Orphan of Destiny Read online

  “What?” he said, curious.

  “You know you are a gifted archer,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, you are not so talented with the sword. In fact, you are a horrible swordsman. There, I said it,” she finished quickly.

  “What? I am not! I can fight as well with a sword as anyone!” he nearly shouted.

  He pulled the sword as if to make his case. It was a clumsy draw, though, and the point hung up on the scabbard. Then the blade became stuck and he had to push it back in and draw again. In all, about a half minute passed before the sword cleared.

  “See what I mean?” Maryam said.

  There was no need to let Robard’s temper get the best of him, so I jumped in. “You are right, Robard. Go and return as quickly as you can. Maryam and I will start out for Dover. I’m sure you’ll be able to track us. But if you lose us somehow, there is a well-trod road, called the traveler’s road, west of the city, about three leagues out. We will gather there if need be.” I even gave him a little salute.

  “Right. Well, I’d best be on my way,” he said. He tried to return the sword to the scabbard and succeeded after three attempts. Please, God, I prayed. Keep him safe until he returns to us. I crossed myself and Maryam uttered a prayer to Allah. We watched until Robard disappeared from sight.

  Angel whimpered, as she always did whenever we separated, but she rolled over onto her back and Maryam gave her a good belly rub. Satisfied, she sat up and sniffed the air. I took the opportunity to walk back and forth around the campsite, testing my wounded side. Each step brought a small wave of pain, but it was bearable, and slowly I worked at returning to full strength. I remembered my dream. Sir Thomas warned me danger was coming. I had no idea what he meant. Was it that the closer I got to Scotland, the more desperate Sir Hugh would become? Was the Queen Mother trying to find me as well? Or was it that some other as yet unseen or unrealized danger awaited? Knowing our luck thus far, I wouldn’t be surprised if a dragon awaited us over the next rise.

  “How are you feeling?” Maryam asked, rising from her morning prayers.

  “Better, thanks. Maryam, don’t worry. Robard will be fine. He knows a lot more than he ever lets on. He told me when we first met that he was a poor and simple farmer. But I’m finding him much more complex. I have no doubt he’ll return unharmed, with mounts for us. This will all be over soon, and you can return home.”

  Maryam stared off in the distance. “Home. I dared not think of it,” she mumbled. But I knew she wasn’t thinking of home but rather how much she wished Robard had not left us alone. In France, Robard had decided to make it back to England on his own, separating from us for a short time. Every hour he was gone, Maryam was miserable, and her joy at our reunion a few days later was palpable. Watching them since, I’d seen how much closer they’d become. Robard would look at her and a small smile would cross his face. When she had been held captive by Sir Hugh in Calais, he had nearly gone mad in his desire to save her. Neither of them thought I noticed what was happening between them, but I did.

  For some reason, Maryam’s worry over Robard made me think of Celia, the Cathar princess we had left behind at her mountain fortress in southern France. It had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. On some level, I understood Maryam’s feelings, for I often wondered if Celia still remembered me. I tried to push her face and smile from my mind, for the thought that she might have forgotten me already was too horrible to bear.

  “Maryam,” I asked. “Do you think . . .”

  “What?” she prodded me. you think ... ”

  “What?” she prodded me.

  “Nothing.” Best I change the subject.

  “I think Robard is right,” I said. “We should get moving and follow the coast. If we’re out in the open, we have less chance of walking into an ambush, plus we won’t get lost that way. If we come upon any settlements, we’ll turn inland and go around them. Robard will be able to track us easily, and the quicker we get to Dover, the better.” Taking the pot of tea off the fire with a stick, I kicked dirt over the coals.

  “Why? Why not wait here for Robard to return? What do you think you’re going to find in Dover, Tristan?” she asked. I’d seldom seen Maryam like this. Robard’s absence made her uneasy. I was not sure whether it was because she felt safer when he was with us, or because her feelings for him had grown.

