Katherine felt a quiver of alarm.

She had known that even the most trustworthy of men might be tempted by her treasure. Perhaps not for greed, but for the glory that such a find could bring them.

“I have not told you what it is, sir,” she reminded him. “It may be that my father was mistaken….”

Alain’s eyes were steady on her face, but held warmth, a concern that made her heart race. For a moment she thought that his feelings toward her were more than mere courtesy. “If I gave you my solemn word that I will return them to you when we reach England, would you trust me?”

Katherine hesitated, and then nodded. Instinct told her that if she could not trust this man, then she could trust no one. Hesitating but a moment more, she picked up the pouch and handed it to Alain.

“I believe there is enough here to give credence to my father’s discovery, but you may study these and give me your opinion.”

“I thank you for your trust in me, Katherine,” Alain said, then reached out to touch her cheek. It was the merest graze of his fingers but it sent tremors running through her….

Dear Reader,

To become a true knight a youth must strive to attain perfection in all things. He must be able to read the Scriptures in Latin, must know all the rules of chivalry and be as skilled in matters of physical excellence as in those of the mind. It is a hard, rigorous training.

Alain de Banewulf was luckier than most boys, for his mother begged that he should receive training at his father’s hands rather than be sent away. But Alain has always felt that he cannot be a true knight, as his magnificent half-brother Stefan is, because his life has been easy. Adding to this feeling of inadequacy, he believes his prowess is due to a sword with magical powers that was given to him by his brother when he went to the Crusades. Now he is returning home, covered in glory, but still not satisfied that he deserves his reputation as a fearless knight. It is only when he rescues the thin child Katherine and swears to protect her, gradually coming to understand that she is actually a warm and loving woman, that he is given the chance to prove himself in every way.

I hope that you enjoy this last book in the series, which gives a hint of the spiritual nature of the age as well as the exciting physical action of kidnap, fierce fighting and love.

As always, I love to hear what you think. Visit me at www.lindasole.co.uk.

Love to you all

Her Knight Protector
Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNE HERRIES,

winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize 2004, lives in Cambridgeshire, England. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Afterword

Chapter One

‘W hat will the bards sing of us?’ Sir Alain de Banewulf asked of his friend as they drew rein to contemplate the vista before them, which was one of sun-baked hills and lush valleys. It was some months now since they had left the arid heat of the Holy Land, joining forces to make their journey back to England. ‘Will men say of us that we are sad failures or praise us for the taking of Acre?’

Sir Bryne of Wickham looked at him, narrowing his gaze against the sun, wondering at the strange, bleak expression in the younger man’s eyes. Alain had been quiet for some days, and now perhaps he was ready to speak of what ailed him.

‘You are still angry that we failed to take Jerusalem from the infidel?’

Alain was silent for a moment, his thoughts mixed as he tried to explain to the man who was so close to him that they had lived as brothers these past few years. Defending, guarding each other’s back, they had risked their lives for one another. Bryne was his most trusted friend and yet even to him he could not explain the emptiness inside him.

‘When King Richard quarrelled with Philip of France and he deserted us, Richard had no choice but to make that treaty with Saladin. We as Christians may thank him that the Holy City is not closed to all those of our faith. Had Richard fought on, all might have been lost.’

‘Yet there is no denying that the influence of Christianity hath been much weakened.’

‘So we failed,’ Alain said and felt the weight of defeat fall on him as a mantle of chain-mail. ‘May God and history forgive us.’

‘Failed?’ Bryne raised his brows. Many men would have been more than satisfied with their accomplishments if they had done as well.

Alain and Bryne had gained personal wealth after the victory at Acre, much of it presented to them for saving the life of the son of a merchant prince. Ali Bakhar’s gratitude at having the boy returned to him unharmed had been in the form of priceless jewels, articles fashioned of gold, precious silks and spices. But even more important was the permission to trade freely in the waters between Venice and Cyprus. With that gained they had what many merchant adventurers before them had died for the lack of: the secret of true success in these parts.

Bryne had advised prudence and they had had their fortune transported to Italy, where one of the influential banking families had taken charge of it for them. Bryne had previously arranged that any prize money they won while on crusade was to be invested in his friend’s shipping fleet on their behalf.

When King Richard had decided to leave the Holy Land, Bryne and Alain had sailed with him for Cyprus. From there they had gone on to Messina and thence to Rome. Here they discovered that they were both wealthy beyond their dreams, for Bryne’s trusted friend had invested wisely and their fortunes had increased a hundredfold in the intervening years. They had left their gold in his charge and carried only enough silver for their journey together with the letters of credit that would buy them whatever they desired, either in France or England.

‘Some may believe we failed,’ Bryne agreed after a few moments of consideration, for he knew that Alain had no thought of their personal triumphs. ‘Had Richard curbed his temper, mayhap history would have had kinder words.’

Alain smiled oddly, shrugging off his mood. ‘We fought bravely, but the odds were against us.’

‘And now what, my friend?’ Bryne’s brows rose.

They had lingered some months in Italy, taking time to see the wonders of the country, visiting the great university and medical school at Salerno. They took care to stay clear of Calabria, where King Richard had unjustly seized a beautiful falcon on his journey to the crusades, causing much anger amongst the villagers who had owned it. For a while they had lingered in the lush countryside of Italy’s rich wine-growing area, drinking its produce and enjoying the idleness their labours had bought for them.

‘Ah, that is the question,’ Alain said, and for a moment a merry smile danced briefly in his deep blue eyes. ‘For myself, I think I am weary of foreign lands…’

‘Aye, I, too, have felt the call.’

‘It is years since I saw my mother. She will have despaired of seeing her son again.’

‘I wonder if my family still lives?’ Bryne frowned as he looked into the distance, an odd expression in his eyes. ‘We have all we could ever need here and yet…’

Of late both men had become restless, and as Alain looked at Bryne he suddenly knew what was in his mind.

‘So we go home?’

‘I left England in the year 1187 to offer my sword to Duke Richard. It was some many months before we set out for the Holy Land, as you know, for King Henry died and Richard was crowned king of England. It is now the beginning of the year of our Lord 1195 and I confess I long for a sight of my own land.’

‘Yes, I, too, have felt the need for home and family,’ Alain agreed. ‘When I left England it was to gain wealth and honour as my brother before me, and perhaps I have achieved a part of what I had hoped for.’

‘You are rich and no knight hath fought more valiantly, Alain. What more would you have?’

‘Indeed, I have oft wondered.’ A wry smile touched his mouth; he could not place a name to that elusive dream. He only knew that it eluded him still. ‘Mayhap I shall find it in England. We shall set out for Rome on the morrow, Bryne, and find a ship to take us home.’

The sound of screaming penetrated Alain’s thoughts. They had set out early that morning, hopeful of completing their journey to Rome within three days, and had been making good time. Alain’s mind had been elsewhere as they rode through the softly undulating countryside. Now, suddenly, he was alerted to danger. That was a woman screaming and she was in some considerable distress. He looked at his companion and saw that Bryne was alert to the situation.

‘Over there!’ Bryne pointed to their right. ‘See, at the edge of those trees. Brigands are attacking three men and two women, and ’tis clear they are outnumbered by the rogues.’

‘They are surrounded,’ Alain said and spurred his horse. ‘Come, Bryne. One last battle before we seek our ship!’

His trusted sword was in his hand as he led the charge, Bryne and the men they had led into many such battles following behind. The thunder of hooves echoed in his head, and he could smell the blood, heat and dust of other fights, remembering the screams of the injured and dying his horse had trampled underfoot in the heat of battle. A wry smile touched his mouth. Had he ever been young and naïve enough to believe that there was glory in war?

He raised his right arm, sword aloft, as he bore down on the first rogue. He was aware of a woman struggling with men who were apparently bent on abducting her and let out a yell that would strike terror into the heart of any warrior. Slashing to left and right, he fought like fifty demons as he hacked his way through to the woman. As always, his sword gave him strength to overcome his enemies. Its magical powers, in which he firmly believed, had carried him through bloodier fights than this. Saladin’s soldiers were fiercer warriors than these scurvy knaves, who had already begun to break ranks now that they were faced by Alain’s men.

From the corner of his eye he saw that the girl had managed to break free from her would-be captors and was being cared for by one of her own people. It was clear that the fight was over and that the brigands were fleeing into the trees from whence they had come.

Alain gave the girl a smile of reassurance and then turned his head to glance at Bryne. Seeing that his friend had dismounted, Alain did the same. He moved towards the girl they had saved, sword in hand, intending to ask her if she had suffered any harm at the hands of the brigands. He began to speak and then something hit him from behind and everything went black as he fell. He thought he heard the girl cry out, but could not save himself as he sank to the ground at her feet.

‘What have you done, Maria?’ The Lady Katherine of Grunwald sank to her knees beside the still form of the man lying on the ground. ‘You have killed him and he saved me from those wicked men.’

‘Oh, my lady—’ the older woman looked at her in dismay ‘—he had his sword ready. I thought he meant to kill you.’

‘You foolish woman!’ Katherine laid her hand on the knight’s forehead. He had such lovely golden hair and was beautiful to look upon. She thought that she had never seen a man so fair. ‘Now his men are angry and will likely punish us.’ She looked up as a tall, dark knight stood over her, sensing his anger. ‘Forgive my woman, sir. She did not realise what she was doing.’

‘I saw what happened,’ Bryne said, glaring at her. ‘Your woman hath done what all Saladin’s army could not, lady. Pray that he is not dead, for I pity you both if he—’

Alain’s eyelids flickered, his long lashes shadowing against sun-bronzed skin for a moment before he opened them and gazed into the anxious eyes of the girl bending over him. His first thought was that she was no more than a child, thin and pale, her dark eyes large in a face that was interesting rather than beautiful. Behind her he could see Bryne’s angry stance and realised in a moment what was going on.

‘No, don’t murder the child, Bryne,’ he protested, sitting up and groaning slightly as his head spun. A wry smile touched his mouth. ‘It was not the child that hit me, I swear.’

Katherine looked at him apprehensively. Was he angry? He did not look angry. Indeed, it seemed he was amused. She gave him a look of apology.

‘It was Maria who struck you and she is very sorry. She thought you were one of those wicked men who attacked us.’

‘The brigands?’ Alain groaned again, feeling the back of his head gingerly. ‘Maria hath the arm of an armourer to hit so hard. I vow ’tis a wonder that she did not crack my skull open.’ Despite the pain in his head, his blue eyes were bright with mischief as he looked at the older woman. Her face was a picture of rueful indignation and it made him want to laugh long and hard, something he had not felt like doing in many a day. ‘What did you hit me with, woman, a mace?’

‘It was naught but a moneybag,’ Maria said, glowering at him. She was a large woman with big strong arms and a heavy build. ‘It is money for the ship to carry my lady home to her family—but you may take it if you let us go on our way.’

Alain was on his feet now. He looked the woman over, taking in her belligerent stance and fearless gaze. She was like a she-wolf defending her young, prepared to fight for the child she loved.

‘Fear not, Maria,’ he said and smiled at her, amused and somewhat touched by her devotion. ‘You and the child have nothing to fear from us. We came to help you and will go on our way now that the brigands have gone.’

‘Maria is truly sorry,’ the girl said, recalling his attention. He saw that her eyes looked startled, somehow pleading, like a young deer caught in a hunter’s trap in the forest. ‘Please do not desert us, sir. I believe we have some leagues to travel as yet and, as you saw, we are not able to protect ourselves.’

‘You were foolish to travel with such a small escort, child.’

