Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me (15 page)

“I wondered if you might like to get involved with the children.” He rubbed his finger across his upper lip, something she’d often seen him do when he weighed a decision.

“I would enjoy that very much.” Relief filled her at his simple request. “I would like to serve more of a purpose here.”

“I’m pleased you said that. There’s a boy—” He waved his hand. “Never mind. Much too forward of me.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to put any pressure upon you...unless you felt ready, of course.”

“Tell me of the boy,” she said, her curiosity aroused.

“If you insist.” He rose and rang the bell on a nearby table.

Cristiana waited, but the bishop said nothing more, only smiled.
Something about that smile made her uneasy.

A knock sounded at the door and the bishop bid them
to enter. Cristiana watched as a servant carried in a child. Immediately she saw the young boy was unwell and her stomach sank. His rough woolen tunic hung on his thin frame. Lank, brown hair covered his head and his face was thin and pale.

“Who is this?” she asked nervously, well aware
of what the bishop expected her to do.

“The tanner’s son.
He’s been feeling poorly for nearly a fortnight. I thought you might want to know.”

Though she knew what the bishop
had in mind, she didn’t have to like it. Anger filled her, both at him for doing this and at herself for believing he understood her. Why had she let herself be fooled by his kind ways and polite conversation?

If she’d come across the boy, she would’ve been happy to try her best to help him. But to be forced to do so was a different matter entirely. She couldn’t turn away someone in need, especially a child. The bishop might as well have held a knife at her back.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked as she stayed where she was, wishing she could think of a way out of the situation.

The servant started to lay the
unconscious boy on the padded bench near the window.

“Put him on the floor,” the bishop ordered with a look of disgust. “
I don’t want his filthy clothes dirtying the cushion.”

Cristiana stared at him in disbelief. He brought the boy in but didn’t w
ant him touching the furniture?

He
glanced at her and immediately countered his order. “I misspoke. I meant for you to proceed. We want the child to be comfortable.” He then dismissed the servant with a wave of his hand. Once the man had closed the door, the bishop turned to Cristiana. “Can you aid him?”

“I don’t know,” Cristiana
said. Reluctance filled her as she knew that once she’d healed, she’d be expected to do so again. “This is an impossible situation.”

“Shall I have him taken away?” the bishop asked,
brow raised in askance as he reached for the bell.

With a sigh
of frustration, she shook her head. If she could help the boy she would. The poor thing tugged at her heart. She sat beside him on the cushion, brushing his hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering to find the source of his illness.

“What is it you’re
doing?”

She ignored the bishop and continued to gently touch
the boy. The heat seemed to emanate from his chest. She leaned down to listen to his breathing and detected a raspy sound. Yet she continued to run her hands along his limbs to be certain where the true problem was. A few times, she’d healed the first source in which she’d found heat, only to realize it was a side effect of the true problem.

“Why don’t you proceed?” the bishop asked impatiently.

She kept her back to him, partly to block out his presence and partly to keep him from watching too closely. His regard made her uncomfortable. With a deep breath, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed toward the illness to test its strength. It seemed to have a strong hold, but she felt certain she could help.

“What is it you’re doing?”

She ignored the bishop and focused all her strength. She pushed out the heat then drew it back with her. After a few moments rest, she did it again. This time, a flush filled the boy’s cheeks and his eyes fluttered open. He looked at her with a startled expression.

“Good day to you,” she said softly even as weariness an
d a deep pain filled her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You’re in the bishop’s chambers.”

His eyes widened with fright.
“What for? I’ve been good. I promise I have.”

The bishop stepped forward but the boy scramble
d back. “Please, no!”

Despite her tiredness and pain, Cristiana offered her hand to th
e boy. His behavior confused her. “The bishop won’t hurt you.”

The b
oy looked at her with distrust but remained silent.

Cristiana looked up at the bishop to see his reaction to the accusation.
His lips tightened in a thin line, his eyes narrowed. “You speak nonsense, boy. Your sickness addled your brain.”

Realization dawned on the boy. “I was sick.
” He put a hand on his chest as his gaze caught hers. “Did you help me?”

“You must’ve been getting better already,” she said, downplaying her role as always.

“I want my mother.”

“Of course you do. Shall we find her for you?”

He nodded frantically, keeping a wary gaze on the bishop.

