Page 95

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“H is name is Kevin de Lara and his father is Viscount Trelystan,” Donnell told Julian. “His father is Warden of the Trinity Castles on the Welsh Marches.”

Julian’s eyebrows lifted. “The Trinity Castles?” he repeated. Then he looked thoughtful. “I have heard of them. De Lara. De Lara . Where have I heard that name?”

“Sean de Lara, Kevin’s elder brother, is a personal protector to King John.”

Julian’s expression widened with both surprise and recognition. “The Shadow Lord?”

“The same, m’lord. John’s deadliest knight.”

Julian nodded his head, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he rose from his chair. It was a bright morning the day after his beating at the hands of David de Lohr, and his face was bruised and tender. He had tried to eat soft foods for breakfast but because of the two broken teeth he had suffered, he was too sore to eat anything. His mood had been foul until Donnell’s early morning visit with news obtained on Kevin de Lara.

“Who gave you this information?” Julian wanted to know.

Donnell shifted wearily on his legs. He had been up most of the night finding out what he could about Kevin de Lara. Some of his professional demeanor began to slip.

“I have spent the night moving through taverns known to be patronized by knights from Arundel, Norfolk and other allied barons,” he told Julian. “I went to the Pig and Flute over near the docks as well as the Bloody Fist in the Kingsbury District.”

Julian nodded, interrupting him. “I know it,” he waved a hand, moving to the table laden with food he had not been able to eat. “I have been to both of those establishments.”

Donnell eyed him, irritated at having been interrupted. “I found two of Rochester’s men at the Fist, knights I have gone to battle with in the past. As a senior sergeant for Buckland, one of the knights recognized me and showed me a measure of respect. We spoke casually for a time and I brought up the subject of de Lohr. It was this knight who told me of Kevin de Lara and how he does not speak to his brother because the man serves the king as his personal bodyguard. De Lara’s family was a strong supporter of Richard before his death. The fact that the elder son has given loyalties to the prince does not please them.”

Julian was trying to chew on a piece of very soft white bread. “What else did he tell you of Kevin de Lara?”

Donnell shrugged, watching Julian as the man tried to eat. He was hungry, too, along with being exhausted but he knew that Buckland would not offer to share his food. Julian was not a generous man.

“Nothing more than what I have told you,” he said. “De Lara’s father holds the Trinity Castles on the Marches and his brother is the Shadow Lord.”

Julian swallowed a piece of bread and gingerly took another bite. “Find out exactly where the Trinity Castles are,” he said with a piece of bread hanging out of his mouth. “I know they are on the Marches but I do not know precisely where. Perhaps de Lara took her there.”

Donnell scratched wearily at his head. “It would be as good a place to start as any, I suppose. Even if she is not there, perhaps his father knows something.”

“You will find out and you will go there immediately.”

“Aye, m’lord. Is there anything else?”

“Nay. Leave me.”

Donnell turned on his heel and quit the room, thinking more of sleep and food than of a trip to the Marches. He would find out where the Trinity Castles were located and he would go there to see if he could find the errant Lady Emberley de Moyon. Although he was detached from the situation as much as he could be, a large part of him did not blame the woman for fleeing her husband. He had seen first-hand what Julian could do to his wife. He was a brutal bastard when the mood struck him. Donnell himself had been on the receiving end of a few of Julian’s mood swings so he understood Lady de Moyon’s pain well.

As he settled down in the bunkhouse of the tower, food in one hand and cheap ale in the other, he was coming to think that maybe he would simply ride in circles for the next few weeks and return to London to tell de Moyon that he could not find his wife. It was a foolish thought but one he entertained. If Donnell thought long and hard about it, he could remember the look of terror on Lady de Moyon’s face when he had come for her at Dunster. Donnell was coming to suspect that no knight had a hand in her disappearance– the woman had probably fled on her own out of sheer terror.

More than likely, she was lost to the wilds of Somerset or Cornwall, victim of bandits or fodder for wild animals. It was a better fate than coming to live with her husband in London. Still, Donnell would ride to the Marches to investigate the Trinity Castles for himself, simply because he had been ordered to and not because he had a strong inclination to find the woman. He would do his diligence in a futile effort and be done with it.

