She pictured Rhun’s ashen face, his haunted dark eyes, and turned to Bernard.
“So where exactly is our missing Knight of Christ?”
8
One last duty, and I’ll be free to return to Rome.
Though in truth, Rhun was not in any particular hurry. After returning from Egypt, he had stopped first at the pope’s summer residence in the rural countryside of Castel Gandolfo. With the pontiff rarely visiting, the residence was run like a country estate. The pace was slow and deliberate, changing only with the seasons.
Rhun stood at a window and stared across the spring fields and down to the moonlit waters of Lake Albano. He did not realize how much he had missed the sight of water after his months in the desert. He drew in a deep breath filled with the scent of water, green things, and fish.
Then a sharp pain flared in his heel, drawing his attention back to the stone floor and the mischievous lion cub chewing on the back of his shoe. The snowy-white cub was lying flat on the floor, his paws stretched in front of him like the sphinx. Except a sphinx normally didn’t have its head tilted to the side, its teeth embedded in leather.
“Enough of that, my friend.” Rhun shook the determined cub off his foot.
The young lion had tolerated the journey from Egypt. Before the flight to Italy, the cub had devoured a huge breakfast of milk and meat, then slept curled up for hours in the crate.
Apparently you’re hungry again… for shoe leather.
A knock on the door caused them both to look in that direction. Rhun hurried over, hoping it was the person he had privately asked to meet him in this remote corner of the papal residence. He opened the door to discover a chubby priest, with gray hair shaved into a friar’s tonsure. His head barely reached Rhun’s shoulder.
“Friar Patrick, thank you for coming.”
The fellow Sanguinist ignored Rhun’s formal manner and pushed into the room. He clasped both of Rhun’s hands in his cold ones. “When they said you had come to see me, I did not believe it. It has been so many years.”
Rhun smiled at his enthusiasm. “Friar Patrick, you shame me. Has it been so long?”
The man scrunched his face in thought. “I believe the last time we spoke, man had just set foot on the moon. I know you were here recently, but you came and went so quickly.” He scolded him with the wag of a finger. “You should have stopped by.”
Rhun nodded. He had been busy at the time, dealing with the threat of a traitor in the order, but he didn’t bother trying to explain. Luckily, Friar Patrick’s attention was quickly diverted to the castle’s other guest.
“Oh my!” Patrick dropped to a knee and reached for the cub, his fingers fondling those soft ears. “This certainly makes up for your long absence. It’s been ages since I’ve seen such a magnificent beast.”
The friar had long cared for the pope’s menagerie, from the days when it had consisted of horses, cattle, pigeons, and falcons. In spite of his small stature and well-padded frame, he could harness a team of horses faster than anyone. Over a century ago, Rhun had worked alongside him in the stables. No one had a better kinship with God’s creatures than Patrick.
“This little one looks hungry,” Patrick said, proving that natural affinity now.
“And I just fed him a huge meal not long ago.”
The old friar chuckled. “That’s because he’s a growing lad.” Patrick stood and motioned to the door. “Come. Follow me. I already have a cozy place picked out for him. After you sent word about your charming companion, I made sure everything was ready.”
With the cub loping happily behind them, Patrick led Rhun out of the room, down a set of stairs, and outside to the papal grounds. He marched them across the back acres to where an old set of stables stood.
As soon as Rhun stepped inside, the smell of horse, leather, and hay took him back a hundred years. The strong slow heartbeats of the horses surrounded him like music. Only a few beasts lived in the stable now, nowhere near as many as in times past, when every journey required something with four legs.
The horses whickered at the sight of Patrick, who deftly produced a lump of sugar from his pocket for each, stroking one nose after another as he bustled past the stalls.
Rhun picked up the curious lion cub to keep him from darting into the stalls.
Finally, Patrick reached the door to his office and ushered them inside. Pictures of horses lined the walls — both photographs and pencil drawings. Rhun recognized a horse from his own day, a champion that Patrick had bred.
The friar followed his gaze. “You remember Holy Fire, don’t you? What a champion, that one was. I swear he fell from his mother’s womb and landed sure on his feet.”
Patrick ignored his cluttered desk and stepped to a small refrigerator. From inside, he pulled out a metal milk jug and took a large ceramic bowl down from a shelf, then filled the basin to the brim.
As soon as he placed it on the floor, the cub dove straight for the bowl, half-burying his muzzle as he lapped. A loud purr filled the room.
For an odd moment, Rhun felt himself pulled out of his body. He found himself staring down into a white pool in front of his nose, felt icy milk sliding down his throat. Then he snapped back into his own body, stumbling back a step in surprise.
Patrick gave him a pinched look of concern. “Rhun?”
Rhun shook his head, collecting himself, not sure what had happened. He stared at the cub, then back to Patrick, ready to dismiss the event as nothing more than exhaustion. For now, he had more practical concerns to address.
“Thank you for agreeing to watch him. I know the cub will be a burden, but I appreciate you keeping him for as long as you can.”
“I’m happy to do so, but I can’t keep a lion forever, not around horses. Eventually, he’ll need to be given to a zoo, some place with the space to care for him properly.” He stared up at Rhun and patted the cub’s side. “While he’s a charmer, I’ll give you that, it’s not like you to bring home strays. What’s so unique about this little fellow?”
Rhun was not ready to explain about the cub’s blasphemare origins, so he danced around the subject. “He was abandoned. I found him next to the body of his dead mother.”
“Many creatures are alone, yet you don’t drag them to my stable.”
“He’s… different, maybe special.”
Patrick waited for more of an explanation, but when it didn’t come, he clapped his hands to his thighs and stood up. “I can give him a few weeks. But just in case, I’ll start making inquiries about a permanent home for him.”
“Thank you, Patrick.”
The phone rang on his desk. The friar frowned at it. “Sounds like someone else needs my attention.”
As Patrick answered the call, Rhun bent down to give the cub’s nape a quick ruffle, then headed toward the door, but as he exited the office, Patrick called back to him.
“It seems I’m mistaken, Rhun. It seems someone needs your attention.”
Rhun stepped back into the office.
Patrick lowered the phone’s receiver. “That was the cardinal’s office. It seems His Eminence wants you to head immediately to Venice.”
“Venice?”
“Cardinal Bernard will meet you there himself.”
Rhun felt a shiver of unease, guessing the source behind this summons. Elisabeta had been sent to Venice after events in Egypt. There she was watched over and guarded at a convent, a prisoner of its walls.
What has Elisabeta done now?