She rose slowly
, fighting off her exhaustion and offered her hand again. “Come along then. You lead the way. We’ll show her how much better you’re feeling.”

Hesitating
, he at last took her hand but continued to stare at the bishop over his shoulder as they moved toward the door.

Cristiana looked at
the bishop as well, wondering why the child would have such a reaction to him. What had the bishop done to make a little boy frightened of him?

***

Filled with rage, Bishop Duval slammed his hand against his desk, startling Father Daniel who stood before him.

“You should have seen that worthless child,
Daniel. He acted as though he were terrified of me!”

“Oh
, dear,” the priest said, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I’ve never spoken with that boy, let alone touched him.”

“Perhaps word has spread of the other...incident,” Father Daniel suggested.

“That’s ridiculous. That was a m
inor occurrence with one child. Besides, he needed to learn not to beg. How dare he approach me!”

“A
verbal warning might have been sufficient.”

“Speaking with those children never brings results. You must be firm. If their father
s raised them properly, they wouldn’t act so outrageously.”

Father
Daniel wisely kept silent.

“Just when I was gaining Cristiana’s trust, this happened.” The bi
shop shook his head in disgust.

“Perhaps she
realizes the boy overreacted.”

“
You may be right.” The bishop considered his options. In truth, he could do nothing to change what had happened. “Surely that other man cannot be spreading rumors about me.”

“I believe that problem
was resolved. Now that he’s marked a liar, no one would believe him. I’m told he left Longsbury rather quickly after you dealt with him.”

“These people force me to take action that I do not wish to take. They leave me no choice wit
h their unacceptable behavior.”

“Disappointing, for c
ertain,” Father Daniel agreed.

“Did Cristiana go to her chamber?”

“Aye. I believe she’s resting.”

“To think she wanted to accompany that boy to his home.
What was she thinking?”

“I cannot say.”

Bishop Duval brought his thoughts back to what was truly important. Cristiana’s healing. He had some suggestions on her technique. It would be a much more impressive sight if she lifted her hands to the heavens before she placed them on the person. The crowds would soon be watching her every move. The more dramatic they could make the spectacle, the better. He’d have embroidered cushions especially made for the event.

He
was also convinced that if she healed more people, her power would build. It was so simple, he was surprised she hadn’t discovered it on her own.

But she was only a woman, after all. Not so different from her mother, complete with all the flaws.

Father Daniel cleared his throat. “The chapter wishes to meet with you regarding the recent expenditures. They are concerned about how much over budget the changes you requested will be.”

The bishop scowled. He hated having to answer to the chapter. But with the plans he had, they would soon be indebted to him.

After meeting with the chapter, he would speak with Cristiana. The time had come to put a little more pressure on his ward.

Cristiana steadied her nerves, gathering her anger instead. A good night’s sleep had helped her recover from the healing, but not from the feeling of being used.

“I would like to speak with the bishop,” she told the man-at-arms who guarded the door to his
chamber. She intended to make it clear she would not perform at his command. If he couldn’t agree, she’d leave at the first opportunity.

A few mome
nts later, she was escorted in.

T
he bishop sat at his desk, quill in hand, parchment spread before him. “Good day, Cristiana.”

“Bishop Duval, I
would speak with you about something important.” She moved to stand before his desk, her stomach jumping.

“Allow me to
talk first.” He sat back in his chair and studied her. “I would like to apologize for putting you through that dilemma yesterday. I only wanted to understand how your skill worked. In my eagerness, I was insensitive as to how it may have made you feel.”

Cristiana
searched his face, trying to measure his sincerity. Did he speak the truth or were these words merely to placate her? She could think of no reason he would bother to do so, but her doubt remained.

The
few clues she had regarding a connection between the bishop and her mother were not enough to take action on, yet she could not let go of the many questions she had. She was at an impasse and unsure what to do next.

How she wished
William was here to speak with about this. He would know what to do. Somehow, she thought he’d tell her to listen to her instincts. She didn’t want to act rashly though, which meant she should wait until she had more evidence. Or should she? William’s return could not come soon enough. She wished she had someone to talk to about all this.

“I thought you had said you’d like to become more involved with children, but obviously we didn’t have the same meaning.”

“Well, I—”

“Nay, say no more. Please accept my apology.”

