The moment passed. With a squeeze of Keldwyn's leg, she hopped nimbly over his hip and positioned herself behind him when he sat up to give her better access. Uthe stretched out on his hip to watch.
Even if he could compel the Fae to stay behind, there was no logic to that. The increasingly unpredictable state of his mind had been calmer for the past day, but if it flared, he'd need a companion whose steadiness he could trust. His mission was important enough to be worth both their lives. That didn't necessarily ease that decision for Uthe, but at least Keldwyn was a peer. He understood the risks and made his own choices.
Kel. That's what Catriona called him, and what Uthe was starting to call him more frequently in his own mind. He remembered the look on Keldwyn's face the one time it had slipped from his lips, his pleasure at Uthe calling him familiar.
Catriona had produced a comb from somewhere, and was working it through the Fae Lord's hair, the fine strands turning into flaxen silk under her ministrations. She was making idle conversation about what she and Della had been doing, things Maysie had said, and asking questions about the ball the vampires had held for Rhoswen. She asked how Jacob and Lady Lyssa were doing, particularly Jacob. The girl seemed very attached to Lyssa's servant, and Uthe wondered what experiences they'd shared together. However, females always gravitated toward Jacob as a general rule. Not for the reasons the camp followers used to trail the Crusader armies, but because the boy had a particular way about him. It told women he could be trusted with their wellbeing. Despite Lyssa's formidable nature, he expected that side of him called to her softer emotions as well.
Uthe tuned back in to find the Fae Lord watching him. Kel responded amicably to Catriona, but his eyes never left Uthe's. Uthe's gaze shifted, not because it bothered him to be caught in those onyx depths, but because he enjoyed watching how Catriona handled his hair. She'd woven four braids and twined the meadow grass in them to add to the binding. Two of the braids were slender ropes which followed his temples, behind the pointed ears and back, to be twisted and tied with the other two. She wrapped the full length in more meadow grass, forming a secure tail that kept every stray wisp from his face. When she finished, it was a very warrior-like look, enhancing the formidable edges of his features, lips, cheekbones and brow. Well, it was warrior-like, until Della stuck a few tiny yellow flowers here and there among the braids.
The Templar Code had forbidden long hair. Too many knights in the secular world had cultivated "flowing locks" to go with their ornately decorated horses and studded armor. St. Bernard had beseeched the Templars to eschew such trappings, only outfitting themselves as necessary to serve their fight in God's name. In their first few years, they wore only what was donated to them. Even the white mantle had remained unembellished for some time, no red cross until Pope Eugenius had authorized the cross of martyrdom for them.
Uthe's hair had been long when he'd joined, and Bernard's exhortation had not come for well over a decade after that. Yet, as if anticipating the nature of the role he was embracing, one of the first things he'd done was cut off his hair, and he kept it cut. The physical perfection of a born vampire was undeniable, but he'd done what he could to minimize it. Fortunately sweat and desert sand were good at concealing a fair countenance. Well, unless a male looked like Kel, as Cai had observed so brashly.
Uthe wanted to stroke the braids along Kel's temples, trace the outline of his ears. He hadn't done that yet, touched his ears. He'd intuited that was an exceptional intimacy, akin to a vampire placing his fangs against another vampire's throat. But he thought of doing it now. If they were alone, he would sit behind Keldwyn where Catriona was now, inhale the fresh scent of cut meadow grass and yellow flowers as he leaned close. He'd press his forehead against Keldwyn's back as he enjoyed a leisurely exploration of his ears, his shoulder, his biceps. He'd sit silently, so still in this meadow where he could be like Della, no fear for a lost or a poorly functioning mind.
He snapped himself away from that line of thinking. This was the temptation of leisure time, this meandering that could go to melancholy or self-indulgence. "...all should take care of the sick, and he who is less ill should thank God and not be troubled; and let whoever is worse humble himself through his infirmity and not become proud through pity."
