Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (4 page)

‘One day soon perhaps you will need a weapon like this. Keep it safe.’

The man stumbled down the short hallway into the Inn’s drinking room where he had stood so confidently the night before. It was empty except for huge Mabel who was standing by a window looking out into the street. She was whimpering.

‘They’ll report us; we’ll be strung up or worse. Oh why did we do it? He was lying for sure. It was clear to all.’ Over and over she repeated herself, the words and phrases all jumbled and tearful. All the while she wrung her large worn hands through her filthy serving apron. The man stumbled to her side and looked out at a small crowd which had gathered in the street. It was an ugly sight, an angry mob milling about and talking, gesturing toward the Inn. Even as ill as he was, he knew what was happening and there was no mistaking that there was now no possibility of escape.

Mabel suddenly realised he was there beside her, and she jumped, giving a sharp little scream before turning on him,

‘Why did you do it? Who are you? Why us? We never did you no harm. The king will see us hung he will; you’re a wanted man, and we gave you protection. There’s no hope for you. No hope for us.’ She was becoming quite hysterical.

Mr. Jolly tried half heartedly to calm her. ‘Mabel we had no idea, now get a grip, all is not lost…’

‘You stupid dwarf,’ Mabel screamed at him, ‘everyone knew right away, you too, you just pretended to play along. We had no need, we are doomed…’ and with this she crumpled into a heap and sobbed like a large mass of jelly shaking on a plate.

The man stood swaying in the middle of the room, desperately trying to focus on what was unfolding, but he knew enough to understand that his presence had put his host in extreme danger. Clearly the King, tyrant that he was, would destroy all and any who seemed to support those who had opposed him. He had killed three
Wolver’s
; unheard of before now, and this could not go unpunished, and so he was wanted for that and for other things which the dying
Wolver
had hinted at with his last breath and which yet remained to be revealed.

Gathering his jumbled thoughts the man turned slowly towards Mr. Jolly. He spoke deliberately choosing his words as though each one had the gravest of meaning, which indeed they did.

‘You can be saved. Listen to me. Turn me in. Take me out to the crowd, and publicly declare that I am your prisoner and that the whole town will declare as one that they will deliver me to the king.’

Mr. Jolly looked aghast. ‘I cannot do that, for I hate the king and all he stands for. The reason I took you in last night was that I knew you were not a king’s man. I saw through you right away, and because of it I saw a chance to help you whilst looking like I supported the king. It was all I could offer. I cannot turn you over now. I would never be able to live with myself.’ He was breathing fast and furiously, and sweating profusely. He stood staring at the man not knowing what to do. ‘I have little in life but I have my honour.’ Jolly stood flushed and shaking, scared indeed, but firmly resolved despite the whimpering Mabel.

The man was using the last of his strength now, and whispered hoarsely through a foggy blur.

 ‘Mr. Jolly, you are a brave man. I thank you for what you did, but you will not live at all if you don’t do as I say, now hand me over. This leg will kill me in a day in any event. You must look after yourself, and this poor woman,’ He indicated the quivering Mabel. ‘Just do it now before it is too late.’

And so the Innkeeper took a rope from behind his serving bench and tied the man’s hands in front of him and led him swaying and stumbling out into the street to face the mob.

‘I have been tricked,’ he shouted, ‘this man is not a king’s man, he is my prisoner and this town will do well to hand him over to the authorities immediately.’

The small but vocal crowd cried out in support. They knew too well that the King would not only destroy the Innkeeper and his family but the whole town as well. They were all in the gravest danger, and so then everyone, those who supported the king and those who didn’t, took up a cry.

‘Hand him over, hand him over…’

Finally the man collapsed unconscious and the scared and bewildered crowd stood silently around not knowing what to do.

Suddenly and soundlessly a man appeared. He wore a hooded cloak which spoke of hard work but gentleness and compassion. It was hard to see his face but the eyes were full of light and grace. He walked without fear up to the crowd and spoke in the warmest and most disarming manner.