She raised her head then and he saw a flash of pride in her eyes. ‘I am not a child, but the Lady Katherine of Grunwald—and I had no choice. My father was killed by brigands only days ago and most of his men with him. Maria and I escaped because we had stopped to buy food from a village.’ She caught back a sob and he saw that she was fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. ‘These men are all that remain of my father’s people.’

Alain looked about him. The men were old and of little use in a fight. He frowned as he saw the pleading look in her eyes and realised that she was in a perilous situation. The brigands he and his men had driven off were not the only ones she would meet with on this lonely road. He could not abandon her to her fate.

‘I am sorry for your loss, lady. You are returning to your home. May I ask where you live?’

‘In France, sir—at least, that is the home of my uncle, Baron Grunwald. My father bid me go to him if anything should happen to him.’ She struggled to hold back a sob and failed. ‘My poor father was a scholar, sir. We have been on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land these past seven years, for he wished to see the place of our Lord’s birth, but he did not realise how hard the journey would be.’

‘He was unwise to bring a young girl on such a journey,’ Alain said and saw her frown at the criticism. ‘But I cannot know his reasons. It may be that he had no choice.’

Katherine looked into his eyes. ‘My mother died just before we left home, sir. Since then my father has relied on me for many things—and I am seven and ten years. Not so very young, I think?’

Alain’s good-humoured smile broke through as he saw that he had touched upon her pride. ‘No, indeed, my lady. I thought you no more than four and ten, and must beg you to forgive me if I have offended.’

Katherine gave him an odd, shy look. ‘No, I am not offended, sir, but my father taught me it is always best to say straight out what you mean.’

‘Your father sounds a good man, my lady. Once again, may I say that I am sorry. You have lost much.’

He felt a surge of protectiveness towards her. She was alone in a country that was not her own, with very little money and no one fit to protect her.

‘Thank you. I miss Father terribly.’

‘Yes, I can understand that.’ Alain looked at her with compassion, understanding that grave, serious look in her eyes. To be alone in the world was a terrible thing for one such as she. He thought wistfully of his own happy childhood at Banewulf. He had chafed at the bonds of love then, but sometimes felt an aching need to see his mother and father again. ‘I have not seen my family for nigh on eight years now, and I sometimes wonder if they have forgot me.’

Her dark eyes dwelled on his face. ‘You have been with King Richard in the Holy Land perhaps?’

‘Yes, that is so,’ Alain confirmed. ‘We had his permission to return home this many months ago and we have delayed in this land of warmth and plenty, but we are now on our way to the coast to find a ship to carry us either to France or, if we are lucky, to England.’

‘We, too, are on our way to Rome in the hope of finding a ship.’ She looked at him earnestly. ‘I do not believe I have thanked you for saving my life, sir. Nor do I know your name.’

‘I am Sir Alain de Banewulf—and this is Sir Bryne of Wickham. We are as brothers and our men fight as one, for we have more strength by sheer force of numbers that way.’

Katherine curtsied to him and then to Sir Bryne, her elegant manners belying the poor quality of her gown and accoutrements. She was clearly well-born, but did not look as wealthy as her position as a nobleman’s daughter might suggest.

‘I thank you for your kindness in coming to our aid, good knights—and beg that you will allow us to join your party. I promise that we shall not slow you down, and we have money to pay for your services.’

That they had sufficient coin for their journey was evident from the lump forming on the back of Alain’s head. He touched it repentantly, looking at the girl and her dragon of a companion. Despite her promise, Katherine and her fierce guardian would hamper their progress, for they must stop more often so that the women could rest. However, neither he nor Bryne could leave the women to the mercy of brigands. They were sworn by their oaths as knights to protect and honour any ladies they found in distress, and their own honour would allow no other course.

There were many lawless bands roaming the countryside on the journey they must make, both here and when they reached France. Some of them were men who had set out for the crusades with high ideals, burning with religious fervour, only to become disillusioned and bitter amongst the stench of death and disease in the Holy Land. Sickness had claimed the lives of too many, and putrid wounds rendered others helpless cripples for as long as they should live. Those fortunate enough to receive the attention of the Hospitallers, as he himself had been when his arm had been injured by the slash of a sword, oft recovered, but the men who had devoted themselves to such work could not treat everyone. Too many had died of sickness and neglect.

Alain had felt the taste of defeat bitter after King Richard was forced to abandon the struggle for Jerusalem, and he understood why some men might take to the roads rather than return home. He had wealth and position and, if God had been kind, a family to welcome him home, but many had nothing to take back but memories that would haunt their dreams.

At Acre King Richard had offered gold to any man brave enough to take away the stones of the tower beneath a hail of enemy fire. His call had been answered eagerly, and the death toll had mounted rapidly as the reckless and the brave rushed to answer his challenge. Such acts of defiant bravery had won them the city where others had failed, but at a terrible cost in life. Now some of those same men had found an easier way to earn their gold—by robbing unwary travellers. Such was the harshness of the world they lived in, and to abandon this girl to her fate would be a sin.

‘We have no need of payment,’ Alain told the girl, who had been watching him with her big solemn eyes. A wisp of dark hair had escaped her wimple when she was struggling with the rogues. It looked thick and curled about her brow. ‘Neither Bryne nor I could allow you to continue without a proper escort, lady. It will be our pleasure to see you safely to your ship.’

‘You are a truly honourable knight, sir,’ Katherine said and her heart fluttered oddly as she looked into his eyes. How very blue they were! ‘Maria and I are grateful for your kindness.’ She glanced at her companion meaningfully. ‘Say thank you, Maria.’

Maria muttered something, but the look of disapproval did not leave her eyes. It was clear that she had not yet made up her mind that he was to be trusted with the care of her darling.

‘I thank you for your confidence in me, lady.’ Alain bowed to Katherine and threw Maria a mocking look, which made her frown deepen. ‘You will excuse us, ladies. I must speak with my men, make sure that none has been seriously hurt.’

He moved away to join Bryne.

‘Before you say anything, my friend—what else could I do? She and that dragon of hers will undoubtedly cause us more trouble than they are worth. Yet we could not abandon them.’

‘Her father should never have taken her on his travels if he could not protect her.’

‘Indeed, he should not. I agree with you, Bryne, that the journey to the Holy Land was no venture for a young girl, though other women have braved it— Richard’s queen, for one. Yet hers was a different case; she had the whole of England’s might to protect her and her women. However, a female in distress cannot be ignored. We should be unchivalrous indeed to send them on their way now.’

‘You are right,’ agreed Bryne with a wry grimace. ‘But that one is going to cause trouble. I feel it in my bones.’

‘Do you mean the child or the dragon?’

Bryne laughed. Despite the years of war, the hardships, anguish and grief, Alain had retained his sense of humour. He was no longer the pretty youth who had been so eager to join Duke Richard. Instead, he had matured into a man of some stature; a man others admired and respected for his fearlessness in battle. Even his brother, the great knight Sir Stefan de Banewulf, had not been more respected.

‘I meant the lady, Alain. Make no mistake, Katherine of Grunwald is not a child. Small and slight she may be—but she hath a woman’s mind and heart.’

‘You say that as if you disapprove?’ Alain arched his brows.

‘Something about her worries me,’ Bryne confessed. ‘I am not sure that I believe her story.’

‘Why should she lie?’ Alain recalled the grief he had seen in the girl’s eyes. She seemed innocent and vulnerable to him, tiny and fragile like a bird. ‘What could she have to hide?’

‘I do not know, but I would swear there is more that she hath not told us—and that she will cause us trouble before too long.’

‘You are too suspicious,’ Alain said, dismissing his friend’s words lightly. ‘She is naught but an innocent child…’

‘You worry too much,’ Katherine told her companion when they were alone. She smiled at Maria, who had been friend, comforter and stalwart supporter these past years. Without Maria she could never have borne the years of hardship and discomfort, the day-to-day endurance of constant travelling that had been her lot for more than seven years. ‘Why should they suspect anything? Besides, I have not lied. What I told them was true. I just haven’t told them the whole story.’

‘What happens if they discover the truth?’ Maria looked at her anxiously. Sometimes her beloved child was too reckless. ‘You must be careful, sweeting.’

‘How can anyone know? My father entrusted his secret only to me and I have shared a part of it with you. Neither of us is likely to tell anyone.’

Maria shook her head at her. ‘Someone else knows. The Baron was killed for his secret. If what he believed is true, you carry a precious treasure, Katherine. Men would kill for it. And these men are no exception.’

Katherine’s eyes narrowed in thought. ‘I do not believe Sir Alain would kill for gain, Maria. I liked him and I trusted him. Sir Bryne, too, seems a man one can trust.’

‘Men are seldom worthy of a woman’s trust,’ Maria muttered darkly. ‘Be wary, my dove. You know I care only for you.’

‘Yes, I do know that, Maria,’ Katherine said and gave her a smile of rare sweetness.

Her smile lit up her face from inside. She was not a pretty girl. Even her much-loved father had never pretended that she was a great beauty for her features were unremarkable. But when she smiled there was something about her that touched the heart of most who saw it. It came from the goodness of heart and the generosity that were so much a part of her character and had endeared her to those who truly knew her. She had a keen mind and had been educated by her father as if she were the son he had never been granted. In truth there was at times a purity about Katherine that made her almost angelic, and yet coupled with the innocence and the goodness was a mischievous nature that loved to tease and play.

‘You may never marry, Katherine,’ her father had told her once as they talked of the future. ‘Unless I can discover a great treasure, I cannot give you the dowry you deserve.’

‘You mean I am too plain to attract a husband without a huge bribe?’ Her eyes had twinkled with naughty humour; she had no illusions concerning her appearance. ‘Do you hope to pay someone to take me off your hands? For shame, Father!’ She laughed as he protested. ‘Nay, nay, I know you love me, and think only for my sake. Do not fear, my dear Father. Why should I want a husband when I have you?’

‘You know I love you completely,’ he had told her with an affectionate pat of her cheek. ‘But you are too like me, Kate. In looks as well as all else. Had you been like your mother…’

She had seen the pain in his eyes as his words faded on a sigh. His statement did not distress her as it might other young women. She remembered her beautiful, gentle mother with love and regret. It was all too true that she could never match the Lady Helena for looks or sweetness of nature.

Helena of Grunwald had been a fair beauty with deep blue eyes, her features as perfect as her complexion. Katherine was dark haired like her father, her eyes a deep melting brown. They were her best feature, especially when laughter lurked in their depths, which it often had until the shock of her father’s death.

Katherine had seen her reflection once in a hand mirror of burnished silver, and she had thought herself plain. Not exactly ugly, for her features were not misshapen, just unremarkable. Her nose was too short for beauty and turned up a little. She had always admired straight noses. Queen Berengaria had a perfect nose. Katherine had seen King Richard and his queen in Cyprus a few months before the triumph at Acre.

A little shudder ran through her as she recalled the terrible wounds she had witnessed at the time of Acre. Men lying helpless as their lifeblood gushed out from gaping wounds; men with their bodies torn apart, their limbs shattered. And sometimes women and children dying in pain, from wounds they had received helping their loved ones. One memory of innocent men and women being slaughtered in the street had lingered in her mind, causing her nightmares long after their suffering had ended.

Maria, Baron Grunwald and Katherine herself had worked with others tirelessly to help the poor soldiers and civilians who had been injured. It was after Acre was conquered and the King had left for Jerusalem that they, too, set out on their last fateful journey.