So said the Rule. He was not a child, and Della's protection here was not effortless, no matter if it seemed like a magical world where nothing bad could happen. Protection always required vigilance from someone, somewhere. No world was without sin.
Della had sat back down in front of Uthe so she could lean against his bent knee, easy with physical contact with a total stranger. She had no reason to doubt her safety here, and he was glad of it. The dragon perched in the tree over him, his tail twitching not far above Uthe's head. He hoped dragons weren't like birds, with their profuse amount of droppings. Glancing up, he met slanted eyes that seemed amused, curious and highly aware. He expected the creature would be greatly offended by his concern, though not above acting exactly like a normal bird if Uthe annoyed him.
"I threatened to make Lord Uthe dance with me at the ball," Keldwyn was saying. "Though I decided I should show him some of our Beltane dances. The waltzes that night were far too gentle for a soldier like him."
Finished dressing his hair, Catriona slid her arms over Keldwyn's shoulders, her chin propped beside his jaw. "Be careful of his challenges, Lord Uthe," she said. "He has danced against other males on Beltane night in a grand competition. Long after they fall, overwhelmed, he dances on, even inside the fire itself, the flames twirling around his body."
"Have you seen this?" Uthe asked.
"No," she said gravely. "But I'm sure it's true, because he'd never exaggerate like a common boastful male. He's far above such ordinary behavior."
"I'm sure," Uthe responded, just as seriously. A dimple wreathed the corner of her bow-shaped mouth.
Keldwyn reached back and rumpled her dark hair. "Insolent creature. Go play in the stream with Della some more. I want to watch you enjoy yourself."
"You just want to finish the cakes." She snagged two, offering one to the unicorn and letting Della feed the dragon before they set forth down the hill again. The pink, purple and silver insects landed on their shoulders, heads and arms, coming back even when the girls' movements dislodged them. Looking up, Uthe saw more of them clinging to the tree providing them shade. Closer examination showed they weren't insects but Fae, with tiny bodies, antennae and wide, oblong eyes that studied him with as much interest as he was studying them. One drew what looked like a pair of tiny swords and brandished them. Obligingly, he showed his fangs. The whole flock dispersed with a whisper of sound like hissing.
"Did I just earn respect or a curse?" he asked.
"You'll find out in short order, I'm sure."
Uthe smiled, but studied the landscape around him, his gaze lifting to the stone castle behind the grove of trees. Though it was distant, he could tell some form of verdant green ivy climbed up the formidable walls. "It has been a long time since I have felt small in my world, my lord. And I suspect this is just a snapshot of everything that is here."
"Every world has its wonders. That is King Tabor's castle, Caislean Talamh, the Castle of Earth. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to meet him, once your quest is complete."
He hadn't thought about completing it. Uthe didn't see himself coming out of the other side of it alive...or aware. "I wish you did not feel compelled to do this with me, my lord." He set his jaw. "I wish I didn't need a companion for it whose value to his own world and my own is so great."
"Well, you do, so no sense wasting thought on that. I expect we'll both have plenty of room for regret before our journey is over. No reason to overload it on the front end. Tell me more about being a Templar. I was involved more in my own world during that time."
Uthe stretched out on his back to watch the insect Fae drift and buzz through the branches. He lifted his hand as if he could touch them. Caught by the motion, some descended,
their weight like butterflies on his skin, the curve of a knuckle. Beautiful as they were, his vision swam before him and their presence was replaced by a stone wall, the one in his quarters in al-Asqa. He saw his fingers tracing the cross he'd carved there, like many of his brethren had. It had been a sign of devotion, proof that he was there to serve.
"In the beginning, it was very simple, like all good ideas are. Pilgrims on their way to the Holy Lands were being preyed upon by Seljuk raiders. The First Crusade had captured Jerusalem for the Christians, but then many of the Crusaders returned home. Because their salvation had been firmly secured by the Pope's decree, there was no need to stay in that hot, unfriendly part of the world. Which was just as well, since many of them were little better than thugs. When they took Jerusalem, the streets ran with blood. Men, women, children, Muslim, Jew, Christian."
