A Knight for Love by A.M. Westerling Read Free Book Online Page A

him.
    “Nay, you are wrong,” he scoffed. “I’ve spent the last day with Alan, I would have noticed if something had been amiss with him.” He was vigorous in his dissent, unwilling to acknowledge that he could have been deceived. He couldn’t be so blind. Could he?
    “As you wish,” she replied , a twinkle lurking in her grey eyes.
    “Nay, I simply speak the truth. Alan is a lad. Mayhap not suited for fighting but there are other, gentler pursuits for him.”
    T he lingering smile on Ada’s lips angered Warin. Had he been fooled? He shook his head. No, absolutely not.
    “Do you have use for him? Can I leave him here?” He growled.
    “No.” Ada shook her head. “I can barely feed myself. The making of ale is profitable but not enough to carry two.”
    “And elsewhere in your village? Is anyone in need of a hireling?”
    Again Ada shook her head. “I don’t think so. The miller has several strapping sons and can barely keep them fed and clothed. Perhaps the blacksmith but —” She stopped and shrugged. “It’s hot, heavy work and we both know the lad isn’t strong enough.”
    Warin dropped his chin onto his chest to gaze into the fire. His brief moment of kindness to an abandoned child had turned into a major challenge.
    “Do you need to decide now what to do with the boy?”
    Ada’s voice penetrated Warin’s gloom and he lifted his head to look at her. “Nay, I suppose not,” he sighed. “But sooner or later I have to do something with him. I can’t take him with me.”
    Ada propped her chin on her fists then mercifully changed the subject. “Enough of Alan, tell me of yourself and your travels. I would hear tales of the Holy Land.”
    Warin closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of air, trying to marshal his thoughts. “If you had but seen the sights I have,” he said half aloud. “The sickness, the bloodshed, the torture, the unfortunate souls caught in a battle for which there is no victor, for is their God not as mighty as ours?”
    Blasphemy, he knew, but he couldn ’t shake the feeling that all was not right with the Christian world. Wasn’t the earth a big enough place that all could coexist in peace? Couldn’t Jerusalem be shared as a holy shrine for all?
    “And King Louis,” he continued, rubbing his jaw. “Undoubtedly a good man, a kindly man, but unwilling to admit that he’s in over his head with this Crusade.” He fell silent, thinking of the good king who, in Warin’s mind anyway, appeared destined for defeat.
    “Thou shalt not kill,” he murmured. His eyes strayed to the small crucifix h anging above the door of the hut. How many times had he heard that commandment and yet somehow in the heat of battle, it was not to be obeyed. “What few riches I’ve gained are of no value to me for my mind is not at ease.”
    “The passage of time will heal you.” She leaned over and squeezed his hand. “The hours will flow and cleanse your spirit much as the bath water cleansed your body today.”
    “You r counsel is wise but I fear the hours lack the power to free my memories.”
    “Aye, Warin, it is so. You must have patience. You must let go.” She paused to shove an errant lock of hair back into her scarf, turning her head slightly to peer into the glowing coals pulsing with a life of their own. She turned back to look at Warin.
    “The Holy Wars aren ’t of your doing. You were a willing participant mayhap, but you journeyed for the greater good and not only for personal gain.”
    Warin held up his hand to stay her words. “Nay, Ada, don ’t excuse me. I fought for purely selfish reasons, to seek my fortune and assure my place in heaven. My allegiance to King Louis, leader of this the Seventh Crusade, is naught.”
    “How is that selfish? You ’re a man seeking only what a man deserves. Some lands, a home, a family. That isn’t wrong, Warin, on the contrary, that’s the foundation on which rests our kingdom. That’s how you aided King Louis.”
    “You forget