Kingdom Come (27 page)

  The streets were busy with people going about their business. Rory was enthralled with the unpaved dirt streets, the people, and the sheer magnitude of dirt all over everything.  It was kind of like the Medieval faires that she had been to in the past, only smellier.  Colors weren’t vibrant; they were all muted and grayish because of the lack of modern pigment or finishes.  Clothes seemed to be the same way; a few varying shades of browns or blacks or even reds. There weren’t any particular styles of clothes for the most part; tunics, hose, rough surcoats for the peasants. She hadn’t seen any fine ladies yet and she was eager to see what they were wearing.

As they traveled down the street, Rory noticed everything. Her archaeologist’s instincts were going wild with the new sights and sounds.  Kieran watched her and their surroundings closely; people didn’t like to be stared at the way she was and he didn’t want anyone to take her interest as a challenge. But he knew better than to discourage her.  Dogs ran in the street and there was no sense of traffic control; people just walked where they felt like it. The scene was mildly chaotic.

Yusef, walking beside Kieran, was just as enthralled as Rory was only he was able to keep his wonder in check a little more than she was. Still, he’d never seen a city like this and he was awed.

“I have never seen so many Christians in my life,” he commented, sizing up a wood and mortar four story structure that they were passing. He was amazed with all of the wood, so rare in his country. “Are all Christian cities so large?”

Kieran grinned. “Not all,” he replied. “There are some remarkable cities in the holy land; what makes you so fascinated with this one?”

Yusef shrugged, watching a particularly lovely peasant woman walk by him with white skin and flaming red hair. “The people are colorful,” he said. “In my land, everyone is dark. Here, there are people of many colors.”

Kieran gave him a half-grin, glancing over to see that Rory was looking behind the cart, watching some activity. When he turned to see what had her attention, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was just the same busy London he was used to. He turned back to Yusef.

“We will stay here tonight and then head to Southwell in the morning,” he said. “I will send word to my father that we are coming home. He will be thrilled.”

Yuself gazed up at the puffy clouds. “What is your home like?”

“Big,” Kieran promptly replied. “My family is very, very old; older than the Normans who conquered this land over one hundred years ago.  We are descended from the kings of Mercia and when the Normans came, my ancestor was smart enough to work with them, not against them, and retain much of his holdings.  Although my family ruled most of middle England and some of Kent for many years, we now have a section of land just north of Nottingham. It is a four or five day journey from London, longer if my wife stops to look at every little thing along the way.  She is fascinated by everything.”

Yusef looked over his shoulder at the exquisite woman.  He had come to know her a little better over the past week of travel and was coming to think she wasn’t such an aggressive, unruly woman as he originally thought. She was bright and quite humorous. Still, she had a very strange accent and there was something odd about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Your wife is not from England?” he asked Kieran casually.

Kieran shook his head. “Nay.”

“Where is she from?”

Kieran looked at him a moment, breaking down into a weak smile and looking away. “You would not believe me if I told you.”

Yusef grinned. “Is she divine, perhaps?”

Kieran lifted an eyebrow, half-nodding, half-shrugging. “Not as much as she would like to think,” he teased. “Her family is of Irish descent.”

That seemed to satisfy Yusef somewhat. “I have heard the Irish are mad.”

Kieran laughed softly. “Not all of them.”

Yusef glanced at Rory again, who was saying something to Kaleef and pointing. “But I have also heard they are very strong,” he said. “Your wife is a strong woman to have endured this journey.”

Kieran’s smile faded somewhat. “You have no idea just how strong she is,” he said, suddenly serious. “She has saved my life and has made all things for me possible. Her strength goes beyond the obvious; it runs deep as I have never seen. I would trust that woman with my life a thousand times over and know that every time, she would risk all for me.  I am here today only because of her and I owe her everything.”

Yusef sensed a great deal of respect and adoration in that statement, but there was more to it. It was wider, deeper, stronger. Most men did not speak of a woman that way. But Kieran obviously adored his wife, much more that Yusef could imagine.  In that moment, Yusef’s respect for Lady Hage grew simply because Kieran respected her so much.

“Then you are much fortunate, my friend,” Yusef said softly.

“Aye, I am,” Kieran sighed, glancing over his shoulder to see his wife carrying on an animated conversation with Kaleef. “But she still drives me daft at times.”

They chuckled as they moved down the road, finally pulling up in front of a three story structure that was built of stones and wood.  It was crammed in between two other buildings in a long row of structures, some of them rather unsteady looking.   As soon as the cart came to a halt, Rory leapt off but Kieran grabbed her before she could take a step.

“Stay with me,” he instructed evenly. “You’ll not go running amuck, not here.”

She pursed her lips impatiently. “I wasn’t going to run amuck.”

He winked at her, taking her hand and tucking it into his elbow as he gave orders to the men that had accompanied them from the docks.  Soon, things were in motion; trunks were being removed from the enormous horse cart and the door to the inn was open as men passed inside.  Kieran entered the structure with Rory on his arm.  Rory made sure the boys were behind them, safe, as they entered.

