Page 80 of The Champion

“Kit?” Swan tried again.

“Damien St. Cyr.” Christian’s tone was low and lethal.

Rowena sucked her breath in sharply at the name. Damien St. Cyr was the younger brother of the Queen of France and a man of extreme wealth, power and renown.

“Who is that?” Nassir asked. “He isn’t one of us.”

Christian raked an irate hand through his blond hair. “Nay, but he should have been.”

“How so?”

Christian leaned back against the stone gate as if he needed to feel something solid at his back. “One night, not long after we had escaped, Stryder and I were in Hamburg at a tournament when Damien showed up with a group of his men. I’ve never seen Stryder so pale. Two nights later, when he was deep in his cups I found out why. Stryder and Damien were once close friends. Foster brothers, in fact. Damien was with Stryder, Simon and Raven when they were captured in Outremer.”

“Then why wasn’t he in the camp with us?” Swan asked.

“Because he wouldn’t listen to Stryder. Instead of doing as Stryder said, and hiding his identity, Damien told the Saracens who he was. They took him away and Stryder never saw him again. Not until that night in Hamburg.”

“Hide what identity?” Nassir asked.

Rowena’s stomach cramped as she understood the grave mistake Damien had made. “He’s the great grandson of William the Conqueror. His sister, Alix, is the Queen of France and his nephew Henri, is Count of Blois, Champagne, and Troyes. Not to mention the small fact that his nephew Henri is also married to the daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Louis of France.”

Zenobia frowned. “I think I’m rather confused. This is beginning to sound like he’s his own brother’s son.”

Nassir shook his head. “Is there any royal house this man isn’t related to?”

“Mine,” Christian said.

“You sure?” Zenobia asked. “You know Eleanor and Louis did go on Crusade.”

Christian cocked his head as if thinking that over. “Then again...”

Nassir held his hands up to interrupt the two of them. “Let us travel back to the point, lady and priest. Why would Stryder not fight this man?”

It was Christian who answered. “Because he bears two Saracen marks on his face. One across each cheekbone.”

Zenobia turned pale.

Nassir cursed.

“What marks?” Rowena asked. “No one has ever seen Damien’s face. He’s always robed when in public.”

“I’ve seen them,” Swan said. “Only once when he lost his helm in the midst of a training match. They’re Arabic writing of some sort, but I couldn’t read it.”

“They’re the marks of a slave,” Zenobia said quietly.

“Aye.” Christian nodded. “Damien hates Stryder with a burning passion. He blames him for the fact that they were captured.”

Val cursed under his breath. “Stryder got them captured. It’s why he would never fight Damien. He blames himself for what happened to the man.”

Fury burned deep in Christian’s eyes. “It wasn’t Stryder’s fault. Talk to Raven or Simon who was there. It was Damien who caused their capture. Stryder took the blame and has carried it ever since. According to Simon, Damien’s problem was and has ever been the fact that as a spare prince, he has ached for his own slice of power. Once they were in the Holy Land, he resented Stryder’s authority and, one day, in order to prove himself, he led them against the Saracen band that captured them. Stryder led the others in to save Damien and ended up with all of them taken or killed.”

Silence fell between them while each of them considered the ramification of Stryder facing a man he would feel sorry and guilty over.

Rowena knew the answer the same as his men.

Stryder would die.

“When are they to fight?” Nassir asked Val.