The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (25 page)

"Amazing,"
she said after a moment. "Think of the lives that could have been saved
had the crusading armies accepted the peace proposal. And with the Christians
willing to lay down their arms, there was no way Saladin could refuse to do the
same if he wanted to preserve his honor. With his men literally plotting behind
his back for peace, he wouldn't have had a choice."

Kieran
nodded, turning to look at her. A woman he had known a matter of hours, yet a
woman he felt more comfortable with than he had ever felt with anyone. Considering
the betrayal he had experienced in his life, trust was not an easy thing to
come by.

"I
kept the crown, or course, realizing that I would most likely not be able to
make it to Richard intact, but hoping I could at least return to England."
He rubbed his left side, the location of the puckered scar. "I made it as
far as Nahariya. I knew Simon and his cutthroats were closing in on me, so in
desperation I hid the very object they were looking for. When the assassins
finally found me, it was to my satisfaction that they did not find the crown in
my possession. Fools that they were, they stabbed me before they had their
answers."

Rory
smiled at his cleverness. "They killed you before they discovered you
didn't even have the crown. And with you dead, they would never know where you
had hid it."

"Precisely."
His voice was quiet as he thought of the encoded location in his journal and wondering
if, by some stroke of magic, his enemies had managed to decipher the writing
and further wondering if the crown was where he had left it. "I managed to
kill my assassins and make my way to a man I believed to be a healer. But, as
you can see, he was not a healer."

Rory
raised her eyebrows in agreement. "He was some sort of
miracle-worker." Kieran continued to linger half-way between the bed and
the window, his brow permanently furrowed. He looked rather distressed, in
fact, and she sat up on the bed. "But it's all over with now. I mean, the
crown is safe and you're, uh... alive. That's what matters, doesn't it?"

His
gem-clear eyes moved from her face, focusing once again on the world beyond the
window. "I would like to think so. But now that I find the shock of my
rebirth diminishing, I wonder of the world I am now a part of. Last eve, the cars,
the ele... ele... the box that moved, the device that you spoke into... I am
discovering myself overcome with it all. 'Tis an amazing, alien world that I
find myself in."

"And
you're afraid?"

He shook
his head. "Nay, lady, not afraid. But I am wary. How would you feel if you
woke up in my time, alone and disoriented and misplaced?"

Rory
pondered his question a moment. "I would think I was dreaming. Or crazy.
And then I would be afraid."

He
smiled at her honestly. "I did think I was dreaming when I awoke to a
beautiful woman draped across my body. Even as you find my resurrection an
event of awe and disbelief, I find it the same. I wonder if I made the correct
choice, allowing the alchemist to work his magic on a man who was meant for
death."

She sat
on the end of the bed. "Are you thinking you were better off left in your
own time, maybe? Dying for a cause you believed in?"

He cast
her a glance, his smile becoming an ironic gesture. "At least I understand
my time. I do not know if I want to understand yours."

"Why
not?"

He
shrugged vaguely, turning away from the window. "You will not even tell me
what a bath-room is. Is it so mysterious that I will not comprehend?"

She
laughed softly. "I apologize for that. Would you like a
demonstration?"

He
grinned. "That, my lady, would be appreciated. And this lever that gives
and takes light. You will explain that, too."

***

Breakfast
had been an interesting experience. The landlord and his wife served a simple
but plentiful fare, scrambled eggs with tomatoes and cheese, ham slices and
toast with homemade jams. Still in his green scrubs, Kieran ignored his fork
and wolfed down at least a dozen eggs with his spoon as Rory and the hotel
proprietors watched in wonder. Tea was served, something Kieran was unfamiliar
with, and Rory prepared it for him with milk and sugar as the English drank it.

He loved
the tea. In fact, he loved everything set before him and Rory was rather
embarrassed by his enormous appetite. Considering the man hadn't eaten in eight
hundred years, she suggested he go slowly but he scoffed at the idea. Her
breakfast finished, she sat back with her tea and watched as Kieran polished
off several slices of raisin bread, glancing about the table as if looking for
more to eat.

When his
searching gaze came to rest on her astonished expression, she burst into
laughter and he demanded to know the source of her humor. Giving him the orange
off her plate, which was also very new to him and quite delicious, he finally
seemed satisfied. At least, for the moment. But she had to admit, she was
dreading lunch.

The day
was progressing as they went back to their room. Rory knew she had to contact
Bud but was reluctant to do so considering she still wasn't sure how she was
going to break the news to him. She continued to ponder the dilemma as they
entered their room, moving for the phone by the bed and wondering if she was
brave enough to make the call.

Seated
on the edge of the mattress, she glanced at Kieran as he picked at the green
scrub 'shoes' on his feet, her focus turning to the fact that the man was in a
sorry state of dress. All thoughts of Bud aside, there were more pressing
matters in need of attention.

"We've
got to get you some clothes," she said. "You can't continue to walk
around looking like the Jolly Green Giant."

He
cocked an eyebrow. "The last person to call me a giant met with an
unfortunate accident. My fist accidentally met with his jaw."

Rory
giggled. "I meant it as a figure of speech, Sir Kieran. I wasn't openly
insulting you. Although...."

He held
up a warning finger. "Tread carefully, lady. My size is not to be trifled
with."

She went
to find her purse. "Good Lord, no," she exclaimed softly, removing
her wallet and digging through her credit cards. "Although you must have
been a sight in your day. As large as two men put together. Oh, here it
is."

She
pulled forth the piece of green plastic she had used to pay for their room. He
peered at the shiny square with the strange writing. "I find it amazing
that your small card was able to pay for our lodgings. Is it somehow like a
signet ring, insuring faith that you will pay the proprietor his money at a
later time?"

