The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (15 page)

Bud's
expression was intense. "I would be glad to explain, if you will kindly
justify how a country who is so dedicated to their history that they would
threaten an international lawsuit over an American archaeological find could
then so callously treat the very object of their interest by disregarding some
very basic facts. Nothing Dr. Osgrove has said is untrue or exaggerated, Mr.
Corbin. I find the fact that Sir Kieran is going to be buried without his armor
completely shocking."

A faint
mist began to fall as Corbin sighed faintly; he didn't have time for the
hysterics of the two American archaeologists. He had a job to do and was
determined to accomplish it regardless of the emotions involved. Pulling his
collar tight, he turned to the embassy officials behind him.

"I've
a truck waiting to take us to the armored vehicle," he said crisply.
"We've a long way to go and I'd like to get moving."

So they
were taking him. Just like that. Rory looked at Bud, such horror in her eyes
that he felt the physical impact, reaching out to destroy his heart. But there
was nothing he could do to prevent Sir Kieran from being taken away, as all
channels had been legally maneuvered by the proper authorities and the crusader
was no longer the property of the University of San Marcos.

"Bud..."
she whispered.

He
grabbed her arms, holding them tightly. The defenses that had been up since his
personal confession the day before were suddenly gone, vanished as the emotion
in her face reached deep into his soul. He knew she didn't love him, but that
didn't stop him from abandoning his self-protection in order to comfort her.
"I know, honey. It's all right. They'll be good to him."

Directly
behind them, the coffin was being loaded onto a small flatbed truck with
British Airways logos on the doors. Rory heard the forklift jerk into gear and
she whirled about, pulling one arm free of Bud's grasp as he struggled to keep
hold of her. Reaching out, she was only able to draw an index finger along the
side of the coffin as it moved past, flanked by the Israelis. Bud was positive
that if he lost his grip, she would have thrown herself on the casket as if to
never let it go.

When the
coffin slammed against the bed of the truck, Rory started violently. All she
could think, see or feel was Sir Kieran's body being unceremoniously jerked
around by men more concerned with protecting him than preserving him. Her
breathing was coming in harsh gasps by the time several boxes containing the
knight's possessions were loaded behind the casket, the pain in her heart
finding a tangible release in the foggy puffs of air.

With a
lingering glance to the two American archaeologists, Corbin climbed into the
cab of the truck, followed by the two embassy aides. The Israeli guards jumped
onto the bed of the rig, their weapons drawn as if they were expecting trouble.
Rory watched, her mouth open and her heart in her throat, as one of the
soldiers sat carelessly on the end of the casket, as if they had little respect
or conscience for the man inside.

"Bud…."

"What,
honey?"

"They're
taking him."

"I
know."

She
didn't say anything for a moment, watching as the truck lurched into gear and
rumbled down the tarmac. It had all happened too fast and her mind was whirling
with the reality of the situation. When she finally turned to Bud, her eyes
were filled with an ocean of painful tears.

"I
don't want to give him up," she sobbed. "I want him back. Get him
back, Bud!"

Of all
the times he had quashed the urge to pull her into a powerful embrace, now was
not one of them. His arms went about her, pulling her tightly against him as if
to forcibly chase away her sorrows. Rory's face was buried in the crook of
Bud's neck, weeping as if her heart was breaking.

"I
want him back," she cried softly. "Please, Bud... oh, please, go get
him back."

His own
eyes were stinging with tears, ignoring the mist and the cold as he cradled Rory
against him on the glistening tarmac.

"I
can't, honey," he murmured, pulling her closer. "He belongs to his
family now. There's nothing I can do."

"I've
changed my mind."

"You
can't."

She
continued to sob pitifully, so much pain and grief evident. "But...but
they don't even care. They're going to bury him without his armor. And his
sword; if his body is simply dead, now they're going to kill his soul."

He
rocked her gently, listening to her gut-wrenching sobs. "He'll be properly
buried, honey. We'll see to it, won't we? Becker arranged for us to attend the
internment."

She
suddenly pulled back, her gorgeous hair mussed and her face tense with emotion.
"And I'll give that family an earful, damn them! How dare they demand Sir
Kieran's return only to show such disrespect for his honor! I swear I'm going
to..."

He put
gloved fingers over her mouth, silencing her tirade. "You're not going to
do anything. You're going to present the perfect picture of a dignified
professional and if there is to be any protest of this situation, we'll do it
through proper means. The last thing we need is for you to get in a fist-fight
over Sir Kieran's honor."

She was
angry and hurt, pouting and dazed. "Somebody's got to defend him,"
she muttered, her head aching with jet-lag as she struggled to get a handle on
her tears. "I just can't believe they took him so quickly. I didn't even
get a chance to say good-bye."

He
sighed heavily, his eyes full of compassion. Noticing that the mist was growing
heavier, he pulled her into the curve of his torso and gently led her toward
the terminal doors. "I'm sorry, honey," he said gently, stooping down
to pick up their carry-on bags resting on the pavement. "Let's get a good
meal and some sleep and then I'll give Becker a call. I'd say he has a bit of
explaining to do about recent events."

Rory was
exhausted. Losing Sir Kieran was nearly more than she could handle and her
emotional fatigue was growing by the minute. Laying her head wearily on Bud's
shoulder, she felt as if she could sleep for a hundred years. Just long enough
to wake up and realize that this entire episode had been a horrible nightmare;
were she able to go back in time to the point where Sir Kieran was still in her
possession, she would never let him out of her sight. Ever.

Her
crown. Her knight. Everything was gone. By the time they hit the warm, stale
air of the terminal, she had started crying again.

