Keeper of the Grail (3 page)

“Sire, I do not wish you to get into trouble for my actions, I will explain to the abbot…”

Sir Thomas held up his hand to stop me. “You have done nothing wrong. Sir Hugh is Marshal of the Regimento, but it is I who command these knights. Sir Hugh knows he has no respect within his own ranks. He has some powerful friends in high places within our Order and the King’s court. But so do I. Nothing will come of this. Think no more of it.”

Somewhat reassured by Sir Thomas’ words, I led the stallion into the stable, putting him in the stall next to Sir Thomas’. He was still skittish, but after being watered and fed, he calmed a bit. Moments later Brother Tuck rushed into the stable. Taking my head in his hands, he looked me over as if to check for damage. I assured him I was fine, then showed him the small cut on the stallion’s leg. He studied the wound, then stepped to a shelf across the stable, bringing me a small earthen jar.

Inside the jar was a muddy ooze that he had created from various plants and roots found in the woods around the abbey. I rubbed a large handful of the mixture over the cut on the stallion’s leg, holding it in place for a few minutes while it dried. As an extra measure, Brother Tuck handed me a piece of clean cloth and I wrapped the stallion’s leg.

With the horses stabled, Sir Thomas returned to the abbey while I helped the other knights see to their mounts. I finished just as the bell rang for the evening meal.

That night at dinner in the main hall, I took my normal place at the end of the long table. The monks had brought in extra tables and benches to accommodate our guests. Sir Hugh was seated next to the abbot, and for a moment our eyes met and the look of hatred that I’d seen earlier at the stable flashed across his face. I quickly looked away. As I began my meal, I sensed someone at my side and looked up to see Sir Thomas standing there with his plate and cup.

“Might I join you, Tristan?” he said.

“Of course, sire, no need to ask,” I said as he sat down across the table from me.

“So, young Tristan, you show yourself to be an able lad. Quick of mind and handy with your voluminous chores,” Sir Thomas said.

“Thank you, sire.” I blushed somewhat, not used to receiving compliments. The brothers were kind enough for the most part, but not free with praise.

“I’m wondering when you are planning to take your vows,” he said.

“Vows, sire? Oh. No. I do not plan to join the order.”

“Really? Interesting. So what are your plans then? You must be, what? Nearly fifteen? If you’ve no interest in the priesthood, what will you do?”

Sir Thomas’ boldness unsettled me somewhat. How had he so easily guessed my age? Why was he so interested in my future?

“Well, sire. Of course I have thought about it. I mean, I would like to travel to see places. Other places than here, I mean. I don’t know exactly how I will do that yet, but…Sire, if I may? Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Travel, you say. I can understand that. Wanted to see the world myself when I was your age. However, you’ll need a way to support yourself, some type of job,” he said.

“Yes, sire. I suppose that’s true,” I said.

“Well, maybe I can help with that. We’re riding on to Dover in the morning to rendezvous with the rest of our regimento. As soon as our ships return, we’ll resupply and leave for Outremer.”

“Outremer, sire?” I asked.

“Yes, we Templars refer to the Holy Land as Outremer. It means ‘the land beyond the sea.’ So I’m wondering, lad, how would you like to come with me in service as my squire?” He looked at me expectantly.

For a moment, his words did not register. I must have looked a fool as I stared at Sir Thomas in openmouthed wonderment. He had offered me something I could scarcely comprehend: a life outside the abbey.

“I beg pardon…sire…Excuse me…What?” I asked.

Sir Thomas laughed easily. “I believe you heard me, lad. I saw no evidence of deafness in you this afternoon. So what will it be?” His eyes sparkled as he watched me struggle with the enormity of his offer.

Looking down the table, I saw Sir Hugh studying us, his face pinched in concentration as if he were trying to learn what it was Sir Thomas had said to me.

“Sire, I thank you,” I finally replied, “but I cannot leave St. Alban’s.”

