A love letter

Duncan looked at Peter and then into the fire roaring in the tavern's hall. A fireplace big enough to engulf him whole spread warmth through his frozen body. Peter avoided his stare, and he blamed it on the weariness of a day long ride through ice-cold weather.

He pulled the crumpled note out of his pocket and read again the words, in disbelief.

"Beloved,

I trust this letter will find you in good health. I miss your company when I stare at the river through the window holding so many memories.
I long to see in your eyes the truth of your love, and then I wonder, thinking of Miklos, quid est veritas?"

Something didn't add up. It wasn't like Dochia to trust love words to a messenger and Miklos was dead at Peter's hand. Why did she use Latin after the Slavonic text? Why was she thinking of Miklos? He couldn't stop the stab of jealousy, as foolish as it was.

He sensed the message was important since she wrote in the customary Slavonic to avoid suspicion.

He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration and downed the ale tankard in front of him. Did she mean something else, perhaps related to his memories about the window? How could he forget holding her in front of it and watching the snow falling? They talked about truth and the anagrammed answer to Pilate's question. Could it be? Replacing 'quid est veritas' with 'est vir qui adest' would give 'Miklos, the man who is here'.

She was telling him Peter failed, and Miklos was still alive, hiding in Kilia.

Did Peter betray the brotherhood? There was only one way to find out. He gave Peter a piercing stare and stood almost toppling the table.

"Let's get out of here."