"You flatter yourself, Sir Brian. I did not think that it was my love you wanted."
"What's done is done," he said. "Still, I would that it were otherwise. I could have given you a life such as you had never known. What future is there for a daughter of a lowly Jewish merchant? You could be the woman of a Knight Templar, a lady to be treated with respect."
"The way you treated me?"
"You are bitter."
"I am dishonored."
"Yet you are still alive. When I brought you here to Templestowe, it was not my intention to place your life in danger, yet that is what I have done. Albert Beaumanoir has returned to Templestowe. I have just come from him. The Grand Master is not a man of vision. He clings stubbornly to the old ways. In time, his influence would become inconsequential, but as yet, he is still Grand Master of our Order. I had sought to keep your presence here a secret from him, but he has found out."
"Then he will set me free?"
"He means to set your spirit free," Sir Brian said. "There is to be a trial and you are the accused."
She looked up at him, startled. "Accused of what? I have done nothing."
"The charge is sorcery," said Bois-Guilbert.
"Then I will trust to God to see me delivered," said Rebecca, "for I am innocent."
"You are innocent, indeed," said Bois-Guilbert. "Innocent of the ways of the world. You are closer to your God than you know. The trial has not been held yet, but rest assured that the outcome has already been decided. You have but one chance to avoid the stake. Demand a champion."
"I do not understand."
"If you demand a champion, then according to our ways, and the ways of chivalry, your fate will be decided in a trial by combat. Choose me as your champion and I will fight for you with my last breath."
"And if you lose?"
"Then I lose my life and you will be burnt at the stake," said Bois-Guilbert. "But I will not lose. No man will take from me that which I have gone to so many pains to obtain. You are mine, Rebecca. You must choose me. It is your only hope."
"Then I have no hope," she said.
"Think well on this," said Bois-Guilbert. "There would be no purpose served if you threw your life away. If you do not choose me, who else would fight for you? Who cares what happens to a Jew?"
"God will care for me," she said.
"Your death would be a tragic waste," said Bois-Guilbert. "Think on the agonies of death by fire, Rebecca. I pray that you will change your mind."
* * * *
The men did not have long to wait. They were not sure exactly how the pick-up would be arranged, but when the contact came, it proved to be a surprise. And it stood to reason. There must have been someone keeping an eye on them, someone who had taken the tremendous risk of undertaking his mission with implant removed, so that he could not be scanned. He was a captain in the Observer Corps. They knew him as Alan-a-dale.
"So it's almost over," Alan-a-dale said to them when they returned to camp.
"Almost?" said Finn.
"Well, the hard part's over," said the minstrel, winking at them. "Irving's dead."
"Son-of-a-bitch," said Finn. "You're a ringer."
"Only for a little while longer," said the bogus minstrel. "The name's Bannerman. Captain Richard Bannerman, Observer Corps. And I must say I'm very much relieved to see you men have pulled it off. I was just about resigned to spending the rest of my days back here. Who knows, if Irving had succeeded, I might have been better off."
"So what happens now?" said Lucas.
"I've already contacted the mission commander," Banner-man said. "Since we have no idea what really happened to King Richard, we're going to have to proceed on the assumption that he's dead. I doubt Irving would have let him live; it would have been too risky."
"Suppose he turns up after all?" said Lucas.