“Why not? I have spoken to the abbot and he approves if you agree. I have learned much about you, young man. Since you won’t be joining the order, you’ll have to leave this place soon anyway. What better way than as a squire to a Templar Knight? You will travel, see the world and serve a noble cause. Not many are given this opportunity.” Sir Thomas dutifully ate from his plate of stew and bread, not looking at me while he spoke.

“I’m sorry, sire, but I have duties. There is much work to do in the garden and…”

Sir Thomas interrupted. “And the timing is perfect, as I am in need of a squire. Mine has recently left the Order, returning to his family home to assist his ill father. You would do me a great service by accepting.”

I was speechless. How could I make such a decision? Give up the only life I’d ever known?

“It won’t be easy,” he continued. “The work is hard and dangerous. We are on our way to war. Make no mistake about that, lad. But you’ll be well trained. I will teach you all I know about the art of battle. It will be a grand adventure.”

The brothers often told me that God works in mysterious ways. That his divine presence surrounds us always and that he grants us what we need when we need it most. Did he send Sir Thomas to the abbey at the time that I most needed this opportunity?

Sir Thomas’ eyes twinkled and his smile was genuine. In that moment, I felt that I had made a friend for life. Glancing down the table and seeing Sir Hugh frowning back at me, though, I became aware that I had also made an enemy.

4

I
began my evening chores with cleanup duty in the kitchen. I wished to finish my duties quickly, as I had promised to groom Sir Thomas’ horse and did not wish to disappoint him. Brother Rupert was the monk who did most of the kitchen work at St. Alban’s. He was from France and an excellent cook. He was also the person I felt closest to after Brother Tuck.

We stood at a wooden table in the kitchen, clearing the leftover food from the evening meal into a slop bucket from which it would be fed to the pigs and goats. Nothing went to waste at the abbey.

“I hear you have news, Tristan,” he said. I was not surprised by this. Gossip traveled quickly among the monks.

“I do,” I said, proceeding to tell him of Sir Thomas’ offer. “What should I do, Brother Rupert?”

“First, I would instruct you to pray. Ask God for guidance. But in the end you can do only what is in your heart.”

I was very fond of Brother Rupert, but most of the time his answer to all of life’s questions was more prayer. I wasn’t sure praying was going to make my decision any easier. I had no idea what my heart was telling me.

Once finished in the kitchen, I headed outside to the stables. Though most of the spring rains were over, it could still grow chilly in the evenings. I wondered what the weather might be like in Outremer.

Sir Thomas’ offer had unsettled me. My first reaction had been that I could not leave the abbey. What would the brothers do without me? I was almost fifteen years old. In truth I should have left the abbey last year. It was only the kind hearts of the brothers that had kept me there. If I left the abbey with Sir Thomas, I would be on my own for the first time. I was not afraid of the work, but the uncertainty gave me pause. What if I discovered I didn’t like being a squire? Then what? Return to the abbey as a failure?

Unless I took vows, I couldn’t stay here forever. And I had no desire to become a monk. I wanted something more. Thoughts of adventure and excitement began to creep into my mind.

Then there was the danger. Sir Thomas had spoken of it. A Templar Knight fought, and there was no question the work would be hazardous. Would I be up to the task? All of these thoughts were jumbled up in my mind.

In the dark stables, the small oil lamp I carried gave off just enough light for me to see. I sat it on a barrel near the stall beside Sir Thomas’ horse. Taking a soft rag, I began rubbing down the horse’s flanks. He tossed his head from side to side as if he appreciated my efforts. After working over each side, I refilled his hay.

Sir Hugh’s stallion was finally calm and content. I tried rubbing him down as well, but he did not enjoy the attention. Perhaps he was not yet fully broken to the saddle.

I checked the bandage on his leg and found it secure. Then a feeling came over me that I was being watched. Suddenly the oil lamp went out and the stable was plunged into complete darkness.

At first I thought a gust of wind had blown out the flame, but the stable was eerily quiet, and I definitely felt the presence of someone else.

“Hello,” I said to the darkness. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

Without the light of the lamp it was impossible to see anything. I thought I heard the squeak of a leather boot and the slightest clink of metal.

“Sir Thomas? Is that you?”

