Kathryn Le Veque (24 page)

    
… I
guess I
do
still have the power!

    
Power, indeed. Men around him began to back
away, forgetting their fight as they struggled to move away from him.
 
Dodge’s men grabbed their bloodied and beaten
liege, making haste out of the tavern before de Garr turned his awesome power
on them. No one wanted to be cast down by a man who had powers beyond their
comprehension.
 
It was the most
astonishing thing any of them had ever seen.
 
And it was utterly terrifying.

    
Bowen had seen all of it.
 
He rose stiffly from the floor, his features
a mask of shock.
 
Timidly, he touched his
brother on the arm, getting his attention.
 
Roane was torn between looking at his brother and still inspecting his
hands, trying to figure out just how he had managed to accomplish such a thing.

    
“Roane?”
Bowen
ventured hoarsely. “What… what was that?”

    
Roane shook his head helplessly. “I truly don’t
know,” he muttered, awed and breathless. “All I could see was Alisanne’s death
and every corner of my soul was determined to prevent it. I held up my hands
instinctively to protect her and….”

    
He couldn’t finish his sentence. He was as
baffled as the rest of them.
 
Bowen
finally reached out and took one of Roane’s hands, peering at it as if to note
something different from ordinary hands. But they looked ordinary enough to
him.
 
He was stumped.

    
“This goes no further,” he said, mostly to
his men standing behind him who had witnessed the entire incident. “We will
speak of this no more, is that clear?
 
If
word of this gets out, I will find out who spoke of it and punish the man
accordingly.”

    
“Dodge’s men saw it,” Roane said, gesturing
to the dead soldier burrowed into the wall. “They’ll speak of it. Mayhap
they’re already riding for Clavell Hill as we speak to spout it to anyone who
will listen.”

    
“If they do, no one will believe them,”
Bowen grunted.
 
Then he threw up his
hands in exasperation. “Who would?
 
It’s
pure insanity to even entertain such a thing. But I must ask, Roane… when it
happened… how did you do it?”

    
“I don’t know!”

    
“But what were you thinking?”

    
Roane lifted his big shoulders, trying very
hard to pin down what he had been thinking at that exact moment.
 
“I am not sure,” he said. “It was as if my
entire mind and body joined together and… I cannot explain this other than to
say the power I thought I’d lost evidently wasn’t lost at all. I thought it was
gone but clearly, it is not. I have no idea how I summoned it.”

    
“You did not summon it,” Joseph Ari stepped
forward, pushing through a group of Bowen’s men in order to reach Roane.
 
His weary eyes glimmered at the man. “It
summoned you and you responded in kind. Don’t you see, Roane? God has given you
a gift and through you, He works miracles. You used this gift on me once before
and you healed me. Now you have saved the woman you love. Don’t you see? God
has given you what he has given no other; a touch to save and a touch to heal.”

    
Roane looked at the man who had been there
the day he had received his “gift”, the day the lightning struck the slab in
the Holy Sepulcher.
 
His gaze lingered on
him a moment before moving to the stairs where Alisanne still stood.
 
His features softened as he focused on her.

    
“I couldn’t let her come to harm,” he
murmured. “She is all to me.”

    
“Your love saved her,” Joseph Ari said
softly. “Once, when you used your gift on me, it was because you loved me, was
it not? We were the best of friends, in brotherly love.”

    
Roane looked at Joseph Ari. “But I tried to
heal her eyes once before,” he said. “It did not work.”

    
“Mayhap that was because you did not love
her then.
 
But you love her now.”

    
Roane nodded, thinking that the man might
have a point.
 
He loved Alisanne more
than anything in the world. “What I did… it was motivated by pure love.”

    
The priest nodded confidently. “With love,
you can move mountains, cure a blind man, or protect the woman you adore.
 
Love can accomplish all things.”

Roane was coming to understand now what it meant to love and be
loved.
 
This gift he had, feared for so
long,
was something only brought out or motivated by
love.
 
It was a true blessing from God in
every sense of the word.
 
He still feared
it a little, but at least now he understood it.
 
