Kingdom's Call (13 page)

“I don't know. I heard him talking to Mother about the Noble Knights.”

Gavin opened his eyes and the voices stopped. He wondered where he was. It took him a moment to remember why his shoulder was so painful.

He turned his head to look about the unfamiliar room. Every motion took monumental effort. The room was quite large for a bedroom. The tall ceiling was comprised of intricate inlaid tiles and ornate moldings. There were white columns at the doorway and at the large window on the opposite side of
the room. The curtains and tapestries looked older and not quite fitting for a room that appeared to have been designed for regal and expensive adornments. His eyes came to rest on two children standing a few feet from his bed.

“See, I told you he wasn't dead,” said the little girl to a younger boy, who was standing partly behind her.

Gavin took a deep breath, and it felt as though it was the first his lungs had ever taken. “Hi there,” he managed to whisper.

The little girl smiled. Her nose and cheeks were dotted with freckles, and her dark brown eyes matched the long brown hair that hung to her waist.

“You sure have been sleeping a long time, sir,” she said.

Gavin tried to move, but even his good limbs protested with stiffness. He managed to rise up on his left elbow.

“How long have I been sleeping, little miss?” he asked.

“It's been six days since Papa first brought you here. Keaton thought you were dead because you were lying so still,” the little girl said.

“I see.” Gavin figured the little boy had almost been right. “What's your name, little miss?”

“I'm Adelaide, but everyone calls me Addy. This is Keaton.”

The little boy lowered his eyes and tried to hide farther behind his big sister. Unlike his sister, his face was free of freckles, and he had blond hair that looked as fine as silk.

“Papa says you saw the Prince. Is that true?” Addy asked with big eyes.

“Yes it is, although I'm not sure why He saved my life.”

Addy's smile vanished, and she looked perplexed. “You don't know much about the Prince, do you?”

“No, Addy, I don't. In fact, I don't know much about anything anymore. That which I thought was right is wrong. And that which I thought was wrong is true. I believed the Prince to be an imposter, when in truth, I was the imposter all along.”

Addy looked as though she was thinking hard about his words.

“What do you know about the Prince?” he asked.

“I know that He doesn't kill people; He saves them. And I know that He did so many wonderful things that all the parchment in the kingdom could not contain them.”

“That's a lot of wonderful things,” Gavin said with a smile.

“Yes it is, and I know something else”—Addy smiled back—“He likes children … Do you?”

Gavin dropped his head, and his gaze went to the floor as he remembered all the terrorized little faces of the children whose fathers and mothers he had taken and put in prison. He did not think his heart could ache any more than it already did, but the honest and innocent comments of this little girl found a corner of his heart to prick.

“I've never had a chance to try,” he said sadly and managed a weak smile.

“What a sad place you must come from … a place with no children to like.”

Gavin's remorse overwhelmed him, and he found it difficult to swallow or talk. He felt his eyes beginning to tear up.

Keaton pulled on Addy's sleeve and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Gavin took another deep breath and gathered his composure.

“Keaton wants to know what it feels like to be stabbed with a sword.”

“Well, Keaton, I hope you will never find out, for it is very painful,” he said, grateful for a different topic.

Weston entered the room. “I see our friend has awoken.”

He walked to the children and gave them a hug.

“Have you been bothering Sir Gavin?” he asked Addy.

“No, Papa. I was just telling him about the Prince.”

“I see. Why don't you run along and tell your mother that Sir Gavin is awake?”

“All right,” Addy replied, and the two children ran out the door.

Weston walked over to Gavin's bed. “How are you feeling?”

Gavin noticed that Weston was no longer in the peasant clothes he had worn in Denrith. He had on the garb of a knight. Gavin suddenly became aware of his intense hunger.

“Like I've just returned from the dead,” Gavin said.

“We were concerned you would not make it. You lost a great deal of blood, and the ride on the cart was too much for you. It will take some time to regain your strength.”

