The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") by Kathryn Le Veque Page B

hill. Blinded to all else
around her, she knew she had to make it to the grave. She had to see him.
Knowing he could not respond to her, but still, it was imperative that she
reach the man if only to see the truth for herself. Good Lord... was it really
possible?
    Bud was
just emerging from his tent when he saw Rory racing up the rise. It took him
less than a second to realize she was barefoot, half-dressed, and staggering
unsteadily. Tossing aside the towel he had been using to dry his face, he took
out after her.
    The
entire camp was awakening to the sounds of shouting, the workers in an uproar
as Dr. Osgrove and Dr. Dietrich headed for the dig at break-neck speed. David
bolted from his tent, struggling to put his glasses on as he caught sight of
Bud half-way up the hill, his shirt hanging out of his pants and his boots
untied. With a muttered curse, he followed.
    Rory was
oblivious to the cries of the workers or to the sand burning her tender feet.
All that mattered was that she had to reach the grave, to demand answers from a
man who was incapable of replying. But a sleepless night spent immersed in the
crusader's chronicles had muddled her thought processes and after reading the
last startling passage, she was hardly able to think rationally.
    She was
only aware of her need to discover answers. But the moment Rory laid eyes on the
knight's eternally slumbering face, all thoughts of disbelief and astonishment
faded. Embracing the journal to her breast, she sank to her knees as Bud raced
up beside her.
    "Rory!"
he gasped, putting strong hands on her shoulders to steady her. "What's the
matter? What hap..?"
    She
thrust the book at him and he had to take a step back to avoid being hit. His
ice-blue eyes were wide with confusion, concern, and he could see even as she
held the journal up that her hands were shaking terribly.
    He took
the book, eyeing David as the man came to a panting halt beside him. "Rory,
what's wrong?" Bud demanded softly, urgently. "Why were you running
up here?"
    Rory
continued to kneel by the edge of the grave, her long hair askew, tendrils
blowing softly in the early morning breeze. It was a moment before she was
capable of answering.
    "He
knows where it is, Bud."
    Bud was
understandably baffled. "Who? Who knows where what is?"
    She
didn't say anything for a moment. "Second to the last page. The final
passage. Read it."
    Brow
furrowed, Bud did as he was asked with David hanging over his shoulder. After
several tries, he shook his head. "I can't read this stuff, honey. It's
too muddled."
    David
took the book from him, hoping he could make a better attempt.  
    "I
see the word Jesus," he said, comparing it with a more-clearly written
representation of the word on the previous page. "Here, let me give this a
try; 'Forgive me Lord Jesus that my... mis... mis...."
    "Mission."
Rory's voice was barely audible.
    After a
moment, her knees creaked softly as she climbed into the grave. Straddling the
body, she suddenly balled her fists and brought them weakly against the chest
of the knight as if to beat the truth out of him.
    Her
voice, when she finally spoke, was nearly a groan. "The passage reads like
this: 'Forgive me Lord Jesus that my mission in Thou's Name hath been thwarted.
The diadem of Thou's sacrifice entrusted into my hands is forever sealed,
hidden so that no man can pilfer Its beauty or omnipotence. Until such time
that I can safely transport It to the land of my birth, the whereabouts shall
remain my knowledge alone.'"
    David
was still looking at the smeared words she had so eloquently repeated. Bud
stared at her, however, a disturbing twinge of recognition flickering in his eyes.
A growing ember that seemed to bloom as Rory remained bent over the knight, her
fists against his chest and her eyes closed.
    "Rory,"
his voice was hoarse. "You don't think…."
    "Yes,
I do." She lifted her head, the hazel eyes rolling open to focus on him.
She was terribly pale, ashen with defeat and exhaustion. After a