Donnell fell asleep without having finished his meal.

*

Jonas St. John was a tall, thin man, older, with a full head of dark and curly hair. He had been in the clergy for the majority of his life, having grown up as an acolyte at St. Bartholomew the Great Cathedral before working his way up to become a fully consecrated priest. He was a fairly simple man without the vices or addictions his fellow priests indulged in, hiding behind holy robes to mask their deviations. Jonas was an exception to that rule, a truly pious man in a world where such things were increasingly rare.

He had been summoned this day to Bellham Place, home of the mighty de Lohr family, by one of de Lohr’s knights. Without question, he went with the man and enjoyed a leisurely ride to the outskirts of London where the great manor houses lay along the Thames like the pearls of an enormous necklace. The day was fine and the birds sang in the great oak trees overhead as Kevin, Jonas and a small escort made haste back to Bellham.

Arriving at the great, white-stoned manor, Jonas greeted David amiably and was kind to Emilie and Christina. David and his wife took the man into the lavish reception room to go through the pleasantries of social graces, providing the priest with food and drink. But when the wine was halfway finished and the food had run out, David politely excused his wife from the room. In her place came an enormous knight with a shaved head and deadly look about him. Gart moved off into the shadows as David closed the door behind Emilie and Christina.

Jonas eyed the massive knight in the corner as David returned to him and reclaimed his seat. His dark eyes moved over the enormous hands, long, thick legs and broad chest. David could see where the priest’s attention was and he indicated Gart.

“I would have you meet my most trusted knight, Sir Gart Forbes,” he said, noting the apprehensive expression on the priest’s face. “He is as deadly as you think he is but I assure you, he is quite docile at the moment. I wanted him to be a part of this conversation, with your permission. It is important.”

Jonas agreed, casually, as if the man’s deadly countenance didn’t matter in the least. He reclaimed his cup.

“It is your home, my lord,” he said. “You have the right to demand who stays and who goes. Now, I assume you did not call me from St. Bartholomew’s simply for polite conversation.”

David shook his head. “I did not,” he confirmed. “We seek your counsel.”

“We?” the priest looked over at Gart, still standing just inside the door. “You and your knight?”

David nodded, waving Gart over. “Come and sit,” he told the knight, looking back to the priest in his woolen robes, dusty from travel. “Gart has some questions that I am hoping you can answer.”

Jonas focused expectantly on the big knight as the man assumed a seat across from him. But the knight was perched uncomfortably, stiffly, and Jonas observed the uneasy display. He was coming to feel somewhat sorry for the man, so ill at ease in the comfortable and lovely room.

“Well?” Jonas asked politely. “What is your question, my son?”

Gart cleared his throat, eyeing David as he did so. “I was wondering, Your Grace,” he cleared his throat again and coughed for good measure. “What…. What does the Church consider grounds for a divorce?”

Jonas looked rather thoughtful at the question. “The Church is very clear on its stance for divorce,” he settled back in his chair. “Only under the most extreme circumstances is it considered, for example, adultery or grievous sins such as heresy. Do you want to divorce your wife, my son?”

Gart shook his head, looking at David for support. Gart was never particularly good with spoken word, especially when he was uncertain on the subject matter. Already he was rattled and struggling not to look like a fool.

“Nay,” he assured him. “It is more complex than that.”

The priest wasn’t following him. “Complex? What do you mean?”

Gart was quickly sliding into embarrassing misery and David came to his aid. “The story is long and complicated,” he told the priest. “I will provide you with the details. Gart is in love with a woman whose husband beats her mercilessly. The lady is in love with Gart also and they wish to be together. Gart would like to know if the lady, under extreme circumstances, can divorce her husband.”

Jonas tried not to appear shocked as his gaze moved between Gart and David. After a moment, he simply shook his head. “I know of no circumstances that would allow for such an intervention unless the man was proven in the extreme.”

“What is extreme?” David pushed.