Baron Grunwald had been determined to discover some wonderful treasure. There were many relics to be purchased in the Holy Land, but he believed most of them false, and had set himself the task of discovering something of far greater worth. To this end he had spent months studying old scripts and maps, even hieroglyphs on stone tablets that came his way as he bargained with merchants and hunted in the markets. Katherine had never believed that his search would be successful, but he had by chance discovered something so wonderful, so magnificent, that his excitement had known no bounds.

‘Our fortunes are made, daughter,’ he had told Katherine one morning when they were alone in the pavilion they shared. It was a large pavilion with partitions for sleeping and they had been in the front, which was used for sitting and eating when the heat of the day was too fierce to be outside. ‘Every prince in Christendom would like to own such a treasure. It is priceless.’

Katherine had thought she heard something outside their pavilion, but when she looked there had been no one close by. At first she had welcomed her father’s excitement, but as he began to tell her more she had been aware of a coldness at the nape of her neck.

‘But do we have the right to sell it, Father?’ Katherine asked when her father finished speaking and she learned what the treasure was. ‘It is a holy thing and should surely be given to the church freely.’

‘You shame me, daughter,’ he had confessed, much struck by her words. ‘My first thought was for its worth—but you remind me that greed is unworthy. It was you I thought of, Kate. You would have had a splendid dowry and I would have been able to restore Grunwald.’

‘Perhaps you will find something else, Father. Some treasure that does not have such importance to our faith.’ Katherine almost wished she had not spoken her thoughts for he looked so weary, so disappointed. She knew that the gold he might have earned would have brought ease and comfort to his declining years. ‘I would not have you do something unworthy, something you might regret. As for myself, I have no wish for a great dowry. If ever I married, it would be to a man who would have me for myself, not my fortune.’

‘Your mother should have had a fortune but she was cheated of it by her brother,’ the Baron said and sighed. ‘I wed her because I loved her, Kate, but the money would have stopped our home from crumbling about us.’ Katherine sighed and shook her head over the memory and her father’s sadness. It was a sorrow he had carried for years. ‘But you are right, my daughter. No man hath the right to sell such a thing. I am privileged to be its custodian until I can give it to the person most fitted to be a true guardian.’

Katherine’s father had conquered his greed, but had soon learned to his cost that others were not prepared to accept that his treasure was not for sale.

She had never known how Baron Hubert of Ravenshurst had discovered that her father had the precious treasure but, as they began the long journey that would take them home, they had become aware that they were being followed.

At first Baron Grunwald had refused to believe that anyone could know that he had discovered the secret that men had been searching for since our Lord’s crucifixion.

‘I have told no one but you, Kate. And I know you would never have breathed a word outside our tent.’

‘You know I would not, Father—but the Lord Hubert’s men have been following us since we left Cyprus.’

‘He cannot know…’ Katherine’s father had shaken his head anxiously. It was impossible for the English knight to know what he carried, and yet there was little doubt that his ship had followed close on the heels of theirs. And now that they had landed in Italy, the Baron’s men were again following them, discreetly and from a distance, but always there. ‘It is impossible, Kate. We make something of what can only be coincidence.’

Yet the next morning they had had a visit from Hubert of Ravenshurst. At first he had been charming, offering to buy the treasure for a huge amount of gold. Had they accepted his offer, it would have made them rich, but Katherine’s father had denied all knowledge of the object the English knight sought.

‘It is better to pretend to know nothing,’ he’d told her after their visitor had departed. The Lord Hubert had made no threats, but his manner had shown them that he was angry at being refused. ‘Remember that if you should become the custodian of our treasure, Kate.’

‘What can you mean?’ Katherine’s eyes widened in fear. ‘You are the custodian, Father.’

‘If something were to happen to me, you must go to your uncle. You know that he hath been the steward of Grunwald in my absence. If I die, he will become the rightful owner. You will have nothing, Kate, but he will take you in for my sake. Besides, there is no one else you can trust.’

‘I pray you will not speak of dying! I would rather you gave the…treasure to the Lord of Ravenshurst.’

‘Never!’ Her father’s eyes had glinted with unaccustomed anger. ‘I would rather die than give that devil such a precious thing, Kate. His very touch would despoil it. No, it must go to the church, as you said, for all men to see and revere.’

‘Oh, Father…’ She had looked at him helplessly. Was it pride that made him speak so foolishly?

She wished that she had argued further. She had been against selling the treasure, but, realising the threat to her father, she would have done anything to be rid of it. Anything except hurt him.

Now she wished that she had thrown his precious treasure into the river, but it was too late. Her father was dead and the burden had passed to her, for it was a burden. She knew that she could not simply give it up. Her father had made her promise the day he placed it in her care that she would do all she could to see that it was taken to a place of safety. She must carry on as he would have wished, no matter her own feelings.

Maria knew only that she carried something precious on her person. Katherine could not burden her with the whole truth. If she had been able to reconcile her conscience, she might have rid herself of it, for her father’s death had made it hateful to her, yet she knew deep within herself that she could not do such a wicked thing.

What she carried belonged to the whole of Christendom. It must be placed in a great church, somewhere worthy of its significance where it could be seen and appreciated by those who needed it most. Her father had spoken of approaching the Pope himself. They had been so close to achieving what they set out to do, but now her father was dead and she did not believe that the Pope would listen to her. She would probably not be granted an audience and she would share her secret with no other, for even amongst the priests and cardinals there was greed and corruption.

Her father had bid her go home if he died, and in her troubled mind she saw it as the solution to her problem. Somehow she must get her sacred trust home to France. Once she was at her uncle’s manor in France, she would be able to decide what must be the fate of this precious thing. Her uncle was Baron Grunwald now. Surely he would know what to do? Yes, she must see the cup safe before she thought of her own future.

What were a few small lies in such a cause?

Katherine’s thoughts turned towards the knight with the merry blue eyes, remembering the way her heart had raced when he opened them to look at her. How fair he was to look upon! No man had ever caused her to feel that way before and she smiled at her own foolishness. To let herself dream of this man would be folly indeed. He had thought her a child, and that she had not been in many years. Not since that terrible night at Acre, when she had seen people she loved as friends hounded from their homes and killed like rats in the street.

Her father had told her that such things happened in war, that even the best of men might behave badly when the blood-lust was raised in him, and she knew that what the knights did that day was a part of war. Yet it had haunted her dreams for months and even now she was not completely free of the memory.

Because of that memory, she was vaguely uneasy about telling the whole of her story to the knight who had charged so valiantly to her rescue. She was grateful for what he had done for her, but she dare not trust him with the complete truth.

Something of the importance and value she carried might turn the minds of even the most honourable of men.

Chapter Two

A lain was strangely restless as he woke with the dawn. He had not slept well and it was not simply that both he and Bryne had sensed they were being followed the previous day. As yet there had been mere glimpses of a horse and rider in the distance. At times they had travelled through steep valleys hemmed in by towering hills to either side, at others their way lay through dense woods or past small villages, where they bought food. At no time had the secret watchers attempted to come closer—but why were they there? Perhaps more importantly, what did they want?

The previous night they had camped close to a river. Alain was thoughtful as he walked down to a secluded spot where he intended to bathe. A brief swim in its cool waters would help to clear his mind and cleanse his body. He liked to bathe more often than was the custom in England, a habit he had learned from Arab friends in Palestine. For, despite his desire to free the Holy City from Saladin, he had found it possible to make friends with men of all faiths and nationalities. Indeed, he had found the Arab culture of peace and learning pleasant, and, had it not been for his strong faith, might have stayed happily amongst them.

He was feeling out of sorts with himself this morning as he flexed his muscles, easing off the ache of lying on the hard ground, though he did not know why. But perhaps the act of bathing would relieve the tension that had built in him of late, the feeling that he was missing something, that his life had no real purpose.

‘You are a fool, Alain de Banewulf,’ he told himself with a wry smile as he walked to the nearby river. ‘What is it that you want of life? Why can you never be satisfied?’

The answer was something that still eluded him, as it had for years past. It was as if he searched for something that might never be his, a sense of fulfilment and of peace.

Stripping off his clothes, which were the simple tunic and close-fitting hose of a soldier, and did not include the suit of chain-mail he wore for battle, Alain plunged into the river. He came up gasping and gave a shout of pleasure. The water was cold, but wonderful. How good it was to feel young and alive! His mood was shaken off and he was glad that he had chosen to slip away for these private moments.

He swam across the river with quick, powerful strokes, enjoying the energy that surged through him, then turned over on to his back, floating lazily as he let himself think about the things that had played on his mind during the night.

What was the Lady Katherine of Grunwald up to? And what secret was she hiding? He had thought Bryne too suspicious at the start, but after two days in the lady’s company he had changed his mind. For certain she had something on her mind—something she did not wish to share with her companions.

Hearing the sound of someone splashing in the water a little further downstream, Alain turned his head to look for the source. Now he could hear laughter. Evidently, someone was enjoying the water as much as he was.

He could hear voices calling to one another—the Lady Katherine and the dragon, if he were not mistaken. His keen senses told him that they were just past the bend in the riverbank, hidden from his view by the fronds of a weeping tree.

‘You should not take the risk, my lady.’

‘I am safe enough, Maria. Sir Alain is an honourable knight and his men would not dare to anger him. Besides, I needed to bathe. I felt so dirty.’

‘Well, you are safe enough with me to watch over you, for I would kill any man who dared to spy on you.’

Alain smiled to himself, amused by the force of this avowal. He would put nothing past the dragon. His head had been tender for some hours after the last time she’d hit him and he would not want to risk it again.

He would not frighten them, he decided, and swam carefully back to the bank, pulling on his clothes quickly as he felt the chill of the early morning air. He was just fastening his low-slung sword belt when he heard the scream.

Katherine was in trouble! He ran towards the sound and then stopped in surprise as he saw something totally unexpected. A woman was struggling with two ruffians, but it was not Katherine. This woman was taller, older, more voluptuous and very beautiful with long blonde hair tumbling down her back.

Alain did not stop to consider. Drawing his sword, he gave a roar that had oft sent shivers running through Saladin’s warriors. As he descended on the three, the men gave him a startled glance and let go of the woman. They then ran off towards a group of three horses and, seizing the bridles of two, mounted and rode off into the woods.

The woman looked at Alain, gave a cry and swooned as he reached her. Sheathing his sword, he knelt beside her on the dry earth and laid his head against her breast, listening for her heartbeat. Thank God she lived! Even as her eyelids fluttered open, Alain felt a heavy blow across his shoulders from behind. It sent him reeling and he lay winded for a moment, then as he pushed himself over on to his back and looked up, he saw Maria standing over him, moneybag in hand.

‘You should be shamed to treat a lady so!’ she cried, her eyes flashing with righteous fury.

‘You hit me again!’ Alain said and sat up. ‘Be damned to you, woman! You are too hasty with that weapon of yours. I was merely trying to decide if the lady was breathing.’

The beauty was sitting up. She looked far from pleased as she stared at Maria, her full red lips forming a sulky pout.

‘Foolish wretch!’ she cried, clearly none the worse for her adventure. ‘This brave knight hath rescued me from those rogues who were trying to abduct me. You might have killed him.’

‘Nay, no matter,’ Alain said. For some reason the obvious hostility between the two women made him want to laugh out loud. Maria’s look was enough to frighten the dead and the other’s was…puzzling. He would swear that she had been thwarted in some way. He was on his feet now, offering his hand to the damsel so recently in distress and now evidently recovered. ‘You must forgive her. Maria thought she was protecting you from my wicked intent—is that not so, Maria?’

