The Splendid Hour by Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Marshal could see Alexander, Caius, and Maxton still waiting by the portcullis.

In the company of Haim and Liora, who were holding hands fiercely now that they had been released from their mutual imprisonment, The Marshal had the gate guards lift the portcullis so they could leave the compound entirely. Haim and Liora passed underneath the gatehouse and William followed as Alexander and Caius and Maxton swarmed him.

“What happened?” Alexander said, clearly noting Liora but no Peter. “Where in the hell is Peter?”

The Marshal didn’t answer him directly. He looked around, to the street beyond the gatehouse. “Where is Chris?” he asked. “I know the man will not be far away if he knows his son is here.”

“We sent him to Hollyhock House,” Caius said. “He and Canterbury and Burton are waiting there for word. Where is Peter?”

The Marshal still didn’t answer. His head turned in the direction of Hollyhock House, down the river road that was lined with trees and manses belonging to some of the finest families in England.

“Fetch Hereford to me,” he said. “Be quick about it. Something has happened.”

It was Maxton who ran for his horse, thundering down the road towards Hollyhock House as Alexander and Caius stood in a tense bunch. They looked at each other, at The Marshal, figuring something awful must have happened to Peter in order to secure the release of Liora and her father.

In fact, Liora and her father were still standing there, just a few feet away. They should have walked away, quickly heading for home, but neither one of them seemed very anxious to leave. When The Marshal realized that, he motioned back towards the city.

“You may go,” he said quietly. “There is nothing more you can do.”

Liora looked at him seriously. “Please do not think I am being disagreeable, my lord, but I would prefer to remain,” she said. “Peter sacrificed himself to secure the release of me and my father, so I wish to remain. I would like to know what is to be done about helping him.”

Alexander looked at The Marshal, his eyes widening. “Peter sacrificed himself?” he asked in disbelief. “Sweet Mother of Mercy, what did he do?”

The Marshal waved him off. “He is quite alive, Sherry,” he said. “Physically, he is fine. But there is a… complication. There were terms for the jeweler’s release. When Chris arrives, I will tell you everything.”

Alexander didn’t press after that. It was clear that something serious had happened, but he would respect The Marshal’s request to wait until Christopher arrived.

So, they waited.

The little group moved away from the main gate, over towards the buildings across the dusty road. They were mostly residences, but there were a couple of businesses, a seamstress being one of them. They collected beneath the overhang of the seamstress’ place of business, Liora and Haim still clinging to one another as Alexander and Caius stood in a nervous huddle near The Marshal, who was standing out on the edge of the road, watching the gatehouse of Westminster.

Seconds turned into minutes. The minutes began to pass quickly. Finally, nearly a half-hour later, Maxton made an appearance with Christopher, David, and Marcus thundering after him and it was The Marshal who emitted a sharp whistle, catching their attention. They charged across the road to where The Marshal and the others waited.

Christopher was the first man off his horse.

“Where is my son?” he demanded.

It was then that he noticed Liora and Haim standing several feet away, almost at the door of the seamstress shop. His eyes widened when he realized Liora and her father were free but there was no sign of Peter.

“Be calm, Chris,” The Marshal said. “I wanted to explain to you what has happened.”

Christopher didn’t like the sound of that. He looked at The Marshal. “Is my son healthy and whole?”

The Marshal nodded. “He is.”

“Where is he?”

“With John.”

That brought a ripple of disgust and apprehension across Christopher’s face. “I am listening,” he said with strained patience. “Why is he with John?”

The Marshal looked at him seriously. “Because the king made him an offer he could not refuse,” he said. “I am not sure how much you know about the situation but let me review it for you so there is no question. Last night, the king received an unsigned missive declaring that the jeweler’s daughter was working for the rebellion. She was alleged to have wrested secrets of the king from her father and then give them to Peter.”

Christopher’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Who in the hell said that?” he demanded. “That is categorically untrue.”