  I thought of the Commandery, my months of living and training there, of the knights and squires and the controlled chaos of dinnertime in the main hall, of the hours of training on the fields and work, and the laughter from the squires’ barracks as we fell dead tired into our beds each night. They were some of my happiest memories. Someone had to be there who would remember Sir Thomas.

  “Help,” I said. “I’m hoping I’ll find help.”

  6

  The way our luck had gone, we almost expected Robard to be captured by King’s Guards or Sir Hugh’sknights. Maryam and I, already on the road to Dover, would be forced to divert to where he was being held and attempt another rescue or offer Sir Hugh the Grail in exchange for his life.

  However, our luck held. Maryam and I departed for Dover soon after Robard left. My wound made it impossible for us to maintain any sort of reasonable pace. Still, it was good to be on our way. Walking was exhausting, but I hoped the exercise would help me heal faster. Robard found us the following morning, camped a short distance inland from the coast.

  Robard had procured two horses, both rouncies, a chestnut gelding and a roan mare. They appeared to be reasonably well trained and even tempered, though they were thin and small, unlikely to win any races.

  “Only two?” Maryam asked.

  “We’re lucky to have them,” Robard explained. “We only have a few crosslets left. But don’t worry, Assassin, you can ride with me.”

  “Ha,” Maryam said, surprising us both by swinging up on the back of the mare. “You can ride with me!”

  “I told the courser I was up from Portsmouth, seeking mounts for the retinue of my thane. He wasn’t much of a talker, but if he gets asked about any strangers, he’ll at least send them in the wrong direction,” Robard said, tossing me the money sack. I was relieved to find Sir Thomas’ ring still there. Robard helped me mount the gelding, then leapt easily behind Maryam on the mare and we were quickly under way.

  Robard’s mood had improved greatly since we’d arrived in England. In Outremer and even in France he was often gruff and angry. Obviously he was more comfortable traveling here. And we discovered more about our friend every day. For someone who claimed to be a poor farmer, he knew his way around the world. He had left us, found a courser and returned quickly, ready for whatever next steps we needed to take. His eagerness was nearly infectious.

  We sat astride our horses, gazing down at the city of Dover, having ridden in through the hills to the south. Though it had been less than a year since I’d left it, the change was dramatic. What had been a busy, bustling seaport was now eerily quiet.

  “Does anyone know what today is?” I asked.

  “No idea,” Robard and Maryam answered almost simultaneously.

  “Why?” Robard asked.

  “I just wondered. The town appears empty, as if it were Sunday, or a saints’ day, which might explain why it is so quiet,” I said.

  My horse shifted under me and my eyes worked over the city below. When I’d first arrived in Dover, the marketplace was full of people and merchants. Now most of the carts and stalls stood empty, with perhaps a quarter of the merchants hawking their wares. I spotted the spire of St. Benedict’s, the church where I had left my horse Charlemagne upon first arriving here with Sir Thomas and the knights. Above the Commandery, the brown and white Templar banner flew, but the training fields behind it were empty.

  “What next, Tristan?” Maryam asked.

  “I’m not sure. Something has drastically changed. It is not the Dover I remember. It was lively, and full of travelers and merchants and soldiers. This Dover looks nea
rly dead.”

  “Then I say we skip our way around it and head north to Scotland. The sooner you’re rid of that satchel, the better for all of us,” Robard said. We sat there in silence for a while, watching the town below. I knew they were both waiting for me to take action.

  “Tristan? Have you figured this all the way through yet?” Maryam finally asked.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  For a moment I felt myself tense. Since I had regained my senses, I had yet to tell Maryam or Robard what the Queen Mother had said to me in the courtyard. But I wondered if they had overheard her or if in my delirium I had revealed something. I was keeping another secret from them. It wasn’t right.

  “Sir Hugh. The Grail. He wants it at any cost. Do you really think handing it over to a priest in Scotland is going to stop him?” she asked.

  “The Assassin is right,” Robard said. “He won’t stop. Even if you give it over to this Father William, he’ll try to capture you or one of us and hold us hostage until you tell him where it is or until you retrieve it and trade it to him in exchange for our lives. Getting your vase to Scotland is the least of your worries.”