Gavin looked at Weston and was humbled. Here was a man who had risked his life and was now risking the lives of his family to save an enemy.
Is this the way of the Prince?
This went beyond any code he understood.

“Thank you, Sir Weston,” he said.

Weston smiled. A lovely woman entered the room and came to stand beside him.

“Marie, this is Sir Gavin of Chessington. Sir Gavin, this is Marie, my wife,” Weston said.

“I am pleased to meet you, my lady. Please forgive me if I do not rise. I fear my legs would fail me.”

“I am pleased to meet you, sir,” Marie said. “Welcome to our home.”

“There are no words to express my gratitude. You have saved my life with your kindness, and I am greatly indebted to you.”

Marie smiled, “Our home is your home. You must be famished. I will bring some food for you.”

Gavin tried not to ravenously devour the food, but he could not remember being this hungry in his life. His shoulder felt better, although it was still nearly impossible to move his arm. He was thankful that the intense burning sensation was gone.

A few days passed, and Gavin's wound continued to heal, but the strength of his arm did not return. The best he could do was form a weak fist with his hand and raise it to his waist. One day, he tried to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it, but the sheer weight caused him to lose his grip, and the sword fell to the ground. He knelt to the floor to pick it up and hesitated. He ran his fingers along the fine blade and became downhearted. Although his physical wound was healing, the wound in his heart seemed only to worsen.

“With this sword I wrought devastation when I believed I
was bringing justice—for the King, no less!” he whispered. Gavin closed his eyes and shook his head. Nothing made sense anymore. His perfect world had come to an end, and all that was left was an empty shell of a man.
Was it pride that lured me into playing the part of a zealous fool?
he wondered. He clung to the vision of the Prince, for it was the only lanyard that kept him from complete despondency.

Weston entered the room. “Are you all right, Gavin?” He knelt beside him.

“I, uh, dropped my sword. I don't think I would be much good in a fight right now.”

Weston helped him to his feet. “Are you up for a walk?”

“I think that would be good.” Some fresh air would help him feel better.

Weston's home was much more than a country cottage; it was a beautiful large manor nestled in the rolling hills of the countryside near the Wickmere River. Evidence of former grandeur was everywhere. It would require many servants and groundskeepers to maintain such an estate properly, but Gavin noticed that the only current occupants were Weston, Marie, and their two children. As a result, the less important aspects of the estate had fallen into disrepair both inside and out. Gavin later learned that much of Weston's wealth was being used to support the Followers in Chessington and in the surrounding regions.

The sky was beautiful and bright blue, and the smell of honeysuckle and wildflowers filled the air. Becoming absorbed in the lush country diminished the anguish of Gavin's past … at
least for a time. After a long walk about the estate, they arrived at the stables. They entered Triumph's stall, and Weston began to groom the horse.

“What a magnificent animal you have here,” Weston said.

“I used to think so, but he has become more and more difficult to control. He has resisted me for some time now. He, along with the rest of the kingdom, seems to be against me.”

“Perhaps your horse is wiser than you.” Weston looked up and smiled.

Gavin accepted the teasing, but then considered the bizarre possibility that Triumph had actually understood his folly while he was fighting against the Prince and His Followers.

“He is not an Arrethtraen horse, that's for sure,” Weston said as he combed the steed's mane.

“Not Arrethtraen? I've never heard of a horse that wasn't. Why do you say that?” Gavin asked.

“The extra folds inside his ears—have you ever noticed them?”

“Yes, but I assumed them to be a defect of some sort,” Gavin said.

“They are no defect.” Triumph allowed them to inspect his ears. “Ever ridden him at night or in thick fog?”

Gavin thought for a moment and realized that on such occasions the other knights had struggled to keep up with him, and he and Triumph had usually led the way, even when Kifus was commanding.

“A horse like Triumph has the ability to navigate the terrain
even when it is impossible to see. He is a special horse. How did you come by him?”

“It is an odd story,” Gavin said as he reached to stroke Triumph, but the horse raised his head up and away from his hand as if to refuse his touch. Gavin shook his head.

