The night was as dark as it was possible to get. Few windows showed light, for it was very late. That afternoon, while Brody and I talked—well, I suppose I was the one who spoke—and while I relived my memories of Taylor and shared them with Brody, the rain clouds of the day before had lifted, the sun had burned off the last of the mist and the day had grown bright around us. Now the night sky was lit by stars. It was as cold as I had ever experienced.
Brody was unmoved by the bone-sapping chill. “This is summer in Greenland,” he said dismissively. “When steel sticks to your fingers because the moisture in the air freezes when you touch it…then you know it is cold.”
I shivered at the thought. “No, thank you,” I said firmly, recalling the warmth of Aragon in summer with a sudden fondness.
We spoke softly as we moved through the night, along the route the King’s army had taken only a day ago, skirting the castle wall and the shallow moat. As we could both see as clearly as if it was daylight, we knew we were alone. The nominal guards on the wall were missing—probably hunched over briers in the turret rooms, shivering and cursing their captains for assigning them the night watch.
I felt light and almost carefree. The day of talking had shifted things between Brody and I. I had made no attempt to hide the adoration I felt for Taylor. There was no point. He did not judge me for it or think me foolish, which allowed me to speak freely. I gave him every detail I could remember from the three days in the desert while we searched for water, for I had worked to preserve those human memories, reviewing them often.
Now, though, as we walked along the rutted road, the sensation of lightness was hard to ignore. It was as if I had done more than simply talk, that day. It felt as if I had passed over to Brody the sum of my feelings and the core of my love. I could think of Taylor now without regret for what could never have been. It was a release.
The same light happiness seemed to envelope Brody, too. Taylor had been returned to him.
To me, it felt right to think of her by the name the rest of the world had known her; Tyra. She was Taylor to Veris and Brody, she was Tyra to me.
Brody touched my arm and pointed.
To the human world, Mary would have been invisible. To us, she stood like a pillar on a plain, visible from miles away. She was at the base of the wall, looking up, her dark cloak hiding all but her white face.
We were already moving silently and she had no experience with war or violence. It was easy to come up to her without warning. I slapped my hand over her mouth, to hold in any sounds of alarm she made.
“It is me, Mary. Alexander. And Brenden,” I added, giving Brody’s current name, for he had returned to that name a decade ago. “Don’t scream. Don’t alert the guards. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded furiously.
As soon as I let her go, she turned, her hands on her hips. “How dare you!” Her voice was strident and even though it was low, the light feminine note would carry.
“Where is your brother and his men?” Brody demanded, murmuring rather than whispering. “Are they already over the wall?”
“The curtain wall you said was unscalable?” she shot back.
“That would be yes, then,” I judged. I glanced at the nearest guard towers. They were equally as distant. Mary and her gang had chosen the most remote spot along the wall and a perfect night to complete their work.
Brody folded his cloak back over both shoulders and out of the way. “I’ll go after them. You take care of Mary.”
“What are you doing?” Mary demanded. “You’re not—” Only Brody had already turned and leapt for the wall, displaying strength and agility he would normally be careful to hide. “How can he do that?” she whispered, this time so softly I barely heard it. Shock was stealing her voice and her anger.
I took her arm. “Brenden will get your family out undiscovered. I have faith in his abilities. You, we must return to the castle before your absence is discovered. Come along.”
She shook off my hand. “The queen thinks I am staying with David, that he is ill and I am nursing him.”
“Which is exactly what you should be doing,” I said. “Understand this, Mary—your quest is over. We are ending it, Brenden and I, for your sake and the sake of your family, your clan and your country. This was foolish. I won’t let you do it.”
“How dare you!” she said, fury lifting her voice once more. “You…you…Moor!”
I think I might have frozen again for one dreadful, appalling moment, my heart stuttering to a stand-still. I had forgotten for a while how different I looked to the English. While I was in Brody’s company, the difference was invisible.