  “It’s not a vase,” I complained. But Robard was right. They both were.

  “You understand what this means, don’t you?” Robard asked.

  I did, but had no desire to say it.

  “He will hurt anything and everything close to you until he has what he wants,” Robard went on. “It would almost be better if we found him and you let me kill him for you. He’s a despicable scoundrel and I wouldn’t mind.” Robard was trying to be light-hearted about it, but he was also serious in his offer.

  “I’m trying not to kill anyone, Robard,” I said. Though my words sounded hollow, I doubted even a knight as honorable as Sir Thomas would fault me if Robard were able to put an arrow in Sir Hugh’s heart from a hundred paces. Without another word, I turned my horse west and took off at a trot, but I quickly slowed the horse to a walk when the pain in my side made it impossible to keep going. In a moment they caught up to me.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. “Scotland lies to the north.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of Scotland’s location. But there may be help for us here. Let’s wait until dark. Tonight we’ll pay a visit to Dover,” I said.

  7

  Following a trail leading inland, Robard found a dense thicket where the horses could be safely hobbled for the night. It wasfed by a small stream so the animals would have water, and the woods were so thick that it was unlikely our mounts would be discovered until we returned. I had advised we wait until nightfall before we entered the city, so with little else to do, each of us took turns standing watch and sleeping beneath the gently swaying trees.

  At sundown, I nudged Robard with my boot. He had been softly snoring by the fire and came awake instantly. He started several different arguments all at once. “Why are we wasting time in Dover? We should be heading for Scotland straightaway. Why are we leaving the horses? What if we need to make a quick getaway? What then?” And so on. I instantly wished I’d left him asleep and ignored him for as long as possible, but the archer wouldn’t stop until I finally countered his numerous opinions.

  “Ideally we won’t have to make a quick getaway. I just want to scout around. Maybe we can discover where Sir Hugh is and what his plans are. If we know where he is, it’s to our advantage. He won’t be able to sneak up on us. It’s better than blundering right into him unprepared. The horses will slow us down in town. I want to be able to move quickly and hide if necessary. It’s much harder to hide on a horse.”

  “I would think it would depend on the horse,” he said, his eyes darting at me as he spoke.

  “What? What would depend on the horse? You . . . stop . . . That doesn’t even make sense,” I stammered.

  “Sure it does. I have been working on it during the ride, teaching my horse how to hide successfully,” he joked. Maryam couldn’t help but laugh.

  I sighed in exasperation.

  “How long is this going to take?” he asked. “I’m eager to reach Sherwood. The sooner we deliver your pottery, the faster I’ll be home and sleeping in my own bed.”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “It will take as long as it takes. And it’s not ‘pottery,’ it is the Holy Cup of the Savior and the most sacred relic in the world. You shouldn’t be so blasphemous.”

  “Bah!” said Robard as he waved his hand dismissively.

  Maryam brought us back to reality. “Tristan, are you sure this is a good idea? Going into Dover, I mean. You, we, could be captured again. If Sir Hugh is there . . .”

  “I know. But a few members of the original regimento I joined remained behind here when the rest of us departed for Outremer. If they’re still at the Commandery, they will remember Sir Thomas and might be able to aid us,” I explained again.

  Maryam shook her head, knowing I couldn’t be dissuaded. “If your friend Sir Hugh hasn’t turned them against you,” she muttered.

  “Sir Hugh . . . is . . . was . . . not popular with many members of the regimento. I doubt he could persuade them all to turn against Sir Thomas’ memory. But if you both are so concerned, you may stay here—”

  “Oh no you don’t!” Robard interrupted. “I don’t intend to let you out of my sight. I’ve had quite enough of coming to your rescue.”

