Crowner's Dilemma - Part Twenty Four

[ismenin]

Aha! Here I be, on a lovely Spring evening, in Welsh Wales! It is truly a beautiful day - but am I the only Brit who does not want the Summer to be TOO HOT? :D

Anyway, my loves, here is this week's instalment of my Murder Mystery. More clues next week? They do cut to the chase, so we shall see!

In the meantime -


Grateful thanks to the ever-busy ladysunrope for her tireless beta. :D

Part - 24



As Umar galloped into the abbey grounds and reined in his steed before the main door, Sister Aefre, the Infirmarer, came out to greet him.

He had no time to waste on pleasantries. "Good-den to you, Sister. I must see Father Orlando as a matter of urgency!"

She smiled at the tall, dark-haired man, as he dismounted, and stood expectantly before her.

"Father Orlando is at present in the abbess's office, messire. He is resting there after executing some commission that she has given him. If you would care to come with me..."

A few moments later, Umar was standing in front of the abbess’s oak desk, staring down at Orlando, seated behind it, eating a bowl of summer fruits. He greeted the young priest, breathed deeply, and then sat, wondering how to tell his tale - knowing it had to be done swiftly.

Umar broke in on the priest's pleasant welcome. "Orlando - stop! I have something of great moment to impart to you, and no time at all in which to do it. Richard leaves for Canterbury within the hour, and I must go with him."

Orlando could not help but hear the tension in his companion's voice. "Tell on, messire," he said in his gentle tone. "I am listening."

Umar cleared his throat, suddenly dry. "I have come to tell you...forgive me, time is short. I would have taken longer over it, if I had time..." He paused briefly, assembling his thoughts.

"Many years ago, in a small town outside Jerusalem, one of my brother's - Sultan Al-Malik's - favourite sons was with his nurses in the marketplace, buying sweetmeats. A group of...Crusaders, you would call them - I have another name for them...rode by, and one of that company spotted the young boy, paler of skin than many, as his mother was a Frankish lady of high degree, and decided he wanted him for his son, since his wife was barren. He snatched the child from his screaming nurses, and made off with him into the desert. This much I have gleaned from another man present on that day."

There was silence for a moment, then Umar continued. "That boy was you. Taken by Lord Ranulf de Masron, and named as his son. Brought up in England - as his son. In one moment of violence you were bereft of your birthright, denied your true family - your sixteen brothers, your destiny. Your father - when he knew Richard had captured me, and would bring me to England - secretly sent me a message that I must strive to find you, if you still lived, Al-Malik. So I have done."

Orlando's face was pale with shock. "I...I do not know what to say to you, Umar. I am dumbfounded." He looked it, Umar thought. His brown eyes were wide with the strain of the knowledge he was trying to assimilate. Umar strove immediately to allay the man's obvious distress.

"I was commanded, Father Orlando, to bring you home to your father - but I swear to you that this I shall not do. Indeed, I am loth even to tell him that I have found you after all these long years. You have such a look of your father about you, you see. He is darker of skin, and a little shorter. But your face...you are the image of what he was at your age."

Orlando strove for understanding. "Then - you are my uncle? What is your name? For I doubt me that it is Umar."

Umar laughed. "Very true, Father - it is not. Umar was the name I used when studying medicine in my youth, with John Barebone. I found it useful to use it again when I was captured by Richard's forces."

"I am Al-Adil, brother of Al-Malik al-Nasir al-Sultan Salah al-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub."

Orlando nearly choked on the part of the name he recognised. "Salah al-Din - I am Saladin's son? God's bones!"

Umar - Al-Adil - reached over and grasped his nephew's hand, and Orlando came round the desk, and clasped the older man in his arms.

"May God bless you, uncle, for your loyalty and devotion to your task." He broke reluctantly from the embrace, and sat again, this time at his uncle's side. "Why do you say you will not tell...my father...where I am?"