The Marshal nodded, trying to keep Christopher calm. “I know,” he said. “As I said, the missive was unsigned, but it bore the seal of Winchester. As you know, Walter de Quincy is a cousin to Winchester and is, in fact, staying in his townhome. I am utterly convinced that it was Walter who sent the missive in order to remove the jeweler’s daughter from Peter so there would be a clear path, once again, for Agnes and a betrothal.”

Christopher stared at him for a moment as the depth of de Quincy’s treachery sank deep. “Christ,” he muttered. “Walter tried to coerce me into finalizing a betrothal with Peter yesterday. He told me that Peter had been sighted with the jeweler’s daughter and that he had it on good authority that it was Peter providing information on the rebellion to her, meaning Peter was the traitor. He threatened to tell the allied warlords that my son was giving secrets to the king if I did not agree to a betrothal with Agnes. Now you are telling me that he reversed his story and pinned the treachery on Liora?”

The Marshal nodded. “Peter told me the same thing about your conversation with Walter yesterday,” he said. “That is why I am convinced Walter sent the missive to the king. John ordered the jeweler and his daughter to be brought to Westminster this morning for interrogation and, evidently, Mistress Liora’s little brother went to Lonsdale to tell Peter about it.”

Christopher nodded, still stunned at the scope of Walter de Quincy’s betrayal. “I spoke to the boy myself,” he said. “That is why I followed Peter here because I did not want him to get himself killed trying to free her. Now, tell me what happened to my son?”

The Marshal looked around the little group – David and Marcus, his senior warlords. Alexander, Caius, and Maxton, men who had served him for years and men who were the best spies and assassins in the business. There were no men more capable. And then there were Liora and Haim, two people completely out of their element. He felt a good deal of pity for them, to be truthful, sucked into a deeply serious political situation simply because Liora and Peter fell in love. It was a difficult situation on so many levels.

But The Marshal knew what he had to do.

He returned his attention to Christopher.

“John has been lamenting the loss of Sean de Lara,” he said quietly. “I have told you that without de Lara, I am forced to take his place. But today, John offered Peter the position as his new Lord of the Shadows in exchange for the freedom of the jeweler and his daughter. Those were the terms, Chris. Peter accepted.”

As he feared, Christopher roared.

“Like hell!” he boomed. “My son serving John? I will kill the king myself before I permit this, William. I will bring my entire army into London and burn Westminster to the ground if he thinks, for one minute, I will stand by and let this happen!”

The Marshal knew he meant every word and he also knew before he even told Christopher the news that he would be in the position of calming the man down.

He was prepared.

“I want you to listen to me and listen well, Hereford,” he said. It was rare that he used Christopher’s title, but he wanted the man to know he meant business. “Peter made this decision of his own free will. Aye, he was coerced, but he decided that the jeweler’s daughter was worth more to him than his own pride and conviction. If you go charging in there like a madman, you’ll humiliate your son. Do you understand that? He is a man, and he has made a man’s decision. Do not ruin it for him by being his father.”

Christopher flamed at the suggestion but deep down, he knew The Marshal was right. He knew there was a great deal of truth in what The Marshal had said. He glared at William, his jaw flexing dangerously.

“I am his father,” he said. “The king is my enemy. Now my son must serve my enemy?”

The Marshal held up a hand. “Nothing will happen to him,” he said. “I will see to that. But having him as John’s advisor and bodyguard… he is in a perfect position to help the rebellion more than he ever could if he were only your knight. Do you understand that?”

Christopher only saw that The Marshal wanted to use Peter for his own ends. Christopher, however, wasn’t willing to let William Marshal do to Peter what he’d done to others, Sean de Lara most of all. In the end, The Marshal was only out for himself – and what he considered the greater good – and he would use anyone he could in order to advance those objectives.

But Christopher wasn’t going to let that happen with Peter.