“I was raised by my mother in a home on the outskirts of Chessington. My father was a Noble Knight but was killed in battle when I was just an infant. My mother did the best she could, and when I was old enough she arranged for me to be a squire under Kifus, who had trained under my father for some time. One evening, when I was still a boy, a large fellow came to our home asking for food. It was raining heavily, and he was soaked to the bone. He looked weary, so my mother showed pity and invited him to eat supper with us, even though I could tell she was very nervous about letting him into our home. He did not carry a sword or any weapon that I could see, but when he took off his drenched cloak and stood straight I was amazed at his size. He said he was just passing through the city on his way to a distant land. He was a quiet fellow, so my mother did most of the talking through the meal. He seemed genuinely interested in all she said.”

Gavin paused as he thought of his mother.

“She talked more about my father that night than I had ever heard before or since. After the meal, my mother offered the man a place to sleep in the stable, and he accepted. We quartered his horse and a colt he had with him. In the morning, we fed him breakfast, and he prepared to leave. Before he did, though, he put the colt's reins in my mother's hand and
said, ‘The compassion of One heals many sorrows.' My mother tried to refuse his gift, but he would not allow it. The man mounted his horse and then looked at me. ‘Take good care of Triumph, and he will take good care of you,' he said. I never understood why the man felt as though he needed to give us a colt in exchange for a meal and a straw bed, but I was grateful. Triumph trained well, and he brought great success to me as the mighty horse of a Noble Knight. He saved my life on more than one occasion.”

Gavin paused. He tried to make a fist with his right hand and then looked to the ground.

“Now I am no longer a Noble Knight, and neither am I a Knight of the Prince. My cause has left me, and my heart is empty but for the grief that swells with each passing hour for my offenses against the King, the Prince, and His people. My sword is not what I thought it to be, and the strength of my arm has abandoned me. Even Triumph seems to understand that I am nothing but a pauper now.”

Weston looked on Gavin with compassion and smiled, but Gavin's sadness deepened even further.

“Do you delight in my demise, Weston?” Gavin asked. “Although … I cannot condemn you, for I deserve much more than a vengeful smile from a former foe.”

Weston shook his head. “No, Gavin. I do not delight in your demise. I delight in your heart, for everyone who is to follow the Prince must first understand his own unworthiness. He must first understand that he is indeed a pauper.”

Weston placed a firm hand on Gavin's good shoulder.
“You are in the place of beginnings, my friend. Few find it, but now you are not far from beginning your new life in service to the King, the Prince, and the Code.”

Gavin was confused, for Weston seemed to talk in riddles. He was not comforted, and the memories of his past continued to haunt him.

Over the next few days, a friendship grew between the men, and Gavin found opportunity to further enjoy the company of Adelaide and Keaton. Their joyful presence often left him smiling. The children entreated him to join in a number of their games. With each passing day he became fonder of the children. Weston talked frequently of the Prince, and the veil of deception was slowly lifting from Gavin's mind, although he was becoming impatient with his healing. The zeal within his soul was awakening again, and he could not find peace on the bed of recovery.

Late one bright afternoon, Gavin and Weston were walking beside a row of mature elm trees that framed the front courtyard of Cresthaven. A rider on horseback approached the men. Gavin had never seen him before, but Weston did not seem alarmed.

“Sir Nias! It is good to see you again,” Weston said as the man halted his horse and dismounted.

Gavin recognized the mark of the Prince on his tunic.

“And you, Sir Weston. I see your patient is in better condition than when I last saw him,” Nias replied.

“Sir Gavin, this is Sir Nias of Denrith.”

Gavin bowed. “I am pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Were it not for Nias, you probably would have died, Gavin,” Weston said.

Gavin was confused, for he was sure he had never seen this man before.

“Nias arrived at Cresthaven just when we thought we were losing you to the fever. He brought a salve to apply to your wound that broke the fever,” Weston explained.