He got nothing but a scowl from the dragon, but the beauty accepted his hand gratefully, rising a little unsteadily and giving a sigh. For a moment she swayed as though she might swoon and then she smiled. Alain felt breathless of a sudden. He could not recall ever having seen such a smile or eyes that shade—they were such a deep blue that they might almost have been the colour of violets. He knew a fleeting but urgent desire to lie with her.

‘I am the Lady Celestine De Charlemagne,’ she said, her fingers trembling in his. ‘My husband was Baron De Charlemagne…’ A deep sigh escaped her soft red lips, a single tear seeming to escape from the corner of her eye. ‘My lord was killed at Acre and many of his people with him. I— I am in some trouble, sir. For I have no one to protect me, though I have family who would take me in if I could but reach France.’

‘Celestine…is that truly you?’ Alain turned his head as he heard another voice and saw that Katherine had joined them. He noticed that her hair was wet, as was her tunic, which clung to her and revealed the budding curves of her young body, curves that had previously been hidden from his gaze. For the first time he was aware of her as a woman. Bryne had been right; she was not a child despite her appearance. But she was looking at the Lady of Charlemagne and she did not seem pleased to see her. ‘What are you doing here? I believed you had accepted the protection of—of the Lord Hubert of Ravenshurst.’

‘Katherine!’ Celestine gave a little scream of delight and ran to her at once. ‘My dear child. How are you? Everyone thought you dead. We heard of your poor father’s tragic demise and believed…but I am so pleased to see you.’

‘Celestine?’ Katherine gave her an uncertain look. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I was forced to escape,’ Celestine said and bit her full bottom lip. ‘I must tell you that I was terribly deceived in Ravenshurst. He can be charming, but I vow he is an evil man. I have heard such things… No! I must not speak of it, for if he knew I had heard his secrets he would kill me. Pray do not ask me, Katherine, for I cannot bring myself to think of such things.’

Katherine was silent. Celestine had once been her friend, for they had worked together to tend the wounded during the terrible siege of Acre. Then, when Celestine had chosen to become the Lord Hubert’s companion, she had wondered if it was from her that he had learned of her father’s treasure. She could not be certain that Celestine had known, but she believed that it was possible. Celestine may have heard her father speaking to her or even caught a sight of his writings concerning his discovery, for they had often been left lying on his couch in their pavilion, and the older woman, being a trusted friend, had come and gone as she pleased.

‘How did you know where we were?’ Katherine could hear the suspicion in her own voice and regretted it as she saw Sir Alain give her a questing look.

‘Come, my lady,’ he chided softly. ‘This lady is in some distress, as you were when I rescued you. The least you may do is to take her to our camp and make sure that she has whatever she needs for her comfort.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Katherine said, her cheeks warm. He thought her unkind and harsh, but he could not know her reasons—nor could she tell him. She bit her lip and looked at Celestine once more. ‘You have no baggage with you?’

‘Only a few items I was able to conceal on my person,’ Celestine said. ‘For I should not have been allowed to leave the Baron’s camp had he known what I meant to do. You must not fear me, Katherine. I am not your enemy, though I know Ravenshurst may have been your father’s. I believe there was some quarrel between them, though I do not know the truth of it.’

Katherine nodded, but made no reply. It was difficult to judge whether she ought to trust Celestine or not. What she said might be true, yet there was something false about her. However, since she was here, and Sir Alain had clearly decided to take her under his protection, there was little she could do other than accept her. At least, she must appear to do so, though she would remain wary.

Sir Alain was leading Celestine’s horse back to camp, leaving her to bring her erstwhile friend. Katherine noticed that a small leather pouch was slung from the horn of the saddle. Obviously Celestine had not left the Baron’s camp empty-handed. She must have planned her escape carefully—but that did not make her guilty of treachery. Besides, how could she have known where to look for Katherine?

‘Where are you going?’ Katherine asked as she turned to look at Celestine. She wondered uneasily if some of her hostility towards the other woman was because of the way Sir Alain had been staring at her. He’d looked as if he were mesmerised, as if he had been struck by love for Celestine—an arrow from the gods of ancient mythology, perhaps?

Surely she was not jealous? Katherine looked into her heart. Celestine was very beautiful. Even Katherine’s father had remarked on it. He had found her charming, but Katherine had not minded their friendship. At one time she had hoped that they might make a match of it, that her father might find happiness with a second wife, but then Celestine had become the Lord Hubert’s companion. Some might call her his mistress, though Katherine’s father had preferred to think otherwise.

‘Celestine would not be so foolish. The Baron is not a man to be trusted, Katherine. Celestine has been left alone in a strange land. She has merely accepted his offer to be her escort on the journey home.’

That had been in Cyprus, before they had sailed for the shores of Italy. It had not surprised Baron Grunwald at first that the English lord had followed them, for they were all bound in the same direction—but then in Italy had come the offer to buy his treasure and his death had swiftly followed his refusal.

‘I hope to find a ship to carry me back to France,’ Celestine told her now in answer to her question. ‘I have dower lands there, Katherine, for my husband settled them on me when we married. Where will you go now that your poor father is gone?’

Tears stood in those wonderful eyes and she looked genuinely upset. Katherine’s suspicion eased a little. Perhaps she had misjudged the other woman. Indeed, perhaps she was a little jealous. It was unkind of her to harbour such thoughts against Celestine.

‘Why did you leave us to join Baron Ravenshurst?’ asked Katherine, thinking it best to have the matter straight between them.

‘I have asked myself that question many times,’ Celestine replied and sighed. She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘I fear I am a foolish woman and his smiles and promises turned my head. A woman in my position must marry, Katherine. I could reside quietly on my own lands for a time, but there would always be men who sought to wed me for what I might bring them. I believed Hubert to be the kind of man with whom I might find content—but it was not so. All men are greedy, but some have a code of honour by which they live. I fear Baron Hubert of Ravenshurst is not one of them. He is ruthless and cruel and I was unhappy in his company.’

‘Do you believe all men greedy?’ Katherine frowned. ‘My father was not—and nor, I think, is Sir Alain.’

‘I spoke as a general rule. You are innocent, Katherine, and have truly known only your father. Therefore you cannot judge. I have lived amongst men and know more of their true natures. Most are greedy, ambitious fools.’

Her tone and the way her mouth had gone hard and sour shocked Katherine. She was not such an innocent that she did not know such men existed; indeed, she had met several of that ilk on her travels with her father. She had also met good honest men, such as Sir Alain and Sir Bryne. She believed both were generous, decent men of honour. Sir Alain’s was the sweeter nature, though she had noticed that his commands were instantly obeyed, which might mean that he could be very different if he chose. However, she did not think him either greedy or foolish, though perhaps he, like many other men, was blinded by Celestine’s beauty. They did not see beyond her charming smile to the devious nature that lay beneath.

‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said slowly. She would keep her thoughts to herself, just as she would reserve judgement on Celestine for the moment.

‘But you are right to think Sir Alain better than most,’ Celestine said with a thoughtful glance at her. ‘I am sure we can trust him to get us safely to the ship. But you did not answer my question, Katherine. Where will you go when we reach France?’

‘To my uncle. He is the Baron now, but he will do his duty by me.’ Her eyes clouded with grief too recent to have become muted. She did not dislike her uncle, but he was a gruff, blunt man with none of her father’s sensibilities. She would find it hard to live under his roof, but she had no choice. She had no other family and no dowry. ‘There is nowhere else for me.’

‘But of course there is,’ Celestine said and smiled at her. ‘If you chose, you could come and live with me as my friend and dearest companion. No, do not refuse me now, sweet Katherine. We have time enough ahead of us and you may tell me when we reach France.’

Katherine smiled, but made no answer. Celestine seemed genuinely to want to help her, but somehow she could not quite believe in her.

‘You begin to make a habit of rescuing damsels,’ Bryne said with a wry smile. He glanced towards the two younger ladies, who were walking together in the morning sunlight. ‘But this one is undoubtedly beautiful.’

‘What do you think of her story?’ Alain asked and smiled for Celestine’s beauty was overwhelming. ‘Would you say she is telling us the truth—or doth the mystery deepen?’

‘It seems a little odd that the ladies know each other,’ Bryne said. ‘But as yet I have not had the opportunity to observe the Lady Celestine.’

‘And Katherine?’ Alain’s brow wrinkled in thought. His first sight of Celestine had taken his breath away and yet somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind instinct was telling him to be watchful. ‘Is she the key to this affair, think you?’

‘I have suspected something from the beginning, as you know,’ Bryne said. ‘There is something she is concealing, some secret she does not confide in us. I would swear it. Yet I do not think there is malice in her. As for the other one…’ he shook his head ‘… I shall reserve judgement. We are but two hours from Rome, and may consider our duty done once there.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Alain replied but looked uncertain. ‘Yet I would not have harm come to her…’

‘Of whom do you speak?’ Bryne asked and then smiled as he watched the direction of his friend’s gaze, believing he knew. So the wind blew in that quarter, did it? Well, the woman was certainly beautiful, though not to his own taste. ‘You think to see them on their way to France? Or is there something more on your mind?’

‘I should feel happier if certain things were made plainer,’ Alain replied. ‘But we shall see what the ladies have to say when we reach Rome itself, Bryne.’

Alain was thoughtful after he left his friend. It could surely not be mere coincidence that Celestine had ridden their way. And if it had been planned…the lady would bear a little careful watching.

It was not Katherine’s first visit to Rome. She and her father had stopped for a few weeks in the beautiful city on their outward journey to the Holy Land, visiting some of the ancient sites of interest. They had walked along the Via Appia and by the banks of the River Tiber, which was the very reason for the city’s existence.

‘It was here that Nero sent the early Christian martyrs to their deaths,’ Katherine’s father had told her as they gazed at the stone arches of the Colosseum. ‘Just think, some of those men that died here may have followed in Christ’s footsteps when he carried his Cross in Jersualem.’

Now she returned alone. Katherine’s heart ached for her loss. Her father had been a man of great learning, highly respected amongst those who knew him, but a dreamer and hardly suited for a long pilgrimage. Even before he was killed he had developed a bad cough, and she knew he had feared for her future, often bewailing the fact that he had no fortune to leave her.

‘I do not know what will become of you, Kate,’ he had told her once when in a reflective mood. ‘I have neglected my duty, been a bad father to you.’

‘You have been the best of fathers,’ she had replied and kissed him fondly. Indeed, she would not have changed her life these past years, but she longed for him now, for his wisdom to guide her. ‘What should I do, Father?’ she asked softly, wishing that he stood beside her. ‘Should I seek an audience with the Holy Father? What am I to do for the best?’

Now they were approaching the waterfront, where the ships from many countries often rode at anchor in the sunshine. There were but three in port that day, and Sir Alain had told the ladies that he would make inquiries as to their suitability, arranging passage on their behalf if possible.

Katherine stood on the quayside, gazing out over the water. The last time she had stood here was with her father. She had been but eleven years, still suffering from the loss of her mother and feeling the responsibility of becoming her father’s companion. She had known that he needed her, for her mother had told her to care for him as he was often too lost in his studies to remember to eat. A heavy responsibility indeed for a child, but one she had accepted willingly out of her love. The prospect of such a long journey had seemed exciting to her then, an adventure to be shared with the person she loved most in the world. And so it had proved despite the hardships, danger and suffering she had witnessed at firsthand.

On that day so many years ago, the port had been busy with many ships loading and unloading their cargoes, but on this day it was quiet with only a few people walking or standing in conversation. Turning her head to look about her, Katherine saw that Celestine had been speaking earnestly to a man. Realising she was observed, she left him and walked towards Katherine. The man seemed to look hard in Katherine’s direction for a moment before turning away.