"You were there for that?"
"No, thank God. Hugh told me of it. Under the Muslim rule that was there before the First Crusade, all three faiths had been allowed to visit and worship at the holy sites, though non-Muslims had to pay a fee. In the void that followed, Turkish raiders entrenched themselves on the popular routes to attack the Christians who then came to the Holy Lands in droves, thinking themselves safe because Jerusalem was now in Christian hands. Which is where the Templars came in. Hugh and his men were protecting the pilgrims. I was allowed to join their ranks after spending time with them and fighting their cause. I was no knight, but eventually Hugh knighted me. At that time, a knight could still bestow knighthood on another. I was content merely to fight with them, but he said knighting me would allow the Order to more fully utilize my leadership and fighting skills going forward. Though one of the Order's core tenets was 'deference to ability, not nobility,' he foresaw that might not always be the case."
"He was correct."
"Yes. As our numbers grew modestly, our skills came into demand. We knew how to fight against the raiders, protect trains of pilgrims and strategize to maximize our resources, all things that were useful to the men who brought armies to fight the Second Crusade. We were placed in charge to guide and protect them during marches, as they moved supply lines and men from place to place. We were drawn into their wars, becoming Crusaders instead of Templars." Uthe turned his hand to study a pink Fae who was rubbing her front arms together like a cricket, producing a thin flutelike music. Three others joined her, a small quartet.
"Yet though they were never intended to be that grand, they did in fact become that grand," Keldwyn noted. "Remembered to this day."
"Romanticized to this day," Uthe responded dryly. "In truth, we lost more battles than we won, though it was not for lack of courage or zeal. When we learned how to protect the pilgrims' financial resources through a credit system, we also became bankers, bankers who loaned money to kings. There are times I think Hugh's dream was co-opted from the very beginning, by a Pope who turned us into archaeologists to find a fortune in gold. The support we bought with that gold was the first step to turn the Templars into something they were never intended to be."
"An intriguing history lesson, my lord." Keldwyn had rolled onto his back, too, one knee bent, the other long leg stretched out. He lifted his hand, and the Fae on Uthe's arm took off like a flock, landing on Keldwyn's fingers and forearm. "Yet not entirely what I seek to know. You left Rail, came to Jerusalem and became a Templar, all for one painful reason. A reason that doesn't fit a lovely meadow, a unicorn and a picnic of mead and cakes."
"No, it doesn't." Uthe waited a few more heartbeats, thinking it through. Kel didn't say anything further, and Uthe suspected he wouldn't push, but Uthe was getting closer to the point he would tell him what he'd told no one. He didn't have to give him any explanation at all, but this inexplicable compulsion to leave his story in the mind of another was nudging him in that direction.
Base nature couldn't be dispelled by prayer. Sometimes he'd wondered if the Templars had been an experiment to test that. Was it possible to combine higher spiritual aspirations with the human propensity for violence and come out with an outcome that served God? Warrior-monks. Killing in the name of God, but not like the First Crusaders. Those had been men in too much debt, those without enterprise, or felons escaping human justice under the Pope's auspices. Templars killed in the name of God, but supposedly without the avarice for blood, no pleasure taken in the deaths.
To God goes the glory. Back then, he'd needed that peace so desperately. Yet his life, before during and since had always been a river of blood. First with the Templars, then the various brutal struggles between vampire factions that had ultimately led to the establishment of the Council. He'd fought over a hundred battles for reasons that blurred in his mind and overlapped.
"When you cannot believe in a larger purpose, sometimes the best you can do is believe in its reflection. Hugh's piety fed my soul. There was something indescribable about his beliefs. They gave me a balance, a peace. I am vampire. I cannot be servile. I might die by the sword, but even violence can have a code, as the existence of the Vampire Council proves. He gave my savagery a nobility. In time, the service of it, the release of will to another that still allowed me to use my strength, my power, my bloodlust...it was freeing."