“I understand that is your lot in life to save and protect England,” he said, his voice a husky growl. “I also understand that you will do everything necessary, and use everyone necessary, to accomplish that task. I do not fault you, William, but I have known you for many years. I saw what you did to Sean de Lara. Sean’s life was ruined because of his dedication to you and, even now, the man lies gravely wounded because of that directive, a directive you gave him. I remember another agent from years ago, Garran le Mon, whom you placed within a family that was extremely loyal to John and that position got Garran killed. How about Rhys du Bois? He had to flee England because of the situation you put him in. One of the best men I have ever served with. I could go on and on. I’ve seen what you’ve done. You’re not thinking of Peter now – you’re only thinking of yourself and your dedication to England, but I will tell you this – if you think I am going to let you sacrifice Peter, then you are sadly mistaken. Now, gain me entry into Westminster. I want to speak with John.”

Everyone lurched at that suggestion. David and Marcus went so far as to speak words of denial. No one wanted Christopher going into the arena with the lions, which was exactly what this would be akin to. He’d be walking into the heart of the enemy. The Marshal was gazing back at him steadily, for nothing he said was untrue. Absolutely nothing.

But he had something to say about it.

“What if I told you that I want Peter there for the ultimate mission.”

“What’s that?”

“To kill a king.”

That brought a strong reaction from Christopher. “What in the hell are you saying?”

William sighed heavily, looking to the trusted men around him. Liora and Haim were far enough away that they couldn’t really hear what was being said, but to ensure that, he lowered his voice.

“Do you want this rebellion to go on forever?” he hissed. “Why do you think I had Sean positioned so close to John? One word from me and he could kill John and make it look like an accident. It is true that Sean fed us information and controlled the king to a certain extent, but his position always was, since the beginning, to be my Trojan horse. Do you remember the tale of Troy and how the Greeks, unable to breech the walls of the city, built a great wooden horse that they proceeded to hide in? When the Trojans opened the gates and brought the horse into their citadel, the Greeks broke loose and destroyed the city. That is Peter’s position now, Chris. Let him save England.”

Christopher stared at him. It was as terrible and terrifying a position as any man could have, much less his son. He kept trying to take his relationship to Peter out of the equation, but he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t do it. His son had placed himself in grave danger because he loved a woman and should he keep that position with John, he would become another Sean de Lara.

Ifhe survived.

Christopher couldn’t, in good conscience, let that happen. He was still Peter’s father no matter how much The Marshal tried to tell him to stay out of it.

To let Peter save England.

He just couldn’t do it.

“Take me to John,” he asked again, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I want to see him face to face.”

“I’ll take Peter’s place,” Caius spoke up. When everyone looked at him, surprised, he simply shrugged his big shoulders and looked at The Marshal. “When you first secured that position with John, you offered it to me and to Sean. Do you recall? Sean took it to save my reputation because he knew what it would mean to any man who assumed it. It would ruin his life, but Sean did it to save me. Now, let me take up the mantle in Sean’s place. Please, my lord.”

William looked at him, shaking his head. “It would be perfect except for the fact that you are married now and you control the bastion of Richmond,” he said. “What would your wife say to you taking this position, Cai? You know what that would do to her. To your marriage. You are brave to offer, but I must decline.”

Caius knew that and a massive part of him was greatly relieved, but he felt as if he had to offer. “I understand,” he said. “But you must understand that someone protected me from that position, once. I felt as if I had to do the same.”

“If I changed my mind and let you do it, would you?”

Caius nodded without hesitation. “I would.”

The Marshal understood a man of honor. “I believe you,” he said. “But it is out of the question.”

“Then let me,” Alexander said. “I have the most perfect life imaginable and I love my wife and family, but if this is a job for an assassin, then you’ll want me. Peter does not have the instincts that I do.”

Christopher reached out to put a hand of gratitude on Alexander’s arm, knowing the man was trying to spare Peter. It was deeply touching. But The Marshal shook his head.

“You would be perfect, Sherry,” he said. “But you are too important to the de Lohr war machine. If you had no other responsibilities, I would agree, but I cannot.”

