim to this gift.”

I immediately saw his import. “Someone wished to buy the king’s favor, wanted to buy it twice in fact.”

“Indeed. The question is who.”

I thought immediately of the Earl of March, who had lost so much in the coronation of King Robert. “George of Dunbar was only favored by King David near the end of his reign, only after George’s sister Agnes caught the king’s eye.”

Merlyn nodded, his eyes bright. “And now he has had a taste of what wealth the favor of a king can bring. No doubt the fall from grace this time came more hard.”

“Why did you take this trade, Merlyn?” I demanded, hating the position in which we found ourselves. “Why did you abandon your trade in silks?”

Merlyn shook his head ruefully. “That choice was taken from me,
chère
, by the repute I inherited upon my father’s demise. That repute, however, has saved my hide more than once in this trade.”

“I do not understand.”

“It is useful to be known as a man without scruples in the company of others similarly deficient.” His gaze bore into mine, his seduction forgotten by both of us.

“Gawain said you killed your own father.” I stared up at him but Merlyn steadily held my gaze. “Was that truth or lie?”

“I did kill him,” he said with soft conviction.

I found not a shred of guilt within Merlyn’s gaze. But once before I had believed Gawain too readily.

Not this time.

* * *

I shook my head. “No, Merlyn. There must be more to the tale.”

My spouse arched a dark brow. “Even though my brother makes such an accusation?”

“My husband is no lying, thieving rogue, although his brother certainly is. I know there is another half to this tale, a half that will show my husband to benefit.” I seized his hand. “I command you to come back to the fire and tell me all of it.”

Merlyn laughed with delight. His arms closed around me, and he kissed me so soundly that I nigh forgot my name. I certainly forgot any intent to share a tale, though Merlyn did not. He broke our kiss and swept me into his arms, then returned to the chair in the great hall before the blazing fire.