The Mark of Salvation by Carol Umberger Page A

strangers in the hall today. Perhaps passing travelers had been invited to partake of Dunstruan’s hospitality.
    As she walked toward an empty table Orelia froze, unable to move forward. She stared at the back of the man seated with Ceallach. John was here. The sight of his dark, unruly hair and broad shoulders made her heart race and she started forward with joy. But then the man laughed a strange-sounding laugh and she realized the absurdity of her reaction.
    John was dead. Whoever this man was, his laughter confirmed what her heart didn’t want to believe. It wasn’t John. Still she stared at the man’s back.
    As she drew closer he turned away from the warrior and she had her first glimpse of his face. Laughing blue eyes completed the cruel deception. But the similarity ended there. This man had a pointed chin and a scar over one eye. She’d seen him the day Bruce had knighted him. Fergus, if she recalled correctly.
    Ceallach stood and the man followed suit. “Lady Radbourne, may I introduce Fergus Cookson.”
    Fergus bowed but Orelia couldn’t move to offer her hand or find her voice to speak. Despite the scar, this man looked remarkably like John. Or was it only wishful thinking? When she was able to speak, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “Are you English?”
    He seemed taken aback and she said, “Forgive me. You look very much like . . . an acquaintance in England.” She turned to find a seat but Fergus pushed back the bench and moved closer.
    He took her hand. “I have upset ye. This acquaintance—ye are fond of him?”
    As tears welled, Orelia silently chastised herself for leaving her room. She’d stayed there on purpose, unwilling to break down in front of these people, determined to hide her pain. She feared if she answered the man’s question she would burst into tears.
    Ceallach unwittingly rescued her when he answered for her. “Her husband was killed at Stirling.”
    â€œI am sorry for yer loss, my lady. “
    Orelia pulled herself together. She didn’t want their kindness, and she didn’t want to feel any warmth towards these people who’d changed her life forever. “Thank you,” she managed to say before moving off to find a place to sit by herself.
    As she ate, Orelia stole glances at Ceallach and his companion. When she saw that the men’s attention was diverted, she stared at the one called Fergus.
    It had been imagination, wishful thinking. The man looked nothing like John.

SIX
    Silver or gold decoration of the saddle, bridle, or stirrup is forbidden.
    â€”from the Rule of the Templar Knights
    A number of events conspired to destroy the Templar Knights. Word has it that sometime in the year 1305, a knight by the name of Esquin of Floyran was expelled from the Templar Order for an infraction of the rules. I did not know the man nor do I have any knowledge of his crime nor of his guilt or innocence. But Esquin felt he’d been unfairly treated, and his subsequent actions were to have a devastating effect on my life and the life of my brothers.
    Esquin alleged that the Order itself was guilty of gross impropriety, and rumors soon spread throughout France. When King Philip of France heard the allegations, he brought them to the attention of the Pope, who promised to institute an inquiry. He asked Philip to be patient, not to take action until such time as the pope could look into the matter further.
    But Philip’s royal treasury owed vast sums of money to the Templar Order, and these rumors of wrongdoing gave him just what he’d been looking for—a way to discredit the Order and thus be excused from his debt. He sent secret directions to his henchmen throughout France, ordering the detention of all members of the Temple on the grounds that we had committed crimes too terrible to speak of.
    And while we rotted in Philip’s jails, he confiscated our properties and wealth,