Alexander knew that but, like Caius, he had to offer. Peter was young and talented, with his whole life ahead of him. Even though he was a seasoned veteran and a spy, he hadn’t suffered the years of missions and degradation that Caius and Alexander had. They’d already gotten their hands dirty with killing and dirty deeds. But Peter hadn’t. There was something in both Alexander and Caius that wanted to protect Peter from the seedier tasks in life.

Like killing a king.

It was something Christopher greatly appreciated, but it didn’t solve the problem. When Maxton opened his mouth to chime in, Christopher simply held up a hand to silence him. He knew what the man was going to say, but he didn’t have to say it.

That was something Christopher had to do alone.

“William,” he said quietly. “Must I ask again for you to take me to John?”

The Marshal looked at him, knowing he couldn’t deny him. To do so would be to bring all of the House of de Lohr down around John and Westminster, and with so many rebel warlord armies still in London, it could be messy, indeed. All Christopher would have to say was that his son was in danger and his allies would come running.

That was something The Marshal couldn’t chance.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “But all of you are coming. I will not let him go in alone.”

He was looking to the group of men around him. Heavily armed men who would fight to the death should John try to move against Christopher. It was as dangerous a situation as they’d ever faced, but they were ready and willing to do it. No questions asked. It was Marcus who began to move towards the gatehouse, hand on the hilt of his broadsword, ready to rumble.

The others followed.

Leaving Liora and Haim in safety back by the seamstress’ shop, The Marshal ordered the gate guards to lift the portcullis. As the old iron grate creaked and groaned with the old ropes lifting it, the group of men passed beneath it. William took the lead at that point, taking them on the same path he’d taken Peter when he’d escorted the man to the king. The royal apartments were a vast block, built from wattle and daub and with richly carved interiors, but no one really noticed the opulence when they entered.

Least of all Christopher.

He had been here, years ago, when Richard had been king, so this wasn’t his first visit. But it could very well be his most important. David was on his right side and Marcus on his left, and he could feel their strength lift him. He was about to go against The Marshal; he was about to go against all of them and he needed that strength for what was to come. When they finally reached the king’s private rooms, The Marshal entered first with Christopher right behind him.

Christopher would never forget the look of surprise on John’s face.

John and Peter were on the far side of the chamber, with John sitting and Peter standing against the wall. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room, which would work in Christopher’s favor. He looked over his shoulder and motioned to Maxton to lock the door, which he did and stood in front of it to guard it. With the meanest knight in England watching the door, everyone else spread out, leaving Christopher facing the king and his son.

Peter, seeing his father, twitched his surprise.

“Papa?” he said, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

Christopher wasn’t looking at his son. He was looking at the king, who was equally shocked. In fact, he was out of his seat, walking in Christopher’s direction as if he had absolutely no fear of the man.

“Hereford?” he gasped in delight. “My old and dear friend. What a surprise to see you here.”

Christopher stared at John a moment before shaking his head. “I wish that was true,” he said. “I wish we were old and dear friends. We are definitely old friends, but I use that term in the same vein as adversary. We are old adversaries and continue to be, John. Some things never change.”

He used John’s Christian name, something he’d done since he first knew the prince all those years ago as Richard’s younger brother. Richard and Christopher had been friends before Richard was even king, and Christopher had known John since he’d been an obnoxious child and to Christopher, he was still obnoxious.

Deadly, too.

But John grinned.

“That is true,” he said. “But we want the same thing. A safe and strong England.”

“But we want it in different ways.”

John snorted. “I was just speaking to your son about that,” he said. “I was explaining to Peter our fundamental differences, one being that I rule this country and you do not, yet you try to control it.”

Christopher had a smile on his face, but it wasn’t one of humor. It was one of irony. He looked at his son, who seemed rather edgy to see him.

“Liora and her father are safe,” he said. “I came make sure you are safe as well.”

