My Beloved
Authors: Karen Ranney
My Beloved
To my son, John,
for a thousand reasons,
among them love and pride
What were they going to demand for his freedom?
Were all brides as terrified?
“My lady?” A soft voice at her side. Juliana turnedâ¦
A short woman in a deep blue surcoat over aâ¦
The soft knock upon the door made Juliana sigh andâ¦
By the second week at Langlinais, Juliana's routine was established.
Sebastian stood and walked to the arched window that overlookedâ¦
He dreamed of her that night.
Sebastian turned as the door swung open, and reached forâ¦
“You do not let much disturb you, do you, myâ¦
Every moment of Juliana's life at Sisters of Charity hadâ¦
The door revealed an endless spiral of steps that ledâ¦
Juliana laid her reed quill down. Today she was coloringâ¦
Gregory of Langlinais had been elevated to the Chapters-General ofâ¦
Sebastian brushed back the monk's hood from his head, raisedâ¦
“Is my husband well?”
Jerard stood leaning against a staff nearly as tall asâ¦
The river had its own voice, effectively muffling every otherâ¦
The world reeled, insurgent and heated. Juliana stared at him.
“I will send Sister Agnes with you,” the abbess said.
“Please tell the abbess how much I appreciate your care,â¦
“It isn't as if we begrudged her help, my lady.”
The middle bailey was crowded with men-at-arms atop their horses.
“Why Montvichet?” Juliana asked.
The Order was considered one of equality. However, there wereâ¦
She should have been more afraid. But then, she'd nearlyâ¦
A Templar was bound to strict obedience to his commander.
“You should not be carrying things, Juliana.”
Sebastian was solicitous from that day forward, but he rarelyâ¦
Sebastian left her a few moments later, having assigned oneâ¦
“I see you've found the scriptorium,” Sebastian said.
Every night of their journey she had slept upon theâ¦
“How touching, brother.”
I forbid you to live with any woman not yourâ¦
Minutes passed, and still Sebastian did not return. It wasâ¦
Sebastian avoided her the rest of the day and twoâ¦
She knelt before him, her surcoat brushing his bare knees.
“It is magnificent,” the Marshal whispered. The chalice stood beforeâ¦
Juliana followed the stream until it curved beneath some largeâ¦
Jerard heard their laughter and kept his eyes stoically onâ¦
The convent of the Sisters of Charity was a drearyâ¦
Sebastian found her, not in her chamber where one mightâ¦
“I suspected as much, my lady,” Grazide said. She bustledâ¦
She was cold, even though the room was warm. Theâ¦
The large green window of the chapel had been replacedâ¦
“What is that noise?” She looked up at the ceilingâ¦
One of the benefits of his new position as aideâ¦
“Where will he go, Sebastian?” Juliana stood at his sideâ¦
Gertrude received the missive with mixed feelings of curiosity andâ¦
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Templar Headquarters
Cyprus, 1249
W
hat were they going to demand for his freedom?
Sebastian of Langlinais sat on the low shelf chiseled from the rock wall. It had served as a bed for past occupants of this monastic cell, but he vowed not to spend one more night in this place. The monastery was a way station of sorts, a place the Templars brought injured pilgrims and rescued prisoners. A place for healing and contemplative silence.
He'd had enough of silence and nothing could heal him.
His hands were tucked into the wide sleeves of his monk's robe. But his head was not bowed in piety; instead, his gaze was directed at the wooden door. A year of imprisonment had rendered his face gaunt, and that same confinement now made him impatient.
The man who entered the room an hour later was dressed in the distinctive white tunic and red-embroidered cross of the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon. Only the elite wore such a uniform;
most of the warrior monks wore black or brown mantles.
The resemblance he bore to Sebastian was not surprising. Each had his mother's eyes, his father's strength.
“You are fortunate, brother. A great many prisoners die before they can be ransomed,” the Templar said in greeting.
“Is that why they've sent you here, Gregory? To remind me to be grateful for my survival?” Sebastian's voice was a mere rasp of words. He'd had no cause to speak in prison, isolated as he had been from the other men.
“Are you?” Gregory of Langlinais smiled, but the expression appeared flavored with irony. “The expression on your face is not one I would liken to gratitude, brother. Nor do you seem surprised to see me. Even after all this time.”