Umar grasped his nephew's hand once again. "Do you wish to return to the desert where you were born, my son? Live under the burning sun? Worship God as God - in our way, using our name for Him - not the one you have come to love, and to worship?"

Orlando shook his head. "I remember nothing of my former life, uncle. I would wish to stay here, with those I love about me, and help those in need of my help, with my friends to aid me."

He smiled a sad smile. "I cannot see, as you know. I am best in places where I am used to what is about me. Although, now I have learned of them, my heart does yearn for my father and mother and...sixteen, you said?...brothers. But I would not be happy there. Not if I had to sacrifice my God, and crucify him a second time, in my heart, by leaving this place, where He has appointed that I labour to bring souls unto Him."

Umar's voice grew even quieter. "Your mother has gone on to rest in the gardens of Paradise, my son. Her last words in this life were your name. ‘Al-Malik, my dear son!’ she breathed, before she went into the Great Secret. I have no doubt there will be a felicitous meeting with her in the hereafter, for she loved you very much. So does my brother - your mother was the only other woman Al-Malik ever had. All the other children are the sons of his wife."

Orlando coughed again. "Is there wine, uncle? Of your mercy, I could drink me a cup, if there is."

Umar found the jug, and poured Orlando a cupful, which he drank thirstily. Then Orlando spoke again. "It seems to me a great pity that we should find each other, only to part before an hour has passed."

"It is," Umar agreed. "But I will have happy memories of my talks with you, to take back with me - for, once we reach London, I shall disappear, and go home, where I belong.
You are happy in your chosen vocation, any fool can see that. You have a serenity about you that I greatly envy."

Orlando smiled. "God blesses my life. I will pray for you, and for my family. I wish I had happy memories of them to cling to, as you will have of me. But, at least, I have our talks together."

Umar had a thought. "What is the earliest incident that you remember?"

Orlando pondered for a moment. "I think...yes, playing with kittens in a barn beside the manor house. It was raini..."

Suddenly Orlando stopped.

"No - before that, I remember...a place - a white marbled place. With a garden and fountains, and a big pool. It was hot - very hot…"

Orlando looked up, and, although he could not see, his eyes blazed with light. "There was a man and a woman laughing, and..." he stopped. "There was sand, and heat and two - no, three - people, a woman and two men, laughing!"

“You remember…it is well that you do.” Umar said, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I too remember that day. I was one of the men, your father, the other. And your dear mother was there, of course. You were five years old and it was just before you were taken. It may be, now you know what the memories mean, more will come to you."

He stood up, and Orlando stood with him. "I doubt, Al-Malik, that we shall meet again, not in this life, in any case. But I will tell your father nothing of where you are - I do not think, as I said, that I will even tell him that you still live, for he will send others after me, and you will have no peace from his searching. I hope Allah will forgive me the lie, for I see you need peace, as you need water and food. I see it plainly. May your God always be with you, Orlando Al-Malik. Farewell."

"I will write to you care of John Barebone. Speak to him. He will tell you more of me, and of yourself. He knows the story full well." And kissing his nephew on the forehead, and embracing him one last time in a trembling grasp, Umar, otherwise Al-Adil al-Nasir, turned quickly, lest his feelings overcome him, and abruptly left the room.

"I will write - I swear it!" the voice floated back to him. Then there was silence. Orlando retook his seat at the desk, and, feeling bereft in both body and spirit, wept, his heart filled with sorrow at the loss of a loving family, which, moments before, he had not even known existed.


Bishop Anselm found him there a short time later, and on asking what ailed his young friend, received a sad smile and a shake of the head.

"Forgive me, Father. I cannot as yet share what I know. Please be patient - I will reveal it all soon enough."

Anselm put a comforting arm around Orlando's shoulders. "Tell me when you are ready, or tell me not at all. It is your choice - but I perceive it has something to do with the Saracen physician who has just ridden out of the abbey as if hell's hounds were after him. Come - let us go to the chapel, for I know you receive much solace in prayer."