"Sort
of." She put the card at the front of her wallet and put the wallet back
in her purse. "It represents a credit account. The hotel owner bills the
credit card company, and they bill me. I pay them, and... oh, hell, this is
confusing. But trust me, this is as good as currency."

His brow
furrowed as he digested her words. "Coinage? Plate?"

"Not
really. We use paper money these days. Each piece of paper represents a certain
amount of hard currency. Gold. It beats having to carry around a lot of heavy
coins and jewelry."

He
nodded in understanding. "Indeed. Then if you have paper currency, what
exactly is this American Spress Card?"

She
grinned. "American
Ex
press. It's really just a credit card named
after the country with the greatest debt ratio in the world."

He was
back to his puzzled expression. "Since I would assume you do not mean
Express, where is American?"

"America,"
she corrected him again. "It's where I'm from. Didn't you notice my
strange accent?"

He
shrugged. "I merely assumed it was another bizarre aspect of this age you
live in. But I must say that sometimes you are very difficult to understand.
You speak very quickly."

She
laughed, turning away from him as she began planning their day. "I'll try
to remember to slow down. But now, we've got to find a department store."
Heading for the door, she motioned him to follow. "Well, come along. Those
scrubs aren't going to stay in one piece for much longer. Besides, they make
people stare at you. And we don't need to attract any more attention."

He held
the door as she walked through, taking a moment to flip the light switch on and
off a couple of times. He was still fascinated with light bulbs. "Where
are we going?"

"Shopping."
She grabbed his hand, forcing him to give up the light switch and close the
door. Walking down the hall toward the stairs, Kieran enfolded her hand in his
massive palm.

"Will
we eat again when we are finished?"

She had
to chuckle. "Yes, we will. Is that all you care about? What about the fact
that you don't have any clothes to wear?"

The
descended the stairs. Rory saw the landlord's wife in the den and was preparing
to ask the woman the location of the nearest department store when Kieran
squeezed her hand gently.

"You
will take care of me, my lady," he said softly. "I suspect you have
been doing so now for several days."

His
smile melted her to the core.

Fortnum
and Mason was a top-notch department store near Piccadilly Circus, not far from
their hotel. It would have been close enough to walk but Rory wanted to get
there as quickly as possible; Kieran was attracting quite a bit of attention in
the daylight with his bright green clothing and Rory was desperate to get him
into something less conspicuous. Taking the bus line the short jaunt, she
tugged him inside the store as he gapped at everything from the bus they had
ridden in to the Goth kids with bright purple hair.

Rory
suspected that she was going to have quite a bill on her hands before all was
said and done. Finding the men's department, she kept a tight grip on Kieran as
she found a stack of jeans and began searching for what she hoped was the
correct size. As Kieran touched the shirts, commenting on the terrible style
and lack of quality, she found several pairs of jeans and shoved him into the
nearest dressing room.

She
tried to keep the salesman away from him as she went in search of a shirt. She
was terrified that the man would do something in his attempt to help a man who
would consider being cornered in a dressing room a challenge to his personal
safety. So she pulled the salesman with her, asking that he help her select a
few shirts for her, uh, husband. While the salesman was busy finding shirts
that would complement Kieran'a massive frame, Rory heard a hissing noise from
the dressing room.

Kieran
was waving her over, trying to hide himself in the process. Rory went to him,
concern etched on her face, when he suddenly reached out and pulled her into
his stall. Closing the door, he turned to face her.

The fly
of his jeans was unfastened and Rory's cheeks immediately grew hot. But he
didn't notice her chagrin, instead, indicating the very area she was trying to
avoid.

"These
hose...," he struggled with the button-down fly. "They are unlike
anything I have ever seen. How do I...?"

Rory
maneuvered past him, no easy feat in the tiny dressing room, and opened the
door. "I'll find you ones with the zipper-front," she said, trying to
note the fit of the jeans without catching sight of his bulging manhood.
"Uh... how do they seem to fit?"

"Well
enough." He shifted around in them; they were supposed to be relaxed fit,
but his waist was so small and his legs so massive that they ended up fitting
him snuggly. In fact, they looked rather good and Rory turned away, hoping her
blush wasn't too obvious.

"I'll
be back," she muttered as she closed the door. "And with some
underwear, for Heaven's sake."

It
didn't take long to collect everything she had come for; boxer briefs, two
pairs of socks, three shirts, a belt, and an expensive pair of American-made
blue jeans. The sale was more than she had intended to pay, but having no
choice she charged it all on the American Express. Kieran thought his new
clothes were rather nice, different than what he was used to, but nice all the
same. Once he learned to work the zipper on the jeans, he didn't seem to mind
the odd clothing in the least.

Finding
the shoe department was the next step in her long string of excessive charges.
Entering the large section that smelled of leather and new carpet, Rory knew
the knight presented a strange picture; new clothes, unshaven, spikey-haired,
running around in his socks. Nonetheless, the saleslady in the shoe department
sold him a moderately-priced pair of work boots, of which he seemed to admire
more than the new clothes. The steel-toe in the boots had his undying
admiration.

Purchases
complete, they passed through the fragrance department on their way out but the
lure of a free duffle bag with purchase caught Rory's attention. Charging the
Italian designer aftershave, she collected her free duffle bag and struggled to
get out of the store before the total on her account reached four digits. But
Kieran, dressed in his jeans, a collarless shirt made of burgundy cotton, and
his new work boots, stopped at every counter they passed. Perfume, jewelry,
handbags... nothing escaped his curiosity.