Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [50]
“You’d be disappointed. It’s nothing to see.”
His low tone held a thread of violence, and she looked up. His expression was impassive. Perhaps she had been mistaken. “You say that because you’ve already seen it.”
“I say that because it’s true.”
Again she had an impression of repressed violence. She looked back down at the figures. “Then think of something you find pleasant. What of your homeland?” She tried to remember the name. “This Scotland? Is it a fair land?”
“No, it’s a hard, mountainous land. The weather is stormy and wild. The seas are rough and the people rougher.” He added bitterly, “And they’re all barbarians, like me.”
Did he expect her to argue with him? “Then it’s no wonder you left it.”
“I would have stayed there forever, if given a choice.”
“Why?”
“Only another barbarian would understand.” He gazed beyond her at the tapestry on the wall, but she didn’t think he was seeing it. “All my life we’d been at war with the MacKillians. Douglas MacKillian bested us and took Dunlachan castle. My father was wounded in the battle and we fled to the hills. I wanted to go back and fight, but before he died, he made me promise to leave Scotland.”
“I’m surprised you gave such a promise.”
“I understood why it was important to him. I was the last of my line. If I’d been killed, even the memory of our family would have vanished.”
“So you came here?”
He shook his head. “I had to flee to England with only my horse and armor. I became a free lance and went from tournament to tournament to win prizes and increase my fame. Then the Grand Master came to England to recruit knights for the Temple. I was very young and dazzled by his words. Everyone knew only the best warriors were allowed to join the order. To be a Knight Templar was to be respected and revered as no other knight on earth.”
“But you became a monk. You gave up worldly pleasures.”
He smiled. “There were compensations. I was very content those three years I was in the order.”
“What compensations?”
He shrugged. “Oh, many things. Fine food—we ate very well to maintain our strength. Clean lodgings. Knowledge. I was an ignorant boy when I became a Templar, and I was given the opportunity to learn.”
Her gaze narrowed on his face. “But that is not all.”
“No.” He paused. “Brotherhood. I had no one, and then I had brothers.”
She almost wished she had not asked. She suddenly had a picture of a more vulnerable Ware. A tough, lonely young warrior who had needed the bonds of family and had sacrificed a great deal to get those ties. Now he was more lonely than before. She felt a surge of protectiveness. “Brothers don’t seek to kill brothers.”
His expression became shuttered. “I beg to disagree. Remember Cain and Abel.” He paused. “If you’d set yourself to those numbers and ask fewer questions, we might be out of here before nightfall.”
He’d withdrawn into that gruff, harsh shell, and it was clear no more confidences would be forthcoming. It was just as well. She was finding herself entirely too absorbed in the puzzle that was Ware of Dundragon. The more she learned, the more she wanted to delve. “If you’d set yourself to learning to add when you were among your brother monks, I’d not be having this problem. I don’t think I believe you when you say you sought knowledge at the Temple.”
“Oh, it is true.” He smiled bitterly. “But the lessons the Templars taught went beyond mere numbers and scrawled words.”
She had heard of mystical secrets and ceremonies conducted by the knights in their Temple. “Numbers are not ‘mere’ when it concerns gold flowing in all directions.” She frowned. “The cost of torches and candles is far too much. I cannot read this entry. What is the second number on—”
“Forgive me, my lord, there is something you should see,” Abdul said from the doorway.
“At once.” Ware sprang from his chair and moved toward the door.
He thought to escape and leave her to puzzle the accounts out for herself. She would not allow it. She pushed the book aside and stood up. “I’ll go also. I feel the need for a walk.” She gazed meaningfully