“He is quite safe.” John answered for him. “I will take good care of him.”

Christopher resisted the urge to retort. He didn’t want this to become a big battle, at least not yet. Not if he could help it. He had something to say and he wanted John in a congenial mood. Or, as much as he could be.

His focus returned to the king.

“Let us forego the pleasantries and cut to the purpose of my visit,” he said. “You have my son. I want him back. I will make you an offer that you cannot refuse.”

William, who had been standing at the edge of the room between Christopher and John, looked at Christopher sharply. Even David and Marcus looked at Christopher, concerned with what was about to come forth.

But John found it wholly interesting.

“Is that so?” he said. “I am intrigued. Go on.”

Christopher paused, perhaps reconsidering what he was about to say, but he thought better of it. Peter had sacrificed something for Liora.

He was about to sacrifice something for Peter.

“My armies are quite large, as you are well aware,” he said. “When you look at your opposition, I am at the forefront. Is that a fair statement?”

John nodded. “You always have been,” he said. “As far back as the days of Ralph Fitz Walter, the Sheriff of Nottingham. It all seems like so long ago.”

“It was,” Christopher said. “We were adversaries when Richard was alive and even before. I loved your brother, as you are well aware.”

John’s gleeful expression faded somewhat. “I know,” he said. “I had always wished you would love me the way you loved him.”

“You never gave me a reason to.”

John stiffened, gravely insulted by a man he’d known most of his life. It wasn’t just insult – deep down, it hurt, too. But he would never admit it.

“Then say what you came here to say,” he snapped.

The mood was shifting from one that was almost pleasant to one that was becoming unstable. Christopher fixed on John, pondering how he was going to phrase his offer.

“You are facing mayhap some of the greatest battles you have ever faced,” he said. “More warlords are against you than are for you. It is going to be a difficult fight.”

John’s smile returned, though it was humorless. “I believe I shall triumph.”

“Your chances will be better if I lay down my sword.”

Everyone in the chamber gasped, including The Marshal. John’s eyes were wide as he moved towards Christopher.

“What’s this you say?” he demanded. “Lay down your sword?”

Christopher’s eyes narrowed, conveying his sincerity. “I will not fight in these upcoming battles if you return my son to me,” he said. “I am England, John. I have been fighting in battles as long as you have been alive, but I will not lift my sword against you from this day forward if you return my son to me. But only if you return him to me now.”

Peter, unable to keep silent, moved in his father’s direction. “Papa… nay!”

Christopher held out a hand to his son, a gesture of silence. His focus remained on John. “Well?” he said. “What say you?”

John’s face was wrought with astonishment. “I cannot believe my ears,” he finally said. “You would not fight against me?”

“I will not fight for you, either,” Christopher clarified. “I will recuse myself. Now, you have to decide what is more valuable – having Peter by your side or having me step down.”

John stared at him. He was clearly trying to decide if Christopher was serious but quickly realized that he was. Part of the lure of keeping Peter at his side was the fact that it would hurt Christopher, but if Christopher was willing to lay down his sword and not participate in one of the many battles that were looming in the immediate future, then that was perhaps the greatest victory of all.

Removing the Lion’s Claw from battle.

I will not lift my sword against you from this day forward if you return my son to me.

Knowing Christopher as he did, the man’s word was solid.

It was too good of an opportunity to waste.

“I accept,” John said before he could think to negotiate the details of such a proposal. “Take your son but leave me your sword as your word of honor.”

Christopher had a magnificent broadsword, one that he’d used for over thirty years. It had the head of a lion on it with two ruby eyes and was truly a spectacular piece, one he was loath to part with because it was part of him. It represented him and everything he stood for, the power of the de Lohr name. But his son’s life was more important to him. He unsheathed it without hesitation and handed it to John, hilt-first.

“Take it,” he said, trying not to show how painful such an act was. “Peter, come with me.”