"I do not wish to disturb unpleasant memories, Uthe," Keldwyn said. Uthe heard nothing but sincere truth in the male's words. "But it is important for me to know the reasons for your path, to help you, as we go forward. Particularly if you get to a point you can no longer offer me information as freely."
He was right, it was logical. Yet it wasn't only logic. "I have already reached a point I must trust you far more than I expected to do, my lord. At times it is unpleasant and uncomfortable, for I still do not know you well enough. An error could be easily made. Yet at no other point in my life has it been so important that I not err in the slightest."
"Which is why having someone you can trust completely is essential. And instead, you have me." Keldwyn's expression was blank, revealing nothing. "Either I have been sent as an answer to your prayers, or a way to foil them. You overlook a third possibility, however."
"What is that?"
"I could be neither agent of light nor darkness. I could just have nothing better to do with my time right now."
Uthe huffed a half chuckle, earning a curve of Keldwyn's distracting lips. "Not true, my lord. We have several debates pending on important Council policy changes. Endless hours in chambers, arguing minutiae with Helga and Carola. Thwarting Belizar and Stewart's every attempt to scuttle anything that hints of change."
"You make it sound so appealing. A missed opportunity. I'm sure the household staff would have served tasty snacks." Keldwyn sobered. "You know I speak the truth. If I am to be your proper ally in this, I need all the information I can."
"Perhaps it would be simpler if I thought that was the only reason you ask these things."
Keldwyn's expression was getting easier for him to read. There were small changes to the muscles around his eyes and along his jaw that intensified his expression, the potency of his gaze. What was also getting disturbingly predictable was Uthe's response to that particular reaction. His pulse accelerated and his fangs lengthened, as if to a threat or blood-based pleasure. Which made him want to move, fight or fuck. Touch, taste or bite.
"Give me another question for now, my lord," he said, more brusquely than intended, but it didn't seem to dissuade Keldwyn.
Keldwyn didn't speak immediately, his eyes fastened on Uthe's face, but then he relented. "The battle of Hattin. Why did the Templars blindly follow Gerard into such a fruitless battle? He was a vain man clearly not serving the will of God. Did you so need to emulate your relationship with God on an earthly plane that you abandoned your judgment, the judgment that Lyssa prizes so highly and with good reason?"
"No," Uthe said. "And yes. We were trained to trust the Grand Master unconditionally with our welfare, believing he would never act against God's will in favor of pride or ego."
"If you truly believed that,
you were all suffering a fatal case of naivety."
"Soldiers have little choice but to follow orders. In time, we set that aside as a given. The ones in charge, even the ultimate purpose, become unimportant, because those are things we cannot control. We fought, because that was what we were charged to do. Our focus became loyalty to the code of battle and protecting the man at either side. That seems to be the way all wars go."
Uthe sat up, linking his hands around his knee. "For those of us who stayed in the Holy Lands for any length of time, it was clear the best way to praise Jerusalem and all the gifts there was for it belong to all three peoples to whom it was important: Jews, Muslims and Christians, not just one of them. It was those Crusaders who stayed and raised families who learned to co-exist with the Muslims and Jews in ways that ironically would have brought peace--if not for leaders who felt differently, who thought the only way to honor their understanding of faith was to let one religion try to crush another through bloodshed. Who kept bringing their armies out of Europe, Mongolia, Egypt, Turkey and God knows where else."
"You made your peace with it, yet there are still shadows in your eyes. There are demons you have not laid to rest."
"As I now know well, a demon cannot be laid to rest, my lord. It's not the nature of a demon. It can only be sent back to its cell to rage and plot its next escape." Uthe shook his head. "The wisdom I have gained helped me provide useful advice to the Council and know the best ways to make that advice heard, at least some of the time. You serve the same role yourself. After so many years, everything you know and understands crowds in on you. You know things without actively knowing, because only in a peaceful, still acceptance does it make any sense. You find the answers in the utter quiet, a lack of action. You're a vessel, but instead of moving in the ocean, it moves through you and you stay, if not still, without destination."