The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (38 page)

She
nodded. "All of the ancient manuscripts pointed to it as the location of
an ancient Muslim temple - a temple where the diadem of Christ would be
found."

He shook
his head in confusion. "What ancient manuscripts do you speak of? You have
mentioned them before."

"Fourteenth
century manuscripts written by a Byzantine monk named Ottis. I don't know where
he received his information, but he was quite specific with his description. I
came across the scripts in Rome when I was doing my post-graduate work."

Again,
Kieran's brow furrowed and he released Rory's hand, pacing absently across the
room. "I do not know how he came to know. Unless..." he held up a
finger, looking to both Bud and Rory. "You informed me that I was buried
with all of my possessions, including my journal?"

Bud was
the first to answer. "Everything. It was laid on top of the corp... uh,
you in layers. First your mail, then your sword, then the rest of your personal
effects."

Kieran
digested the information intently. "After the assassins wounded me in my room
at the inn, there was little time to collect my property before going in search
of a healer. Which can only mean..." he suddenly slapped his open palm
against his thigh. "God's Blood, it has to be."

Bud and Rory
looked at each other curiously. "Be
what
?" Rory asked timidly.

Kieran
looked to her, understanding written all over his face. "The alchemist
mentioned that he knew Hut, the owner of the hostel where I was staying and the
same man who referred me to him after I was wounded. I can only assume that it
was Hut who collected my possessions for burial and somewhere in the
process..." he tapped his head in a thoughtful gesture. "Somewhere in
the process, his curiosity caused him to read my journal."

"And?"
Rory lifted her eyebrows encouragingly.

He
looked surprised that she hadn't followed his train of thought. "You read
my journal, Libby. I have never understood why you were unable to decipher the
location of the diadem as well. Certainly you are much smarter than Hut."

Her
mouth opened with shock. "The location?" she repeated. "I didn't
come across any type of description pinpointing the location of the crown. But
much of the latter part of your pages were muddle with age and...."

She
suddenly broke away, rushing to her overnight bag and tossing the thing onto
the bed. Very, very carefully, she extracted the familiar leather-bound cover
and Kieran's features softened as he beheld the chronicles he hadn't seen in
over eight centuries. When she extended the book, he accepted with the utmost reverence.

"Oh,
Libby," he murmured. "You have it."

"Of
course I have it," she couldn't help but smile as he touched the vellum,
weakened with age. Even Bud was becoming enthralled with Kieran's worship for
the ancient book, watching as the man inspected it carefully before opening the
heavy cover.

The
yellowed pages turned, one at a time, as Kieran scanned the contents of his
journal. Rory hung over his shoulder, crown forgotten for a brief moment as she
pointed out the more legible passages and even questioning him about the
incident with Al-eb-Alil. He modestly shrugged off the heroic circumstance as
she knew he would; any virtuous knight would have done the same, he said. He
had simply been closer to the situation and far better equipped; therefore, it
was logical that he should be the one to engage the general.

Bud
stood by, listening to him speak as if the incidents had happened only
yesterday and coming to believe that the man did indeed know what he was
talking about. No actor could have conveyed such casual flair when speaking of
a brawl at an inn in Joppa, or paying five thousand dinars for a beautiful
Arabian stallion that had been shipped home to Southwell for breeding purposes.
The more Bud listened, the more he found himself believing. And the more his
resistance began to fade. Maybe dead men did walk.

"You
knew King Richard personally?" he heard himself asking. He almost looked
around to see where the eager schoolboy had come from.

Kieran
looked up from the faded pages. "Indeed. A man of average height, reddish
hair, and a sadistic sense of humor. Actually, you remind me of him somewhat.
Both of you are extremely stubborn."

Bud
cocked an eyebrow, not sure whether or not he had been insulted. "But you
knew Henry Augustus? And Conrad of Montferrat, too?"

Kieran's
warm expression faded. "You would not like to hear my opinions of
them."

"Like
hell," Bud said, moving for the chair by the long French doors and
preparing to take a seat. "Christ, do you realize... My God, you're a
walking history lesson, an archaeologist's dream. Not only for your knowledge
of the Crusades, but for your knowledge of life in Medieval Europe. And...
Christ, the fact that you've been in stasis for centuries is beyond our medical
science today. When I think...."

"Bud?"
Rory interrupted him, a smile on her lips. "Are you trying to say that you
finally believe what we've been telling you?"

He
lowered himself on the chair, taking a long, heavy sigh. "I guess I've
just resigned myself to the inevitable. I know I shouldn't give credence to the
impossible, but the more I hear him speak and act and... hell,
exist
,
the more I just can't deny the evidence. I've got to tell you; this whole thing
has got me verging on a thrill of discovery like I've never experienced in my
life. I told you once we weren't living a movie, Rory; well, maybe I was wrong.
Maybe we're living something better."

Rory's
smile broadened and she went to him, bending down to kiss him on the cheek.
"Now you know how I've been feeling," he still looked skeptical;
excited, but skeptical, and she returned her attention to Kieran. "Get to
the part where you describe the location of the diadem. I've been through that
entire journal and I swear I haven't come across it."

Kieran turned
to the very last page, careful of the brittle parchment. His brow furrowed as
he searched the wording, smeared and stained with age. Slowly, still fixed to
the vellum, he moved toward Bud and Rory.

"Here,"
he said softly, trying to decipher his own writing. "I wrote it here, as I
was bleeding to death. I never gave the exact location, mind you, but a cryptic
description written in Aramaic. But now the ink has been ruined and the writing
is illegible. God's Blood, no wonder you were unable to decipher it."

Rory
looked over the top of the book at the familiar last page. "You can write Aramaic?"

