The Last de Burgh. Deborah Simmons

was some truth to them, for the various orders squabbled over who could lay claim to the bones of the saints and such that drew veneration, donations and visitors.

      But Guy would not be discouraged. ‘They are rumoured to have learned some hidden lore in foreign lands. Perhaps this mace is a part of it, an object possessing special powers that they know how to manipulate.’

      Emery frowned. The only special powers she had witnessed below were those Lord de Burgh wielded with just a single gaze that had affected her like no other and one she had never seen him share with his squire. Glancing at the knight, she flushed and turned away, only to find Guy eyeing her speculatively.

      ‘Did anything else happen down there?’ the squire asked.

      Faced with the direct question, Emery could not find her voice, so she was thankful when Lord de Burgh answered.

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’

      Had he felt what she felt? Emery dared not look towards the knight and Guy did not answer. Although she suspected the squire was not talking about Templar catacombs, if Emery had made any other discoveries in the darkness, she intended to keep those secrets close.

       Chapter Four

      Nicholas’s steps slowed as he followed the narrow stairs upwards, and he bit back a grunt of weariness. He had pushed himself too hard today after the night hours spent on the road, though he would not admit as much to his squire. But he had been loath to quit the search, looking for any signs of Gerard in the area and asking amongst the villagers and at the outlying farms.

      When the hunt had yielded nothing, Nicholas had turned his thoughts towards the uncle’s home Emery mentioned. But by then the rain-clouds were gathering and several anxious looks from his squire made him wary of punishing his body through a storm. And though he said nothing, Emery’s exhaustion was obvious, so instead of pressing on, they sought shelter at the manor in Roode.

      The owner, Odo of Walsing, was not in residence, but his steward, Kenrick, had provided them with a meal and the promise of a bed and Nicholas was glad of it. Although he’d slept outside in foul weather more than once, he hadn’t the stomach for it these days and he was certain Emery was not accustomed to such accommodations.

      At the top of the stairs, Nicholas took the opportunity to catch his breath while Kenrick presented them with a cosy room, complete with a fire in the hearth to chase away the dampness. Nicholas stepped inside, only to find himself alone, for his companions hung back as though reluctant to cross the threshold. In fact, Guy wore an expression of disapproval, although the accommodations were a marked improvement over the inn where Nicholas last sought lodging.

      ‘Where are we to sleep?’ Guy asked, frowning.

      ‘The bed is big enough for all of us,’ Nicholas said, nodding towards the heavy piece that took up most of the space. When his squire blanched, Nicholas shrugged. ‘Or you can lay your pallet on the floor,’ he said, removing his sword.

      ‘But what about … Emery?’ Guy asked.

      ‘I’m sure Kenrick can find an extra pallet for him,’ Nicholas said and the steward nodded.

      Still Guy did not move. ‘Here?’ he asked, in a shrill voice.

      ‘Yes, here,’ Nicholas said. Although most servants bedded down in the great hall, when travelling Nicholas kept his squire close at hand, and he intended to do the same with Emery. One of the reasons he had chosen not to make camp outside was because of the protection provided by the manor walls. Nicholas had no idea what was behind the attack upon Gerard, but Gwayne might not be the only threat to the Montbards, and he planned to keep both Emery and Guy safe from harm.

      The thought made him glance towards where they lingered on the threshold, Guy poised as though to prevent the boy from entering. ‘You want us both to stay with you? All of us? Together?’ the squire asked, as though slow of wit.

      What had got into him? ‘Yes, you can put your pallets on the floor,’ Nicholas said. ‘I’m sure there is room enough around the bed.’ The steward, hovering nearby, nodded again, but lingered. He was hanging on to every word of the unusual exchange, obviously eager to pass on any and all gossip relating to a de Burgh.

      ‘But …’ Guy began, only to trail off as he became aware of the steward’s attention.

      ‘But what?’ Nicholas asked, impatiently. ‘Would you rather sleep elsewhere? If some kitchen wench has invited you to join her, then just say so and be gone.’

      Guy’s mouth dropped open and he muttered to himself as he passed the gawking steward, Emery on his heels. Having no further excuse to stay, Kenrick finally took his leave with a low bow.

      The matter seemingly settled, Nicholas turned away, shaking his head at his squire’s latest foibles. He tried to make light of Guy’s superstitions, but he was losing his patience. Then he felt a familiar stab of guilt, for how much of Guy’s transformation was a result of what had befallen him?

      Loosing a low sigh, Nicholas pushed the thought aside and concentrated on removing his mail. Although a shortened coat that he wore over his tunic, it was heavy, and after setting it aside he stretched, easing his sore muscles.

      He paid little heed when a servant arrived with Emery’s pallet, but was relieved to see another with a bowl of water and a sliver of soap. Nodding his thanks, Nicholas was eager to wash the road from some of his body, at least. But when he would have stepped forwards, Guy moved in front of him.

      ‘Wouldn’t you rather have a bath, my lord?’ the squire said. ‘I’ll see if one can be prepared in the kitchens.’

      Again, Nicholas wondered whether some serving maid from below had caught Guy’s attention. It was not like the squire to seek fleeting female companionship, but Nicholas could not blame him. ‘If you wish a bath, go seek one out,’ he said. ‘I am for bed.’

      ‘Then let us all to bed,’ Guy said. ‘We had better sleep in our clothes in case of attack during the night hours and so as to leave quickly come the morning.’

      Nicholas was still gaping at the suggestion there would be a midnight raid upon Roode’s little manor when Guy blew out the candles that stood nearby, reducing the light to that of the fire.

      ‘Do you know something I don’t?’ Nicholas asked, losing his patience. ‘Has Emery confided something to you that I should know?’

      The look on Guy’s face was comical.

      ‘Because unless you are aware of some scheme to assail us while we sleep, I hardly think we are in any danger inside these walls,’ Nicholas said. Turning away in annoyance, he pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside. Let Guy sleep in his clothes, for he had not been wearing mail all day.

      When Guy slunk away, suitably chastened, Nicholas moved to the bowl and splashed some water on his face. Then he dampened the soap and began working it over his arms and chest. The coolness on his skin felt so good, Nicholas tipped his head back and sighed.

      He had learned to appreciate such small pleasures and the soothing ritual was bound to relax anyone, even his overwrought squire. In fact, Nicholas was about to urge his companions to partake of the water, too, but a glance in their direction gave him pause. While Guy was tending to their gear, young Emery was staring at Nicholas with something akin to shock.

      Was the boy dismayed by his scars? Although Nicholas had his share, they were of no account and he opened his mouth to reassure the boy. But just then Emery’s gaze met his own and Nicholas’s response was both swift and inexplicable. Sudden heat rushed through him, along with a sharp awareness, and he felt the same strong connection he’d known when he looked at Emery in the darkness of the tunnel.

      Just as it had before, Nicholas’s surroundings fell away, the manor, his squire and all else, until there was only Emery, whose bright blue eyes were barely visible in the firelight. The moment might have lasted for ever or only for a