Templar's Destiny (9780545415095) (9 page)

“Gaston. He left in the wake of your friends' arrival, and he has not been home since.”

I drew back the hood I had pulled closed against the snow and stepped up to the door.

“You!” she shouted. “Why did you come into our lives? We've had peace. There has been no trouble for some time and I foolishly believed we were safe.”

The Templar stepped between us before I could answer. “Fabienne, 'tis no' the lad's fault. Things are happening that are far beyond the three o' us. When did ye see him last?” This question was to me.

“A' the inn o' the Cochon Rouge. He left when we did, headed back toward home — or a' least that was his intention. I know, for I told him to go home myself,” I said.

“Gaston's intentions are ever his own,” said the Templar.

I hung my head. I was tired, and the confrontation was making me dizzy. It took a moment to realize that the Templar and Fabienne were still talking to each other, for a buzz had begun behind my eyes and my vision flickered.

“Will ye take me to the castle?”
My heart leapt when I heard Aine's voice.

“It is not a place that you can get into without an escort.”

“Well, I need to go there. I'll make it on my own. Ye need no' bother yerself.”

“Non,
miss. My honor would not allow it. I will take you. Perhaps there is one there who we may call upon. I have friends in many places.”

“Gaston, who would be called ‘milady' at the residence of the palace?”

“There are many in court that could rightfully be named such, miss.”

“But one whose father would marry her off to the prince of a foreign land?”

“I can think of but one, miss. The Princess Isabella.”

The outside of the house wavered before my eyes, and I felt the grip of the Templar bite my arms.

“He is with Aine. They head to the palace,” I said softly. Fabienne gasped.

“Let us go inside,” said the Templar. “The night has been long, and there is much yet to decide.”

“Have ye seen Aine a' the castle?” I asked when we were alone. Fabienne had retired and Alexander and I rested on reed mats near the hearth in her main room.

“Aye. Aine is much in my visions, but what is o' the true future an' what is o' the possible, I canno' divine. She has a role to play in much o' what is to come, either way.” I closed my eyes, surprised by the sudden worry I felt. Aine was impulsive, and she was with Gaston, who was worse. Together there was no telling what trouble might befall them. I missed her, too, I realized a moment later. I had come to rely on her to quiet my fears and to enhance the scope of my visions. Now those visions were encompassing her and they were lacking in a detail that bothered me tremendously.

I remembered then a vision that had come long ago. Aine in a cloak of deep blue trimmed in the white of animal fur. Her arm had been entwined with Cornelius's. It had to have been at the palace. Where else would she be dressed in such a fine manner?

“I saw a vision o' Aine once, with Cornelius. Is it possible that he would be a' court now?” I asked.

The Templar looked thoughtful. “Aye. He is a trader. It would no' be unusual for him to be there.”

I rested my head on a pile of old blankets, and my body sank into the reeds as if the mat was the finest of pallets. Exhaustion pulled at me and yet my mind was filled with too many things for sleep. Bertrand had died at the hands of the Templar trainees, of that I was sure. I wished that I had more of an understanding of the things that were going on. Perhaps if I did I might have been able to stop them.

“Tormod, sometimes ye just have to let life draw ye along. No' everything can be deciphered in an instant.” His voice was soft and sure.

“But Torquil an' Aine might no' have even an instant to spare,” I said, frustrated.

“Yet that possibility is no' something that ye can control,” he answered. “Have faith. The Lord is watching over them, even though they are away from us.”

“How can ye be assured o' that?” I said, ashamed to utter the blasphemous words.

He was quiet a moment. “We all have times when our beliefs are sorely tested, Tormod; when things happen that we wish did no', an' the sadness causes us to question our faith.”

“Even ye?” I asked in a small voice.

“D'ye think me less human because I am a Templar, Tormod? I am a man just as ye. My life is no less difficult an' my trials any fewer,” he said.

All at once, Fabienne's image filled my mind's eye. But just as quickly as it came, it disappeared once again. The room was dim, and I could not see the expression on his face or the look in his eyes.

“The best ye can do is say a prayer to the Lord an' do yer best to follow the way o' the light. In time yer wavering will be a thing o' the past.” His belief was absolute. I felt it and knew it. Whatever it was that gave him unrest in the past, it was no longer plaguing him. Though I was curious to know, I would not ask what could have shaken the faith of one as devout as he. It was a trespass and none of my concern.