Jonas was uncomfortable discussing the subject but he obliged. “If the husband was somehow proven to be a follower of Satan or a heretic, the Church might consider a divorce because to remain with such a man would endanger the wife’s immortal soul.” He looked back at Gart. “But this is not the case. You want the lady to be free of her husband so that you can marry her.”

Gart felt like he was already condemned to Hell by the way the man was looking at him. Still, he was not ashamed of his love for Emberley. “Aye, Your Grace.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Months, Your Grace.”

“Have you had relations with the woman in the conjugal sense?”

“Aye, Your Grace.”

Jonas sighed faintly. “My son, you are committing adultery with this woman. Do you not understand that?”

Gart nodded. “I do,” he whispered. “But… her husband beats her regularly and is cruel to her and the children. He is a vile excuse for a man and does not deserve her. Why can she not divorce a man who treats her no better than an animal?”

Jonas could see the vulnerability in the man’s eyes. He didn’t even know him but he could see that there was longing and concern and compassion there. He began to feel some compassion of his own in spite of himself.

“A husband may do as he pleases with his wife,” he said quietly, somewhat gently. “As long as he does not kill her, the Church will not intervene. Beatings alone are not grounds for a divorce.”

Gart looked at David with a look of such desolation that David felt the physical impact. He turned to the priest.

“Her husband is the lover of Queen Isabella,” he said, his voice low. “The man openly commits adultery with the queen, for Christ’s sake. Is that not a violation of God’s sanctity of marriage?”

Jonas was beginning to understand more of the situation now. He looked at Gart. “Is this true?”

Gart nodded, struggling against the creeping sense of despair. “It is.”

“The man is beyond reprehensible,” David put in, more strongly. “Let me tell you about this man and see if the Church approves of the manner in which he obeys God’s laws of marriage. Not only has he been the lover of the queen for quite some time, but recently, the queen has started to show interest in another man so her lover, this husband, has sent for his wife and children to join him in London so he can make the queen jealous and remain in her favor. How is it not right for the woman to be granted a divorce from a man who clearly abuses the marriage laws?”

Jonas sighed deeply, obviously given much to think about. Setting his pewter cup onto the table, he rose on his long legs and began to pace the scrubbed wood floor. Gart and David watched him closely as he clasped his hands behind his back, thoughtfully, watching his feet as he moved around the room. He paused by one of the great Norman lancet windows, his gaze moving to the green gardens beyond.

“The Church is very specific about its views on divorce,” he said. “I am not entirely sure there is a simple answer to this, at least one that would be acceptable.”

“Please,” Gart was on his feet, moving towards the priest. “You do not understand, Your Grace. Lady Emberley’s brother and I were best friends as children and I grew up knowing the lady and her family. I had not seen her in years until we were reacquainted a couple of months ago, and I subsequently came to know a bright, wonderful and sweet lady who is the epitome of what every woman should be. She has four children that she loves dearly, all offspring of her vile husband, yet there is so much love between the five of them that it is difficult to imagine. I have spent the past two months with them and never have I known so much happiness or peace. Please understand that I will beg, borrow, steal or kill in order to insure she no longer lives in fear and pain from her husband. Even if she did not love me and even if we were never meant to be together, I would still fight to free her from her husband because she deserves far better in life than what she has been dealt.”

The priest was watching him from his perch by the window, moved by the man’s speech. Slowly, he made his way towards the knight, coming to stand in front of him, inspecting him, dissecting the expression on Gart’s face with every ounce of wisdom and intuition he possessed. He could feel the sincerity of the man and it touched him. After a moment, he put his hand on Gart’s shoulder.

“Your name is Gart?” he said softly.

Gart nodded. “My name is Gabriel but everyone calls me Gart.”

Jonas smiled. “ ’And the angel answering said unto him, ‘I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God; and am sent to speak unto thee, and to shew thee these glad tidings’ .” His smile grew at Gart’s confused expression. “Do you not know your Bible, knight? Gabriel was the archangel that announced the birth of John the Baptist and Jesus Christ. He is the bearer of God’s secret messages to his chosen ones. He is also the great protector of Mankind.”

Gart was torn between interest and embarrassment. “I only wish to protect Emberley and her children, Your Grace, not the entire world.”