A small table and one chair filled a corner of the small chamber. Upon the table sat a pitcher of wine, a loaf of bread, some goat's cheese. Gregory kicked out the small chair with his foot, rearranging his sword with an absent gesture as he sat. He reached for the pitcher, tipped it to inspect the contents. “Come, won't you join me? The monastery's wine is better than most. Let's celebrate our reunion. How long has it been? Six years?”
“Forgive me if I decline. I prefer to sup alone.”
Gregory nodded, set the pitcher back down. “My Templar brothers tell me you are reclusive, Sebastian. I've never known you to be so.”
“Imprisonment will change a great deal about a man, Gregory.”
“Even your choice of clothing?” His gaze surveyed the garment Sebastian wore. “I remember
your dressing in a more secular fashion.”
“And I recall that you joined the Templars as a pro fraternitate. Why take orders when you could have remained a lay member?”
Gregory's smile illuminated a face tanned brown by the sun. His hair, once as dark as his brother's, was now tinted with golden highlights. “Inducements, Sebastian. The Templars needed leaders. Knights are always welcome in their ranks.”
“And power is a heady lure.”
“My position is less one of influence than it is of endless details.”
“When may I leave?” Sebastian's question sliced through the conversational patter.
Gregory's smile vanished. “When you have agreed to certain terms.”
“What do the Templars want from me, Gregory? My oath? I was never asked to abjure my beliefs. I will swear to that.”
“Your freedom was not easily obtained, Sebastian.” Gregory traced a finger along the rim of one earthenware mug.
“So, it's money. How much was my ransom?”
He named a sum that caused Sebastian to draw in his breath sharply.
“I've pledged Langlinais in your name. It was the only way to obtain your release.”
“I was valued more highly than I thought. Pity my worth was never demonstrated during my imprisonment.”
The finger paused in its journey. “I never knew, Sebastian. Not until the arrangements were being made to free you.”
Sebastian could only offer him silence in response. Once there had been only laughter or good-spirited rivalry between them. Too many years separated
them, too many unshared memories lay between them. They could never become confidants again.
“How do you propose I repay that sum, Gregory?”
“That is your concern. Consider yourself fortunate that you are heir to a demesne rich enough to finance your release. You have a year to repay the Order, Sebastian, the term of your imprisonment.”
They each knew to do so would be nearly impossible, even for the Lord of Langlinais.
Gregory stood, walked to the door. With his hand upon the rope handle, he turned. “Why did you go on crusade, Sebastian? It's a question that I've wished answered ever since I learned you were made prisoner of the Egyptian pasha.”
“Why does any man go on a quest?” The words sounded tired, as if they had been often repeated. In truth, it was the first time they had been spoken.
“Not you, Sebastian. Had you not won so many tourneys, I would have thought you fearful of battle.”
“Any man of sense avoids war.”
“Even when right is on our side?”
“A view no doubt espoused equally as passionately by infidels,” Sebastian said dryly.
“Your words border on heresy.” Gregory stared at Sebastian as if to engrave his face upon his memory. “Were you at Montvichet, Sebastian?”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you are really here, Gregory? Not to demonstrate filial affection, but to have this question answered? How did you know?”
Gregory shrugged again. “One of the villagers no doubt contributed the information.”
“Was he prodded to recall with torture, Gregory?”
“Why were you there, Sebastian?”
“Another question that has bothered you all this time, Gregory? Magdalene sent for me.”
Sebastian watched as the look in Gregory's eyes changed. Was there only surprise there? No hint of grief?
“She had become a Cathar. Didn't you know?”
Gregory shook his head.
“She died well, I'm told. But then, they all did.”
“They were heretics,” Gregory said, his voice sharp.
“She was the only mother you and I knew. Does your role as a Templar not allow you to remember that, Gregory?”
Gregory opened the door. “Pay your ransom, brother. Or Langlinais will be beset with Templars.” He hesitated a moment as if to give his words more import. “And Magdalene was only a whore.”
The door closed soundlessly behind him.
Sebastian sat staring into the shadows. Gregory had not asked the one question for which he'd been prepared. Not with the truth, but with a carefully fashioned lie.
Where is the Cathar treasure?
The omission disturbed him.