With Taylor, I had just been me. Alexander, her friend.
I gathered up my jaw, shoved away my shock and adjusted to the truth. I looked at Mary coldly. “I am a Christian,” I said flatly.
“You’re not even English,” she whispered angrily.
“I am Iberian.” It was close enough to the truth. I had lived there for decades.
“Edward got one thing right. He outlawed all of you,” Mary replied.
“He outlawed Jews,” I said. “I am not a Jew.”
“You look like one, even though you dress as a lord.”
Her rich prejudice and withering tone acted on me as a bucket of chilled water might. It was similar to waking up, a sensation I only vaguely remembered. I shook myself, just as if I had woken.
“Come along,” I said, although I didn’t reach for her this time.
She shook her head. “This is none of your business. Go away. Leave me be.”
I stared at her, absorbing her self-centered focus. She was no longer thinking about her family or Scotland’s honor. Now, she simply wanted to thwart me because I was not of her kind—whatever that meant.
I, though, could not forget the innocent Scots who would pay for this night’s foolishness if I did not act for her.
I gripped her arm and smothered her protests with my other hand, then picked her up and carried her back to the cot where her brother lay. She kicked and screamed and bit my hand until it bled but I did not let go. I didn’t care enough anymore to hide what I was.
I dumped her in the shack and barred the door from the outside. Cameron could let her out when he returned, once Brody retrieved him from the castle.
Then, feeling exhausted, even though that was not possible for me, I went back to Brody’s room to stare into the flames and wait for him.
All the lightness in my soul had fled.
* * * * *
We left York the next day, as soon as the light was broad enough for travel. Both of us were quit of the place in our hearts. All that remained was to remove our bodies.
Brody, though, insisted I travel with him as far as Inverness in the north of Scotland, to demonstrate that the Scots were not all as bigoted as Mary. In Inverness, he would be able to buy passage on a Norwegian whaler to Greenland, where Veris was waiting. I, too, could find a ship heading for the mainland, from where I could make my way back to Iberia.
We took our time travelling north and I learned about the generosity and warmth of the Scottish people and more about their dire circumstances. It was little wonder to me they resented their English overlords and blamed them for their straits. It was more of a puzzle why they had not risen in rebellion long ago.
As I learned more about their history, I discovered they had rebelled. Over and over. Their entire history was one of fighting for freedom. In all that time, their identity had not been subsumed by an invader, as so many civilizations I remembered had disappeared.
It was a pleasant few months, as the weather turned fair and the mountains rose in front of us. We travelled in easy stages, sometimes stopping in an inn or a village for several days, if inclined to do so.
It was in Perth where we learned about Mary’s fate. Her family were from the area and the news of her betrothal to a petty French lord was the talk of the inn that night.
“Which lord?” I asked the clansman who shouted the news to anyone who would listen.
“The Count of Larrow.”
I puzzled out the pronunciation. “Le Comte de Larrau?” I asked.
“That be the one,” he confirmed, with a nod.
I must have had an odd look on my face as I carried the two mugs of ale we would not drink back to the table where Brody was sitting, for he looked at me and tilted his head. “Something is making you want to laugh,” he observed, taking the mug.
I told him about Mary’s betrothal.
Brody narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heard of the family. They have a touch of royal blood. It’s an advantageous match. It isn’t what is making you smile, though.”
I shook my head. “I know the family better than you. They’re ambitious. They have been making marriage alliances for generations.”
Brody nodded, still puzzled.
“Larrau is just north of Iberia. There is Moorish blood in their family.” I brushed my cheek, which was the olive color Mary had objected to. “Le Comte is darker than I.”
I think Brody laughed louder and longer than I.
* * * * *
It was only three days later when we met Cameron, who was also on the road, heading for the family home. We were not hurrying, while he was anxious to get home and overtook us. We stopped by the side of the road and made camp for the night. We shared the food we carried to appear human with Cameron and his men, just as they offered theirs.