Orlando sighed. "Indeed, Anselm. I will go. Prayer is all I can offer, after all."

Anselm had no notion what this statement meant, but he knew Orlando well. He would tell him, in the end, and the bishop was a patient man; he was prepared to wait for enlightenment.

***

Three days later, Bishop Anselm and Orlando returned to Beauvallet, and straight away went to see how Elijah fared.

They found him seated in the solar, with his faithful old dog at his feet.

Dom sat opposite him, the more to feast his eyes on his lover, than for any other reason, and when the two priests entered the room, Dom leapt to his feet to welcome them back.

Elijah, watching Orlando's face, thought he detected a slight puffiness under the young man's eyes, but his smile was as serene as ever, and as soon as Dom had embraced him, he came to his host and after greeting him, asked after his health.

"You look to be far better to my eye than when we left you," Anselm said, for Orlando's benefit, knowing that there existed a bond of friendship between the young priest and Elijah. Indeed he knew from Dom himself that Elijah had offered his name for Orlando to use on their very first meeting whereas Dom had had to wait weeks, and they were in a situation of great danger in a noisome cellar before he was given the same privilege.


Orlando held Elijah's hand as he smiled down at him. "My dear friend, I am glad to see you restored to joy." And Elijah found nothing amiss in Orlando's observation. No doubt he could hear the happiness in his voice, even if he could not see his face.

But Elijah did not miss a great deal when it came to his friends. As Orlando rehearsed to Dom some amusing thing he had encountered at the abbey, Elijah whispered to Anselm, "he seems disturbed in some way, friend. What is it that bothers him?"

Anselm shook his head. "I do not know anything, but that it concerns the Saracen physician, Umar. He said he will tell me when the time is right, and so he will. I can wait."

Then the abbess entered, and conversation centred about the doings at the abbey.

***

That night Dom sent Astin away, and disrobed Elijah himself. He was very observant when it came to his life's partner, and, to his great joy he saw that Elijah was now ready to make love with him.

He had missed the pleasure and comfort to be obtained in physical union, but had not thought of it when Elijah had been so ill, and then troubled by Richard's importunities. Now that all danger was past, it was seen that they could join together in safety and peace.

Elijah blushed as he took the sheet and the oil out of the chest. If he thought that it was Wenna's hand that had placed the items there, it did not show upon his face, and for that, Dom was grateful. He wished no sorrow to attend their union tonight, and that gift Elijah would give him.

Dom had not told Elijah of his offer to go with Richard, nor about the secret room, or the books, deeming that his partner would want to be there, exploring, and it would be a few more days before he was strong enough for that.

But the call of love defied bodily strength, and as the two men laid the sheet upon the bed, it was as if the past had flown away, and there was only the present, with desire beating about the walls of the room like a living flame.

To feel his Lij's body on top of his was all he could imagine, and it seemed that Elijah felt the same, for moments later they were in each others arms, embracing, with gentle fingers, the lines and contours of each other's body.

Elijah spared one swift glance at the bolts on both doors, then gave himself up to love.

Dom's hands were gentle on his skin, but Elijah was not in the mood for gentle touches. He moved swiftly on to Dom's body, and licking the nub of a nipple long enough to make Dom groan, he bit down on it - not hard enough to cut the skin, but hard enough to bruise. Dom's groans grew louder.

There was no need for speech - no need for one to tell the other what they needed, for each man knew the other's needs as well as he knew his own desires.

Dom reached up and tenderly pulled Elijah down by his hair into a kiss. Elijah smiled. Dom was never rough with him, it was he - Elijah - who nipped and bit, and Dom who needed to feel that strength. Why, neither man knew. It was just a need in him, and Elijah gladly gave in to it.

Elijah could feel Dom's heat under his belly - the flesh hard and damp, his belly contracting with desire, but Dom would not rush him. He wanted, after all, to savour the moment he had waited so long to enjoy once again.

