Orphan of Destiny tyt-3 Read online

  “You are, but you and Robard will likely need to rescue me when this plan fails,” I joked.

  After sundown, I made myself ready. While waiting I’d thought long and hard about my next moves.

  “It’s time,” I said.

  “Tristan,” Robard said, “we should come with you.”

  I shook my head no and Robard let out an exasperated sigh.

  “You’ve come a long way. And you want to finish this on your own. I understand that. Just be careful. If you don’t succeed, if we are unable to rescue you, what should we do?”

  “If I don’t come back, you two return to Sherwood. Forget about trying to rescue me. You’ve both done more than enough. If you’re right, Sir Hugh is waiting for us and it’s me he wants. If I can find Father William, I’ll try my best to sneak him out, but if I’m not back by morning, don’t wait for me. Get out of here and get to safety.”

  “But Tristan,” Robard said, “what about the Grail?”

  “I’ve done everything I can do, Robard. Sir Hugh and I will end this now and the Grail will be safe, or I will die defending it. This has gone on long enough.”

  As I left my friends behind, I hoped they did not see in me what I felt then.

  That if Sir Hugh waited for me in the town below, I might never see them again.

  31

  Rosslyn was likely the smallest village I had ever seen that was completely enclosed by a wall. It must have been because, as Little John said, the Scots were fighting someone most of the time and the wall had become a mandatory means of defense. If Rosslyn were populated by people like Earl McCullen, the wall made sense. Having seen the Earl and his men up close, I could imagine them on either side of such a barrier, attacking or defending.

  It took some time for me to work my way down the hillside. I had circled the entire village from the safety of the forest, looking for a way in or out. There was a rear gate, opening onto a road leading to the north. Six knights guarded each entrance. There were no men on the eastern or western walls I could see, but I had to assume there were more inside the village, patrolling the streets or watching the church. I counted to five hundred to make sure, but no guards appeared on the parapets. Nor did the knights at each gate ever circle the perimeter. With no one standing watch on the walls, that could be my way in. Or it could be part of Sir Hugh’s plan to have intentionally left the battlements unguarded, hoping to draw me in. Perhaps he lacked the resources to guard every entrance. Ultimately it didn’t matter. I had to get inside.

  The stone walls were approximately twelve feet tall. And that was my next obstacle. We had not brought any length of rope with us. I didn’t think I could climb the walls unaided. I retreated into the woods and came upon a brush pile where a field had been cleared for planting. It lay fallow, but there were several saplings and lengths of timbers lining it in a crude fencerow filled with haphazardly stacked tree stumps. I found a limb about six inches in diameter and about fourteen feet long. Using my short sword I chopped away the branches, making a crude ladder. I was far enough removed from the gates and didn’t think the knights would hear me. When I completed my alterations, I hoisted it up on my shoulder, delighted that it was light enough for me to carry.

  I returned to the tree line facing the east wall. There was still no one in evidence on the parapets or the grounds below. Crouching as low to the ground as I could, I crept down the hill and toward the wall. It was an unwieldy gait, putting an excruciating strain on my wounded side, but I couldn’t risk dragging the tree for the noise it would make.

  With luck I reached the base of the wall and propped my scaling ladder against it at a slight angle. I ascended the crude steps, climbing carefully. Halfway up, one of the branches could not support my weight and cracked loudly when I stepped on it. I fell against the trunk and thought I might totter over to the ground, but managed to brace myself. I waited a moment, fearing the noise must have attracted someone, but no one came, so I climbed on.

  When I reached the top, I pulled the limb up and over the parapet and laid it against the wall so it would be there if I needed it for my escape. A nearby ladder on the inner side took me down inside the town. I drew my sword and made my way to the side of the closest building. I smelled livestock; it must have been a stable or livery of some kind. From this vantage point, I peered down the road toward the center of the village. Here and there a few torches were lighted, and dim light came through the windows of a few buildings.

  Instinct warned me to be cautious. I waited, counting to a thousand before I moved again. My goal was to reach the church, but along the way, I would check every direction for a trap.

  I studied the street before me for a good while. And for as long as I dared, I took my time, carefully circling, darting from shadow to shadow and finding whatever cover I could, keeping the spire of the church as my vantage point, and watching for guards or knights or anyone who might be lying in wait for me. But there was nothing suspicious. If they were there, they had done a masterful job of hiding themselves.

  Finally, I worked my way to the church. How I hoped for a sign, anything to positively identify that this was where I was supposed to be. Words painted on the door would have been extremely helpful: TRISTAN, PLEASE DELIVER THE GRAIL HERE. Darting from building to building, I encircled the church trying to learn all of the ways in or out. For such a small village it was a good-size structure, and my guess was that it was also a place of worship for many who lived outside the town walls. However, it appeared to have only a single front door.

  Cautiously, and as furtively as I was able, I made my way to the shadows of the front door. Taking a last quick look behind me, I lifted up on the heavy wooden door handle and pushed, hoping there would be no squeak of alarm from the hinges. I opened it just far enough to slip through.

  Looking at my drawn sword, I felt a tremendous surge of guilt for entering a house of the Lord with a weapon in my hand and malice in my heart. But I offered up a quick prayer asking God to forgive this transgression, as I hoped he had forgiven so many others of mine, and asked him to understand I was here to do his work and that the sword might be necessary. I also asked him if we could discuss it later, as I was very busy at the moment.

  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

  Sir 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 everyon
e 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

  " Squire,” 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 pai
n 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.