The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (8 page)

"Good
doctors, meet Sir Kieran Hage of Nottingham, an crusader with Richard the Lion
heart." Her smile broadened when she met Bud's gaze. "A real
honest-to-goodness English knight."

Bud
grinned timidly in response to her declaration. Even Peck was smiling. Hardly
able to control her exhilaration, Rory impulsively threw an arm around Bud's
neck and kissed him loudly on the cheek.

"I
want to send a message to Becker personally," she said happily. "I
told you guys there was something here. I would say Sir Kieran is a pretty big
something."

Peck
scratched underneath his baseball cap. "Even if he's not your crown?"

Rory
removed her arm from Bud, much to the man's disappointment. Her smile faded as
she moved to the rim of the grave, holding the journal up to David.

"It's
not like I'm going to give up looking for it altogether," she said, the
usual defensiveness absent from her tone. "But what I've got here... it's
real, and it's tangible. It's not as if I'm chasing a myth. I've got some hard
excavation waiting for my attention and I intend to give it my full
focus."

David's
brown eyes were soft, hearing his own cynical words reflected in her voice. He
suddenly didn't like the idea of Rory unwilling to pursue her dreams; as
outlandish as they could be and as much as he criticized her, the world would
be a dismal place without people like Rory to have faith in the impossible.

"But
you're not going to give up?" he asked quietly.

"Never.
Just call my crusader a momentary diversion."

Peck was
oddly comforted by her words. "When this is over, I'll help you go over
the Byzantine manuscripts again. Maybe there is something there you missed,
something an unbiased view can help clarify." He felt foolish for his
hypocracy, embarrassed that he was all but admitting his faith in her beliefs.
"I've... I've invested too much time not to do all I can."

The
smile returned to her tired face. "Thanks for your devotion, Dave."
Noting his flush as he refused to meet her gaze, Rory nonetheless winked at him
and turned back to the knight. After brief deliberation, she moved to the
helmed head and hunched over it, running her fingers over the movable joints.
Bud, still feeling her kiss on his cheek, edged closer to observe her actions.

"You
want to remove that now?"

She
nodded. "I think if we raise the visor, we won't risk damaging his facial
features when we pull off the helm. The last thing we need is the visor
dragging across his face and ripping his nose off."

He
shrugged; if she was determined to discover everything about the man in one
day, he wouldn't stand in her way. Fourteen months of frustration was about to
find a release and he realized he was as eager as she was. "The joints are
probably frozen." He glanced over his shoulder at David, who had returned
to his cataloguing. "See if you can find some spray oil, Dave."

David
sent the foreman for a can of lubricant. When the man returned, Rory allowed
Peck to carefully disperse the oil on the frozen couplings.

"That's
good," Rory murmured. Applying gentle pressure to the lowered visor, she
was rewarded by slight movement. She and David, her friend one moment and
arch-enemy the next, exchanged grins as he sprayed again.

"Careful,
Dave, not too much," she admonished softly. "We don't want to get oil
on the corpse."

"We
won't," he said confidently, observing her ginger manner. When her fingers
slipped off the metal as a result of the oil and too much pressure, he put out
his hands. "Do you want me to do that?"

"No,
thanks," she murmured, completely focused on her task. "I can do
it."

He moved
his hands away. As the small crowd watched in silent anticipation, Rory
continued to loosen the faceplate of the helm, working it to the point where
she could see a portion of the knight's cheek. Peering underneath to get a
better look, she could see his nostrils but little else. It was still too dark.

"What
can you see?" Bud asked from above.

She
shook her head. "Not much. Just skin and part of his nose." She moved
to the knight's right side, squeezing her booted feet into the narrow margin
between the body and the side of the grave. "Come here and help me, Bud.
Maybe between the two of us we can work this free."

As Bud
leapt into the trench, David lifted an insulted brow. "Oh Yes? You'll let
him help but not me?"

Rory
grinned and brushed off her hands. "Rank doth have its privileges, Dr.
Peck. Besides, if you and I were to do it together, it might end up a tug-of-war.
You're so damn competitive."

Shrugging
in agreement, David remained at his post by the edge of the grave, watching as
Bud and Rory grasped the sides of the visor and attempted to work it free. Rory's
fingers were red from wrestling with the metal and she finally let go, allowing
Bud to work alone. Little by little, the visor gradually worked its way up
until finally, it gave a loud pop and broke free completely.

The
crowd hovering around the grave gave a startled gasp, including Rory. As Bud
stood, somewhat stunned, with a Medieval visor in his hand, Rory's gaze
immediately fell on the ancient features. And what a face it was.

She
didn't know why her entire body suddenly washed with a warm, languid feeling.
But it did. And she had no idea why her heart was racing a mile a minute. But
it was. The more she gazed at the discolored face bordered by the metal of a
twelfth century helm, the more amazement and wonder she felt.

Slowly,
so as not to break the spell of awe that had settled, Rory knelt beside the
knight, reaching out to touch the ashen flesh.

"My
God, Bud," she whispered. "Have you ever seen anything so marvelous
in your life?"

Bud as
still standing with the visor in his hand. Slowly, he shook his head.
"Never. In all my years of digging."

She ran
a finger down the stubbled cheek, the expression on her face one of the utmost
marvel. "Look at his flesh. Hardly any deterioration whatsoever. And the
stubble is enough to scratch my skin."

Peck was
in jeopardy of tumbling into the grave as he leaned forward at an exaggerated
angle. "Hell, he looks young. How old was he?"

"I
don't know," Rory replied, her tone soft. "Late twenties. Early
thirties at the very most."