Jonas chuckled softly. “Even if I knew nothing about you other than the fact that you are a knight, your impassioned plea has shown me that beyond the killing machine lies a man of flesh and blood and heart,” he said softly. “You have a compassionate and selfless soul, Sir Gart. That is something not often seen in fighting men.”

Gart wasn’t sure how to respond. “It is the truth,” he said. “I only want to see her happy and would do anything to accomplish this.”

Jonas nodded with some resignation, sensing that this simple conversation was the start of a situation that was anything but uncomplicated. Hand still on Gart’s shoulder, he looked at David.

“There is another option,” he said, “although you may not wish to pursue it. A man can divorce his wife on the grounds of adultery. It has been done. I would assume that the husband knows nothing of the affair?”

Gart shook his head. “He does not, but he will at some point. The lady is pregnant with my child.”

Jonas lifted his eyebrows. “Well,” he said with some irony. “That will help the husband’s case. Perhaps if he were to be told of the affair, it would prompt him to begin proceedings.”

David shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said flatly. “It would only give him an excuse to kill his wife. I suspect he would murder her before he would divorce her.”

Jonas dropped his hand from Gart’s shoulder and sought his chair again, collecting his half-full cup of wine. Gart retrieved the heavy pewter pitcher and filled it to the rim, and Jonas thanked him.

“You would not know this, but the queen comes to St. Bartholomew every Friday for confession,” Jonas said. “She has her own priest but she does not trust him to fully absolve her for her sins, so she comes to my church every week to seek forgiveness for a multitude of transgressions. Usually, Father Constantine hears her confession, as head of our order. I have, however, heard her confession twice and with the acts of debauchery she confessions, she cannot do enough penance in a thousand lifetimes to make up for it. God has already turned his back on her.”

David held his cup out as Gart poured him more wine. “And she has never confessed the affair with Buckland?”

Jonas looked up from his wine. “So that is who she is having the affair with?” he snorted. “She did mention something about unholy appetites with a man other than her husband but I had no idea it was Baron Buckland.”

David scratched as his neck casually. “You are a priest. I do not believe you are supposed to discuss confessions with us.”

“You asked.”

“I should not have. I will have to ask forgiveness when I next go to Confession.”

Jonas chuckled at the man’s quirky humor. “It is not as if everyone in England does not know of her activities. I was not divulging something that was not already common knowledge.”

David fought off a grin. “I hope you do not discuss my confessions with anyone or I could be in a good deal of trouble.”

Jonas flicked a hand towards the manse entry. “Are hordes of the king’s supporters here to burn your home to the ground?”

“Nay.”

“And they shall not be, at least not by my lips. Your confessions are safe with me, my lord. I will take them to my grave.”

As David and the priest snorted at each other, Gart was still riveted to his information about Isabella’s confession. “Do you know of Buckland, Your Grace?”

Jonas nodded and took a long drink of wine. “Again, I am discussing information that is common knowledge. Buckland comes to confession with her. I thought he was simply one of her entourage. I have heard his confession several times and never once has he mentioned a wife.”

Gart looked at David as if looking to the man for all of the answers. There had to be some measure of help in all of this information, something they could do that would help Gart’s case. David’s mind was already working furiously and as an idea began to form, he took the pewter pitcher of wine and topped off the priest’s cup. David was naturally aggressive even though he wasn’t a natural negotiator. That usually came from his brother. But his brother wasn’t here and David had to act.

“I have been going to Confession since I was old enough to speak,” David said casually, setting the pitcher back down. “Every time I deliver my admissions, the priest tells me what I must do in order to seek God’s forgiveness.”

Jonas drank his wine, a very fine, red variety that was delicious. He nodded to David’s statement. “Indeed,” he replied. “It is our obligation to provide guidance.”

David toyed with his cup, watching the priest drink. “You said that Isabella cannot do enough penance for the sins she has committed.”

“That is true.”

“What if there was something she could do?”