What had they been talking about? And why had the man, who was a stranger to Katherine, been so interested in her?

‘It seems there are no ships bound for France at the moment,’ Celestine said when she came up to Katherine. ‘One of those you see is bound for Cyprus, another for the shores of Byzantium and the other for England. A French ship may not be here for some weeks to come.’

‘I do not want to linger here so long,’ Katherine said anxiously. ‘Our money will dwindle and may not then be enough for our passage to France.’ In fact, she had wondered if her small purse would see them safely home. Most of their goods had been lost when her father was attacked and killed, supposedly by brigands.

‘Here comes Sir Alain now,’ Celestine said. ‘We may hear what he has to say.’

‘I fear the news is not what you would wish to hear,’ Alain told them as their anxious eyes beseeched him for the news he could not give. ‘A French ship is not expected for some time. There was a terrible storm last month and two French merchant vessels were lost at sea. The English ship you see anchored cannot sail for another week at least. It, too, was caught in the storm, and though it managed to limp to port it has sustained damage that has not yet been repaired.’

‘Then we have no choice but to remain,’ Celestine said and there was a gleam of something that might have been satisfaction in her eyes. ‘Do not fear, Katherine. I have sufficient money for the three of us. I shall take lodgings and—’

‘No need for that,’ Alain assured them at once. ‘Bryne has friends here and we have all been invited to make use of the Villa Maderno, which lies in the hills just above us. Bryne has gone on ahead to make sure that everything is in readiness for our arrival.’

‘But we cannot trouble you…’ Celestine began, faltering as she saw his frown. His manner told her that he would brook no interference with his plans. ‘Surely you will travel on the English ship once it is repaired?’

‘Yes, that is our plan,’ Alain told her. ‘Had a French ship been the only one available, we should have taken that and found an English berth when we reached Marseilles. The voyage to England will be longer and perhaps less comfortable without a sojourn in France to break the tedium, but we shall take passage. I think it might be best for you to accompany us, Katherine. The Lady Celestine also, if she wishes?’ He raised his brows to her and she smiled at him, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

‘Thank you. May I have time to consider?’

‘I have taken the liberty of booking passage for all of us,’ Alain told her. ‘If you would prefer to remain here, that is your privilege, but I fear it might be months before you could be sure of finding a ship that can carry you home. You would find it much easier to purchase a passage from England—and the expense of travelling to England will not fall on you as I have contracted with the English captain for our whole party.’

‘You are very kind,’ Katherine said, and then, taking a deep breath, ‘But I had hoped I might gain an audience with the Holy Father while we are in Rome.’

‘An audience with his Holiness!’ Celestine exclaimed. ‘My dearest Katherine, what reason can you possibly have for making such a request? It is certain to be refused. Pope Innocent III is a busy man and hardly likely to give his time to a young girl.’

‘I dare say his Holiness might find time to see you, Katherine,’ Alain said, seeing her expression, which was a mixture of distress and embarrassment. ‘However, I happen to know that he is not in Rome at this time.’

‘Oh…then I shall not…’ Katherine sighed. ‘I had hoped, but it is obviously not meant to be.’ She looked at him. ‘Then I think I shall accept your invitation to accompany you to England, sir. I do not see what else I can do.’

‘Is there something I may help you with, my lady?’ Alain asked, sensing that she was deeply worried. ‘Anything I might do that you cannot do yourself?’

Katherine hesitated. It would be so good to share her burden with someone she could trust. Her instincts told her that Sir Alain de Banewulf was an honourable man, but still she did not dare to share her secret with him.

‘I thank you, but, no, there is nothing, sir. It was merely that my father had spoken of a meeting with his Holiness, and I would have liked to give him…something.’

‘Could you not leave it with one of his cardinals?’ Alain asked. ‘I am sure I could arrange that for you if you wished, for I had an audience with his Holiness when I was first in Rome on my return from the Holy Land.’

‘You are very kind, but, no, I shall not trouble you,’ Katherine replied, though she did not know why. It would have been easy to hand over both the treasure and the provenance that her father had documented so faithfully. Or what was left of it, for so many of her father’s notes had been lost with his baggage.

She turned away from Sir Alain’s penetrating gaze to find that Celestine was looking at her with barely concealed eagerness. Katherine felt annoyed with herself for saying so much. If Celestine had somehow learned of the treasure Katherine carried, she might try to steal it, either for herself or for the Lord Hubert, with whom she professed to have quarrelled.

Was it unkind of her to suspect her erstwhile friend? Katherine felt that it was unworthy to be so suspicious, yet she could not help it. She almost wished that she had confided the whole to Sir Alain and left it to him to solve her dilemma.

But he was telling his men to mount up and the moment had passed. Perhaps, after all, it was best to keep the secret a little longer. Soon she would be in England and from there she could find a ship to take her to France and her uncle’s home.

Until then, she would just have to carry her burden alone.

‘Is this not a beautiful villa?’ Celestine asked as Katherine met her after having been able to indulge in the luxury of a proper bath in scented water, something she had not done since leaving Cyprus. ‘My room is next to yours, and charming. I think Sir Bryne’s friend must be very wealthy to own something like this, Katherine.’

‘Yes, I believe you are right, for I understand that he owns several homes, both here and in the wine country to the north and in Salerno. It was from one of his estates that Sir Alain and Sir Bryne were coming when they met us.’

‘My home in France would seem dark and bleak compared to this,’ Celestine told her. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I truly wish to return—and yet I might if I had a companion to make me smile.’

‘I dare say you will marry again.’

Katherine felt uncomfortable; she knew that Celestine was trying to coax an answer from her and she did not wish to give it, though she did not know why. A return to her own home was not appealing. In truth, the more she thought about returning to Grunwald, the less appealing it became. She had grown used to living and sleeping in her pavilion, though that had been lost with her father’s baggage, and she had been forced to sleep under the stars until they met Sir Alain and were given shelter in his own camp.

Like Celestine, she was impressed by the villa, which had many light and airy rooms and was very beautiful with marble mosaics on the floor and white pillars to support the arches that led from one part of the villa to another. There were statues of women clothed in flowing drapes, couches with soft cushions where one might sit or lie to take one’s ease and a bathhouse with a bathing pool filled with cool scented water.

Katherine had never experienced such luxury, and knew that it was unlikely she would again. She made up her mind to thank Sir Alain for bringing her here when she saw him next, and perhaps to confide in him at least a little of her secret.

‘Shall we walk in the garden for a little before we dine?’ Celestine asked her. ‘It is very beautiful and I think there is a wonderful view out over the sea.’

‘Yes, why not?’ Katherine asked. She felt relaxed by the peace and serenity of her surroundings, and a little guilty for having suspected Celestine of wanting to rob her. ‘It is such a lovely night and we shall not see its like when we reach England, for I know it will be cold there.’

‘I have never been to England,’ Celestine confided, taking her arm and smiling. ‘Have you, Katherine?’

‘No, but I know something about it—my mother was an Englishwoman.’

‘Ah…’ Celestine nodded wisely. ‘Baron Grunwald told me that she was very beautiful, and ought to have been an heiress through her own mother—but her brother withheld the dowry because he did not wish her to marry.’

‘She fell in love with my father and the match was made with the help of King Henry II, but my mother’s brother did not approve and he would not pay her dowry. Even when she died he refused to pay what was due to her from an inheritance.’

‘That was not kind of him, for I believe your father was not a wealthy man?’

‘No, indeed. His estate is poor and the castle of Grunwald in bad repair. He had hoped he might find riches on his travels…’ Katherine sighed and stopped, for she had almost been led into giving too much away.

‘And did he find nothing?’ Celestine was struggling to hide her eagerness.

‘No, nothing that he might sell,’ Katherine said and looked at Celestine. ‘Have you heard otherwise?’

‘I know nothing of your father’s affairs,’ Celestine replied. ‘Though I did hear the Lord Hubert speak of some treasure…’ She waited for Katherine to reply. ‘But perhaps it was stolen?’

‘If there had been a treasure, it would have been taken when his baggage was stolen,’ Katherine said. ‘But my father had nothing he might sell.’ She sensed Celestine’s disbelief and was almost certain that she had been the one who had discovered Baron Grunwald’s secret and spoken to Ravenshurst of it.

‘Then you have no choice but to throw yourself on the mercy of your uncle—unless you come to me. Have you given some thought to the matter, Katherine?’

Was she genuine, or did she still believe that Katherine carried a precious treasure? Katherine wished that she could be sure.

They were standing now on a hill, gazing out at the city below and beyond it the sparkle of a blue sea. A sob rose to Katherine’s throat as she wished that her father might have lived to stand by her side and see this wonderful vista. How she missed him, and how alone she felt!

‘Do not cry, sweet Kate,’ Celestine said and reached out to take her into her arms. ‘You have friends. You are not alone.’

‘Thank you, but I was not going to cry,’ Katherine said and avoided her embrace. ‘Excuse me, the evening grows chilly. I think a storm is brewing. I shall return to my room and find a mantle to wear for supper.’

‘No—’ Celestine stopped, her cheeks flushing as Katherine looked at her. ‘I mean, let me come with you.’

‘Thank you, I shall go alone.’

Katherine turned and ran from her, feeling close to the tears that might shame her. She did not know why she should feel so distressed. After all, she had always known that she would have to return to Grunwald one day, and it had not upset her before. Perhaps it was this beautiful place, making her aware of the changes in her life? The years of travelling had been hard in many ways, but they had also been glorious.

Her feet carried her swiftly towards her room, but as she approached she heard a cry of surprise and anger, swiftly followed by a scream and then the sight of two men running away. They saw her, but turned aside and sped through the garden, obviously in a hurry to escape. As she entered the room that had been loaned to her and Maria for the next few days, she saw that her baggage had been opened and her things strewn all over the floor. Maria was lying on the floor, and Sir Alain was kneeling beside her, helping her to rise.

‘What has happened here?’ Katherine asked. ‘Maria—are you hurt?’

‘No, I am not harmed, though those rogues did their best to render me an injury,’ Maria muttered. ‘I discovered them ransacking your things, my lady, and they attacked me. Had this knight not come to my rescue, I might have been murdered.’

‘You were taken by surprise, Maria,’ Alain told her. Having ascertained that she was no more than bruised and shocked, he had a merry twinkle in his eyes. ‘I dare say your trusty weapon was not to hand.’

‘You should not mock her, sir,’ Katherine said as Maria scowled at him. ‘She has had a fright.’

‘I do not think they took anything, my lady—nothing important,’ Maria said as she sat up and was helped to her feet by Sir Alain. ‘I disturbed them before they had time to do more than begin their search.’

‘Do not fret, dearest,’ Katherine told her. ‘You are more important to me than anything they might have taken here.’

‘But your father…’ Maria began and was quelled by a warning look from her mistress. ‘Forgive me…’

‘May I ask what they were looking for?’ Alain asked, glancing from one to the other. ‘It is clear they think you have something important, Katherine. They took a risk in coming here—this place belongs to one of Rome’s foremost citizens and they could face execution for what they have done this evening.’

‘My—my father gave me something to look after the morning he died,’ Katherine said. ‘Until that time he had carried it within his own baggage, but because he suspected that he might be robbed, he gave the trust to me.’

‘My lady… Katherine,’ Maria warned, ‘be careful of whom you trust…’ This knight seemed to be all that he should, and she was grateful for his help, but, when it came to her darling’s safety, she trusted no one!

