Free Behold the Dawn by K.M. Weiland Page A

the crucifix harder, his finger digging into the jeweled etching. He did not speak until Warin had reached the door and lifted the canvas flap. “Brother.”
    “Bishop?”
    “I would ask your opinion.” He stared at the candle’s flicker. “Of our master tourneyer.”
    “Your Grace already knows my humble opinion.”
    “And have you nothing further to add after this night’s encounters?”
    Warin hesitated, then let the canvas fall back into place. “He is not the straightforward man I perceived him to be. He would not be a desirable enemy.”
    Roderic grunted. “That is all? You did not notice anything… peculiar?”
    Again, Warin hesitated. Roderic swiveled his upper body to look at him.
    “He… came very near to defending the Baptist. And he seemed to recognize Matthias’s name.”
    “What?”
    “May I say that perhaps that will be advantageous?”
    “You may not .” Roderic spun to face the younger man. “You know I will not tolerate complications!” Anyone— anyone —connected to Matthias was too much of a danger.
    “I’m sorry—” Warin’s stance did not falter, but his tone held the proper contrition.
    “Do you think your sincerest apologies will alter the course we’ve taken this night? I will not have complications! Do you hear me?” He dropped the crucifix and turned around to begin pacing. The sudden nervous energy—energy that had been building in his innards all evening—demanded he do something . “Get rid of him. His assistance will not be required after all.”
    Warin stood a little straighter. “He will not be easy to kill. And mayhap his use—”
    “Between yourself and Lord Hugh, if you cannot save the world from a ragged tourneyer, you hardly deserve to call yourselves soldiers of the living God!”
    “Your Grace.” Warin’s voice held the slightest hint of a reprimand. “Perhaps he is still of use to us.”
    “If he knows the name of Matthias of Claidmore, he knows too much.”
    “Why not eliminate him after he has performed his task? If he knows of Matthias, so much the better. He will have the less difficulty in finding him.”
    “And if he chooses to betray us instead?” Roderic stopped his pacing and pierced Warin with a glance. What would Veritas, their mysterious messenger, think of these alarming new developments?
    The Knight Templar inclined his head. “I believe he is a man of honor. He will keep his word, and he will kill Matthias of Claidmore. What you do with him then will still be yours to decide.”
    Roderic bit down hard on his cheek. He stared at Warin. Perhaps the Templar was right. Roderic did not fear this Marcus Annan. He could be eliminated at any time, no matter how strong his arm. But Matthias—the cursed Matthias, who tormented him beyond even the heinous wounds he had inflicted on his person all those years ago—still plunged Roderic’s heart into the cold darkness of fear. He could not be eliminated so easily.
    Mayhap that made Annan yet the best tool to accomplish the desired end.
    “If you err, Brother Warin, in your estimation, I will not easily forgive.” Roderic straightened, and some of the strain ebbed from his body. “I will give this assassin an opportunity. He is your responsibility. Watch him. And when he has accomplished his task, see to it that he will not become an irritant to us.”
    Warin bowed again. “Yes, your Grace.”
    “Go then.” He gestured to the door and watched as Warin slipped from the tent. The door flap fell into place behind him, but not before a puff of wind extinguished the candle.
    Roderic stood in the darkness, unmoving. What did it matter if one wandering knight knew Matthias’s name? Indeed, it mattered naught.
    But what he found strangely discomfiting was that in all those sixteen years since he had left the Abbey of St. Dunstan, he had never met a man who knew Matthias of Claidmore and yet was willing to see him die, much less kill him.
    Perhaps Roderic and this Marcus Annan had more in