Joints
popped as Bud knelt beside the knight, the visor still clutched in his fingers.
He'd come across a couple of graves in his career, one on Cypress of an ancient
Greek soldier that had yielded quite a bit of artifacts. But he couldn't
remember feeling the same awe and satisfaction he was feeling at this moment.
As if somehow, this grave meant more to him than the others. It was Rory’s
grave.

This was
her baby. Therefore, it held more significance for him as well. Gazing down at
the miraculously preserved face, he smiled weakly.  "Sorry, pal. I ruined
your visor. Thank God you broadsword is hidden away or I might be running for
my life."

Rory
smiled at him before returning her attention to the knight. If Bud hadn't known
better, he would have sworn her expression to be most tender. And when she
touched the aged cheek again, it was with the gentleness of a lover.

"Touch
his skin, Bud," she insisted. "Feel how resilient it is? Maybe you
were right when you hypothesized that he had been mummified somehow. But I
can't imagine what sort of ingredients would maintain the skin's elasticity as
well as this."

Bud ran
a calloused finger down the knight's cheek, pausing when he came to the mouth.
He poked gently a moment, prodding. Rory paused to watch him, wondering what he
was doing. Feeling her stare, he met her gaze.

"Even
more amazing," he said with just the slightest bit of awe. "Look at
his mouth."

He
crooked his finger into the corner of Sir Kieran's lips, pulling slightly. They
were like rubber, as normal living lips would have been. Peeling the flesh back
to reveal a perfect set of anterior teeth, he shook his head with growing
incredulity.

"And
the mucosa membrane is still pliable. Almost... almost as if he were still
producing saliva. Christ, that's fantastic."

Rory was
staring at the knight's mouth, almost startled when Bud let go of the lips and
they sprang together. Her hand was still touching the ancient flesh as she
realized that this find was perhaps even more precious than her crown of
thorns. A man who lived and breathed centuries ago, buried in a shallow grave.
At that moment, she'd never felt so fortunate.

"Let's
get his helm off." Her voice was oddly hoarse. "I want to see all of
him. Bud, do you think we could just pull it off without damaging the body? I'd
hate to ruin it by trying to cut it away."

Bud was
already moving to do her bidding. "It should slip off easily. This is the
most remarkably intact corpse I've ever seen and I don't think removing this
helm will have any ill-effect whatsoever."

He was
right. The crusader's head protection slid off with amazing ease, revealing a
man of the most amazing beauty. Short-cropped dark blond hair met with the
early morning light, incredibly pliant. Sir Kieran had a jaw of granite and
large dimples carved deep into his cheeks. Rory stared, entranced, as the
warrior became a man of flesh and bone before her very eyes.

"Oh...
Bud," she murmured, touching the ancient flesh once more. "Look at
him. Isn't he incredible?"

Bud
smiled faintly, handing the helm and detached visor to David. "He's
good-looking enough to run for Mr. America."

Curious,
Rory timidly touched the hair and although somewhat oily, wasn't surprised to
find it thick and soft. "He has the same crew-cut as you do, Bud."

"His
barber is better than mine." Bud knelt beside the knight, looking the
length of the corpse as Rory continued to caress the warrior's head.
"Well, now. What do you say to tearing yourself away from this guy and
taking a break, Dr. Osgrove? A good breakfast ought to do us all a world of
good."

Rory
removed her hand from his hair, reluctant to leave but knowing a meal was in
order. In fact, she couldn't remember when she had eaten last and she were to
admit it, she was rather hungry. Elated, but hungry. "All right," she
said, glancing at David. "Put a team of security guards around the site,
Dave. I don't want anyone near him until I get back."

David
nodded, still studying the helm. "You got it."

Dr. Peck
ended up guarding Sir Kieran himself. If anyone wanted to disturb what Rory had
worked so long and hard for, then they were going to have to go through him
first.

CHAPTER
FIVE

It was
well after sunset. The knight's possessions had been safely tucked away for the
night in David's tent and Bud would not have been surprised if the man had
stayed up all night admiring the treasure. The only artifact Peck didn't have
was the journal, and that piece of property was currently in Rory's company.

Even
now, as Bud made his way to her tent, he knew exactly what she had been doing
for the past several hours; pouring over the ancient pages with a zealous
fervor. And he could hardly blame her.

He was
pleased to see he knew Rory as well as he thought he did. Ringing the little
set of brass chimes outside her door, the first thing he came into contact with
was her smiling, bespectacled face.

"Hi,"
she said jovially, pulling him into the tent. "Do have a reply from
Becker?"

He
nodded. "A few minutes ago. Fastest reply I've ever received from him,
considering I only sent word of the find three hours ago. Seems the old man is
absolutely thrilled with the discovery and we have his permission to do
whatever necessary to bring our crusader home."

Rory
cocked an eyebrow. "Home where? You realize that when the British get wind
of our find, they're probably going to demand that he be returned to
England."

Bud
shrugged, lowering himself into a rickety chair. "They have no legal
grounds to do it, of course. We found the body and by the laws of international
salvage and domain he belongs to us. But I did give Becker the knight's name.
He's going to contact the British Consul personally to inform them as a
courtesy."

Rory's
smile faded. Moving to the small table covered with disjointed notes, she sat
heavily and removed her reading glasses. Bud watched her closely.

"Hey,"
he said softly. "Don't worry about it. Unless they're willing to start
another revolution, they can't take him away from us."

She
nodded vaguely, staring at her hands, the floor. "I know. But you know the
British; if this guy has any living descendents, they're going to act as if
we've stolen a close relative. Whether the knight died five years ago or five
hundred years ago, you know how the English are about their relatives and
bloodlines. Possessive as hell. They might turn this into an international
incident if we refuse to turn over one of their own."

Bud
pondered her words, being very careful with his reply. "And you don't
think it would be acceptable if Sir Kieran was returned to Britain, to be
displayed in the homeland he died for?"