John took the sword with shock, perhaps not really believing Christopher would actually give it to him, as Peter went to stand with his father. With his son by his side, Christopher turned and headed out of the chamber, followed by David, Marcus, Caius, Alexander, and Maxton. He waited until they were out of the royal apartments and out in the vast bailey of Westminster before he came to a halt and turned to the group.

Everyone would swear, until they died, that there were tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“Before you all come down on me for doing what I did, know that I feel there was no other choice,” he said. “Regaining my son was the most important objective and laying down my sword is of little matter. I have Peter and Sherry and a host of other powerful knights to do the fighting, and I shall be as involved as I have ever been. Truly, this means nothing. But giving over my sword… let me just say that I hope to reclaim it someday.”

Peter was standing next to his father, heartsick. “Papa, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I never meant that you should sacrifice yourself so. I was prepared to stand beside my decision.”

Christopher looked at his son, feeling more relief than he could express that he had him back. “I know you were,” he said. “William tried to convince me that he needed you in that position, but I wasn’t going to let you do it. You are destined for greater things in life and becoming John’s henchman isn’t one of them.”

Peter shook his head sadly. “Oh, Papa…” he said softly. “But what you did…”

He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. Christopher put a hand on his shoulder. “It was nothing you would not have done for me,” he said, gentler. “It was the same thing you did to free Liora and her father. Sometimes, you must do something that is greater than yourself. But know that my pledge was very broad – I shall not take the field against John’s armies, but that does not mean I will not command my armies. I’ll be there, just as I always am, without engaging in active combat. When I said I would lay down my sword, I only meant me. I did not mean that my armies shall not fight. Nothing has changed in that regard, so do not fret. But that means that you, Sherry, will now be in charge of my armies when they take the field.”

Alexander suspected this would be the case since he heard Christopher utter that fateful offer. “I understand,” he said. “But what about Wigmore?”

“It shall remain yours,” Christopher said. “I will move Essien over to command it for now, but it shall be yours when the time comes and the battles are over. Peter, you will still take Ludlow and manage the garrisons. Sherry and Addax will be my field command.”

There was some relief to the knights, knowing that Christopher didn’t intend to back off altogether. But he wasn’t finished yet. He looked at Marcus.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said quietly.

Marcus nodded. “Anything, Chris.”

“I am finished with Walter de Quincy,” he said, his voice a threatening rumble. “He is here, somewhere in London, and you shall find him and make it clear to him that my wrath upon him has come. I do not ever want to see his face again. Then, you will go to his stronghold of Astley Cross and you will lay siege until you purge whatever army Walter keeps there. Clean it out of anything de Quincy and claim it for yourself. I’d rather have you as an ally on the Marches than that bastard. He has pushed me too far this time and he is going to pay.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Marcus’ lips. “With pleasure,” he said. “But Astley Cross is far away from my Yorkshire holdings. Are you sure you would not rather have it?”

Christopher shrugged. “I am occupied with a great many other things at the moment,” he said. “In any case, de Quincy has made his last move against me. Remove him, shatter him, but do not kill him. I want him to live in his own filth, knowing who it is who has beaten him. Humiliation like that will be worse than death, Marcus. Make it so.”

Marcus understood. He looked at Maxton. “You are heading back to Gloucester,” he said. “Care to lend a hand to remove de Quincy?”

Maxton cocked a dark eyebrow. “I thought you would never ask.”

With Walter de Quincy’s future settled, the group resumed their march towards the gatehouse. When the gate guards saw them coming, they didn’t have to be told to lift the portcullis this time. They simply lifted it so that by the time Christopher and the others arrived, they passed through without waiting. Perhaps there was something in those gatehouse guards that simply wanted Christopher de Lohr and his allies out of Westminster altogether.

Out they went onto the dusty streets of London.

“Peter!”

A cry filled the air and they saw Liora rushing across the street from her spot over by the seamstress’ shop. Now, the focus shifted from Christopher’s sacrifice to Peter and the young lady he was so enchanted with. Seeing her coming, Peter ran in her direction until they came together in a crash of flesh and blood, broadcloth and mail, right out in the middle of the street. Peter kissed her deeply and he didn’t care who saw him, including her father and his own.