Dom ran his hands along Elijah's back, caressing the damp skin under his fingers, and gasped into his lover's shoulder. Elijah, who had been enjoying the taste of sweat on Dom's neck, trembled under the searching fingers.


He rolled off Dom's belly, and allowed the man to touch and feel. It was what Dom enjoyed - exploring the nooks and crannies of the silk-skinned body beside him.

He ran his tongue from neck to groin, and had the pleasure of hearing Elijah's breath hitch in his throat as he reached the soft curly fuzz at the base of his belly.

Elijah was murmuring something, but Dom could not hear. He was claiming his prize, and his mouth was not to be wasted in words, as he took Elijah in, and gained the satisfaction of a sound that he had never heard from another's throat. A breathy, desperate groan made him harder than ever, and spurred him on to elicit more delights.

However, always attuned to Elijah's body, he noted the charged breathing and knew that his lover wanted to join his body with his. It was true. Elijah needed to be inside him, and that he would have.

Dom, always wishing to gaze on Elijah's face as he came in the ecstasy of love, rolled onto his back, and pulled his knees up. "Now!" he whispered, and Elijah wasted no more time, but unstoppered the bottle of oil, spread a handful upon himself, and pushed hard in to Dom's hot body.

The tightness caused him to gasp, and Dom, sensing that Elijah was going to take his time, so as not to hurt him - and not wanting him to slow down at all - grasped his lover around the waist and drew him down, hard, with a desperate moan.

They lay for a moment, completely joined, not an inch of space between the two sweating bodies. But Elijah would not be rushed. Dom was his, and to see him like this, filled and needy, was as a balm to Elijah's battered spirit.

He ran his fingers through Dom's hair as the man beneath him looked with pleading eyes at his face. Elijah kissed him, softly touching his lips with the tip of his tongue then thrusting it inside Dom's mouth in an imitation of what his body was about to do.

The moan became a plea. "Please, please!" and Elijah could never resist that sound. His body began to move.

Dom looking up at the face rapt in concentration and effort above him, smiled inwardly. Elijah could never refuse him when it came to that point. His own body was trembling with the effort of holding back, for he wanted - Dom wanted, above anything in that moment - to see Elijah come.

He never tired of the expression on his lover's face as his climax took him. It would be the one thing, Dom thought, that would be cherished in his heart, when he drew his last breath, in this life, and went out into the unknown.

He watched, breathless, as the blue in his partner's eyes vanished, to be replaced by the total blackness that signalled his release. He watched the lips quiver, the sweat gather on his brow, the flush of blood mantling his cheeks and neck. Then Elijah came with a sigh, followed by a groan. Then - Dom waited for it - the sound in his throat that he had heard from no other. Dom closed his eyes for a moment, then let himself fall.

He had held on for too long; his body protested at the lack of air, and there were spots dancing before his eyes. Dimly he could hear Elijah calling to him, but as the waves of his climax rolled through his body, he smiled upwards, knowing that Elijah's eyes were fixed upon his face. "Amiloun!"

Then darkness.

He came to himself in Elijah's arms, his body wrapped in a sheet, his head tucked into Elijah's neck, as was his right.

"...for I have never known a man like you, my Amis, never. You are my soul. When I go into what Umar al-Rashid calls The Great Secret, it is your face that will be before my eyes as they close, your hand I shall hold in mine, your lips I wish to kiss. My love, my soul..."

Dom had never heard Elijah speak of death before - always he had clung to life. But Dom knew it came to all, and he was uplifted by the thought that even then, they would be with each other. Anything else was unthinkable.

"And I, also, my Amiloun," he said, gazing up at the man he loved.

Elijah sighed deeply, and stopped Dom's mouth with a kiss.

***

They woke early the next morning, long before it was time to rise. They talked a little - firstly of Orlando.

"He will tell us what troubles him, Lij. I have no doubt of it. He is a man who needs to share these things, and Anselm said he had the patience to wait. So must we."