‘I am a doctor, let me look at this man, he is no threat as you can see. We can’t hand him over in this state. I am sure the king will want him better if he is to stand trial.’ His words were so very smooth and full of assurance and simple authority. There was no protest, and so they watched as the doctor stooped low over the unconscious stranger who had turned their small town upside down.

Several dwarfs standing at the back of the crowd were not so easily swayed and muttered loudly amongst themselves.

‘Another stranger, who is this monk?’

‘I’ve never seen a monk in these woods, there are strange things going on.’

‘This will be the end of us…’

At that moment a dwarf, one of the ones who had so angrily and easily denounced the man the previous evening let out a cry.

‘The king’s men are coming, there are horses approaching.’ He was pointing triumphantly down the main street. The crowd turned as one to look in the direction he was indicating, and sure enough, a band of heavily armed men riding beautiful black war horses could be seen riding toward them. One rider bore the yellow and royal purple standard of the King of Revelyn, With deliberate show and much snorting the cohort of the King stopped, and the soldiers dismounted holding their charges easily whilst the leader came forward. He was a tall man with a strong jaw and evil eyes, which spoke of anger and the pleasure of meeting out punishment in the name of another. He held one hand on the sword at his side as if to say,
I am a soldier, I am ready to strike down any who prevent my will from being obeyed.

He stood arrogantly before the fallen man and the kindly doctor.

‘Get up monk!’ he ordered. Then turning to the townsfolk he spoke loudly and with the air of one who was superior and to be obeyed instantly,

‘I am to take this man into custody, by order of the king, Lord Petros Luminos. He is an outlaw or some such. He will be tried and sentenced as the King sees fit. Any who stand in the way of the King’s orders will be arrested immediately.’ He gave a small flourish with his free hand which was a somewhat effeminate gesture and caused several of his men to smirk; but very carefully.

He turned back to the monk who remained bent over the fallen prisoner. He spoke angrily now.

‘Up now monk or you will taste my steel.’ An involuntary and horrified gasp escaped from the crowd. Revelyn had always respected those who wore the habit. Man or woman. To so easily threaten one who came in peace with healing was not a good omen, and in their town.

There was a pause, filled with tension but the monk slowly stood and faced the captain of the King’s men. He smiled warmly his face still well hidden.

‘Ah sira, he said, ‘my back is not what it was, getting up and down for an old man in not as easy as for someone like yourself…’

‘Silence old man,’ the captain had no time for old decrepit monks, ‘stand aside now, we will take the prisoner. I will be reporting that the people of this town have assisted in the capture of this criminal. I am sure the king will be pleased to hear it.’

At this the crowd relaxed visibly.

‘However,’ the captain went on maliciously now,’ It has been reported that some comfort was given to the man before he was discovered. It would behoove all assembled to remember that any, I mean any assistance given to an enemy of the king will be viewed most seriously. I hope I am making myself clear.’

He let the words linger in the air for a time and slowly and silently turned full circle, glaring at all who had the courage to hold his stare, but no one did which seemed to satisfy some inner need he had, and so losing interest in the crowd, now suitably cowed, he turned once more to his prisoner.

The prisoner had come around and was staring bewildered up at the crowd of soldiers and townsfolk. The Captain gave an evil smile.

‘Ah you have returned to us. This is good for I would like you to be fully aware of everything that happens to you from this moment on…’

‘Captain!’ The monk interrupted, ‘I can offer assistance in that case, for I have some powerful smelling salts on my person that will ensure the prisoner will stay awake for quite some time. If you will permit me?’ He stood smiling deferentially at the Captain.

The Captain, initially irritated by the temerity of the interruption, knew all about smelling salts and their powers to bring around a swooning woman or a drunk soldier, and he had spoken the truth; he wanted the man to be fully aware of everything which was to befall him, every last thing.

He nodded curtly, ‘alright monk give the salts and then stand back.’ And with that he drew his sword placing it at the throat of the prisoner and waited.

The monk pulled out a small vial from his tunic and opened it. He made a point of pretending to smell the contents and immediately sneezed violently. The soldiers smiled, but the captain looked on with utter disdain; he was looking forward to what would follow, and he’d had about enough of this showy monk with his flowing cloak and hidden face.