It was a part of him and
he
a part of it. It
was a light unto his soul, making him what he was, and Alisanne was the seed
from which that love was sprung.
 
She was
his shining star, his everything.
 
 
He looked at Joseph Ari.

“What did you call me, once?” he asked, thinking back to that day
in Jerusalem that changed his life forever.
“The Lord of
Light?”

Joseph Ari grinned. “You brought light into my life by healing my
blindness,” he said. “That is what you are to me; light.”

Roane turned to Alisanne, who was coming down the stairs,
approaching him.
 
She no longer looked
shocked, but warm and glowing. All of her glowed.
 
Roane sighed as his gaze beheld her.
 
For the first time in his life, and certainly
for the first time in the past three years, everything came clear to him.

“That is what
she
is to
me,” he murmured.
“
Light
.”

EPILOGUE

Year of our Lord 1200 A.D.

Kinlet Castle, Shropshire

“I am not entirely certain why you are so reluctant, Roane,” Bowen
said. “The House of Penden is a very fine family.
 
They are the Stewards of Rochester and also
relations to the Earl of East Anglia.
 
A
marriage to the steward’s heir would be a fine thing indeed.”

Roane stood in the great hall of Kinlet, a fine place now that
money and hard work had repaired the once-dilapidated castle.
 
It was warm with a fire in the massive
hearth, fragrant with rushes on the floor, and comfortable thanks to the fine
furniture and tapestries that Roane’s inheritance had provided.
 
Bowen had given him half of everything those
years ago, convinced that Roane was entitled to it.
 
It had been a generous and selfless act,
brother to brother.
 
Now, Bowen was
trying to produce another selfless act but Roane was resisting heavily.

Bowen had arrived an hour earlier, the end of a long trip from
Gargrave Castle.
 
He had come with one
hundred men as escort, including Albert who was now the captain of his guard,
and a message for his brother.
 
Unfortunately,
Roane didn’t like the message.

“I am not entirely sure where you got the idea that I was prepared
to betroth my seven year old daughter,” Roane said, somewhat angrily.
 
“Afton is much too young to be considered
marriageable.”

Bowen glanced at Alisanne, who was sitting by the fire sewing on a
garment that was strewn across her lap.
  
At her feet, two young boys, twins that were five years of age, played
happily with a toy cart and pieces of sticks that they had built up into an imaginary
castle.
 
The baby was asleep upstairs,
watched over by her nurse, while the eldest child, the daughter in question,
stood silently next to her mother.
 
Alisanne was focused on her sewing although
she could feel the attention of the men upon her.
 
She continued to sew.

“I believe what Bowen is suggesting is a marriage contract and not
an immediate marriage,” she said, finally setting her sewing to her lap.
 
“We’re not the royal family, for Heaven’s
sake, and we need not marry our children as babies in order to secure
dynasties.
 
But a contract with the
Stewards of Rochester would be most advantageous for Afton.
  
Who is the current steward, Bowen?”

Bowen scratched his head as he moved for the long, scrubbed
feasting table and a pitcher of fine ale. “Sir Brac Penden,” he said. “His son
is eleven years of age and fostering at Lioncross Abbey.”

“De Lohr’s seat,” Roane grunted. “He’s the Earl of Hereford and
Worcester.
 
Christ, the man is
legendary.”

“We’re off the subject,” Alisanne said, looking over her shoulder
at Bowen. “Did the Steward of Rochester seek you out to propose this marriage
contract to your brother?”

Bowen nodded. “I knew the man’s deceased father, Sir Hunt Penden,”
he said. “I only recently saw him and was able to offer my condolences when he
brought up the subject of securing a good marriage for his eldest son. I
mentioned my lovely niece, as I have only boys to offer, and he was most
interested.
 
It would be a very good
contract, Roane.
 
Afton will have to
marry some time; why not marry into power?”

Roane had a permanent scowl on his face as he looked at his
daughter, standing next to Alisanne.
 
The
Lady Afton Isabelle de Garr had his blond hair, her mother’s beautiful face,
and a personality that was all her own.
 
She was brilliant, humorous, diligent, and manipulative even at her
young age.
 
