The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (14 page)

She put
it in her lap as she reclaimed her chair and stared absently over the camp. Her
search for the crown was a failure, Sir Kieran was going home to England, and
Bud had declared his undying love. If Rory had known what she was getting
herself into two years ago when she first began the petition for this project,
she would have gladly thrown it all away. Bud's pain of a one-sided love and
her pain of losing her knight as well as the crown just wasn't worth the
trouble.

Maybe
none of this was.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Heathrow
Airport

London,
England

The 747
set down in fog thicker than anything Rory had ever seen. Even Bud, who had
been completely silent since leaving Tel Aviv the day before, commented on the
blanket of clouds to the man across the aisle. Staring into the hazy morning as
the plane taxied to the terminal, Rory wasn't particularly interested in the
fog. All she could ponder was the fact that this was the first time Sir Kieran
had been home in over eight hundred years.

The
tears threatened again, as they had been hovering near the surface for the past
twenty-four hours. Leaving David to oversee the clean-up of the dig, Rory and Bud,
two British embassy officials and four Israeli security guards escorted Sir
Kieran and his possessions to the Tel Aviv Airport. The knight and his
artifacts had been carefully loaded into the belly of the British Airways plane
and personally secured by Bud. When the jumbo jet took off, she finally gave up
the struggle against the tears and let them come. Sir Kieran was going home.

Athens
Airport had been a nightmare. Their layover had been over eight hours because
of a bomb threat and Rory spent the time seated in the terminal next to their
plane, watching gun-toting soldiers patrol the area. One of the Israeli
security men told her it wasn't unusual for Athens Airport to be swarming with
men bearing AK-47 assault rifles, but Rory still found the situation unnerving.
The fact that she couldn't spend any time with Sir Kieran in the bowels of the
plane only made it worse.

From
Athens, the flight was direct to London. Bud sat beside her the entire time,
writing in his old leather notebook and completely silent. Ever since he had
made his confession the day before, he hadn't said a word to her. Rory couldn't
stand the tension between them, especially since she needed his comfort now
more than ever. But in truth, she wasn't sure what to say to him. She couldn't
give him any hope, any encouragement, and she suspected he knew it.

Therefore,
she was resigned to the brittle silence between them and turned her attention
to the brilliant skies beyond the window, pondering the coming separation
between herself and Sir Kieran. She knew that she was doing the right thing by
returning him home but wondered if she ever recover from her noble, if not
reluctant, sacrifice.

It was a
heartache that increased when the plane landed and the captain wished everyone
a pleasant stay in England. The Israeli guards were up, disembarking with the
embassy officials who had already obtained clearance to proceed to the tarmac.
Bud collected his carry-on, as did Rory, and they silently followed the group
of men to the blacktop below. 

It was a
cold day. Rory was so used to scorching temperatures that she found the change
refreshing. Dressed in slim-fit jeans, boots, a sweater and her camel-hair
coat, her long blond hair was stylishly pulled back from her face and gathered
in a clip. But even if her appearance was sharp, the gleam in the hazel eyes
belied the dullness of her soul; watching as the belly hatch was opened, the
Israelis were into the hold before the airline employees could move a muscle.

A
forklift was rolled out, removing the massive casket so loving built by the
Turkish workers. The Israeli guards were all over the coffin, like an odd army
of pallbearers, but Rory would not be deterred from her determination to check
the body; she hadn't seen Sir Kieran since they had left the dig and she wanted
to make sure he had survived his journey intact. But more than that, she was
simply desperate to see him. Like an addiction, she had to feed her habit.

"Get
me a crowbar," she snapped to one of the British officials, the man giving
her an intolerant look before passing the order on to an airline employee.

But Rory
didn't care what the British thought of her manners; all Americans were pushy
and loud and she was simply verifying the stereotype. Moving for the casket,
she pushed between the Israeli guards and ran her hands over the box, making
sure it hadn't been damaged by the turbulence they had experienced over the
Alps. Bud came up behind her, a large screwdriver in his hand.

"Here,"
he said quietly. "This ought to work."

It was
the first thing he had said to her in nearly a day. Rory didn't reply, merely
standing aside as he worked at the seal. The Israeli guards began to help,
prying their fingers under the lid and pulling as Bud gained leverage. One side
of the cover had been hinged, but the lid had been nailed shut for extra
security during transport. Just as Bud reached the fourth and final nail, his
progress was abruptly interrupted.

"Is
that truly necessary?"

Rory
turned, somewhat surprised, to find piercing blue eyes fixed on her. Giving the
tall, pleasingly-built man the once-over, she cocked a well-defined eyebrow.

"Who
are you?"

The
Israeli guards already had their weapons drawn as the man put up a supplicating
hand. "I have security clearance, I assure you," he said, very slowly
reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing a pink piece of paper. "See?
Written permission."

Rory,
still wary, took the paper from his hand and unfolded it. Glancing over the
official form, she handed it to one of the embassy aides. "Mr. Corbin, how
can I help you?"

The man
smiled faintly, a rather handsome fellow in his late thirties. "Dr. Rory
Osgrove, I presume?"

"Yes."

Corbin's
gaze seemed to linger on her a moment. "Dr. Becker said I'd find you here.
I've come on official business. I represent the Hage family."

Rory's
uncertainty of the man was fading, being replaced by a stunning dislike.
"A lawyer?"

He
nodded. "I've recently been in touch with Dr. Becker at the University of
California San Marcos and he was gracious enough to inform me of your flight
and arrival time," glancing over Rory's head, his gaze fixed on the
coffin. "Sir Kieran Hage, I presume?"