Elijah stretched his naked body on top of the sheets, and Dom kissed him on the belly, making him smile. "It may be he is waiting for Aunt Truda to return to the abbey. He does not know her well, after all. It may be that he wishes privacy of expression with those he loves and trusts."

Dom thought Elijah was right.

The abbess was anxious - now that all was returned to normal - to go back to her responsibilities at the abbey. She said so, later, over breakfast.

"It is unmannerly in me to leave St Aubin kicking his heels there, whilst I linger here. Are you going to invite him to return to Beauvallet, now all danger be past?" she had asked Elijah, who was visiting the breakfast table for the first time since his illness.

Elijah looked slightly startled at her question, but Dom smiled at him, and nodded. "I admit I was wrong in my appraisal of the man. He is far from the noddy we thought him, Lij. Also he has shown much physical courage, and a sense of humour that - given the circumstances - was astonishing."

"I agree," said Barebone, cutting into a joint of boiled bacon, and heaping several thick slices onto his plate.

"Well, even Vincent said he thought him a right-minded man. It is a pity my brother had to leave us before breakfast," Elijah said, eating a slice of roast fowl with his usual delicacy. "But he did not wish Richard to stay long in Canterbury. He was going there to chivvy him on to travel north."

Gertruda snorted, but with humour. "I trust my sister to 'chivvy him along' as you say, Lij, with more success than will attend Vincent's efforts. Still, I am glad he has gone to check on things. Vincent was ever a careful steward of his office."

Elijah, in the act of raising a stewed apricock to his mouth, gazed at his aunt in astonishment. Never before had he heard his aunt utter one word in praise of the archbishop.

She smiled. "I can appreciate Vincent's talents, without having to tell him every hour of the day how great a leader he is, and how devout a priest."

"Sometimes," Anselm commented, smiling upon those gathered at the table, "it is worth telling a man how well he does at his calling. I am certain all here have been grateful for Father John, during past weeks, as we have never ceased to tell him. He is a remarkable apothecary and physician."

Barebone blushed, his white hair as a halo about his head, but it was the abbess who spoke, a laugh audible in her tone.

"Very true, bishop. He has been a god-send to my nephew and to all who have been sick at the castle, and within its environs, as we have all manifestly declared. But you must know that I have told Vincent what a remarkable man he is, twice in the last four days. Unless his head get too large for his mitre, I think I will not praise him again this year - lest he comes to expect it of me as his right."


There was laughter about the table, but Elijah was concerned that Orlando, seated upon his left, had not eaten much of the meat before him. Knowing full well how taxing it was to be asked if one had no appetite, when it was obvious to all that one had none, he forbore comment.

However, very soon after the abbess had left the castle, Orlando came, from the chapel, to the solar, where he found Elijah sitting with Dom, under the warmth of the sun streaming through the largest window in the castle.

"If you will permit me, your Grace," Orlando said in formal tones, surprising Elijah, who was used to simplicity from his priestly friend, "I have asked Father Barebone and Bishop Anselm to join us here. I have something that needs telling, and here seems the best place. In the sunshine, where no darkness can overcome the spirit."

All waited patiently as Orlando sat in silence for a moment, thinking how best to reveal his story. Then, simply, without wasting a word, he repeated to them what Umar - Al-Adil - had told him.

There was complete silence in the room as his recital came to an end. Whatever it was that the group had been expecting, it had not been this.

Except, of course, for John. For John had known.

Then Orlando raised his voice again. "Father Barebone. My uncle said you will tell me more of my story. I beg you will do so, for my heart longs to hear it."

Anselm glanced at Orlando's pale face, and wondered if he was going to lose his dear friend to the lure of the Holy Land, for there was a hunger in the young man's eyes that he had never before seen there.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted, as John poured himself out a goblet of wine, and began to tell his tale.

"Very well. This is a long story. It began," he said, "in Morocco..."