“Thank you,” she said at last, resigned to giving the bishop the benefit of the doubt. For now. She’d discovered several things about her mother since her arrival and she was certain there was more to learn. Her chances of success would increase if she acted graciously. Arguing with the bishop would gain her little.

“As I mentioned before,
my ability is limited. I can only help some people, not all, and certainly not those gravely ill or injured. Healing someone is...tiring.”

His eyes narrowed. “You
appear fine to me.”

“Indeed I am. But I must rest each time.
It is exhausting, physically and mentally.”

“Of course,” he said with that irritating smile again on his lips.
It made her doubt his sincerity.

Yet what could she do but proceed as though all was well
and the matter resolved? “I’m pleased you understand. I trust the incident that occurred yesterday won’t happen again.” She stated it as a fact, rather than a question.

He only
continued to smile.

With deep unease
, she curtsied and left the room, certain the issue was far from over.

***

“I don’t think we should let anyone, especially the bishop, know of our return,” William said as they neared Longsbury.

“Wha
t do you suggest?” Henry asked.

“Let us seek shelter elsewhere
. I will get a message to Cristiana and we can determine our next steps after we speak with her.”

“The bishop will not be pleased
if he discovers we have returned but not handed over the relic.”

“
Nor will he be pleased if we take away his ward,” William said.

Henry frowned. “Is that what you intend to do?”

“If she’s in danger, aye.” He watched Henry to see if he agreed. No matter that he had no idea what he’d do with her if she agreed to leave Longsbury with him. How had he gone from trying to earn his second chance at life by serving the bishop to defying him? Yet above all else, he knew he had to keep Cristiana safe. That felt right and true as few other things did of late.

His friend
studied him for a moment before nodding. “We cannot leave a lady in danger. But I hope you’re prepared for the bishop’s wrath. After what we learned on our journey, we know he is very dangerous.”

“
For certain, but we have no choice.”

“
True enough. Who here can we trust to help us?”

William shook his head. “I suppose we must rely on
our coins to buy us aid.”

The city had two gates, neither far enough away from the cathedral for William’s taste. As luck would have it, it was market day at Longsbury. The road was crowded with carts and people and animals.
All the better to hide two knights entering the city. The soldier guarding the gate hardly gave them notice as he was busy arguing with a man attempting to bring in a flock of sheep.

The rain had
struck here as well, leaving the road muddy and filled with puddles but at least the downpour had stopped.

They
found an inn on the outer edge of town, as far from the cathedral as they could get. After seeing to their horses and gaining a room, they stood outside, deciding how best to proceed.

“Why does that boy look familiar?” Henry asked as he
nodded toward a child across the muddy street.

The boy
guarded a cart full of firewood. A man approached him and William remembered. “The family we aided on the road. Cristiana healed the boy.”

Henry looked at William and smiled. “I believe we know someone we can trust after all.
I’m sure we could convince him to deliver a message for us.”

Aldwin
and his father recognized them immediately. “We are forever in the debt of both you and the lady,” the father said. “We’d be pleased to assist you.”

In short order, they
’d given the boy a message to deliver to Cristiana. They advised Aldwin to avoid the bishop. Obviously Bishop Duval didn’t care for children and they had no desire to put the boy in danger.

Now they had only to wait to see if
Aldwin could manage the task.

B
eing this close to Cristiana but not seeing her made William crazed. He worried it might take Aldwin some time to find a moment to speak with her privately. He couldn’t very well appear at the front door of the manor, asking to see her without rousing suspicion.

More than anything,
William longed to ride to the manor and see her for himself, to make certain she was well, then take her far away from this place. To keep her safe and out of danger. He hesitated to examine his feelings too closely. Surely they had more to do with being protective of her than anything deeper.

Unfortunately,
he had difficulty convincing himself of that.

***

Cristiana made her way toward the manor across the courtyard, avoiding the mud puddles when possible. She had met Branwen near the stables to make certain she was faring well. Her maid seemed restless but otherwise fine. Much like Cristiana felt.

A blac
k-robed figure moved toward her, head bent, hands tucked into his sleeves. He’d drawn next to her before she recognized Father Charles.

“Good day, Father,” she said with a smile. “How are you this fine day?”

