“Bothwithin your reach.”
“I am a knight. I own a horse and a few pieces of coin, nae enough to purchase a simple hut, much less attract a lass, nor will I accept a handout. Whatever I accomplish,” he said, his voice tight, “’twill be achieved by my own hand.”
Sadness touched his father’s expression. “You are more than a knight, but the Earl of Kincaid.”
“You are wrong, I gave up my title when—”
“’Tis still yours.”
Blast it, why was he arguing? ’Twas a deed long since done. “I rescinded the title after I left the monastery, a writ you should have received.”
“I did,” his father stated, “and burned the bloody document as quick.”
Burned it? Thomas stared at him in disbelief. “Why?”
“Because you are my son, and I had faith that one day you would return.”
Emotion tightened in his throat. “I have done naught to earn such.”
“My actions are nae your decision to make but mine. The right of a father, if you will.” He rubbed his brow. “Wherever you went, regardless of the guilt that drove you away, I am confident that you achieved many things for which you are proud.”
He paused. “Why do you say that?”
“You hold yourself with dignity, have a way about you that bespeaks confidence, and with your oath given to Robert Bruce, you are a man who isna afraid to fight for what you believe in.” He grunted. “If you had led a disreputable life, I doubt our king would be charging you with the task of protecting Mistress Alesone.” Shrewd eyes narrowed. “Where have you been all of these years? After everything, I deserve to know.”
With all that his father had endured, suffered, Thomas agreed. In brief, he explained how Brother Nicholai had confronted him, suggested his becoming a Knight Templar, a life where, in addition to serving God, he could protect Christians traveling to the Holy Land.
Tears misted in his father’s eyes. “I am so proud of you.” He gasped. “Mary help us.”
At his father’s distress, Thomas stilled. “What is wrong?”
“A fortnight ago I received a missive concerning news of King Philip’s charges against the Templars in Paris.”
Memories of King Philip’s scheme to arrest those of the Brotherhood flooded his mind. “The charges are false,” he spat, “lies spewed to claim our gold.”
Aged eyes held his. “As I suspected. I am thankful that you were among those chosen to leave. What of the Templars still in France?”
Thomas fisted his hands. “The Grand Master believes with Pope Clement’s intervention mayhap they can find a way to save the remaining knights. A belief I dinna share. With King Philip’s intent to claim the Templars’ wealth, any attempt at negotiations are naught but a wasted effort.”
His father paled. “You havena heard that France’s king imprisoned Jacques de Molay?”
God in heaven, nay! He closed his eyes against the avalanche of heartache. A gentle hand lay on his shoulder.
“There is naught shameful in showing grief, more so when ’tis for men you cared for and battled beside.”
Thomas met his gaze. “Nae, there isna.”
His father withdrew his hand, the pride in his eyes leaving Thomas humbled. “I dinna know the right way to say…” Overwhelmed, moved by the depth of his father’s forgiveness, he extended his hand. “’Tis important,” he said, straightening his shoulders as his palm slid against the man’s who shaped his world, “that you know how proud I am to be your son.”
He clasped his hand. “You are a fine man.” The duke gave a tight squeeze, and then let go. “I know you are in service to King Robert. Once you have finished escorting Mistress Alesone, I pray you will return, even if ’tis for a brief visit.”
Warmth touched Thomas’s heart, and for the first time in many years, a sliver of peace filled him. He nodded. “I would be liking that.”
A gust battered the window, and his father grimaced at the blackness churning outside flecked with bitter tosses of white. “’Tis a brutal storm this night.”
“’Tis.” With a fragile bond forged between them, Thomas stood and walked over to place a log onto the flames. Sparks jumped, swirled within the churn of smoke that disappeared into the hearth. “John MacLairish was a Knight Templar as well. He is a close friend.”
His father nodded. “I have always believed to be him a man of exceptional caliber.”
