Orphan of Destiny (23 page)

The vestibule of the church was quiet and empty, but light came from two oil lamps mounted on the walls on either side of the door leading to the chapel. Quickly running to the doorway, I peeked inside to find it deserted, save for a solitary figure in dark brown priest robes kneeling at an altar lighted by candles, lost in prayer. Still suspecting a trap, I hugged the wall of the chapel and made my way forward, sword at the ready.

I feared the worst. I was but a few feet away, but I could hear no prayers, nor any sound at all coming from the priest. When I was close enough to touch him, I spoke quietly.

“Excuse me, but might you be Father William?” I asked.

He gave no response. With my free hand I reached out to nudge him on the shoulder. When I did, he slumped forward, his body twisting and landing faceup on the altar.

I pushed back his cowl with the edge of my sword and gasped. A dead man stared up at me. His hands were bound together in front of him, locked in eternal prayer. I was too late. Father William was dead.

32

S
ir Hugh had killed another innocent, and I had failed to stop him. I spun around, expecting Sir Hugh and his men to suddenly appear, but the church was still deserted. I ran back up the aisle between the pews and cracked open the front door. There was no one in sight. Where was he? Why was he tormenting me? He had to realize I was here. Why would he not show himself?

I couldn’t gather his reason for killing Father William and leaving his body in the church if he wasn’t watching for me at all times. Had he grown sloppy? Did he think I was a fool who would blindly stumble into his trap anyway?

With a deep breath, I darted out of the church and across the square, and took shelter in an alley between rows of shops. The town was still quiet. I wondered if Sir Hugh had forced everyone out, leaving it easier to guard and control until I arrived. But it was unlikely he could evacuate an entire village of even this modest size, filled with testy Scots, with so few knights.

Following the alley to the next street, I kept my back to the wall and peered around the corner. I studied every doorway, rooftop and potential hiding place, but I could see nothing or no one in evidence. For a moment I wished Angel were with me, for her nose and hearing would have been a keen advantage.

Not willing to rush headlong into a trap, I took another circuitous route back to the wall where my scaling ladder lay hidden. Making sure no one was following or lying in wait to ambush me, I replaced the log against the wall and climbed over and down the other side. I had used up most of the night, and light was gathering in the east. It was going to be a bitterly cold day, but I hardly noticed the falling temperature.

As fast as I could, I worked my way back up to the camp where I had left Maryam and Robard. With Father William dead, I had no idea what to do with the Grail. But I would worry about it later. Getting away from here was my first priority.

When I reached the point where I could look down on the village, I was shocked to see that the knights guarding the entrance had vanished. All that remained were their tents and cook fires. Where had they gone?

As the sun rose, snowflakes drifted out of the sky. The wind picked up, and my face and hands grew cold. A feeling of dread came over me as I approached the copse of trees where I’d left Maryam and Robard. Where was Angel? She would have smelled me coming and should have burst to my side in greeting. Something was very, very wrong.

For a moment, the woods thickened and I thought perhaps I was lost. Then I heard a familiar snort and burst through a clump of underbrush to find Charlemagne tethered to a tree. He nickered at my approach and I patted him on the withers. He was saddled and ready to ride, but the bags of food Tuck had packed for us, as well as the bundle of arrows that I’d carried lashed to the back of my saddle, were gone.

Had Robard and Maryam taken my words to heart? Perhaps I had spent too much time in Rosslyn and they assumed I’d been captured, and had followed my instructions to escape. No. That couldn’t be it. Robard and Maryam would never follow my instructions. They would have come to find me if they were able. Something must have spooked them. I was no tracker but would have to see if I could find where they had gone.

I climbed into the saddle and was about to spur Charlemagne away when I spotted one of Robard’s arrows lying on the ground, just outside our camp. I could have easily missed it, but I stopped and studied it for a moment. It was not stuck in the ground, point first. It was lying flat, pointing to the south, back in the direction we had come the day before.

The arrow gave me pause. It might have accidentally fallen from one of the bundles they carried on their saddles. Or perhaps it had tumbled unexpectedly from their wallets as they mounted their horses.

But I was sure it hadn’t. Robard treated his shafts like gold. He would not be so careless. The arrow was a signal. They had headed south.