As the town watched anxiously, the monk knelt beside the man, and brought the vial up to his face. Suddenly he bent down and whispered carefully into the man’s ear, in words which only he could hear and which carried an authority which could not be mistaken.

‘Shut your eyes now and do not open them until I tell you, or you will die. Trust me for I am here to save you.’

The monk then placed his hands together onto the prisoner’s bound hands and closing his eyes spoke inaudibly as if in prayer.’

‘The salts monk, give the salts or I’ll run you through!’ The infuriated captain would wait no longer, and raised his sword.

Suddenly the monk and the prisoner whose hands he held, vanished. In an instant they were gone. There was no sound, and nothing in the next instant which followed to indicate they had been there, except for the faint imprint of a man who had lain awhile unconscious in the dust.

Uproar followed. The crowd screamed and dispersed in all directions. Large Mabel who had finally managed to gather herself enough to join the crowd sank to her knees once more and cried out.

‘Sorcer
y
, the devil has come, we are all doomed
.’

Once more with her head in her hands she started wailing loudly.

The soldiers mounted their steeds, swords drawn as if by instinct looking for a threat, and nervously rode their mounts around in excited circles The captain continued to point his sword into thin air, mumbling somewhat incoherently, trembling and white as chalk.

Only Jolly, the simple brave dwarf of
Efilon
noticed that the monk had come and gone without leaving any trace. Not a single footprint or mark in the dust where he had knelt remained to testify to his passing. 

And he wondered what it all might mean.

Chapter 3.

He was falling. Falling forever. He could hear strange voices, some welcoming and enticing, others dark and compelling, but full of anger and hatred. He smelt his favorite dish, just for the briefest of moments, then a reeking awful stench, and increasingly he felt a desire to open his eyes and see things which would fill him with wonder forever. He knew he could. Time had passed, an eternity or only days; no less, far less, just a few heart beats.  The desire to see and experience this new world was overwhelming but he could hear the words of a stranger, kind and loving and clear.

Do not open your eyes or you will die. I am here to save you.

He held that thought. To be saved was good, but from what he could not recall. Where had he been? Had there been danger? He could not remember; all he knew was a rushing wind and strange feelings and voices in his head. Just one glimpse through half closed eyes, surely this would cause no harm, surely there could be no harm in that.

But he obeyed the stranger. He held his eyes shut and fought the strange temptings. And so he was saved.

A voice spoke at last which he recognised as belonging to the stranger.

‘You are safe now my friend, you can open your eyes. You did well; I have not always been so successful.’

Still he held his eyes fast shut, unsure that this was some final test. Then he felt a gentle hand upon his face which caressed his brow and stopped over his eyes. And reality returned, and he remembered everything.

He opened his eyes and looked around, half expecting that once more he would be lying in the dusty street of
Efilon
surrounded by angry dwarfs and soldiers. What he saw took his breath away like nothing had ever done before, not even when he first saw Sylvion and lost his heart to her.

He was in a well lit room lying on the most comfortable bed he had ever known. The walls and ceiling were paneled in intricate carvings, and painted with colours of great intensity depicting scenes from mythology and history, truth and legend, and as he looked, they seemed to move and change as if they told a story. He felt as though he could watch for ever and learn things which no person in a hundred lifetimes would ever understand. As he looked around in captivated awe, he saw the stranger for the first time.

In truth he had seen him once, briefly, when lying helpless in the dust before the Captain of the King’s cohort, a prisoner and ill beyond words. That first glimpse had revealed nothing. Now he saw an older man with a face full of vigour, with hair which was neither white nor brown nor any colour the man could name, and eyes which seemed to shine with a light of knowledge that matched the walls surrounding him. He was not tall, but seemed to be. He was not large, but carried an air of immense strength, and he was smiling, the most wonderful smile the man had ever seen.  They looked at each other for a moment and then the stranger burst out in a laugh which seemed to shake the very foundations of the room and all the depictions around seemed to shimmer in complete harmony.