He just didn’t give a lick.

“Thank God you are well,” Liora wept softly as she hugged him. “Your father must have worked a miracle!”

Peter wasn’t ready to let her go even though he could see that his father and the others had caught up to them. All he could seem to do was hold on to her, clinging to her as if he weren’t capable of letting her go. For what they’d just gone through, he felt as if he’d righteously earned this moment.

She was back in his arms and she was going to stay there.

“He did work a miracle,” he said. “I am well and, most importantly, you and your father are well. That is all that matters to me, sweetheart.”

Liora nodded, realizing there were men standing around her that she didn’t know. She was in a rather amorous embrace with Peter and out of propriety, she pulled away from him as her father walked up. But she was still holding Peter’s hand, because he wouldn’t let it go, as Haim focused on Peter.

“I have you to thank for this, Saint Peter,” he said, a glimmer in his dark eyes. “That is what my son calls you, you know.”

Peter smiled weakly. “You have a brave son, my lord,” he said, using the address as a sign of respect. “He is fearless as few men are.”

Haim smiled. “I think the same can be said for you from what I’m told,” he said. “When you left my home last night, Asa came to me. He told me about you. He said that you make sure hungry children are fed.”

“Saul’s Army?”

“The same.”

Peter averted his gaze modestly. “That was to keep them from stealing your eggs,” he said. “It was either that or Asa and his Maccabees were going to full-scale war against them. I did what I felt was right.”

“It was right,” Haim said. “That shows your depth of character. It shows the capacity for understanding, something that the Lord smiles upon. Asa is enamored with you. He wants to be like you. I have had the unhappy task of telling him that it is not possible.”

Peter’s smile faded. “He would make a fine knight,” he said sincerely.

Haim shrugged. “That is not for him, unfortunately, though he does not quite understand why,” he said. “But he will, in time. He will be happy with his life because he will have a good life. But my daughter… I am not so sure she will have a happy life from now on if you are not in it.”

Peter looked at Liora, who was gazing at her father with a pained expression. “I will not,” she said. “You know I will not. Peter is a good man, Papa, you’ve said so yourself. He risked his life to save us just now. He was going to give up everything just to save us until his father stepped in. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Haim nodded. “It means a great deal,” he said frankly. “The man has saved my life and undoubtedly has saved yours. Peter, just what do you intend to do now? Will you let Liora go home with me and never see her again?”

Peter was still looking at Liora. “Her home is with you,” he said. “She will go home with you, but I will not promise never to see her again. I love her, my lord. I could not walk away from her now if God Himself stood before me and demanded it. What I did with John was not to coerce you into agreeing to a marriage. It was because I had to.”

Haim looked at Christopher, at David, and at the other men who were standing back, watching this very personal exchange go on. They all knew why Peter had come and, now, Peter’s entire future was playing out before them.

A future that was in Haim’s hands.

With a sigh, he took a few steps towards Peter so he could look the man in the eyes.

“Asa said something to me last night that has stayed with me,” he said. “He said that the most important thing is that people are kind and love us, no matter if they are Christian or Jewish. The most important thing is a man of noble heart, who will protect people and feed children who do not have enough to eat. God cares what is in our hearts more than He cares about the prayers we give, and if I searched for a million years to find a husband as worthy as you for my daughter, I am certain I could not find such a man. Liora loves you and you have proven that you love her, more than anyone else could have. I realize this means I will lose my daughter to your faith, but as I said, we both worship the same God. All I ask is that you allow her to teach your children about her faith. I should like them to know it and understand it. Will you do this for me?”

Peter hadn’t expected to hear those words coming from Haim’s mouth. As he stared at him, his eyes filled with tears and spilled over. He was exhausted and emotional, and it had already been a hell of a day. His control was cracking and the tears were the result. He had been waiting his entire life to hear those words, only he hadn’t known it until that moment.

