The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (11 page)

Bud
cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Peck to leap into the conversation with his
usual petulance and knowing for certain that he would break the man's nose if
he did. "The crown of thorns?"

Rory
nodded faintly, the pain of years of research in her eyes evident.
"Yes," she whispered. "All along, Ottis' manuscript described
finding the crown of thorns buried within the ruins of a Muslim mosque. But
what if it wasn't the actual crown, but the very man who could tell us where it
was located? Maybe through the process of translation, the facts became
twisted. Maybe we really were looking for Sir Kieran all along because he knows
where the crown is."

Bud
watched her closely as she spoke, noting how tired she was. Maybe what she
needed was eight hours away from Sir Kieran and his mysterious journal to give
her a fresh perspective. But from the passage she had repeated, he honestly
couldn't fault her interpretation. Especially when, oddly enough, it seemed to
make sense.

"It
wasn't as if Sir Kieran had the power to stop the war by accepting a peace
offering. But he could have been a part of a peace delegation sent to retrieve
a token of truce. And when the offering was presented to King Richard, it would
have undoubtedly had a powerful effect. Maybe enough to end the siege."
Not surprisingly, Bud was intrigued. But he was also concerned for Rory's
health as she lingered unsteadily by the edge of the shallow trench. Pushing
his theory aside for the moment, he focused on her exhausted face.

"Look,"
he said softly. "We don't have to get into a heavy philosophical
discussion right now. Why don't you get some sleep and let Dave and I hold down
the fort for awhile. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Rory was
reluctant, looking to the knight once more. "'The diadem of Your sacrifice
entrusted into my hands...'"

Bud
reached down and grasped her by the arms. "Really, I love a woman with a
photographic memory, but you need to sleep and Dave and I need to eat
breakfast. Come out of that hole before you become physically attached to
it."

He
lifted her out of the grave with assistance from David. Exhausted and muddled, Rory
took the journal from Peck's hands. "I'm not done yet," she mumbled,
refusing to look him in the eye. "I... I'll finish when I get up."

"Sure,
Rory, whatever you say." David let her take the precious artifact as Bud
put his arm around her shoulders. Together, they made their way down the hill
as the sun broke free of the eastern sky, signaling the start of a bright new
day.

CHAPTER SIX

Rory
slept all day and into the night. Bud refused to continue work and the entire
camp came to a stand-still for nearly twenty-four hours. He and David kept
checking on her, sprawled out on the bed like a rag-doll and sleeping so deeply
that she was scarcely breathing. Once, David sat down at her desk to read
through her transcribed notes and realized that throughout the entire two hours
he was there, she never moved a muscle.

It was a
deep sleep indicative of exhaustion and emotion. Supper came and went and
still, Rory slept. At one point, Bud tried to rouse her simply to get her to
eat something, but she ignored him irritably and pulled the pillow over her
head. Patting her shoulder with an affectionate smile, he left her alone for
the rest of the night.

 It was
a short night, however. Rory awoke promptly at three-thirty and after a
luxuriously long shower, a definite no-no in the middle of the desert, she
emerged into the early morning loaded with determination. Rousing Bud by
tickling his ear and then bouncing on his bed until the frame collapsed, their
laughter had been enough to wake David and half the camp.

At
four-thirty in the morning she looked absolutely lovely; mascara and lipstick
and Bud even smelled perfume.  Pleased her groomed appearance matched her
renewed frame of mind, he felt rather slovenly accompanying her to the dig. As
David cranked up the gasoline generator, Rory beheld her knight with a far more
rational attitude.

"So...
you're feeling better this morning?" Bud asked.

She cast
him a sheepish glance. "Yes. Sorry about my freak-out episode. I was
really tired and I guess I just let everything get to me."

He
smiled faintly, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep. "Forget it. We're all
allowed a freak-out episode now and then." Slowly, his smile faded.
"Do you still think he knows where the crown is?"

She
nodded, without hesitation. "Absolutely. I'm convinced of it."

Bud
observed her a moment longer before tearing his gaze away. He didn't want her
to see the doubt in his eyes. "Too bad we can't ask him. Even if we could,
I don't think he'd tell us anything."

"Ah,
but we have ways of making him talk," Rory said in her best pseudo-Nazi
accent. "He'd never survive a round of torture with the evil and
domineering Dr. Peck."

Bud laughed
and Rory returned his smile, glad all was well between them and he didn't think
she was bordering on insanity. But with everything that had happened over the
past two days, there were times when she wondered herself. The more she
lingered in the world of the knight and his journal, the more consumed she
became.

Especially
now, as she stood by the edge of the grave; what she wouldn't give to ask him
what he knew about her crown. But even if he knew the whereabouts, it was
obvious the only answers she would receive were those she discovered herself.
Lowering herself into the trench, she glanced at Bud. "Did you and Dave
figure out how to remove him?" 

Bud
scratched his head and yawned. "Fortunate for us that Dave is a whiz in
physics. He's designed a fairly simply wench system that should remove him
quite nicely. And I put some of the carpenters to work yesterday building a
casket. It should be finished by this afternoon."

Rory
nodded with satisfaction, straddling the knight with her fists on her hips. After
a moment, she crouched down, touching his face and feeling a resurgence of the
warm feelings he seemed to provoke. "I... I dreamt about this guy last
night. I mean, after everything I read in his journal, I feel like we're on a
first name basis."

Bud cocked
an eyebrow. "So you're dreaming of him now? I'm sensing a good deal of
infatuation, Rory."

She
grinned. "And why not? He was chivalrous and moral and kind."

"And
brave and clean and thrifty. An overgrown boy scout."