He
nodded faintly. "There was little more to do during the time between
battles for Acre than sit. Since Jerusalem is the heart of the Hebrew nation, I
put my time to good use and studied the language. Fortunately, it eventually
came of some use to me."

Rory
looked up from the page, gazing at his beautiful profile. "So you used
your knowledge and wrote the location of the diadem in a language your fellow Englishmen
would not understand?"

"No
one in Nahariya spoke Aramaic or even Hebrew, but Arabic. Even if my enemies
found the journal, I was willing to have faith in the fact that they would have
been unable to find someone to decipher the writing."

Rory
smiled. She couldn't help it. "So you wrote it in a language only a Jew or
perhaps another devout Christian such as yourself could decipher?"

"Deciphered
by those who worthy enough to know," he continued to stare at the faded pages.
"But the page was not like this when I finished; the writing was quite
clear. Clear enough for Hut to read it, I am positive."

Rory
cocked an eyebrow. "The innkeeper? Do you think he could read Aramaic?"

Kieran
looked up from the ruined writing, his eyes locking with her beautiful gaze.
"Hut told me that he was originally from Jerusalem, forced to flee with
his family when the Muslims took occupation. The man was a Jew, Lib. I have no
doubt that he read my journal and either told another or wrote it down himself.
Information that somehow found its way to your Byzantine monk."

Rory
stared at him. Behind her, she could feel Bud rise from the chair. "Then
Ottis knew what he was talking about?" Rory murmured, feeling the heady
grasp of excitement embrace her heart. "Was he right, Kieran? Is the crown
in a Muslim mosque?"

Kieran
looked to her, her glittering eyes, her eager face, and smiled. Closing the
book, he touched her silken cheek gently. "Indeed it is, my lady. I hid it
in the last possible place my traitorous Christian brothers would look."

Rory's
eyes widened, a marvelous smile coming to her lips. Giving a crow of pure
triumph, she turned to Bud. "Did you hear him? I was right all along. It
really is buried in a Muslim mosque."

Bud
couldn't help but smile in response to her excitement. Excitement he hadn't
seen from her since the commencement of their dig fourteen months ago.
"Ok, so you were right. But where is this mosque? As we found out, our dig
site was an ancient Grecian temple."

"If
you are referring to the ancient temple of Bacchus, I know it's location
well," Kieran was focused on Bud, drawing Rory against his torso.
"Your position is only slightly awry. The mosque you seek is down the
hill, about three hundred paces."

Rory's
blissful smile faded as she gazed up at him. It was difficult not to keep the
astonishment from her face. "But... but there's no structure there. That's
where our workers' camp is."

He met
her gaze, raising an eyebrow confidently. "Then your camp is sitting right
on top of it."

Bud
could hardly believe what he was hearing. As Rory continued to wallow in
astonishment, he let out an ironic snort and ran his fingers through his
cropped hair. "Christ... do you mean to say we've been close to it the
entire time and never knew? Dave's going to lose his mind when I tell him."

Kieran
set the journal carefully to the table beside the French doors. "Who is
Dave?"

"Another
colleague," Rory said huskily, still consumed with the revelation of
Kieran's words. "He was with us when we found you. In fact, he fell in
love with your broadsword."

"A
wise man," Kieran replied, watching Bud move for the phone. Rory saw him
moving, too, struggling to digest the stunning information and return to the
serious world at hand.

 "What
are you doing, Bud?"

Bud
glanced over his shoulder. "Calling Dave, of course. We can't close the
dig down now, not when we're so damn close."

As Bud
picked up the phone, Rory turned to Kieran. He smiled faintly and reached out a
hand; putting both her hands in his massive grip, she met his warm expression
as the shock of his revelation faded.

"I'm
just a little curious," she said softly as Bud conversed with the overseas
operator. "You were so adamant about protecting the crown when we first
met, so determined that you would retrieve it alone."

"As
if it was my own personal possession?" his smile broadened as he repeated
her words.

She gave
him a lop-sided grin. "Exactly. If you were so protective about it, why
did you write its location in your journal?"

Bud was
waiting for the connection to go through, listening to their muted conversation
and wondering much the same thing. Why would a man who had died for a brittle
wreath of vines have given away the location of the very object he was trying
to protect to those intelligent enough to decipher his writing?

Kieran
continued to gaze at Rory, knowing Bud was listening. After a moment, he
shrugged weakly. "In faith, my lady, I do not know what possessed me to
divulge the location. I only know that as I sat dying in my rented room, a
powerful urge compelled me to lend clue and conscience to what I had done. As
if... as if a voice inside me was demanding I describe the location for future
reference. "

Rory's
brow furrowed. "But you said, and I quote, 'Forgive me Lord Jesus that my
mission in Thou's Name hath been thwarted. The diadem of Thou's sacrifice
entrusted into my hands is forever sealed, hidden..."

"...so
that no man can pilfer its beauty or omnipotence. Until such time that I can
safely transport It to the land of my birth, Its whereabouts will remain my
knowledge alone,'" Kieran smiled, touching her velvety cheek. "I know
well what I wrote, my lady. I vowed that no man would ever pilfer its beauty.
But I never referred to a woman in the same negative context."

Rory's
brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

He
chuckled softly. "Nor do I. Only that by writing the cryptic location of
the crown as I was immediately unable to complete my task, I hoped that someday
an educated man would learn the secret and come to my aid. When, in fact, the
educated man was in actuality an educated woman."

"But
I never read your description."

"Nay,
you did not. Someone read it for you and made sure you understood its
worth."

Rory
shook her head, finding herself pulled into his warm embrace. "Your
answers are as cryptic as the writing in your journal. Are you saying that you
wrote the description specifically for me?"