‘I think we have no choice,’ Katherine said. ‘My father discovered something, sir—something that hath no intrinsic value of its own, but which is valuable because it was once used by our Lord himself. It is something that is important to Christendom and ought to be placed in the care of the church.’

‘So that is why you sought an audience with his Holiness?’ Alain frowned as Katherine nodded. ‘And you are not willing to entrust it to any other than the Pope himself?’

‘I— I do not know,’ Katherine admitted. ‘My father believed there was much corruption in high places, amongst both kings and churchmen. He wanted it to be placed where all can see and perhaps be healed by the experience of having seen such a relic.’

‘What exactly is it that he discovered?’ Alain saw her quick frown and shook his head. ‘Nay, do not tell me if you prefer to keep your secret, though I vow it would be safe with me. Like your father, I would never seek to gain personal gain from something so valuable to Christendom.’

‘Then you are rare amongst men,’ Maria muttered and glared at him. ‘Not all Christian knights have your scruples, sir. I vow there are those only too keen to steal it for themselves.’

‘What mean you?’ Alain’s eyes narrowed as he looked from her to Katherine. ‘Has this something to do with the Lord Hubert of Ravenshurst? Was it his men who came here? I recall that you spoke of him when the Lady Celestine joined us.’

‘Yes, I spoke of him,’ Katherine said as she realised that she could no longer hold back such important information. ‘Somehow he learned of my father’s discovery. You must know that my father wrote down the provenance of…his discovery, for without it he could not prove that the treasure is what he believes it to be. There are many holy relics for sale in Palestine, and indeed in Rome itself, but my father’s discovery was made by painstaking research over many months and years.’

‘There are always holy relics wherever you travel,’ Alain agreed, ‘and many of them are false. I dare say that some, which have been made into shrines, have no true provenance, but something of the importance that your sacred trust entails would need proof if it were to be accepted as the true—’ He broke off and looked at her, and she saw a gleam of excitement begin in his eyes. ‘If it is what I think…men have been searching for it from the time of the crucifixion.’

Katherine felt a quiver of alarm. She had known that even the most trustworthy of men might be tempted by her treasure, perhaps not for greed, but for the glory that such a find could bring them.

‘I have not told you what it is, sir,’ she reminded him. ‘It may be that my father was mistaken…’

‘Would you let me read his writings?’ Alain asked. His eyes were steady on her face but held warmth, a concern that made her heart race. For a moment she thought that his feelings towards her were more than mere courtesy. ‘If I gave you my solemn word that I will return them to you when we reach England, would you trust me?’

Katherine hesitated, and then nodded. Instinct told her that if she could not trust this man, then she could trust no one. She crossed the room to where a plant in a great earthenware pot stood in an alcove and lifted it, revealing a flat leather pouch. Hesitating but a moment, she picked up the pouch and handed it to Alain.

‘You will find my father’s writing hard to decipher, sir, for he had a small neat hand, and in places he has used his own code. From these you will not learn the nature of his treasure, only the details of his research. There were fuller descriptions of his work, but they were lost with his baggage. I believe there is enough left to give credence to his discovery, but you may study these and give me your opinion.’

‘I thank you for your trust in me, Katherine,’ Alain said and hesitated, then reached out to touch her cheek. It was the merest graze of his fingers, but it sent tremors running through her, and his smile made her blush. ‘You may be certain that I shall keep the nature of your secret to myself—though I am bound by friendship to tell Bryne that the Lord of Ravenshurst is your enemy.’

‘I dare say Sir Bryne is a man you can trust,’ Katherine replied, for, if he was Alain’s friend, how could he be otherwise? ‘You may tell him as much as I have told you should you think it right.’

Alain inclined his head. ‘In future I believe you should take care in walking alone, Katherine. At least until we are in England.’

‘I am grateful for your kindness, sir, and for the opportunity to confide in you. It is a heavy burden I carry, and I confess that I do not know what to do for the best.’

‘Will you allow me to help you once I have read and thought about your father’s work? If I am convinced that his discovery is truly important, I would count it an honour to see it placed where it might be of benefit to all of our faith.’ His eyes met hers in a gaze that held her fast. ‘The question is—will you trust me, lady?’

Chapter Three

‘I t seems that I already have, sir,’ Katherine replied and her heart skipped a beat as his look seemed to caress her. There was something about the curve of his mouth and the expression in his eyes then that made her feel that she might trust him with more than her secret. When he looked at her in that way she was ready to swoon. She could almost believe that he might feel more than friendship towards her. No, that was mere wishful thinking on her part and foolish. ‘In truth I believe I have no choice.’

Alain reached out to take her hand, holding it for a moment as he gazed into her face. ‘I thank you for that trust, Katherine, and do swear to assist you in your task to find the right home for your father’s treasure.’

‘But where should that be?’ Katherine asked. The question had exercised her mind all too often. ‘In a great church or in the house of some powerful king?’

‘That is a weighty question and not one that can be answered immediately,’ he replied. ‘And now, my lady, may I take you to supper? It was for this purpose that I came, fortunately in time to hear Maria’s screams.’

‘Yes, I thank you,’ she replied and laid her hand on the arm he offered. She could see from Maria’s expression that she believed she had spoken too freely to Sir Alain—but what else could she do? She must trust someone, for it seemed that the Lord of Ravenshurst was determined to steal her treasure no matter what.

She had told Sir Alain nothing of her suspicions of Celestine, Katherine realised, as they went into the banqueting hall and discovered that Celestine was already there, sharing a glass of wine with Sir Bryne and a tall, handsome gentleman. Celestine was smiling invitingly up at the newcomer, seeming to enjoy his attention. Observing his manner for a moment, Katherine guessed that he was the owner of the villa.

Marcus Aurelius Calabria had returned to Rome from his travels and was delighted to find he had unexpected guests. Especially one as beautiful as the Lady de Charlemagne.

He turned as Alain approached, greeting him with evident pleasure, his eyes moving over Katherine without registering interest and returning to Celestine almost immediately.

‘It was the most delightful surprise to discover that we had company,’ he murmured. ‘I do trust that you are to remain with me for some time?’

‘For a few days only,’ Sir Bryne replied as Celestine merely fluttered her long lashes at him. ‘The ship we travel on is making repairs and should be ready to sail within the week—but, for myself, I intend to return to Rome often. With the opportunities for trade that have opened to us, I think I may make a home in Venice one day. I would see England and my family, but I think the climate there too dark and dank to hold me forever.’

‘It is often the case with those who have seen other lands,’ Marcus replied with a smile. ‘I have visited your country, Bryne, as you know, and formed friendships with your father and others—but I would not care to live there. It is a dark, gloomy place, too full of mists and frosts for my liking.’

‘Indeed, I wonder if I shall find my home too gloomy,’ Celestine said and fluttered her long lashes at him. ‘Especially after seeing your beautiful home, sir. I had not known such places existed.’

‘I thank you for your compliment,’ he said and inclined his head to her. ‘We live much as our ancestors in ancient Rome, lady, for my family have a long tradition. In the north we have a castle as dark and cavernous as any you might have encountered, for my uncle is Duke of Ferencia and guards his lands as best he may. I have been visiting with him for a time, but here in my summer home I enjoy the simple life. In Rome we have no enemies and may walk freely as we will.’ He saw Alain’s frown and raised his brow. ‘Something troubles you, my friend?’

‘I would have a few private words with you, Marcus,’ Alain replied and drew him away from the Lady Celestine. In a moment Marcus was heard to exclaim and look angry and then he and Alain left the room together, deep in conversation.

‘What has happened?’ Celestine asked, startled by such a change in her host’s behaviour. She was slightly annoyed, for she had felt that she was making a favourable impression upon their host.

‘Sir Alain drove off two men who were searching my room,’ Katherine told her. ‘They had knocked Maria down and might have killed her had he not arrived in time.’

‘God have mercy!’ Celestine had gone pale and crossed herself. ‘Thank goodness you were in the garden with me, otherwise you might have been hurt, Katherine.’

Katherine frowned. The older woman seemed concerned for her and it would be churlish to suspect her of having asked her to walk in the gardens merely to get her away from her room. She noticed that Bryne’s eyes had narrowed, that he was looking very thoughtful. What could have brought that expression to his face?

‘Yes, I was fortunate,’ she said. ‘But my poor Maria might not have been had Sir Alain not chanced to hear her cry.’

‘Maria is a servant—’ Celestine began and then realised her mistake. ‘But of course I know that she is dear to you. Yet I cannot help be thankful that it was she who discovered the villains and not you, Kate.’

Katherine gave her a cold look. ‘Maria is my friend, not a servant. Please remember that—and I would prefer that you call me Katherine. Only my father called me Kate.’

‘Forgive me. I did not mean to offend.’

‘It is merely a preference…’

Katherine was ashamed of the coldness in her voice, but she could not help it. Deep down inside her, there was something telling her that Celestine’s friendship was false and she could not dismiss the warning.

Sir Alain and Marcus had returned to the company now. They spoke briefly to Bryne, and then Marcus clapped his hands and the servants began to serve supper.

As in ancient times, when the Romans held their great banquets, the company sat on benches or silken cushions piled on the floor and ate with their fingers from low tables. Finger-bowls of silver and gold had been provided for washing the hands, and music was played to entertain them while they ate and talked.

This was not a great banquet, merely a gathering of a few friends, but the food served was rich and there was what seemed to Katherine to be an endless stream of exotic dishes. She ate sparingly, enjoying most the fruits and dates. Occasionally, she dipped her fingers in the scented water and wiped them on a soft cloth to dry them. The wine was heavy and potent. She drank, as sparingly as she ate, from a wine cup, which was fashioned of silver and studded with precious jewels on the foot. Through the open arches that led out to the gardens floated the scent of night-flowering blooms. The sky was dark, but the stars were sprinkled generously across the velvet blackness.

‘It is the stuff of dreams, do you not think so, lady?’ Sir Bryne asked as he leaned towards Katherine. Celestine was laughing with their host and Alain seemed to be lost in thought. ‘Marcus and his family know how to enjoy life, do they not?’

‘It is certainly most pleasant,’ Katherine replied. ‘Do you truly intend to make your home in Venice one day, sir?’

‘It is the greatest trading nation on earth,’ Bryne replied, looking thoughtful. ‘A man of enterprise might become wealthy there beyond his dreams, and powerful—especially when he has good friends. I have certainly considered it, but I must see my home and family once more before I decide.’

‘Have you a large family?’

‘My father was elderly when I left England and may not be still living, but I have elder brothers and they have wives and children. I hope to find some of them alive and well on my return.’

‘You have no wife, sir?’

‘No.’ Bryne frowned. ‘There was a lady once…but she married another, richer man and I put all thoughts of marriage aside and determined to make my fortune. Yet I suppose I may marry one day, if only in the hope of a son to follow me.’

‘And Sir Alain…?’ Katherine asked and then blushed as his brows rose. ‘Forgive me. I ask too many questions.’

‘I believe he has not thought of marriage as yet, lady.’ Sir Bryne smiled at her and Katherine lowered her eyes. She must be more careful of her words or she would give herself away, and that would be embarrassing. ‘Though with such a man it is not always easy to know what is in his mind.’

Sir Alain seemed to have shrugged off his reflective mood and was now laughing and talking to Celestine, apparently enjoying the pleasure of her company. It was clear that he found her attractive, which was natural, for she was very beautiful. Feeling a tiny pang of disappointment, Katherine scolded herself for allowing the green-eyed monster of jealousy into her heart. She could not blame Sir Alain for finding Celestine fascinating. The older woman was both beautiful and charming…even if Katherine did suspect her of being false.