The main room of the tavern was long and dark. It looked as if it had been dug in a pit; the floor was at least two feet below the street level and a few stairs led down into the pit.  They hadn’t taken two steps when an older wench ran up to Kieran, gasping in recognition.

“Viscount Dykemoor!” she cried excitedly. “I heard that ye had gone with the king to fight the savages. God be praised for allowing you to return home unharmed.”

Kieran recognized the woman as the daughter of the tavern keeper. “My thanks,” he responded. “I have returned with my wife and friends. Go find your father and tell him that I have arrived.”

The woman looked at Rory with shock, at Yusef and Kaleef with even more shock.  After a lingering gaze, she turned and fled.  Kieran watched her run off, knowing that she was racing to her father with tales of the savages Sir Kieran Hage had brought back with him from the Holy Land.   There was a good deal of suspicion for dark skinned people and Kieran knew he was going to face it more than once; he hoped that Yusef and Kaleef understood it as well.

Rory was more interested in studying the room and its occupants than concerned with Medieval prejudice. She held on to Kieran tightly, watching a particularly loud group in the corner, laughing and drinking. There was one woman and about five or six men; two of the men had their arms around the woman, who seemed to be enjoying their company tremendously. She was laughing and drinking.  As Rory watched, one of the men put his hand down the woman’s neckline and fondled her breast.  He kept trying to kiss her as she talked to the others, but she was apparently uncaring or uninterested that the man was fondling her in public.

Rory raised her eyebrows and turned away; things like that happened in her time so it wasn’t particularly shocking. The high-end clubs in Las Vegas had stuff like that all the time so she wasn’t inordinately put off by the sight.But she was interested in the group of knights on the far side of the room against the wall. There were four that she could see, most of them sitting facing the door, which made it rather awkward to have a conversation. But like modern day cops, Medieval knights never sat with their back to a door.  The group was well armed, in well used armor and mail, and they had the remains of a massive meal spread before them. As she stared at them, they noticed her.

She abruptly turned her back on them, facing Kieran as she spoke. “There are a group of knights over there,” she said, her big hazel eyes gazing up at him. “Did you see them?”

Kieran was focused on her. “Of course.”

She grinned. “Stupid question,” she muttered to herself, watching him smile. “Do you know them?”

He was still focused on her. “It has been three years since I have set foot on English soil,” he replied. “I could be mistaken, but by my last recollection, black and gold standards meant Somerset.”

“Friend or foe?”

“Most definitely foe.”

The smile faded from her lips. “Do they know you? You’re wearing your father’s blue and gold.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “If I understood some things from your time correctly, then I was mildly educated on what you called sporting teams.”

She cocked her head in confusion at the change in subject. “Huh?” her brow furrowed, perplexed. “What about them?”

“They are competitive.”

“Absolutely.”

“And each of these teams had different colored shirts to identify them.”

“Right; we discussed that already.”

“I know we did but I have a point to make,” he said patiently. “Since these men are competitive, do you believe they know each other’s colors on sight?”

She was beginning to understand where he was coming from. “They sure do.”

“Then the answer to your question is yes; they know my father’s colors on sight. The House of Hage is a powerful house.”

She was beginning to have a sinking feeling. “Do they know you on sight?”

He sighed faintly, looking as if he was searching for the correct words.  He put his hands on her upper arms, pulling her closer.

“My family has a very strong history of serving the kings of England,” he said softly. “My father was a great warrior and his father before him, serving Henry the First, Matilda, Stephen of Blois, and Henry the Second. My father, in fact, was an advisor and champion to a young Henry the Second. They are the same age, or at least would have been if Henry was still alive.”

Rory listened with awe at the legacy of the Hage family and the royals of England. “So what are you telling me?”

He fixed her in the eye. “There is much you do not know about my family so perhaps you should be aware, considering you are now a part of it,” his voice was very low. “Although my father and Henry were friends when they were young, there was increasing dissention between them because Henry tried to manipulate my father into betraying Richard, the future king. My father, not appreciating how Henry tried to use him against a rival in an unscrupulous way, went to Richard of Aquitaine and told him of his father’s plot.  That forever sealed the rift between my father and King Henry, but it also cemented an alliance with Richard.   That’s a simplified version of what happened, but it is a sufficient explanation.”

Rory’s eyes were wide with the information; some of the most famous figures in Anglo history were deeply involved with the Hage family and she was properly awed.  In fact, it was difficult to wrap her mind around it.

“That’s really amazing,” she breathed. “So you’ve always served Richard, then.”

He nodded. “Aye. And everyone knows it.” He tipped his head in the direction of the other knights. “And to answer your question, most fighting men know me on sight.  As Richard assumed the throne, I was one of his champions. I led the king’s armies in many a battle against brother or father.”