He nodded his head.

“We will honor your faith in my household,” he said hoarsely. “And we will honor you and your family, I swear it. Thank you, my lord. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. But… but this does not mean that you will shun her, does it?”

Haim shook his head. “For my part, I cannot,” he said. “She is my child. I could never leave her.”

That relieved Peter’s heart more than he could express. Quickly, he wiped at his face as he looked at Liora, who was tearing up as well. But she was smiling from ear to ear as she looked at her father.

“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered tightly. “I know this is not an easy decision for you, but you have made me very happy.”

Haim smiled weakly at his daughter, feeling emotional and hoping he was doing the right thing. In his heart, it seemed right, but he also knew his daughter would be entering a whole new world that she knew absolutely nothing about.

He hoped she was ready.

“Are you certain, zeeskeit?” he asked. “This is what you want?”

Liora looked at Peter and, in that moment, Haim saw the joy between them, the growing adoration. It was as fresh and beautiful as a new morning.

“Aye,” Liora said after a moment. “This is what I want. He is what I want.”

“Then you have my blessing.”

Liora rushed her father, throwing her arms around him and thanking him profusely. Peter turned to Christopher, who beamed and embraced his son as David and Marcus did the same. In fact, they were all smiling and embracing Peter, congratulating him on his future bride and his future life. It hadn’t been an easy path to get there, and it had been a surprisingly swift one, but the moment had come. In a world that was in turmoil for all of them, the moment was especially sweet.

The joy of a new life to come, for Peter and Liora.

When the congratulations died down, Maxton and Caius and Alexander went to gather the horses while Christopher and Haim spoke in a serious huddle, no doubt discussing what was to come for their children. It was Marcus and David who stood off to the side, watching everything unfold.

“Well?” Marcus said to David. “What do you think about that? Your nephew is about to marry a Jewish woman.”

David watched Peter and Liora, in a private huddle. Peter was holding her hands against his chest, saying something to her that she clearly approved of. He could see the woman smiling up at him adoringly.

“As long as she loves him and treats him well, I do not care if she is Jewish or not,” he said. “You and I knew plenty of Jews while we were in The Levant. And I seem to remember the daughter of a carpenter you thought was quite lovely.”

Marcus had a smile on his lips as he remembered. “Ah,” he said. “The fair Adaya. Funny, I’d forgotten about her.”

“As I recall, you were fairly enamored with her.”

“I was, but her father wasn’t enamored with me.”

David grinned. “Fortunately, that didn’t hold true with Liora’s father.”

Marcus watched Peter in the distance. “Young love is always the sweetest,” he said. That statement hung in the air between them for a moment before Marcus glanced at David. “And now I intend to destroy the man who tried to prevent it. Peter may be Chris’ son, but I raised him. He belongs to me as much as he does to Chris. Mark my words when I say that Walter de Quincy and his daughter will pay.”

David knew that. He wished he could help, but his attention was needed elsewhere. He watched Marcus walk away, heading over to Maxton where the two of them spoke briefly before mounting their horses. Whenever those two were involved, something very bad was about to happen.

David almost pitied Walter… but not quite.

As David went to find his horse, Peter managed to let go of Liora long enough to collect his own mount. But he didn’t climb into the saddle. He remained on foot, walking beside Liora and Haim in an unprecedented show of attention, a Christian knight to a Jewish family, as they headed back to the Jewish quarter.

It was a rare moment of religious unity.

Perhaps that was the bright side of this entire situation, David thought as he watched everyone disband. Perhaps the strife of de Quincy’s actions had the effect of bringing everyone together, stronger than before. Most certainly, it brought Haim to a decision he probably never thought he would make – allowing his daughter to marry a Christian. But even as David thought on the positive aspects of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t over yet. Not in the least.

Something told him that the worst, for Walter and Agnes, was yet to come.