But perhaps she was letting her emotions blind her. She had no right or cause to be jealous. She must put aside these foolish ideas and thoughts that had begun to creep into her mind, plaguing her whenever she was unwary enough to let them.

Sir Alain had turned his head and was looking at her now. Katherine glanced quickly away, for she could not meet his gaze, which was concerned and thoughtful, but not the kind of look he bestowed on the lovely Celestine.

She knew he thought her a mere child, and perhaps she was compared to Celestine. Yet she felt like a woman, and her heart ached for the tenderness she was developing towards this man, foolish as it might be.

‘Our host was telling me of a shrine in his garden,’ Alain said now. ‘This villa was built on the site of others that had been here since the great days of Rome. There was once a temple to the goddess of love here, and a shrine still remains.’

‘How very pagan,’ Celestine said, ‘and rather exciting. I should love to see this shrine—would not you, Katherine?’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ answered Katherine a little uncertainly.

‘The time to see it is at night when the moon shines, for the goddess loved the moon,’ Marcus Aurelius told them. ‘If it pleases you, I shall show you now, for the moon hath come out from the shadows and will light our way. It is said that, if you please the goddess, your heart’s wish will come true.’

‘Oh, we must see this shrine,’ Celestine exclaimed. ‘Do say you want to see it, Katherine!’

‘Very well, if you wish it.’

Katherine rose reluctantly, but it was clear that Celestine was eager to see the shrine of the goddess of love. She was walking with her hand upon her host’s arm, teasing him with smiles and words as they walked just ahead of the others.

‘Are you offended by the thought of a pagan goddess?’ Alain asked Katherine. She gazed up at him for a moment, her eyes wide and serious, before shaking her head. ‘Then is it the Lady Celestine that offends you?’

‘Neither,’ Katherine replied. ‘I am a Christian by faith, sir, but my father was a great scholar, as I have told you, and we discussed other forms of religion. I dare say there is merit in many of them, but I would not put my faith in anything a pagan goddess might reveal to me.’

‘Would you not?’ Alain gave her a wicked smile, which made her catch her breath. Something inside her made her feel as if she would melt in his warmth. How handsome he was when he smiled like that! And how foolish she was to let it affect her this way. ‘Not even if you might gain knowledge of your heart’s desire?’

‘I have no desires, sir,’ Katherine replied with commendable dignity in the face of his provocation. Her heart was racing like the wind, but she would give him no indication of the confusion his teasing aroused in her. What was this strange feeling inside her—was it what they called desire? If so, she had no right to feel it for a man who had no such feelings towards her. ‘I am not like to find a lover nor yet a husband, for I have no fortune and my face is unremarkable.’

‘You are not a beauty,’ Alain said, looking at her seriously now. ‘But you have something about you, lady, that many would find attractive.’

Katherine laughed merrily. ‘You are kinder than my father, sir, for though he loved me dearly he never thought me other than plain. He told me that I was unlikely to wed without a large dowry and I have no thought of it.’

‘Are men such fools that they must have either a pretty face or a sack of gold?’ His brows rose, but the expression in his eyes puzzled her since she did not know what lay behind it.

‘I do not believe that all men are fools, sir. Indeed, I would not think either you or Sir Bryne a fool—but still I do not believe that I am likely to find many suitors…and perhaps no one I would care to accept. I would prefer to remain unwed rather than make an unhappy marriage.’

‘That is your choice, of course.’ He hesitated, his eyes making her heart thud in her breast as she felt something stir inside her—a feeling so sweet, like warm honey—and was almost breathless. ‘But what of love and the fulfilment of your destiny?’ His brows rose as he teased her and her foolish heart leaped. Why did she feel so light-headed—almost as if she could walk on air?

‘If I found love, that would be another matter,’ Katherine said and her smile lit up her face, though she managed to retain her appearance of cool dignity. ‘But I fear my destiny may be to remain unwed until I die.’

‘That would be a sad destiny for one of your nature,’ Alain said and the soft tone of his voice set her insides churning. She was hot with something that she suddenly knew for desire. This was how a woman felt about the man she loved, and Katherine could no longer deceive herself. She had for her folly fallen in love with Sir Alain de Banewulf!

She glanced aside, for she could not bear that her own expression should give her away. It was surely unmaidenly to have such desires. Besides, he had given no indication that he felt anything of the kind for her. He was kind and concerned for her welfare, but nothing more. To reveal her foolish passion would humiliate and shame her.

Fortunately for Katherine they had reached the shrine and, after some exclamations from Celestine, the small group fell silent. It was a beautiful spot in a small grove. The shrine was just a pile of stones that most would ignore, but it was surrounded by fragrant shrubs and vines that sheltered it from prying eyes, and there was a quietness about the place that touched the soul.

Katherine was very aware that this was a holy place. As a Christian she could not worship the deity that had been consecrated here, but she felt its power and its goodness. There was no evil here, just a benevolent kindness that seemed to reach out and envelop her—the feeling of love so strong that she found herself wishing for something so ridiculous and smiled to herself.

Foolish, foolish Katherine! Sir Alain would never love her as she loved him.

‘What must I do to please the goddess?’ Celestine asked of her companion and broke the feeling of reverence that had held them all until that moment. ‘Shall I give her my silver bangle?’

‘In ancient times women gave her gifts to learn the secrets she knew,’ Marcus Aurelius replied. ‘But I have been told that the gift must come from the heart—and a simple thing will find more favour than a rich jewel.’

‘Then I shall not give her my bangle,’ Celestine said. ‘For it is one of my most precious possessions. I shall think of something else and visit her another day—for I would not have you hear my demands of her.’ She gave him a mocking, inviting look.

Katherine turned away with a little shiver of disgust. It seemed that Celestine used her smiles indiscriminately on all men to get her way with them. She had seemed to entice Sir Alain with her inviting looks, but now she was more interested in their host.

Katherine noticed that Sir Alain was watching and frowning, and she felt her heart contract with pain for him. She was sorry if Celestine had hurt him, for he was a gentle and true knight and she did not want him to suffer a broken heart.

‘I shall take you back to the villa,’ he told her, turning his back on Celestine. ‘Come, lady, I would see you safe and the hour grows late. I shall not see you in the morning— I have some business I must attend before we leave Rome.’

Katherine made no reply, simply turning with him and allowing him to lead her back to her own room. He said good-night to her, made her a courtly bow and waited until she was inside the villa before turning away.

Would he return to the others—or would he prefer his own company? He seemed to spend much time in thought and she wondered what kind of a man he was inside. In truth she hardly knew him. Perhaps it had merely been the moonlight that had played such a trick on her? How could she love a man she did not know?

Smiling at her own impudence, she went to perch on a stool and sat dreaming as Maria came to free her hair of its covering and brush it so that it flowed over her shoulders in soft waves. Now, if she had but known it, with that look upon her face, a gentle smile curving her lips and her hair reflected in the moonlight, she was truly as attractive as Alain had told her. But she had no mirror to see her own reflection, nor would she have believed it had someone shown her. In her own mind she believed herself plain and nothing could change that long-held opinion.

The night was too beautiful to allow for sleep. Katherine was restless and rose from her bed, looking out at the moonlight. The scent of the wisteria that hung on the villa walls was strong and made her somehow wistful. Perhaps it was the full moon that kept her from sleeping—or was it something else?

There had been a sound… There it was again, the soft tinkle of a woman’s laughter. Celestine was in the garden. Now Katherine could hear the deeper laughter of a man. Two figures had come into view. They lingered for a moment in the moonlight, the man drawing the woman into his arms to kiss her.

Katherine watched as Celestine arched her head back, her manner that of surrender to his desire. It was an intimate moment and private. Withdrawing from her window, Katherine felt hot and ashamed of spying on the lovers.

She had not been able to see them clearly enough to know who the man was, but she suspected that it was their host. Celestine had been doing her best to tease him all evening. And now it seemed that they had an understanding of an intimate kind. Perhaps she would stay in Rome with him.

Feeling even more restless than before, Katherine returned to her bed and lay down. Seeing the lovers entwined in that passionate embrace had made her more aware of all that was missing in her life. Would she ever know that kind of intimacy? It was unlikely, for who would want to lie with her? She had thought that she could face a life without love, but that was before she had looked into a pair of blue eyes and seen a smile that made her heart beat faster.

She knew that once she had parted from Sir Alain her life would seem emptier than before—but there was nothing she could do but accept her fate. To sigh for the impossible would only bring her unhappiness.

‘Are you thinking of staying here for a while?’ Katherine asked Celestine as they walked in the villa gardens the next morning. ‘Our host has said that we are welcome and you have expressed doubts about returning to your dower lands.’

And she had seen that kiss in the garden the previous night!

‘It would suit me to live here as the wife of such a wealthy man,’ Celestine admitted. ‘But our host already has a wife. They live apart for much of the time, but there is no chance of another taking her place. I dare say I might be his mistress if I cared for it.’

‘I see…’ Katherine glanced at her curiously. Had that kiss meant nothing to Celestine? ‘Are you attracted to Marcus Aurelius?’

‘As much as I am to most men,’ she admitted and laughed as she saw Katherine’s look of inquiry. ‘Do not be shocked, my sweet Katherine. When you have been married you will understand that all men are much the same and desire only one thing of a woman. Understanding that is the key to getting what you need from them. For as long as you keep them wanting, they will do anything to please you. But their passion soon tires.’

Katherine was shocked at the cold calculation she saw in the other’s eyes. ‘But what of love?’ She echoed the question Sir Alain had asked of her the previous night. ‘Does that mean nothing?’

‘It is a myth,’ Celestine said mockingly. ‘Do not believe those sweet songs the bards sing, Katherine. They are meant to lure the unsuspecting woman into a trap. Men use courtship to gain what they most desire. Once they tire of their pleasure, they care not what becomes of the woman they once professed to love.’

Katherine was silent, though her mind denied Celestine’s words. She knew it was not true. How could it be? Her father had loved her mother until the day he died. Her memory had been as a shrine to him and he had never despoiled it. Perhaps such a love was rare, but it did exist and Katherine knew that she could never be satisfied with anything less.

‘No, no, I shall return to France,’ Celestine said as though making up her mind. She turned her coaxing smile on Katherine. ‘And I hope to persuade you to be my companion, dearest girl. Have you made up your mind?’

‘Not yet,’ Katherine confessed. ‘Whatever happens, I must see my uncle first, Celestine—and then who knows?’ In her heart she knew that she would never want to live with this woman, but it might be best to let her believe otherwise.

Celestine had as yet given her no reason to suspect her of treachery, and yet she could not trust her.

‘Why so pensive?’ Maria asked as she dressed Katherine’s hair that evening. ‘I hope you are not being foolish, my dove?’

‘What do you mean?’ Katherine avoided her faithful nurse’s searching gaze. ‘No, do not tell me. I am in no mood for one of your scolds.’ She had not seen Sir Alain all day and had discovered that she missed him almost more than she could bear.

‘It will end in tears.’ Maria shook her head at her. ‘He thinks you a child. ’Tis the other one he lusts after, mark my words. That one will have them all running after her like panting dogs.’

‘Maria! I will not have you say such things.’ Katherine turned away from her angrily. She did not care to hear Maria’s words, though she knew they were said for her benefit. Had she mistaken the look she’d seen in Sir Alain’s eyes? It had been brief, yet she had thought for one glorious moment that he might care for her—but Maria’s words had made her doubt. Why should he look at her, slight and plain as she was, when he might have another, more beautiful woman if he chose?