I steered Charlemagne through the woods, and the sun was coming up, but the snow fell more heavily. I pulled my cowl up around my neck and rode on.

I approached the promontory we had climbed the day before where the River Esk ran below. The wind picked up and the snow stung my face, but as I drew closer to the high ridge, I spied a small group of figures on horseback in front of me. I reined Charlemagne to a halt a few paces away.

Before me Sir Hugh sat mounted in the center of a line of knights. On either side of him, still on their horses, were Robard and Maryam, with their hands bound behind their backs.

33

S
quire,” Sir Hugh said hatefully.

“Sir Hugh. What brings you to these parts?” I struggled to keep my voice calm.

A vision of the crosses lining the lane at St. Alban’s appeared in my mind. The image of poor Brother Tuck alone in the woods nearby, left without the only home he’d ever known. All of the horror visited on the world because of this vile, evil excuse for a man churned through me.

Robard and Maryam both looked crestfallen. I mouthed the word
Angel,
and Robard shrugged. He didn’t know what had happened to her. Why had she not warned them of Sir Hugh’s approach?

The mounted knights sat six to a side beside the prisoners. Some of them carried lances, and most held swords across the pommel of their saddles. They blockaded the path leading from the high ridge down to the river. There was no escape for me. This was the end.

And in truth, I was ready for it. Sir Thomas could ask no more of me. He had given me an order and I had followed it as best I could. I would not let Sir Hugh kill my friends. Not for anything. But I also would not give up without a fight.

“Where is it, boy?” Sir Hugh asked.

“Where is what?” I replied.

Sir Hugh drew his sword with blinding speed and held it out so it sat poised, just inches from Maryam’s neck.

“Who dies first?” He smirked. God himself could not imagine how sick I was of his face. How I wished to crush it beneath my boot.

“Don’t tell him, Tristan,” Maryam said. “You can’t let this swine—” Her words were cut off by Sir Hugh deftly slashing at her with his blade. A small cut opened on her neck. Maryam did not flinch, but Robard went mad. He shouted and tried to dismount his horse, and the knight next to him clubbed him hard across the face. Robard rocked back, nearly tumbling from the saddle, but remained upright, stunned but still cursing.

“Leave them alone, you miserable wretch,” I said. I dropped Charlemagne’s reins and grasped the strap of the satchel in my right hand. If ever I needed the power of the Grail, it was now. But there was no hum, no vibration or song that I had come to recognize in times of danger. Somewhere along the way I must have sinned, and God had deserted me.

Slowly and with great deliberation, I dismounted. Sir Hugh sat still on his horse, watching me intently, but with a small measure of confusion in his eyes.

“All right, Sir Hugh,” I said as I removed Sir Thomas’ battle sword from its familiar place across my back and tossed it aside. Never tearing my eyes from him, I drew my own sword. “Let’s end this.” I took my stance and waited.

Sir Hugh’s eyes grew wide first in fascination, then amusement.

“Tristan, no!” Maryam shouted as Sir Hugh leapt from his horse.

The knights moved from their straight line facing me to form a crude circle around us, with two of them remaining beside Robard and Maryam. I never took my eyes off Sir Hugh, ignoring the wind and snow beating at my face. My hand gripped the hilt so tightly that I thought it would burst. Rage boiled in my stomach as I stared at Sir Hugh like a hawk might study a field mouse. Be ready, I told myself.

“This must be my lucky day,” Sir Hugh taunted me. “I get to kill you, and your friends,
and
take the Grail.” He tried to draw me in with feints and thrusts, but I was patient. I would not let him goad me into attacking him with blind rage.

“Tell me, squire,” he said. “How does it feel to come all this way, to get so close only to fail? I find it quite humorous. Sir Thomas should have been more careful picking his squires.”

“Are you hoping to talk me to death?” I asked. “Or are you going to fight?”

Sir Hugh’s face turned crimson and he attacked with fury. He swung his sword in a vicious downward arc. His blade crashed into mine and sparks flew into the winter air as our blades locked together momentarily. The force of his blow nearly drove me to my knees, but I managed to push back and gain space between us.

