Kingdom Come (9 page)

“I love you, Lib.”

That was about all she could take; Rory threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his ear. “I’m not trying to be a pain. I’m just so freaked out by all of this.”

“I know.”

“And those guys that broke into the room; God, Kieran, I’ve never even been around a fight much less something like that. You
killed
those guys.”

“I had to.”

“I know that,” she pulled away and looked into his strong, handsome face. “But I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. Blood and… and that guy’s head was… ugh….”

She made a face and trailed off.  Kieran kissed her cheek, remaining silent on the subject; he knew she was a very strong woman. He had seen it. But he knew she would need all of that strength and more to endure that they were going to be facing. Now that the shock had worn off about returning to his time, he was beginning to feel some trepidation about what was to come.

The stable boy brought out Kieran’s charger; the animal was big and beefy, a bright red color with a thick white blaze and cream-colored tuffs around its hooves. It was the biggest horse Rory had ever seen.  Kieran went to the animal and greeted it as one would an old friend. But when Rory tried to pet it, the horse snapped at her.

Kieran was loading his satchel and saddle bags onto the back of the beast, grinning when the animal tried to bite her. Rory jumped back and threw her arms up as if someone had just pointed a gun at her and demanded money.

“This is Liberator,” he introduced her to the animal. “He is a crossbred of a destrier stallion and a Spanish Jennet mare. I bred him myself, in fact, and have raised him since foalhood. He is strong, intelligent and has a nasty temper. You must be very careful around him.”

She put her arms down and made sure to stay a safe distance from the horse. “No kidding,” she said ironically, watching the charger as it sniffed at Kieran’s familiar scent.  “He’s huge.”

Kieran finished securing the bags and made sure the saddle was tight before mounting. The smooth, effortless motion was not lost on Rory; she could see in that gesture that the man had mounted many a horse. Once again, she was awed by the sight of Kieran in his natural state. As she observed both knight and charger with some amazement, Kieran held out his right hand to her.

“Come along,” he urged her. “We must go.”

She went to him and he pulled her up effortlessly, seating her on the back of the horse.  Rory threw her leg over the animal so she was positioned astride and wrapped her arms tightly around Kieran’s waist.  It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t sitting primly side-saddle against him and he grunted.

“You will not ride like this,” he said in a low voice. “Put your legs together and sit as a proper lady would.”

She knew what he meant. “Kieran, I’m not trying to argue with you, but I’m not really comfortable on a horse and if I sit that way, I’ll fall off.  I don’t ride every day like you do.”

“I understand, but in this day, only whores ride as you do. ‘Tis not proper for a finely bred lady.”

“It’s dark. No one will see. I’ll practice riding side-saddle another time but for now, we’d better get out of here.”

He growled but didn’t push it. Spurring his animal forward, they took off at a canter. It was the equivalent of peeling out in a car. Rory had to hold on for dear life as he directed the charger down a dark alleyway that paralleled the main road, holding tightly as he jumped obstacles in the dark and threaded their way through the town.  She finally closed her eyes and buried her face in the tunic that she had been so fascinated with; everything about this situation was out of her control and she was going to have to trust the man.  Kieran was brilliant and knew better than anyone what needed to be done and how to keep them both safe. Still, as the horse tramped through the darkness, her anxiety grew.

She didn’t say a word for quite some time. At some point, she pulled her face from the rough tunic and opened her eyes, gazing up at the brilliant sky over head. She’d never seen anything so sharp and bright; there was something very primordial and pure about the sky this night. Gradually, she began to realize they had come out of the city and onto a deserted road. The city was in the distance to her left and sand dunes and desert to her right. It was eerily quiet, too; no sounds of cars or music or airplanes over head. Just a dully, deadly silence like nothing she had experienced before. Her head came up from its resting position against his back.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly.

“Richard’s encampment is about four miles southeast of the city,” he replied quietly. “We are heading for the camp.”

“Is it safe there?”

He nodded. “Aye,” he replied. “Once I tell the king of Simon’s treachery, ‘twill be Simon who will find the camp unsafe upon his return.”

Rory fell into contemplative silence. “Did you ever stop to think that you don’t have any proof of his treachery?” she asked after a moment. “He hasn’t done anything yet; he hasn’t made the attempt against your life and won’t now because you left the inn. You can’t prove he was trying to kill you.”

Kieran sighed faintly. “He has been pursuing me for days with the intention of killing me. That is proof enough.”

She was silent a moment. “Has he made other attempts to kill you?”

“Aye,” he replied. “There were two other times.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“They were weak attempts not worth discussing.”

The plodded along in thoughtful silence. Simon de Corlet; Kieran’s blood ran cold as he thought of the man who used to be like a brother to him. They had grown up together and had come on this quest together. But something had happened to Simon during the time they had spent on the hot sands of the Levant; he had become materialistic and brutal. 