Jonas cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

David was calm and controlled as he spoke. “Perhaps you should hear her confession the next time,” he told him. “When it is over, tell her that the only way for her to avoid eternity in hell for all of the misdeeds she has done is to right at least one wrong in her life. As she cavorts with Buckland, she too is committing adultery, a vile sin. If Buckland divorces his wife, it will help Isabella’s cause. She will only have to worry about doing penance for her own marriage and not his. She must convince Buckland to divorce his wife.”

Jonas lifted his eyebrows, both surprised and intrigued. “Interesting,” he said. “I have never heard of such atonement, but it is an interesting thought.”

David sat forward, his sky blue eyes glittering. “You will tell Buckland the same thing when he comes for Confession,” he lowered his voice. “Make sure he confesses only to you and tell him that he must divorce his wife to erase the sin of adultery. Tell him if he does not, he will face eternal damnation. You will also tell him that if he ever beats his wife again, there is no penitence strong enough to erase his actions and he will spend a thousand years in purgatory. Tell him God is displeased with his actions and hell awaits him if he does not comply with all conditions.”

All humor was gone from Jonas’ face. “Are you serious?” he hissed. “But it is not….”

David cut him off. “I will pay for a new roof for St. Bartholomew if you will do this. That place has needed a new roof for years and, as I recall, you have been attempting to raise the money. I will provide it if you will do this. Your service will reap my reward. God works in mysterious ways, does he not?”

Jonas stared at him, torn between denial and agreement. He was adamantly opposed to using the confessional as a manipulation tool, especially as it pertained to a sin such as divorce, but on the other hand, priests had been using the confessional for centuries as a springboard for their own desires and agendas. It was nothing new.

As he thought on it, what he was asked to do wasn’t meant to be evil in the true sense. The knight was in love with a woman who was abused and his liege was attempting to help him. It was not as if Buckland hadn’t violated his marriage vows first.

Jonas set down his chalice of wine, regarding David carefully. He could see how serious the baron was. After a moment, his humor returned.

“I fear that I have stepped into a trap,” he grinned.

David relaxed somewhat, sitting back in his chair and reclaiming his wine. “There is no trap,” he said. “But we are speaking of two people who do unspeakable wrong on a daily basis. Why protect them with God’s laws? Help a poor, defenseless woman break free of the clutches of her evil husband. Buckland is going to hell anyway. A divorce will not make or break his eternal soul.”

Jonas sighed heavily, finally looking to Gart who looked both apprehensive and hopeful. He wriggled his eyebrows at the knight.

“Did you tell him to ask this of me?” he demanded lightly.

Gart shook his head. “How could I? I did not know that Buckland and Isabella came to you for confession.”

Jonas knew that but he had asked the question anyway. His gaze moved back to David, thinking of the new roof they so desperately needed. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“You realize that the entire roof needs repair,” he said.

David nodded. “I do.”

“It will be quite expensive.”

“Gart is a good knight. If you do not do this for him, I will lose him. He will run off with the lady and I will never see him again, and I need him.”

Jonas looked at Gart again, who was gazing steadily in return. Weighing the good against the bad, the need against the want, Jonas finally nodded his head. It was a weary, resigned gesture.

“Very well,” he said. “I will do it. But this conversation between the three of us must not leave this room. If I am found out, I will lose all credibility at the very least. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, Your Grace,” David stood up, extending a hand to the man. “You have my gratitude.”

Jonas stood up, accepting the outstretched hand with some reluctance. “When do we get our new roof?”

“As soon as Buckland makes his appeal for a divorce.”

Jonas sighed heavily and shook his head, already feeling guilty for what he had agreed to. “I will probably need to tell him how to go about it so he does not muck up the process. The man is an idiot.”

“Aye, he is. I will have Kevin return you to London now.”

“Nay,” Jonas’ attention turned to Gart. “I would have Gabriel escort me back to London. I would come to know this man for whom I am risking my livelihood for.”

Gart nodded. “It will be my pleasure, Your Grace.”

Jonas eyed Gart for a long moment as if still debating the rightness of what he had agreed to, but in any case, it was too late. He had already done business with the Devil and the bargain was sealed.

On the ride back to St. Bartholomew, Father Jonas and Gart had a very interesting and very long conversation about the moral obligations of a knight. Moral or not, true love seemed to trump everything. It was all Gart could talk about.