Bad enough I was dueling a superior swordsman, but as the snow gathered at our feet, the ground was becoming wet and slippery. Sir Hugh lunged with the point of his sword coming straight at my chest. I pushed it to the side and dodged away.

“You can’t win, squire,” he sneered at me, plunging forward again. I blocked, but he was too strong, and his blade grazed my sword arm where it met the shoulder. I felt nothing for a brief second, and then pain raged through me. He laughed as blood darkened my tunic. Some inner will prevented me from showing my anguish. He would get no satisfaction from me.

We traded blows and I swung savagely. I knew I should remain calm, but I was finding it more difficult to contain my rage. My swings rained down on Sir Hugh, but he easily parried every one.

Already my breath was coming in ragged gasps. We circled each other. Sir Hugh darted at me again and I danced out of the way, spinning around and slashing him across the arm of his empty hand.

He jumped back, looking down at the wound in shock.

“Apparently we both bleed, Sir Hugh,” I said.

He came at me in a flurry of blows. All I could do was hold on to my sword with both hands, keeping it in front of me, trying to sweep his blade away. He cut me deeply on the left forearm, and I cried out this time. Then another slash nearly took me in the chest, but I jumped back just enough, and instead his sword sliced neatly through the strap on the satchel and it fell to the ground.

I struggled to get clear of it, afraid of stumbling. My arms were suddenly weak, and it was difficult to lift my sword. Maryam and Robard were yelling instructions to me, but I could not focus on what they were saying.

Sir Hugh stood perhaps six paces away from me, the satchel on the ground between us. He circled to my left and I countered, moving to his right. Despite the cold, I was sweating. I felt weak. He came at me again, and I was so exhausted that I could not lift my sword in time and he opened a vicious slash on my chest. He laughed, and then his foot kicked out at me, landing in my stomach, and I flew backward to the ground. I was down and barely able to struggle to my knees. Sweat poured into my eyes, and the whipping wind and snow made it difficult to see.

Sir Hugh appeared in front of me out of the snow with his sword raised over his head. I don’t know where I found the strength, but as he whipped it downward, I lifted my sword over my head with both hands. His blade was blocked, but with a sickening crack my sword broke in two. I swung at him with the broken blade as I tried to stand, but Sir Hugh stepped well back out of reach.

Then as the wind blew fiercely across the hilltop, I spied Sir Thomas’ sword on the ground a few feet away, nearly covered in snow. I dropped forward to my hands and knees and crawled toward it.

“Look at you! Crawling along the ground like an animal, knowing I have bested you. Though I’ll give you some small measure of credit, squire,” he said. “You’re not quite the worthless, puny weakling you once were. In a few more years you may have become almost a worthy adversary. And what makes this so enjoyable for me, besides the fact that you are about to die, is how I managed to destroy everything in your life. You’ve been to St. Alban’s, no doubt. You know I had it burned to the ground. Since I couldn’t give a whit about Eleanor or her desires anymore, I’m just going to kill you. It doesn’t even matter who you really are.”

“Less talk, more fighting,” I said wearily as I scrambled along the ground. But then I decided that if I could get him talking, he might grow careless. He did love to brag, and I needed only a few more feet to reach the sword.

“How did you know to come here?” I asked.

“Ha! You worthless fool! How did I find you in France? I have spies everywhere, especially within the Order. I hear and know everything! Sir Thomas thought he could keep the Grail from me. He was more stupid than you. He never knew I was three steps ahead of him the entire time. It was no trouble at all to find the place he’d ordered you to go. You evaded me in Dover, but I knew you’d come here eventually. I only needed to wait.”

I was almost there, just a few more feet. “You better learn to enjoy your own company, Sir Hugh. Kill us all and see what good it does you. Take the Grail. You’ll never be able to keep it. You talk too much. You won’t be able to resist telling someone what you have, and they will speak of it to someone else, and before long Sir Thomas’ true Brothers of the Order will find and kill you,” I said.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s almost over, boy, and I promise it will be quick. Well, maybe not. I do so love it when death lasts awhile. But there is one more thing to tell you before I take your life. I want to tell you about the look of stunned surprise and disbelief on Sir Thomas’ face when I killed him at the altar of the Crusaders’ Palace in Acre.” His eyes bore into me and the wind blew through his hair. His snarl made him look like the devil himself.