She could make her father do
anything with a sweet word and a bright smile. He was an idiot for her.
 
Even now, she stood there looking at him with
a completely innocent expression but he knew it was all for show.
 
If she thought she could talk her father into
anything, no matter what it was, she would do it.
 
It was a game with her.

His gaze drifted from Afton to the twins, Dallon and Lynton.
 
Even though they had been born together, they
were miles apart in both looks and personality. Dallon was loud and aggressive
while Lynton was more like he was, calm and calculating.
 
They were strapping boys and he couldn’t have
been more proud of them.
  
And the baby,
Alexandra, was as sweet as she could be.
 
He melted every time he held her.
 

Aye, Roane was exceedingly proud of his family.
 
He was very blessed.
 
But he was also very selfish and he didn’t
want to share them; he couldn’t even think of a marriage contract at the moment
for his darling Afton.
  
But he knew, as
they all did, that if Alisanne deemed it the correct and proper course, he
would have to agree.
 
She was his voice of
reason, in all things.

“What do you think, Alisanne?” he finally asked because he was
having difficulty making a non-emotional decision. “Tell me your thoughts,
love.”

Alisanne glanced at her daughter before speaking. “The House of
Penden is a very fine house,” she said. “Afton would be the steward’s wife and
well-respected.
 
We could search the rest
of her life and never find a better offer. Mayhap we should consider visiting
the boy and making the judgment at that time.”
    
Bowen grinned. “No need,” he said. “I
have invited the steward and his son to Gargrave next month.
  
You could meet him at that time and discuss
the arrangements.”

Roane could see that his brother had things all planned out.
 
“So speaking to me was only a formality?” he
asked, outraged. “Why speak with me at all? You have already planned my
daughter’s future!”

Alisanne fought off a grin as she picked her sewing up and
resumed. “Have no fear, my love,” she said. “We will do the same to him. We
will comb the countryside for the most obnoxious girl children we can find and
bombard him with them.
 
He will be
pulling his hair out in agony.”

Roane liked that idea.
 
He
pointed a finger at his brother. “You have four boys,” he said.
“Four obnoxious women.”

Bowen scratched his head in frustration. “This is my reward for
trying to do you a good turn?” he asked. “I would have done better had I stayed
out of it and allowed your daughter to marry a pauper.”

Alisanne giggled as Roane and Bowen grunted at each other. “Bowen,
we appreciate your foresight, truly,” she said. “And we would be very glad to
meet the Steward of Rochester and his son.
 
Afton will need to marry eventually and the steward’s heir might prove a
perfect match.”

Bowen was triumphant over his brother, who was looking at his
daughter.
 
He went to sit in the chair
across from his wife, a pair of chairs they kept before the great hearth where
they could conduct conversation or sit and enjoy their children.
  
He’d spent many an evening sitting in that
chair, speaking with his wife or singing one or more child to sleep.
 
Sitting heavily, he brooded pensively for a
moment until he felt a warm body next to him. Looking over, he saw Afton
standing next to his chair. Her big green eyes were focused on him.

“Dada?” she asked in her sweet little voice. “Why are you sad?”

Roane smiled at the child and pulled her onto his lap. “I am not
sad,” he said. “I am very happy.”

“You do not want me to marry?”

His smile faded. “Of course I want you to marry.”

“Then you do not want me to go away?”

“Nay, I do not want you to go away.”

Afton’s little brow furrowed.
“But I must go away, Dada,” she
said. “I go to Trelystan Castle to foster soon. Mama says so. She says I will
learn a great many things there. Are you not happy for me, Dada?”

Roane’s smile was gone completely at the thought of his daughter
being sent away to foster.
 
He didn’t
want her going anywhere. “I am sure it will be a great adventure,” he said
glumly. “’Tis simply that I will miss you, that’s all.”

Alisanne had been watching the exchange carefully.
 
When she saw that Roane was sliding into
sorrow, she clapped her hands briskly.

“Children,” she said, setting her sewing aside and standing up.
“Uncle Bowen must be very tired from his ride.
 