Still no answer. The skin along my neck and shoulders began to tingle. Something was wrong.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the stables, I thought I saw the outline of a figure in the stable doorway.

Though I knew the layout of the stable by heart, I stepped cautiously across the dirt floor toward the door. Feeling about in the darkness, I picked up the oil lamp, intending to return to the abbey to relight it from the fireplace in the kitchen. Just as I was about to exit, I felt a sharp blow to the back of my shoulders that drove me to my knees. I cried out in agony, falling facedown into the dirt.

I tried to regain my hands and knees, but as I did, I felt a boot connect with my ribs. I let out a loud yell then, hollering for the brothers. But the stable rested a long way from the abbey, and it was unlikely I would be heard.

The next blow knocked me sideways into the wall, driving the air from my lungs. I groaned, trying to cry out, but couldn’t gather my breath.

Still unable to see anything but shadows, and sensing another blow coming, I pulled myself up, using the wall for support. Knowing that my adversary couldn’t see well either, my familiarity with the stables was my only advantage. I thought of trying to run out the door, but felt that he stood between me and escape. So instead, I dropped back to my hands and knees and scrambled across the floor into the stall that held Sir Hugh’s stallion.

He didn’t like me sharing his space and began prancing and making noise. I had hoped this would happen. If I could excite the horses enough, the noise they made would give me enough cover to escape from the stable in the darkness. I rose up next to the horse and made a whinnying sound. It drove him crazy, as he believed another stallion had entered his territory. He began to whinny and snort, kicking at the sides of the stall.

There was movement in the stable, but with the noise I could not tell which direction my attacker was heading. The other horses were excited by the stallion, and they also began to clatter and snort.

I was certain the attacker thought I would climb over the fence separating each stall to make my way toward the front door. I did climb from the stall, but instead of moving to the front door, I moved across each fence toward the rear of the stable, trying to move quietly while the noise from the horses helped hide my movements.

The last stall, which sat deepest inside the stable, had a small loft above it where we stored hay during the winter months. At its rear was a door with a rope and pulley used to lift the shocks of hay into the loft after harvest. I knew that my assailant would hear me as I kicked through it, but I quietly climbed up to it from the stall below.

A few steps across the loft I found the far wall. I grasped the door handle and threw it open. Unhooking the rope, I swung myself out into the air. I heard retreating footsteps in the stable now and thought he would try to race around to the rear of the stable to catch me before I could reach the ground. I gave out another loud shout, hoping that someone would hear. Then I quickly let myself down the rope hand over hand.

Reaching the ground, I was not sure which direction to run. Either way could lead directly to the arms of my enemy. Deciding to chance it, I turned left, yelling again as loudly as I could, and ran toward the corner of the stable. I thought for a moment that I heard footsteps behind me, and perhaps a muttered curse, but I was running as fast as my sore legs and ribs would allow and did not stop to listen.

Turning past the corner of the stable, I could see the abbey ahead. It was almost time for vespers, and candlelight flickered through a few of the windows. I shouted again, but knew that if the hymns had begun, no one was likely to hear me.

My only thought was to reach the abbey before I could be captured. But then another blow caught me across the shoulders, and I fell to the ground stunned, curling up in a ball, hoping that the agony would end soon.

Then I heard a familiar humming, grunting noise. Looking up from the dirt I saw an oil lamp bobbing across the ground in my direction. Recognizing the sound instantly, with one last effort I lurched to my feet and ran toward the light. I heard a curse behind me and the sound of footsteps retreating. In a few seconds I reached the holder of the lamp. And fell unconscious into the arms of Brother Tuck.

5

T
he sensation of cold water on my forehead pulled me from my sleep. I was lying on the bed in my small attic room, high above the main floor of the abbey. Five years before, for my tenth birthday, the brothers had generously given me my own little space here in the rafters reached by climbing a small ladder from the main sleeping room the monks shared. It was lighted only by a small circular window at the peak of the roof, with barely enough room for me to stand. But it was my own space and I cherished it.

Brother Tuck was bathing my head with a cold cloth. I was not fully awake, but I heard voices as I drifted in and out of consciousness.