"A
boy scout with a broadsword as big as your leg."

"Then
it's a good thing he's dead and can't hear my disrespectful slander."

Rory
laughed softly. "Not to change the subject, but have we heard from Becker
since his initial reply?

Bud sat
down, swinging his legs into the trench. "No. But he's had time to make
the necessary boasts and contact the British Consul. We should be hearing from
his soon. In fact, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he showed up here
personally." From the corner of his eye, he caught the appearance of the
sleepy Dr. Peck as he prepared his work table for the day's events. "Dave,
did we get a reply from the American Embassy regarding our request for an x-ray
machine?"

Yawning,
David didn't look up from his pens and files. "Not yet. I'll call them
again later today. Or I can try to locate one at a local hospital."

Bud
nodded faintly, gazing at the body a moment longer before looking to Rory. She
was staring dreamily at the knight, her hand still on his face, and Bud
realized he would have given twenty years of his life to see the same gentle
expression on her face when she looked at him. He suddenly found himself
jealous of a man who had been dead for eight hundred years.

His
reaction startled him. It shouldn't have, but it did nonetheless and he
struggled to keep the quiver from his voice. "We should examine him
completely before removing him from the grave." He noted bitterness in his
tone, wondering if she heard it.

Apparently,
she hadn't. She was still looking at the knight, oblivious to all else.
"He's so incredibly intact that I doubt anything will snap off during the
extraction. What, exactly, did Dave devise?"

The camp
cock crowed, announcing the commencement of a new day. As the horizon turned
shades of pink, Bud found himself struggling against the most powerful surge of
jealousy he had ever experienced.

"Basically,
we're going to slip him onto a backboard and lift him out with a wench,"
he said as steadily as he could manage. "As soon as his current state is
logged, we can give it a try."

"Great."
Rory continued to stare at the knight. He really was a handsome fellow.
Remembering how Sir Kieran mentioned that heathen women had clung to him like
'leeches', Rory found she could hardly blame them. He must have been a dazzling
sight.

Knowing
he had been forgotten, Bud climbed from the grave and headed toward camp. A
casual glance over his shoulder showed Rory to be in the same position he had
left her, hovering over the warrior as if she was incapable of focusing on
anything else. Increasingly bitter, he turned away and descended the small
hill.

If they
had found her crown of thorns, at least she wouldn't be mooning over the wreath
like a love-sick teenager. It was crazy for him to be jealous of a man dead
eight hundred years, he knew, but he simply couldn't help it. Rory was his, or
at least he intended to make her his when all of his gentle attention broke
down her resistance. Until then, he had no intention of sharing her with anyone
else. Period.

The
Turkish dirt crunched softly beneath his boots as he made his way to the canvas
shelters. He found himself hoping there would be a message from Becker in his
email, informing him that England threatened to go to war if the crusader
wasn't returned home. It would give Bud an excuse to get rid of the guy without
making himself look like a villain.

Feeling
like a fool for his irrational thoughts, Bud shifted gears and tried to focus
on the excavation report that Becker was expecting. Hoping he could refrain
from using words like 'bastard' and 'home-wrecker' when describing the knight
in the grave.

***

The
crusader emerged from his tomb beautifully. The carpenters had finished the
box, a massive casket lined with cedar from Lebanon. Lowering the knight into
the coffin had been tricky, but David and Bud had worked with precision to
accomplish the task. As Rory stood by like a nervous mother, Sir Kieran Hage
finally came to rest in his custom-made crypt.

It was
past supper but no one seemed to care. A couple of journalists caught wind of
the find through relatives working the site and had shown up to write an
article for the local paper. Bud thrust Rory at them, staying out of the
limelight as she used her broken Arabic to answer their questions.

Truthfully,
there wasn't any one better to handle public relations than Rory. With her
beauty and poise, she naturally had the press eating out of her hand and Bud
watched from a distance, pretending he was seeing to the final aspects of
disengaging the wench when he was really focused on Rory. David finally pushed
him away, far more efficient than his preoccupied colleague, to finish the task
himself.

Bud
hardly noticed he had been shoved aside. Removing his gloves, he tucked them
into his back pocket and continued to watch as Rory dealt with the journalists.
His jealousy fit had faded over the past several hours, leaving him feeling
somewhat emotionally weak and foolish. But it threatened to surge again as he
listened to Rory speak so dearly of her knight.

It
didn't take Bud long to realize he had asked her to handle the publicity to
keep her away from the corpse. Christ, he felt like such an adolescent being
jealous of an inanimate object. But he couldn't help his feelings, not where
they pertained to Rory, and in lieu of sending her away from the dig altogether
he realized he had better deal with them.

And he
would. Someday when he was strong enough. But for now, there was work to be
done and daylight was fading. Stooping over Sir Kieran, he was in the process
of inspecting the body for damage that might have occurred during the
extraction when David suddenly nudged him. Glancing up, he noticed that his
associate was pointing to Rory. Bud looked casually in her direction and what
he saw sent him bolting.

The
journalists were gone, replaced by a fair-haired man in a suit and two soldiers
in fatigues. A Land Rover sat parked just outside of the camp perimeter and Bud
cursed himself for not having been alert enough to see the vehicle coming up
the road. Even as he and David rushed to Rory's side, Bud knew who the men
were. There simply wasn't any other alternative.

Rory was
playing the perfect hostess when Bud and David marched up. The man in the suit
acted as if he hadn't seen them, listening to Rory's description of the site
with a leering expression that made Bud's blood boil.

"I'm
Dr. Dietrich, senior archaeologist of the dig." He practically thrust
himself in front of Rory. "What can I do for you?"