***

It had
been raining steadily since leaving the airport. Taking the subway, or the
Underground as the British called it, Rory and Bud had taken the Piccadilly
line to the Central line, disembarking at Lancaster Gate. The small hotel that
the university had secured for them was right across the street, a quaint
hostel that Becker's wife was very fond of. Bud had carried all of the bags
except for Rory's carry-on, checking them both into the Parkwood Hotel just
after noontime.

The
landlady was warm and gracious, directing them up the stairs to their adjacent
rooms. Rory hardly noticed the lovely room with yellow chintz wallpaper and
matching bedspread, ignoring it all as Bud set her single large suitcase just
inside the door. The landlady offered to bring them some tea and he agreed
readily, hoping the warm drink would aid Rory's mental state. Since the moment
they'd left Heathrow, she'd hardly stopped crying.

Oddly
enough, he was more concerned for her when she finally stopped weeping. Her
mascara was smeared, her nose red and irritated as she seemed to wander
aimlessly across the room. Setting her carry-on to the bed, she proceeded to
struggle from her coat. Bud pulled it off her arms and laid it across a chair,
wondering if it would be entirely wise to leave her alone at this moment. His
baggage was still in the open door, the key to his own room lodged in his hand.

"I
should go put my stuff in my room," he said softly. "Are you going to
be all right for a minute?"

She
nodded, a weak smile coming to her pale lips. "I'm not an invalid, Bud. Go
ahead and unpack. I'll be fine."

He
scratched his head in an uncertain gesture, glancing to the window lined with
the same beautiful yellow chintz material. Outside, the weather was gloomy to
match their mood.

"All
right," he finally sighed, moving for the door. "I'm just across the
hall if you need me, ok?"

Rory
nodded faintly, her gaze lingering on her overstuffed tote bag. After a moment,
she reached out and began fumbling with the fastens. Bud was in the process of
collecting his beat-up Samsonite and his canvas carry-on, pausing in his quest
to leave the room when Rory's actions caught his attention.

"What's
the matter? Are you missing something?"

She
shook her head, brushing a stray lock of long blond hair from her face.
Suddenly, the jade-green eyes were on him and the pale lips were twisted in a
wicked smirk. Puzzled by the odd expression, Bud cocked a curious eyebrow.

"What's
wrong?"

"Nothing,"
she said, her movements slowing as she refocused on the large tote bag.
"Just making sure everything is here."

"What
does that mean?"

She drew
in a deep breath, an amazingly tranquil sound after her marathon crying jag.
Bud's curiosity was growing as she sat on the bed, turning to look at him with
a somewhat mischievous expression.

"You're
going to be angry with me."

"For
what?"

She dug
into the bag, removing the object of her search. "For this."

It was
Sir Kieran's journal. Bud stared at it a moment, hardly grasping what he was
seeing, but truthfully not all that surprised. The Samsonite and the canvas
carry-on hit the floor with a thud and the bedroom door slammed shut with heavy
force.

"Rory,
what in the hell are you doing with that?" he demanded, moving toward the
bed.

Her
expression hardened and she lowered her gaze, looking to the ancient book.
"What does it look like? I kept it."

"You
can't keep it," he hissed, his ice-blue eyes blazing. "Do you know
what sort of trouble you could get into? Christ, Rory, what are you
thinking?"

She
continued to stare at the journal, trying to maintain her calm. Even though she
knew he would become angry with her, still, Bud was so mild-mannered that his
fury intimidated her. But she wasn't going to back down; not yet, anyway.

"I'm
thinking to keep it, at least for a little while," she said quietly.
"Remember, we were planning on spending a few more days with Sir Kieran. I
kept it with me, afraid that if I put it in the inventory boxes it would become
damaged. Besides, I was going to return it to the family when we were
finished."

"You're
going to return it now," he seethed quietly, his cheeks flushed. "I
honestly can't believe you'd do something this stupid. Christ, Rory, you've
stolen something that doesn't belong to you. Didn't you think that they'd
discover it missing when they went over the artifact inventory?"

"If
you recall, I did the inventory myself," she suddenly snapped. "This
isn't on it."

He
froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. The air between them was suddenly silent
and still, in sharp contrast to the raging that he been going on not a moment
earlier. Hazel eyes were riveted to ice-blue, the thunder from the storm
outside all but penetrating the tension in the room.

"Why?"
he finally managed to rasp.

Her
chest was heaving with emotion and she tore her eyes away, looking once again
to the journal that had cemented her most powerful obsession. Now that the body
was gone, it was her only link to the magnificent knight and the mystery he
harbored. But even more than symbolizing the bond between herself and the
elusive crown of thorns, it was the sole representation of the power Sir Kieran
held over her. Knowing that for him and him alone she was willing to lie, to
steal, and to jeopardize everything she had worked for just to keep him with
her.

"Because,"
she whispered. "I was still working on some of the more illegible
passages. I never meant to steal it because I honestly thought we'd have a few
more days with him and I planned to use the time to transcribe more pages. And
when I did the inventory from Dave's initial indexing, I left it off because it
was technically still in my possession and not a part of the tally. My motives
weren't covert in the least until Corbin showed up demanding Sir Kieran's body.
Then there was no way I was going to hand over Sir Kieran's journal to that
bastard. No way in hell."

Bud
stared at her, not knowing what to believe. He honestly didn’t know if she was
trying to take advantage of their relationship, confident he wouldn't condemn
her for her actions because of the emotions he felt for her. After a moment, he
simply shook his head.

"I
wish to God that we'd never found that damn knight," he muttered, turning
away from her. "Everything was fine until we came across him. Now, it's as
if the situation is out of control and I don't like the direction it's
heading."