I woke to the murmur of the Templar's prayers and found warm bread and honey and a steaming mug of chamomile tea set next to me near the hearthstone. I brushed the sleep from my eyes and knelt to say my prayers, though the scent of the food made my stomach rattle.

I tucked in the moment I'd finished. My version far shorter than his, the Templar finished after my bread was long gone, and the tea was a warm memory in my gullet. The sun was creeping into the morning sky, sweeping away the dusky gray of night when he took a stool at the table to break his fast.

“We travel to the castle today, Tormod. I feel that I have to warn ye to be on yer guard. Take nothing for granted. Keep yer counsel. Speak naught but the meal, yer duties, an' possibly the weather. Trust no one outside our circle. Court is a place o' deception an' danger. The King an' his council are quick to take offense, an' even quicker to initiate punishment.”

I thought his warnings a bit much, but refrained from saying so. Fabienne returned to the room then, and I drew a quick breath, stunned. It was not just the change in clothing, though that surely added to the overall effect — her robes were a vibrant blue, crusted in pearls and dripping to the rushes at her feet — but it was more the stately air she projected, as if she were born to royalty. I gaped at her, as Alexander dropped into a deep bow. “My Lady, ye're a vision o' beauty.”

A faint pink dusted her cheeks. “Thank you, sir knight.” She gathered a set of parchments from the table, which she folded and tucked into a pocket sewed to the inside of her cloak. “I never thought I'd return there,” she said as her hands smoothed down her sides.

“I'm sorry that I had to ask ye.” He stood stiffly, not meeting her eyes.

“Gaston brought this on as much as any. If” — she hesitated and caught herself — “when I see him, there will be many explanations due.” Lisette then appeared with a sack that looked heavy in her small hands.

“Here, let me,” I said, reaching to take it from her. She shook her head violently, and backed away as if frightened.

“It's all right, Lisette, let Tormod help. He is a friend,” said Alexander.

Her pale eyes looked me over as if to judge the fact for herself. Then she handed me the bag. It was as heavy as I thought it would be. I wondered what was inside that the girl was so worried over it.

“The sooner we are on our way, the better,” Alexander said, motioning Fabienne ahead of him. Lisette fell in line next and then he swept along in their wake. I trailed behind, feeling oddly left out. The snow had stopped while we slept, and now a cold mist fell. I wondered how far a ride we would have to the palace. Our horses were saddled and ready. Added to the Templar's and mine were a fine, cream palfrey for Fabienne, a small, gray pony for Lisette, and three mules laden with a variety of bags, to which I added the one I carried. Alexander helped Fabienne mount sidesaddle then stood beside his horse. “Tormod, I need ye,” he said.

I was about to mount my own horse and stopped, wondering what was wrong. “Ye are my varlet, an' near court ye have to appear as such.”

I scrambled to his side. “I'm sorry, I forgot.” Immediately, I felt like a dolt. I didn't even know what I was supposed to do for him.

“It's all right, Tormod. No harm done. Ye've never had to do this before. I only remind ye so that it becomes more natural.” He put his foot in one of the stirrups, and motioned me to his side. “Just stand before me an' allow me to put my hand on yer shoulder an' push up.”

I did as he said and was surprised by the tremor that slid along his arm. I looked up at him, alarmed, but then he was in the saddle and nudging the horse forward and I had to scramble to catch up. My horse had leads to both of the mules, so there was a moment of confusion before I was able to get my train in line. By then the moment for questions had passed.

We rode in single file: Fabienne, Lisette, the Templar, and me, trekking down a lane that was more root and bramble than dirt, passing several middle-size houses scattered along the way. The estate we were leaving, the Templar had explained, was the main of several owned by Fabienne.

Missing Aine was a strange ache that clenched inside my stomach. What had she been thinking, heading off to the castle? It was ridiculous. She was like a bairn, charging in to prove that she could use the power as well as I could. I would not admit it to her, but I knew that she did. She mastered things faster. She had that knack of getting a full read of a place, while I could only receive the bits that I was granted. I snorted, annoyed with my thoughts. Lisette looked over her shoulder at me, her gaze curious.