Rory
could feel her defenses going up. She hated this man already. It wasn't merely
that he represented the relatives determined to snatch Sir Kieran away from
her, but the mere aura about him was disturbing. He made her uncomfortable.
"I was just about to check him to make sure he hadn't suffered any damage
in transport,” she said. “It will only take a minute if you'll allow me to...."

Steven
Corbin held up a hand, politely, to interrupt her. "That won't be
necessary, Dr. Osgrove. I'm sure the corpse is in fine shape," he pushed
past her, moving toward Bud and the half-opened lid. "Seal it back up, if
you would. I will be taking Sir Kieran to the morgue at Middlesex Hospital
where several professionals hired by the Hage family are eagerly awaiting his
arrival."

Rory's
thinly-held composure snapped. "What are you talking about?" she
said, putting herself protectively between the casket and Corbin. "We've
arranged to take Sir Kieran to the University of Oxford, where he'll be x-rayed
and studied for a few days before being placed in the custody of his
descendents."

Corbin's
piercing blue eyes were suddenly hard. "Plans have been altered, Dr.
Osgrove. Sir Kieran is to be placed in immediate family custody."

Behind Rory,
Bud cleared his throat and stepped forward. She wasn't surprised when she felt
his warm hand go about her arm, gently, pulling her away from the
confrontation.

"Look,
Mr. Corbin," he began evenly. "I'm Dr. Dietrich, supervising
archaeologist on this dig. Until such time as the university officially places
Sir Kieran within his family's custody, he is still our property. We've already
made plans for him and I have no intention of deviating."

Corbin
looked at Bud as one man would size up a potential enemy; when the chips were
down, Bud could be a formidable opponent and it was clear that Corbin sensed
that. After a moment, he pushed slowly into another pocket.

"If
I may, Dr. Dietrich," he removed another piece of neatly folded paper,
extending it to Bud. "From your director."

Bud's
jaw ticked as he unfolded the paper and read it. Rory saw a faint flush come to
his cheeks and she was seized with immediate concern.

"What
does it say, Bud?"

He sighed,
looking for the proper words as Rory hung over his shoulder, trying to read the
message. But Bud wanted to tell her himself and attempted to move away, hoping
he could relay the news in a manner that would ease her into the reality of the
situation. Rory, however, refused to allow him to move; putting one arm around
his waist and the other on the hand clutching the paper, she read it
completely.

Bud
watched her face, just inches from his own. When she had finished reading the emailed
message, he was mildly surprised to note that her features held no discernable
reaction. But her somewhat-wild gaze had moved to the lawyer, like a cat moving
for a mouse, and Bud literally reached out to prevent her from advancing on
him.

"Becker
gave his permission for the family to take custody of the body the moment we
landed, Rory," he said softly, trying to preclude her from taking her
aggressions out on Corbin. "Remember, we did agree to return it. It was
fully within Becker's right to hand it over sooner than expected, considering
we had no valid excuse to delay the transfer. The family is willing to take
full responsibility for all tests and research on the corpse."

Rory
swallowed, hard, and Bud could see that her controlled facade was purely an
act. "But... we had planned to study him ourselves, Bud. Lacking the
proper facilities at Nahariya, we weren't able to do a complete study of the
man and this was going to be our chance given the appropriate implements at
Oxford. Good Lord, this is our find! Can't we even complete what we've
started?"

"There
are several professionals prepared to do just that, Dr. Osgrove," Corbin
said confidently. "The Hage family has recruited a historian from the
University of Sussex, a professor specializing in Medieval biology, a forensic pathologist
from Middlesex Hospital, and a..."

"No!"
Rory suddenly roared. "No autopsy!"

Corbin
looked somewhat surprised. "What do you mean? Have you already done
one?"

Before Rory
could respond, Bud pulled her against him, forcefully, to shut her up. "Given
Sir Kieran's perfect state, we determined an autopsy to be unnecessary. We
arranged to have the body x-rayed at Oxford, a procedure considered a lot less
intrusive to his fragile composition. There's no need to cut him open."

Corbin
eyed Rory as she struggled with her composure. "That will be for the
pathologist to decide," he said, pulling his gloves tight against the
chill wind that was kicking up. "If everything is collected, then I have
arranged for an armored car to carry the valuables to the University of Sussex
where they will be extensively studied. The family has donated the armor to the
British Museum, by the way. And the broadsword will have a place of honor in
the museum's collection of medieval swords."

Rory's
face went from a mottled red to a sickly gray. "They're not going to bury
him in his armor?" she whispered.

"And
waste such a fantastic piece of history?" Corbin snorted as if she were an
idiot. "I should say not."

The rage
building within Rory's heart was vanished, replaced by disbelief. Ignoring the
icy wind whipping about the tarmac, her hazel eyes were wide with untamed
emotion.

"But
you have to bury him in his armor," she said, her voice tight. "To a
Medieval knight, his armor was a physical part of him. To be buried without it
was to dishonor the knight completely."

Corbin
cocked an intolerant eyebrow. "Your ideals of Medieval romance are
touching, Dr. Osgrove, but they fail to encompass the reality of modern times.
Sir Kieran Hage is dead, with or without his armor, and his family is being
most gracious by donating the valuable pieces for the country's enrichment.
"

"It's
not idealistic romance, Mr. Corbin," she shot back. "What I am saying
is hard fact; if Sir Kieran is buried without his armor, it will be a disgrace
to both him and the Hage family. And the mere suggestion that he be buried
without his broadsword is ludicrous; the weapon, even more than the armor, was
a part of the knight's very soul."

Piercing
blue eyes studied her a moment longer before looking to Bud. "You seem to
be more rational than your spirited young colleague, Dr. Dietrich. Maybe you
can explain to her that it is no longer the time of King Richard the Lionheart
or Frederick of Barbarossa. We are far more practical these days."