The talk turned, as expected, to the second attempt they had made to steal Saint Edward’s Crown. Now they were safely inside Scotland they were free to talk about it more openly. Cameron was philosophical about the failure and thanked Brody for intervening and saving them.
“The lark was sour from the beginning, anyway,” Cameron growled. “What might have been a bit o’ fun was ruin’t at the end.”
“How?” Brody asked. “I found you on the very verge of the strong room with the door open.”
“Aye, only not to save us from going in,” Cameron replied. “We’d already been inside. That’s the bugger of it. We got the box open an’ all.” He looked at us dourly. “The bloody crown wasn’t there.”
Brody sat back, suddenly thoughtful.
I commiserated with Cameron and moved the conversation on to less obnoxious subjects. The next day, Cameron and his men raced ahead of us on the road and were soon lost to sight. When they were safely gone, I looked at Brody. “What was it about the crown you wouldn’t say in front of them?”
Brody dropped the reins over the neck of his stallion, who was smart enough to follow the road without his guidance. “It reminded me of something that happened not long after I got back to England from Acre. King Richard died in France and his little brother John was tearing up the kingdom, fighting the French, his own lords and more. There was a story I heard about John losing his entire baggage train in the Wash, when they were too slow to outrace the incoming tide. People whispered that the crown jewels were among the baggage train.”
He looked at me and raised a brow.
“The very next king was Henry, yes? The one who said the crown was too precious for a lowly king to wear?”
Brody nodded. “It could be a coincidence. Life is full of them.”
“As full as it is with people who resemble each other.” I smiled.
So did he.
“I have been thinking about York,” I added.
Brody shook his head. “Better you than me. The whole affair was pitiful. I regret ever suggesting we meet there.”
“Perhaps we were supposed to.”
He sat up and patted the side of his horse’s neck, sharply enough to make the stallion blow a startled breath. “Your God insists upon a Fate for all believers. I don’t believe.”
“Yet you do believe Veris knows something about your future, don’t you?”
Brody looked at me from under his brow. “So?”
“There are things about Jerusalem, puzzles I still cannot answer, even now, when I know the biggest puzzle of them all. You were there, Brody. I spoke to you, you were as you always have been. Yet you say you were asleep, that you remember none of it, while Veris does.”
Brody just looked at me.
“What if it was not you?”
“Who, then?”
“Someone who resembles you.”
He laughed. “Someone who knew my life so intimately, he could fool you?”
“Perhaps.”
“And fool Veris and Taylor, too?”
“There is one person who could do that easily.”
“Who?”
“You.”
Brody pulled up short. I tugged on the reins, halting my gray alongside him and waited.
Brody was staring down at the saddlecloth, picking at the edge of it with quick, nervous movements. “Me…” he breathed. I could hear his heart thudding hard.
In the alders growing along the side of the dusty road, a warbler fluttered and gave a short trill. It made me aware of the land around us, the stillness and the whisper of the wind, high up in the peaks, and the sun on our backs.
“Veris speaks of answers lying somewhere in the future,” I added. “Everything seems to point there.”
“The future…that is where the me who went into the desert came from?” He was not asking me. He was asking the question aloud to see how it sounded, if it fit with whatever thoughts had blazed to life at my suggestion. Then he frowned and shook his head. “How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It was a thought that occurred to me, that you were you, just a different version of you, just as Mary was a very unpleasant version of Tyra.” I shrugged. “Pay it no mind. My thoughts wander in strange directions sometimes.”
“You should thank your God for that,” Brody told me and picked up his reins and gently kicked the stallion back into a slow walk. “If you didn’t ask strange questions, you would not have learned about the Blood and you would not be here yourself and personally, Alex, I would regret the loss.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“Life with Veris is always heart stopping. You, though, add a different sort of interest,” Brody explained. “I never fail to leave your company without a bit more peace in my heart.”
I realized I was smiling. This place was not as cold as I had first found it, after all.