I turned my attention to the road as we approached the branching lane where Fabienne's property ended. The mules pulled to the left, and I had to snap the lead to get them shifted and moving along with the rest of the horses to the right. When I had them on the straightaway once more, I looked over at Lisette again. She had turned her gaze back to her mistress, and hunched into the cloak she was traveling beneath. It seemed to swallow her up and hide her from the sight of any who might pass by. She was not Fabienne's child, I had learned from the Templar. She had been a servant to the Queen who had died and was left homeless when the King turned her out. Fabienne had taken her in.

The road beyond the estate was wide, and the Templar and Fabienne moved of accord to ride beside each other. I watched them absently. They were obviously long acquainted, their manner relaxed. I knew the Templar well, and I could tell that his vigilance was absolute. All the while they were speaking, his subtle draw on the power masked the whole of our contingent. I added to his efforts, working a strand of my own, and was pleased when a wash of surprise rolled between us.
Nicely done. Ye've learned much while I was away.

I smiled in his direction. Fabienne continued to speak softly to him, and I was impressed that he didn't drop a word while we communicated. It was something I would like to work on. I wished again that Aine had not disappeared.

We rode for several marks of the candle through the countryside and approached the first of several great, wooden bridges that spanned the river to the Île de la Cité. Our horses' hooves clopped on wood ominously, and we heard the toll of a death bell ringing somewhere ahead on the island.

I knew that we were close to the grounds of the palace for the amount of people on the road grew steadily until we were fighting our way past those walking, on horse, or in wagons. My first sight of the royal grounds brought a quiver to the depths of my stomach. This was the King's domain, the powerful man behind all of the forces hunting for us. The walls rose steeply from the embankment as if they'd sprouted from the hillside. Above peered the enormity of the castle. It was grand, much larger than anything I'd ever seen before. From where I sat I could see at least ten turrets and armed guards patrolled the parapets.

There was a line waiting to enter, and we jostled our mounts into their midst. I was surprised to see the many different classes together. Some were nobly dressed as we were, but there were farmers and craftsmen as well. Lisette stared at the crowd with wide eyes, and her fright pressed at the edges of my shielding. My first reaction was to calm her, but I caught myself before drawing the power. I had to put a tight rein on myself now. I could not afford to slip up — Torquil's life might depend on it. Beneath lowered lids I took in the crowd, looking for any sign of Gaston or Aine, but found neither.

The line moved forward at a crawl, and I found myself anxious to pass through the enormous wooden gates and away from the watchful eyes of the guard. The Templar sat straight and tall in the saddle, all signs of exhaustion or weakness stripped from his demeanor. If I were a stranger, I would surely assume he was as he presented himself to be: a rich merchant, quite used to the interrogation of the King's guard.

The wind off the water was like ice against my neck and I shivered, from fear or from cold I could not tell. Voices rose ahead of us just as a large, gray wolfhound bounded to my side and circled my mount. Bran! Which meant Cornelius was near. It was all I could manage to keep the horse from balking. “Spices and pelts! That's what I declare. An' if ye know what's good for ye, ye'll be moving me along to the steward right quickly. What I bring is in demand an' the longer ye take, the higher will be my prices!” I was not sure if Bran recognizing me was a good or bad thing at the moment.

“Call yer dog to yer side,” spoke the Templar in an even tone.

I looked up quickly and saw the flicker of recognition in Cornelius's eyes. A sharp whistle brought the dog obediently to the side of his master. “No offense meant, monsieur,” he called, doffing his hat in a wave and moving inside without another glance.

My eyes met the Templar's, curious, and his glance darted toward the ground where my gaze was supposed to have been during the exchange. I looked down quickly. We were next in line. My heart was beating rapidly as I clucked the horse forward, trailing. “The widow dowager Lady Fabienne Letourneau,” said Alexander. “An' I am Alexander MacNeil, o' the MacNeils o' Sutherland.” He handed to the guard both his papers and those he had been holding for Fabienne.

“And your business?” asked the guard.

“Lies with His Highness and not with you,” Fabienne said in a voice that was cold, clear, and imperious. The guard gave her no more than a cursory glance, and the whole of our company was waved inside.

The breath was tight in my chest as I passed, sure that at any moment I would be called out and tossed into the dungeons at the whim of the King. But it seemed this fate was not to be.

We passed through a large courtyard, several great halls, and up a stairwell to the second floor. Here we parted ways with Fabienne and Lisette. They were to stay in the opposite wing beneath the former rooms of the late Queen Joan, adjoining the suite of the Royal Princess. The memory of her image came swiftly to mind as I watched them walk away, and I wondered idly if I might see her during our stay.