Annavieve didn’t back down as she had before in conversations during times when he made it clear there was nothing to discuss. She could see a flicker of something in his eyes, a flash of sorrow that was quickly gone, and it intrigued her. She felt more comfortable with him now, someone with whom she had shared more in her life than she had ever sharedwith anyone else. Perhaps it was a one-sided feeling and he felt nothing at all, as she suspected, but at the moment she didn’t care. She felt closer to Kevin Hage than she’d ever felt to anyone, ever.
“I am sorry,” she said, although she didn’t mean it. Much like him, the wine was making her a bit giddy and, along with that, loosening her tongue. “I was not trying to be rude. I was simply wondering why you would leave your family and go to a faraway place if you did not, in fact, go for religious purposes.”
He poured himself more wine, feeling the familiar pangs of sorrow that came with thoughts of his lost love.
“My reasons for going are my own,” he told her. “I went because I wanted to go. Because I had to go. I went to discover who and what I was.”
“Did you?”
He looked at her. “Aye,” he said after a moment. “I found out.”
“What did you discover?” When he simply looked at her as if debating what to say, she pressed on. “I heard what the men at the king’s table said. I heard them call you Scorpion, the famed assassin. Is that who you discovered you were?”
He sighed heavily and turned back to his fourth cup of wine, now nearly drained. She was pressing him on his reasons and he could feel frustration building within him, but he could also feel a sense of release. Perhaps he wanted to confess his reasons to her and seek solace in her sympathy. Perhaps he wanted to tell her because he could no longer bite his tongue. The wine had loosened it a great deal. Her questions weren’t malicious, only deeply concerned and curious. He started talking before he even realized he was doing it.
“I went to the Levant because of a woman,” he said. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That a woman drove me out of England? I spent my entire life believing she would be the one Iwould marry, the one who would bear my children, but instead she married another. I went to the Levant because I could not face remaining in England where she was. Mayhap… mayhap in some way, I hoped to die in the Levant because there was nothing left for me in England. But I did not die; I discovered I had a talent for killing and that is why men call me Scorpion. I sting in stealth and my victims are dead before they realize I have struck. I return to England a far different man than when I left it.”
Annavieve was stunned and saddened by his admission. He spoke of something deep, something emotional, and it was her first clue that the man could, indeed, feel something. She took his confession quite seriously.
“Mayhap it is odd to say so, but I envy you the fact that you loved someone deeply,” she said. “I am sure that is something I will never know. I did not have parents who loved me, only nuns who were cold but fair. Magda has been with me for as long as I can remember and I do love her, but that is the only love I have ever known. I will admit that I have dreamed about falling in love with a man… I had hoped my husband… but that is not to be. I live in a cold world, my lord. I envy you in that you have not always lived in a cold world. You have known love.”
Kevin looked at her, thinking she sounded so incredibly pathetic. He was coming to feel quite selfish in mourning a lost love. She was correct. At least he had known what it was to love. The stone walls he’d built around his soft-centered heart began to crack, just a little more.
“Aye, I have,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But she did not return that love. I fooled myself into believing that she could, someday, but it was not to be. I have known love and I have known what it is like to lose that love. That is something I will never experience again.”
Annavieve was concerned. “Do you think you will never love again?” she asked. “Why would you think that? You are handsome and skilled. You will make a fine husband for some fortunate lady.”
He smiled at her, thinly. “You are very kind to say so,” he said, “but the only woman I have ever loved is married to another. There will never be another woman for me.”
Annavieve leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table. “Do you love her still?”
He shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said. “That was over long ago.”
Annavieve cocked her head thoughtfully. “Then you must never discount that you will find love again,” she said. “So many of us want what you willfully refute. It may happen again if you will only be open to it.”
He shook his head, pouring himself yet a fifth cup of wine. “I am content being a knight,” he said. “There is nothing more I want out of life, except to return home to see my mother.”
He was effectively shutting down the subject of love and Annavieve let him. It was clear that the man had demons and she didn’t press him anymore. She felt a good deal of pity for him. As she sat there and watched him drink his wine, singing and music from the street caught her attention and she stood up, making her way to the window. Popping open one of the poorly constructed shutters, she peered outside.
The pyre near the square had gotten larger; she could see the big orange glow reaching into the sky. The dancing had spilled over from the town square area and was now in front of the tavern. Very happy people were dancing in a circle just below the window and she smiled, trying to catch sight of the flute player who was just out of her view.
Nursing the last of his fifth cup of wine, Kevin was watching her as she stood by the window, straining to look at whateverwas out there. He was rather embarrassed by his confession but the more he lingered on what he’d said, the more he gave up worrying over it.
It was true that he’s spoken of Penelope but it was also true that, for the first time in a very long while, he wasn’t feeling that overwhelming grief usually associated with her. He realized that he was actually quite objective about it, at least as objective as he could be, and as he watched Annavieve stand by the window and try to discreetly mimic the dancing moves down below, he was coming to think that she had something to do with the fact that Penelope’s loss suddenly didn’t gouge at him like it used to. Was it possible that in only a day, this woman had somehow helped him move towards healing? Was it possible that simply spending time with her, listening to her simple but true wisdom, had somehow helped him?
When I was praying in church today, I was praying for both of us.
… was it possible that God actually heard her prayers? Kevin wondered. When he looked at her now, at this moment, he saw more than a beautiful woman he was wildly attracted to. He saw a gentle soul, an innocent soul, and it touched him a great deal. He’d been so selfish throughout their association together that he hadn’t much thought of things from her point of view. Nearly everything had been for or about him. As he watched her linger by the window, he thought, perhaps, to change that. The Scorpion was softening, just a little.
“Have you truly never been to a festival, my lady?” he asked softly.
Annavieve stopped her restrained dancing and looked at him, embarrassed that he had caught her.
“Nay,” she said. “Other than religious services the Mother Superior deemed we should attend, I have never attended any manner of celebration other than at Christmas.”
Setting his empty cup of wine aside, Kevin stood up wearily. He even weaved around a bit, the result of too much wine.
“Then come with me, Annavieve,” he said, a warm twinkle in his eye. Wine or no, the twinkle was genuine. “Let me show you something you shall remember, always. Let us go down into that street and mix with the fools and simpletons. Let us dance until we fall down. Are you willing?”
