curled about her brow. ‘Neither Bryne nor I could allow you to continue without a proper escort, lady. It will be our pleasure to see you safely to your ship.’
‘You are a truly honourable knight, sir,’ Katherine said and her heart fluttered oddly as she looked into his eyes. How very blue they were! ‘Maria and I are grateful for your kindness.’ She glanced at her companion meaningfully. ‘Say thank you, Maria.’
Maria muttered something, but the look of disapproval did not leave her eyes. It was clear that she had not yet made up her mind that he was to be trusted with the care of her darling.
‘I thank you for your confidence in me, lady.’ Alain bowed to Katherine and threw Maria a mocking look, which made her frown deepen. ‘You will excuse us, ladies. I must speak with my men, make sure that none has been seriously hurt.’
He moved away to join Bryne.
‘Before you say anything, my friend—what else could I do? She and that dragon of hers will undoubtedly cause us more trouble than they are worth. Yet we could not abandon them.’
‘Her father should never have taken her on his travels if he could not protect her.’
‘Indeed, he should not. I agree with you, Bryne, that the journey to the Holy Land was no venture for a young girl, though other women have braved it— Richard’s queen, for one. Yet hers was a different case; she had the whole of England’s might to protect her and her women. However, a female in distress cannot be ignored. We should be unchivalrous indeed to send them on their way now.’
‘You are right,’ agreed Bryne with a wry grimace. ‘But that one is going to cause trouble. I feel it in my bones.’
‘Do you mean the child or the dragon?’
Bryne laughed. Despite the years of war, the hardships, anguish and grief, Alain had retained his sense of humour. He was no longer the pretty youth who had been so eager to join Duke Richard. Instead, he had matured into a man of some stature; a man others admired and respected for his fearlessness in battle. Even his brother, the great knight Sir Stefan de Banewulf, had not been more respected.
‘I meant the lady, Alain. Make no mistake, Katherine of Grunwald is not a child. Small and slight she may be—but she hath a woman’s mind and heart.’
‘You say that as if you disapprove?’ Alain arched his brows.
‘Something about her worries me,’ Bryne confessed. ‘I am not sure that I believe her story.’
‘Why should she lie?’ Alain recalled the grief he had seen in the girl’s eyes. She seemed innocent and vulnerable to him, tiny and fragile like a bird. ‘What could she have to hide?’
‘I do not know, but I would swear there is more that she hath not told us—and that she will cause us trouble before too long.’
‘You are too suspicious,’ Alain said, dismissing his friend’s words lightly. ‘She is naught but an innocent child…’
‘You worry too much,’ Katherine told her companion when they were alone. She smiled at Maria, who had been friend, comforter and stalwart supporter these past years. Without Maria she could never have borne the years of hardship and discomfort, the day-to-day endurance of constant travelling that had been her lot for more than seven years. ‘Why should they suspect anything? Besides, I have not lied. What I told them was true. I just haven’t told them the whole story.’
‘What happens if they discover the truth?’ Maria looked at her anxiously. Sometimes her beloved child was too reckless. ‘You must be careful, sweeting.’
‘How can anyone know? My father entrusted his secret only to me and I have shared a part of it with you. Neither of us is likely to tell anyone.’
Maria shook her head at her. ‘Someone else knows. The Baron was killed for his secret. If what he believed is true, you carry a precious treasure, Katherine. Men would kill for it. And these men are no exception.’
Katherine’s eyes narrowed in thought. ‘I do not believe Sir Alain would kill for gain, Maria. I liked him and I trusted him. Sir Bryne, too, seems a man one can trust.’
‘Men are seldom worthy of a woman’s trust,’ Maria muttered darkly. ‘Be wary, my dove. You know I care only for you.’
‘Yes, I do know that, Maria,’ Katherine said and gave her a smile of rare sweetness.
Her smile lit up her face from inside. She was not a pretty girl. Even her much-loved father had never pretended that she was a great beauty for her features were unremarkable. But when she smiled there was something about her that touched the heart of most who saw it. It came from the goodness of heart and the generosity that were so much a part of her character and had endeared her to those who truly knew her. She had a keen mind and had been educated by her father as if she were the son he had never been granted. In truth there was at times a purity about Katherine that made her almost angelic, and yet coupled with the innocence and the goodness was a mischievous nature that loved to tease and play.
‘You may never marry, Katherine,’ her father had told her once as they talked of the future. ‘Unless I can discover a great treasure, I cannot give you the dowry you deserve.’
‘You mean I am too plain to attract a husband without a huge bribe?’ Her eyes had twinkled with naughty humour; she had no illusions concerning her appearance. ‘Do you hope to pay someone to take me off your hands? For shame, Father!’ She laughed as he protested. ‘Nay, nay, I know you love me, and think only for my sake. Do not fear, my dear Father. Why should I want a husband when I have you?’
‘You know I love you completely,’ he had told her with an affectionate pat of her cheek. ‘But you are too like me, Kate. In looks as well as all else. Had you been like your mother…’
She had seen the pain in his eyes as his words faded on a sigh. His statement did not distress her as it might other young women. She remembered her beautiful, gentle mother with love and regret. It was all too true that she could never match the Lady Helena for looks or sweetness of nature.
Helena of Grunwald had been a fair beauty with deep blue eyes, her features as perfect as her complexion. Katherine was dark haired like her father, her eyes a deep melting brown. They were her best feature, especially when laughter lurked in their depths, which it often had until the shock of her father’s death.
Katherine had seen her reflection once in a hand mirror of burnished silver, and she had thought herself plain. Not exactly ugly, for her features were not misshapen, just unremarkable. Her nose was too short for beauty and turned up a little. She had always admired straight noses. Queen Berengaria had a perfect nose. Katherine had seen King Richard and his queen in Cyprus a few months before the triumph at Acre.
A little shudder ran through her as she recalled the terrible wounds she had witnessed at the time of Acre. Men lying helpless as their lifeblood gushed out from gaping wounds; men with their bodies torn apart, their limbs shattered. And sometimes women and children dying in pain, from wounds they had received helping their loved ones. One memory of innocent men and women being slaughtered in the street had lingered in her mind, causing her nightmares long after their suffering had ended.
Maria, Baron Grunwald and Katherine herself had worked with others tirelessly to help the poor soldiers and civilians who had been injured. It was after Acre was conquered and the King had left for Jerusalem that they,