The priest looked as though he was lost, not acknowledging her jest about the weather. “Oh. Lady Cristiana.”

“Is something amiss?” she asked. The man was clearly not himself.

He stared in the distance for a long moment before at last shaking his head. “I fear I’ve learned disappointing news.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He collected himself and met her gaze. “You’ve done more than enough already.” At her frown, he continued, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Not a bone in this old body aches, even with the rain we’ve had. Thank you for that.”

She
smiled, glad to know she’d truly helped.

“But I
intend to keep it our secret.” His green eyes twinkled.

“Thank you.” How she wished everyone here felt that way.

He sighed. “I’m too old for these games. I only want to do God’s work, but it seems that is not to be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t believe I’ll remain here much longer. The bishop and I have had a difference of opinion. You take care, my lady. I wish you well.”

Before she could ask him to explain, he hurried toward the cathedral
, his robe billowing out behind him.

Puzzled by
his words, she watched him until he disappeared inside. He’d been with the bishop for so long that it was surprising to hear he intended to leave.

The damp cold in the air
caused her to draw her cloak tighter against her neck, sending her thoughts toward the warmth of the fire in the hall.

“Psst.”

She paused to look around, wondering from where the sound came.

“Psst.
My lady. Here,” a whispered voice called.

At last she spotted a small boy crouched along a low stone wall
not far from the stables. It took her a moment to place him. “Aldwin, is that you?”

He
nodded, his smile wide and bright.

“Whatever are you doing here?” she asked. “
Where are your mother and father?”

He gestured
for her to draw nearer. When she did, he carefully looked around as though about to tell her a secret. “They aren’t far. I’ve a message for you, my lady.”

“From who?”

“Sir William.”

Her heart
raced and she glanced around. “Is he here?”

“He’s in Lonbgsbury, my lady. He bid me to tell you to meet him outside the
potter’s at the city’s south west edge.”

“Why doesn’t he come
to the manor?” The idea of seeing him sent flutters through her.

“He didn’t say though he did tell me it was most urgent that you
meet him.”

“Well, I
suppose I can, but I don’t understand why he doesn’t come here.”

The boy shrugged.
“He says to please don’t tell the bishop he has returned.”

Cristiana paused, trying to understand the message. None of it made sense, but she was getting used to that around here.
“Very well. Tell him I’ll be there soon after the mid-day meal. I need time to invent some sort of excuse.”

“I will let him know.”
Aldwin bowed and was gone in a blink.

How odd, she thought
then shook her head. In truth, it didn’t matter how odd it seemed. She was thrilled William had returned and she couldn’t wait to see him again. Why he had a sudden need for secrecy, she couldn’t guess but she was eager to discover why.

***

William leaned against the wall under a dripping eave near the entrance to the potter’s. The rain had settled in to drizzle over the city for the afternoon, making a wet and chilly day. He scanned the throng of people hurrying along the street for Cristiana. Aldwin had returned sooner than he’d hoped with the news that he’d delivered the message. Anticipation jumped in his stomach each time he spotted a woman.

“Waiting for someone?” a husky voice asked.

The cloaked form beside him lifted her hood to reveal the beautiful face he’d sorely missed. A multitude of feelings erupted inside him, catching him off guard. Those warm brown eyes held his, their lashes even longer than he remembered. The pert nose, the high cheekbones in her heart-shaped face made him lose all thoughts. Surely it was only relief that left him weak-kneed and light headed.

“Cristiana.”

Her face flushed as he stared, taking in all of her like a long cool drink on a hot summer’s day. And he was so very thirsty.

“William,” she responded, her brow a
rched at his prolonged regard. “How are you?” As though a sudden thought occurred, a frown marred her expression. “Is all well? Your shoulder?”

He nodded.

“And Henry?”

“Fine
.” Her concern for his friend warmed his heart.

“Why didn’t you come to the
manor? Did you get the relic?”

“
Aye.” He scanned the area around her, wondering if she’d been followed. “Did anyone accompany you?”

“Sister Mawde is at the baker
’s.”

He shook his head with a
rueful smile. “You’re very good at leaving her behind.”

She
returned his smile and his heart lightened. He pulled her around the side of the building to the most secluded spot he could find. He knew Henry would be standing guard, but still he felt uneasy.

“We discovered some disturbing information on our journey and returned with all haste.”