Prologue
Haynesdale
It seemedthat all was right with his fellows.Fergus would never have anticipated such a happy conclusion to events when they had left Jerusalem the previous summer.But on this fine spring evening, Bartholomew and Anna were returned, the signet ring of Haynesdale placed upon Bartholomew’s finger by King Henry himself and the seal in Bartholomew’s purse.The new couple had a license to hold an annual fair and—thanks to the efforts led by Fergus—had returned to find the old keep of Haynesdale taking shape once more.Bartholomew had brought grain in York and the mill was turning even now, grinding flour from some of it while the rest would be sown in the fields that had already been plowed.
Fergus was glad that his friend and comrade had found happiness, and also that he had been able to help while Bartholomew and Anna sought the king’s favor.
His thoughts inevitably turned to his own future.Now, Fergus could return home to Isobel.It had been four years since his departure, and he was eager to see his beloved again.He left the festivities in the great hall when the dancing began and stepped out into the night.The moon was full and the sky was clear.
Fergus smiled as he stared up at the glittering stars.Killairic—home—was so close, and there, every dream he yearned to fulfill.He wished, not for the first time, that his gift for foresight included his own future.He saw happiness for Bartholomew and Anna, just as he had seen it for Wulfe and Christina, and Gaston and Ysmaine.He saw babies in the futures of each of the couples, a number of children, their eyes filled with joy and mischief.He even could see his companion Duncan cradling a dark-haired child.But for himself?There was no glimmer of what the future held for him.
There was only that persistent sense of foreboding, the one that had plagued him since their departure from Jerusalem.He had assumed thus far that the shadow had been about the future of his companions or the fate of the reliquary they secretly carried, but on this night, Fergus wondered what he would find when he arrived home.He hoped his father was well as yet, for he wanted days by the fire to tell the older man of all he had seen.He could not imagine his welcome from Isobel, who surely had been as impatient for his return as he had been.He wondered how Killairic itself had changed, if it had changed at all.There would have been births and deaths in the village during such a long time, but he hoped that those he wished most to see were hale.Had there been battles?He imagined as much, for there was often strife in Galloway, and hoped that Killairic had fared well.
The sense of dread persisted, though.Fergus decided it was impatience, no more than that, and strode toward the village.If he walked, he might sleep.Perhaps he would ride forth the next morning, since Bartholomew was returned.
His heart fluttered at the promise of that, and he resolved it would be so.He would see his fellows again at his own nuptials, to be sure, for they had pledged to come to Scotland.It could not be long before he and Isobel exchanged their vows.
A slight movement caught his eye, and Fergus realized that he was not the only one to have left the celebration.Leila sat by the river, staring up at the sky.It still surprised him to see her in women’s garb, though on this night, she wore no veil.Her dark hair gleamed in the moonlight.Her face was tipped up to the moon, and its light touched her features with silver.His heart contracted at the sight of her, for he had missed her as much as any of the party who had ridden to France.She did not seem to be aware of his presence, so he cleared his throat as he approached.
“You are missing the dancing,” he said when she glanced his way.
Leila smiled and moved along the log where she was seated, making room for him.“I do not know your dances.”
“You could learn.I could teach you.”
She chuckled.“And what will your betrothed think, if you arrive home not only with a Saracen woman in your company but one you have taught to dance?”
Fergus was startled.“I had not thought of it.”
“She will believe you have brought home your whore,” Leila said with conviction.“There is no need to reinforce that conclusion.”
Fergus leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and looked at her.“You have been thinking of this.”
“I have been thinking of many things.”She gestured to the moon.“It is full, the tenth full moon since we left Jerusalem.”
“I suppose it is.”
“I know it is.I have counted them.”
He eyed her, hearing the sadness in her tone.“What does that mean, Leila?”
“It means that my cousin’s son is a year old.”She fell silent then.
“You miss your cousin?”
“Of course!We grew up together.She was the one whose hair I learned to braid and arrange.”Leila sighed.“I grew up in my uncle’s home after the death of my parents.We might have been sisters, almost twin sisters, for we were born the same month.”
As he listened, Fergus realized how little he knew about the woman who had joined their company in Jerusalem.“When did your parents die?”
“When I was an infant.”
He saw the tear glisten on her cheek and wished he had the right to brush it away.“I would take you back to Outremer, if you wish it,” he found himself saying.The offer was impulsive, but as soon as the words were uttered, Fergus knew it was true.What if Leila did return to the east?He would regret the lost opportunity to learn more about her, to be sure.He could not imagine a future in which he never saw her again, yet realized in this moment, that it might well come to be.
Fergus had assumed she would stay, but had never thought of what she would do.
Leila wiped her tears and touched the back of his hand with her fingertips.“I thank you for that, for you know the price of what you offer.But I cannot go back.”
“Not even to see your cousin?”