Donning her mantle, she left her chamber and walked through the gardens towards the banqueting room. It was such a lovely night and her heart yearned for something—for love.

She smiled and shook her head over her own foolishness. It was the memory of that pagan shrine and the way it had reached out to something inside her, making her feel that she, too, might know the sweetness of love. She must be sensible. She must remember who and what she was, and that love was not for her.

Hearing laughter ahead of her, she stopped as she saw a man and a woman walking towards the house. They had clearly been strolling in the gardens and she realised that it was Celestine and Sir Alain. He had returned from his business and sought out Celestine, not Katherine.

Celestine was smiling up at him, and he was laughing, clearly enjoying her company. They looked so well together, and Sir Alain seemed to find Celestine amusing company.

Katherine turned away, the pain of seeing them in such intimacy striking deep. Maria was right! She would be a fool to hope for anything more than friendship from Sir Alain. To dream of him could only bring her pain.

Was it he Katherine had seen kissing Celestine the previous night in the moonlight? She had thought it someone else, but now she could not be sure. The image of Sir Alain kissing Celestine…making love to her…was too painful to be borne and Katherine dismissed it, forcing a smile to her lips as she went to meet them.

She had no right to expect anything. No right to be jealous of the intimacy between Sir Alain and Celestine.

‘Ah, there you are, dearest child,’ Celestine said and gave Katherine a false smile. ‘We were just talking about you. This sweet, foolish man was worried about your safety, but I told him you would find your way to supper without his help—and now you see that I am right, Alain.’

‘Marcus has posted guards to prevent another unpleasant occurrence,’ Alain told Katherine. He looked at her gravely and her heart sank. Was she merely a burden, a duty to him? ‘But I would have come for you had you waited a little, lady.’

Katherine’s head was held high, pride in every line of her body. ‘I am perfectly able to find my way to supper alone, sir,’ she said. ‘Nor would I want to deprive you of your pleasure.’

She walked past them and into the house, the sound of Celestine’s tinkling laughter following her. She was a jealous child, Katherine admitted to herself as she fought for composure. It was a fault in her and something she must conquer. Yet she could not deny that she felt resentment against Celestine for taking so lightly something that Katherine desired too much. Yes, she was jealous. Why else would she let herself be so affected by the sight of Sir Alain and Celestine together?

Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she fought them back. She was not going to cry, no matter how much it hurt!

Alain stood looking out at the moonlight. It was a glorious night, too beautiful to be alone. He did not know why he could not sleep, yet his thoughts had kept him restless. It was a night for lovers. He would not see many of its like once he returned to England. Yet he had chosen to keep his own company.

It would be pleasant to walk for a while. At least then he might settle himself, put his mind at rest. Something had been bothering him for the past few days. Something to do with Celestine, with the sly look he had caught in her eyes at times—or was it Katherine who bothered him? The two seemed bound together in his mind, both part of the puzzle that plagued him.

Celestine was undoubtedly beautiful, a woman that any man might crave in his bed, and, for a short time, he had felt desire for her—but there was something about Katherine that made him want to protect her. She was vulnerable, in need of his help, and sometimes when he looked into her eyes, a strange desire to sweep her up and ride off with her, to protect her all his life, came into his mind. It was foolish, for she was not at all the kind of lady he had thought to make his bride.

He walked as far as the end of the garden, gazing down at the city below, which was for the most part in darkness. The moon had been obscured by clouds and for a moment the sky was almost pitch-black. But he could hear voices—a man and a woman arguing. The man sounded angry and impatient.

‘You make little progress, my lady. My patience grows thin. If she gets clear to England…’

‘I have done what I could. Your men had their chance. You should blame them, not me. I did my part in the affair.’

‘Have you seen nothing of it? She does not confide in you?’

‘I am trying to win her trust. These things take time, sir. You are too impatient.’

‘If I thought that you had betrayed me…’

‘You would kill me?’ Celestine’s laughter was soft and mocking. She was clearly unafraid of his threats. ‘Where would that get you, my friend? Without me she will cling more closely to our gallant protector—and I do not think you have the courage to challenge him.’

‘Damn you!’ There was a growl of anger, swiftly followed by a curse. ‘I swear I’ll kill you one of these days, Celestine.’

‘But you love me—you love what I do to you, my sweet, don’t you? I can make you purr like a kitten if I choose, do not forget that. I think you protest too much. Was it not I who—?’

Her words were cut off abruptly and the sounds became more intimate. Alain had no doubt of what was happening somewhere in the darkness. Celestine knew this man well, that much was certain. She had met him here by appointment rather than chance.

He frowned as he turned and walked back towards the house. Just what had he overheard? Was Celestine plotting with someone to steal Katherine’s treasure? And, if so, who was that person? Ravenshurst—or another?

Alain had heard enough to put him on his guard, though not enough to give him proof of the suspicions he had been harbouring since Celestine joined them.

It was true that she was one of the loveliest women he had ever seen. Her smile had taken his breath away, making him desire her, but almost at once he had begun to wonder what lay behind the mask. Her story did not ring quite true and he had seen a look in her eyes at times that had put him on his guard. And now he was sure that his instincts had been right. She was no friend to Katherine, for all her pretence.

Yet he could not be certain of what he had heard. Those few whispered words might mean anything. It was of a surety that the Lady Celestine must be watched, and closely. And he must be very careful. If he showed too much kindness towards Katherine, Celestine would be on her guard and he believed she had a clever, devious mind. His only chance of discovering what she plotted was to flatter her, make her believe that he was charmed by her—and that meant she must not suspect his true feelings for a moment.

‘Did I not tell you that the lady would cause us trouble?’ Bryne said the next morning when they were visiting their warehouse to inspect a new cargo of silks and spices that would be worth a small fortune once it was transported to England or France. Alain had told him of what he’d overheard the previous night and of his half-formed suspicions. ‘If Hubert of Ravenshurst is involved in this, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.’

‘You think he will pursue her even to England?’

‘I think it likely.’ Bryne frowned. ‘Do you believe in this story of the Holy Grail? Stories of its whereabouts abound, Alain. Legend has it that it was brought to England long ago, and Arthur’s knights searched for it in vain. Yet now it seems it was in the Holy Land all this time. How can anyone be sure where it has been all these years?’

‘That is the problem. To prove it is the precious cup is a task that may take a man his lifetime…’

‘A man would have to be very certain to follow such a cause, Alain.’

‘Katherine hath not named the treasure she carries, but it is the one item that men have searched for ceaselessly—think of it, Bryne. The cup that our Lord drank from on that last night. Think of the satisfaction there would be in giving that to Christendom.’

‘One of the most holy relics imaginable,’ Bryne said and frowned. ‘If Ravenshurst believes she has it— I think him capable of any crime to obtain it. Have you thought what it would be worth? There are those who would pay a king’s ransom to have it in their possession.’

‘Ten times as much as many kings could pay, I dare swear,’ Alain agreed. ‘But Katherine believes it should be given freely to the church and I agree with her. It should not belong to one person, but to the whole of Christendom.’

‘Indeed, I agree,’ Bryne said, looking thoughtful. ‘Yet men go to war for far less. I dare not think what trouble such a relic could cause, for if it were given to one church others would claim it as their right.’

‘I think Katherine wanted to give it to the Pope had he been in Rome.’

‘She will give it to no other but his Holiness?’

‘She says not,’ Alain replied with a frown. ‘She is determined to take it with her, perhaps to ask her uncle’s advice. Which means it will probably go to King Philip of France… He is a good Christian knight—but think you he is a proper guardian for such a treasure?’

‘She hath the right to do as she pleases if her father discovered it.’ Bryne’s gaze narrowed in thought. ‘Do you believe it to be genuine and not one of the relics that anyone may buy on the streets of Palestine and Rome?’

‘I do not know for certain that it is the cup Christ used at the Last Supper. It might be something of less importance—but I may know more of its provenance when I have read Baron Grunwald’s writings.’

‘You have not finished your study of them?’

‘Hardly begun. The lettering is small and not easy to decipher, and indeed some of it is in code. I dare say Katherine’s father wished to protect his discovery.’

‘It is a dangerous burden she carries, Alain. You realise what this means, of course?’

‘It means that I must stay by her side until the treasure is no longer in her possession. To desert her would almost certainly mean her death. Whoever was with Celestine last night was determined to have it, no matter the cost.’

‘Have you told Katherine that?’

‘No, for she would likely deny me the right to protect her. The lady is more spirited than most.’ Alain smiled at his own thoughts. In appearance Katherine seemed little more than a child, but as he came to know her he saw that she was brave and true, and had a fierce pride.

Bryne chuckled. ‘And her guardian a veritable dragon. I think Maria trusts no one, including me. Yet even so she and Katherine are no match for the like of Ravenshurst—and if he knows of the treasure then others soon will, for he indulges too often in his wine and in his cups runs loose at the mouth. It is a pity that this treasure, whatever it may be, was not left where it had lain since that time.’

‘Yet think of the good it might do in the right hands.’ Alain’s eyes lit with fervour. The Holy Grail was a prize beyond price, something that any true Christian must venerate. ‘Think of it, Bryne—the cup that Christ used just before his death.’

‘That is true,’ Bryne agreed with a frown. ‘The pilgrims would travel far to pray at such a shrine—but where does it belong, my friend? Who hath the most right to own it? Methinks it is too valuable for any man to possess. It would be a burden rather than a blessing.’

‘Yes, for some.’ Alain nodded. He could see Bryne’s point of view, though for him it was a find of such wonder that he could only marvel at it. ‘Always supposing that it is the cup men have sought since the crucifixion.’

‘Sometimes rumour is enough. A story of tears from a statue will bring the desperate flocking in their droves to pray—think what this cup would do,’ Bryne replied. He smiled crookedly at his companion, but there was a look of determination in his eyes. ‘Methinks we may rue the day we met with the Lady Katherine—yet, I am of your own mind, Alain. We must stay with her until the treasure has been placed in safer hands.’

‘I had thought you wanted to spend some time in England?’ Alain raised his brows.

‘It was my intention and remains so—but my own concerns may wait until this matter is ended. I would have no harm come to Lady Katherine by my neglect. I respect her too much to have her fall prey to that rogue. Ravenshurst shall not lay hands on her while I breathe, though I would beg you to keep all I have said in confidence. Speak nothing of this to anyone, including Katherine. I believe she finds my company pleasant and perhaps feels some warmth towards me—indeed, I have hope for the future—but it is too soon to speak of more.’

Alain said nothing, merely nodding his head in agreement. Bryne had been disappointed in love as a young man—he must truly care for Katherine if he was now thinking of taking a wife.

‘It is agreed then,’ he said and smiled at his companion. If it was in Bryne’s mind to marry the lady, he would not stand in his way. Yes, he, too, cared for Katherine, but he was not yet certain of his feelings. His need to protect and care for her ran deep, but he did not know if it was what men called love or merely friendship. If she loved Bryne and he her, then Alain must accept it, even if it caused him some pain. ‘Our duty is to the ladies. We shall protect them against Ravenshurst or others of his ilk.’

Chapter Four

K atherine did not know what had brought her back to the shrine of the pagan goddess, except that it had seemed such a peaceful place that first evening. That morning the sun was shining and the garden was filled with the scent of blossoms and the sound of birdsong. She stood for a moment looking out over the sea, and then, turning, found her way to the sacred grove.

A sense of peace fell over her almost at once, and for some reason that she could not fathom she found herself laying a perfect rosebud at the foot of the pile of stones. It was the kind of offering that Marcus Aurelius had said the goddess liked best.

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