Take him up to his chamber, if you please.
  
Dallon, ask your uncle if you can carry his
baggage and Lynton, you will ask him if you can help tend his horse.
 
Afton, escort your uncle upstairs and make
sure he has everything he needs.”

Alisanne had a very calm but sweet manner with the children and
they immediately moved to do her bidding. Lynton, who had been playing with a
toy cart, stood up with it still in his hand, gave it over to Bowen without a
word, and then took his uncle’s hand and began leading him out of the great
hall. Bowen had no choice but to go with him, holding the cart in one hand and
Lynton in the other.
 
Afton and Dallon
wandered after the pair, leaving their mother and father alone by the fire.

When the hall was empty and still for the most part, Alisanne
turned to her husband.
 
He seemed
so
forlorn and sad as he sat pensively in his chair. She
went to him, a gentle hand on his head.

“What is the matter, my love?” she asked softly. “Does the thought
of Afton’s marriage bother you so much?”

He frowned as he took her hand and kissed it tenderly. “Nay,” he
muttered. “It’s the fact that she is growing up so quickly. I look at her and I
still see that fat-cheeked baby I was so in love with. Do you remember?”

Alisanne knelt next to the chair, grinning as he continued to
nibble on her hand. “Of course I do,” she whispered. “From the moment Ovier
delivered her, you never let her out of your sight. She couldn’t have spent
more than a few hours in her bed for the first few months of her life.
 
You carried her around constantly.
 
When she would cry, you would panic.”

He looked somewhat chagrined. “I had never been around an infant
before,” he admitted. “She was so sweet and perfect. I do not like the prospect
of losing her, not even to marriage.”

Alisanne sighed faintly. “She is due to foster in two months,” she
reminded him gently. “Roane, she must grow up.
 
Dallon and Lynton must grow up, as must Alexandra eventually.
 
You
know
this.
 
You must prepare yourself for it.”

Roane sat, staring into the flames, his wife’s hand against his
lips.
 
He seemed so very pensive and
distant.

“When I was growing up, it was just me and Bowen,” he said softly.
“My father was not particularly attentive to us since my mother died.
 
When Bowen and I went to foster, we were
separated and I was alone.
 
When I was
swept up with the Hospitallers Order and decided to join, again, I was alone.
Until I met you, I was alone nearly my entire life and now I have the most
wonderful wife and children a man could have.
 
We have such a perfect world, Alisanne. We have fought hard to achieve
it. I suppose… I suppose I simply do not ever want to see it end, and that
includes sending my children to foster or watching them get married.”

Alisanne understood somewhat. “We cannot deny them the
opportunities we had,” she said, stroking his blond hair. “We had the
opportunity to learn from others, to make our own mistakes, and to marry
someone we loved.
 
Would you take that
away from them simply because you do not want them away from you?”

He caught her eye, making a face because he knew she was
right.
 
Alisanne laughed softly and
kissed his cheek. “We have beautiful, intelligent children, Roane,” she said
quietly. “Let them make their mark on the world as you have.
 
Let them achieve their happiness.”

Roane kissed her hand, her cheek, and finally her lips, losing
himself in the deep love and admiration he had for her.
 
His light, as he had once called her, was his
greatest shining star and he thanked God daily that she had been brought into
his life.
 
When Bowen returned to the
hall some time later, he and Roane sat at the great feasting table and made
plans for the meeting with the Steward of Rochester.
  
Alisanne had deemed that he should, so he
did.

The Lady Afton de Garr was married to Sir Titus Penden ten years
later in a lavish ceremony at Rochester Cathedral and eventually became mother
to the future heir of Rochester.
 
Dallon
de Garr became a great knight for young Henry the Third and his brother,
Lynton, went on to become a powerful priest in the Catholic Church, nurtured in
his early years by his pious great-uncle, Joseph Ari, who had been a great role
model for him.
 
Lastly, the Lady
Alexandra de Garr grew up to marry a son of the great Christopher de Lohr, Earl
of Hereford and Worcester, linking the House of de Garr with the House of de
Lohr.
 
It was a long and beneficial
association.