  Now it was my turn for mock anger. “What? When have you ever come to my rescue? I caught you on the cliff at Montségur, I saved you from a beating at the hands of Philippe! Well, actually it was Angel, but still. You coming to my rescue? I think you are sadly—”

  “Enough! Goodness, the two of you argue like the old women in my village. Stop this nonsense. Let’s go!” Maryam shouted at us and stomped away, leaving the cover of the woods behind and heading down the rise toward Dover.

  Robard and I followed, and after a short walk we reached the outskirts of the city. The night was cold. I rubbed my hands together and wrapped them in the folds of my tunic for warmth. It would be colder before the sun rose again. There was a half moon in the sky and some of the buildings were lighted by torchlight. Candles burned in the windows of the huts and small shops, and the glow of their cook fires danced through shutters and curtains as we passed by.

  We left Angel behind to guard the horses. She was napping peacefully and opened one sleepy eye when I bade her stay. She had looked at me with her intelligent eyes and, somehow understanding our need to keep the horses as safe as possible, didn’t make a fuss about following us. She rolled back over and was soon asleep. The poor little mutt had been through a lot the last few days.

  Off in the distance high above the city stood the castle where I’d first met King Richard more than a year ago. It felt like only yesterday when I had stood in the Great Hall while the Lionheart addressed our regimento. In other ways it felt like a lifetime since I’d last walked these streets.

  “What are you thinking about?” Maryam asked.

  “Nothing,” I answered.

  “Are you with us, squire?” Robard said, his tone somewhere between teasing and serious. “You need to be alert. I don’t like this idea one bit. I’m willing to bet you my bow Sir Hugh is here, and we’re likely to run into him at any moment.”

  “Yes. I am alert, Robard. I was just thinking,” I said, pointing toward the next street. “This way. We’ll head to the Commandery. It’s on the other side of town.”

  The sky was overcast, and when the moon rose later in the evening, the clouds would cut the light. Most of the dwellings were quiet, with no firelight coming from inside. A few torches were lighted here and there, but we would be able to move about without being seen clearly, for the most part. As we walked, I found myself clenching and unclenching my hands and breathing in short bursts. My side ached, and I was certainly not going to be much help if we had to fight our way out. Had I made a mistake in bringing us here?

  We darted down the alleys and the narrow passageways between buildings, trying our best to s
tay out of sight. Each step we took made my heart thunder in my chest. In truth, there were very few people out at this time of night and we had little difficulty passing through town largely unseen. But I felt as if danger lurked in the shadows and Sir Hugh was hiding behind every corner. Despite the cold, I was sweating. My legs grew heavy and each step took more and more effort. I kept telling myself it was only nerves and to stay alert, but I had trouble concentrating and only became more agitated.

  Whenever someone appeared on the street, we behaved as if we belonged there—strolling along, talking in low tones and giving no one a reason to suspect us of anything. In a few minutes we had reached the marketplace in the center of town. It was deserted, but as we cut through the closed-up stalls, memories overtook me. I thought of the morning after Sir Thomas had introduced me to King Richard and he’d reacted so strangely. He must have sent the King’s Guards to follow me that day. The guards had tracked me through these very streets, and were it not for the timely appearance of Sir Basil, who knows what may have happened. In hindsight, it was clear the guards had intended to do me harm.

  Then later, Sir Hugh attacked me on the practice field during sword drills, and Sir Thomas had warned him to leave me alone on threat of death. When Sir Thomas had bested Sir Hugh on the fields of the Commandery, Sir Hugh had said, “I know who he is. . . .” How could he when I didn’t even know who I was?

  Something jerked me off my feet, and the next thing I knew I was up against the side of the building with Robard’s face inches from my own. He had yanked me back into the alley after I had just absentmindedly wandered out into the street.

  “What?” I groused.

  “What are you doing, Tristan?” Robard asked. “You blundered out into the street without looking to see if it was clear. Are you deliberately trying to get us killed?”

  “No,” I said, ashamed.

  “You need to be here, Tristan, not in Outremer or back in France or dreaming of the fair Celia,” Robard commanded. I blushed when he mentioned Celia’s name. It would be useless to protest that she was about the only thing I wasn’t thinking of.