It was a mission to secure a truce to end the siege of Acre. Of all of Richard the Lion Heart’s knights, this mission had fallen to Kieran.A Muslim commander named El-Hajidd had sent word to the Christian armies to propose a secret meeting; he was an envoy representing several Muslim generals under Saladin's command. Without Saladin's knowledge, El-Hajidd arranged a secret meeting with Kieran and several other Christian knights to propose a truce, extending what was reputed to be Jesus Christ’s crown of thorns as a proposal of good faith. Kieran had accepted the crown and gave El-Hajidd his word that Richard would do everything in his power to end the siege peacefully.

But Kieran never had a chance to prove his honor. Several of his fellow knights, led by Simon, turned against him. They didn't want peace, only the satisfaction and spoils of complete victory over Saladin. Even as Kieran carried the Muslim offering to Richard, his men were plotting against him.  Kieran, sensing the danger, eventually fled the group and they had followed, finally tracking him to Nahariya.  Assassins had caught up with Kieran at an inn, mortally wounding him. 

 The proprietor of the inn, a fat man named Hut, had sent Kieran to a man believed to be a physic but the man was, in fact, an alchemist.  Experimenting on the English knight with the nasty gut wound, the old alchemist had fed him a concoction of potions that had put Kieran in suspended animation. He hadn’t been dead, yet not exactly living. He had been frozen in time, buried by Hut and forgotten by the world.  The wound, through the centuries, had healed over. That was when Rory, a Biblical Archaeologist, had dug him up. Her inadvertent kiss had awoken the sleeping knight.

And their story continued even now, but they were in Kieran’s time, not the modern world that Rory had been born into. But they were together and that was all that mattered. 

“I’ve been thinking,” she murmured, gazing up at the astoundingly vibrant stars.

“What about?” he asked, still lingering on thoughts of Simon and betrayal.

“About the fact that you’ve been given a second chance to complete your mission,” she said, almost wistfully. “Kieran, how many people throughout the ages have begged God for the chance to live their life over or undo something they have done? And why is it you’ve been given that opportunity and me right along with you? I just can’t help but think that you’re meant for something really great, something that will change the course of history. Maybe the history I knew in my time won’t be the same in eight hundred years. Somehow, you’ll change it. You’ll be the catalyst to greater things.”

He patted the arms around his waist with a big gloved hand. “Your faith in me is appreciated.”

She squeezed him gently. “It’s more than faith,” she murmured. “Remember that I read your journal that had been buried with you; I know how remarkable you are. You are one of the greatest men I have ever read about much less known. I just know I’m going to witness something really amazing, something you will accomplish. Did you ever stop to think of the reason why I’m here, too? Maybe… maybe that’s why; to witness it and maybe to write about it. Maybe I’ll be in the history books as your chronicler.”

He smiled faintly, listening to her awesome take on the situation. “You are here because I need you,” he said simply.

She hugged him again, laying her head against his back, thinking on her purpose for being here with him, in his time. It was a little less scary when she realized that she must have some purpose.  There was a reason why she was here. Gazing out over the distant city, her thoughts began to wander to their destination.

       “So what are you going to tell Richard about me?” she asked. “He’s going to want to know who in the heck I am.”

Kieran grunted. “I have been trying to think of a plausible explanation,” he said. “Although Richard is an accepting man, I doubt I can tell him the truth. At least, not right away. I suppose I shall tell him that you are an American heiress and we are to be married.”

She made a face. “American heiress? He won’t even know what America is.”

He tried to turn and look at her, made difficult by the restrictive helm and hauberk. “I do not even know what American is,” he informed her flatly. “In fact, I am doubtful that it even exists.”

She snorted. “It’s not Ameri
can
, it’s America,” she told him. “And yes, it exists.”

“I think you have made it up.”

She giggled. “I did not make it up.”

“You did.”

She continued to giggle, laying her cheek back against his tunic. “That brings about another issue,” she said. “If I know my history about this era, and I do, if a woman traveled with a man and was not his wife, then she was considered a whore. What are we going to do about that?”

“I told you,” he said evenly. “You are to be my wife.”

She fought off a smile. “Not until you properly ask for my hand.”

He pursed his lips. “I cannot properly ask for your hand, as I do not know your father. That means that the decision is up to another male relative.”

“I don’t have any.”

“You have an uncle, do you not? Is he not part of the university you are indebted to?

“I’m not indebted to the university; I work for it,” she informed him what he already knew, although his mindset was still late twelfth century and a working woman was completely foreign to him. “And yes, he’s the Dean of the Archaeology and Anthropology department, but you don’t need to ask him. You need to ask
me
.”

He shook his head. “Your culture is indeed bizarre,” he snorted. “So I assume I must propose marriage to you directly, then.”