“Come, come,” his brother yelled out. “Look who approaches.” He belched and swayed in his great chair, and Father Stephen realized Lord Henry was drunk. His brother yelled out, “My holy brother comes to greet me. Do you bring me good news, then? Has the wizard been vanquished? Did you bathe him in Holy Water? Did you strike at him with a relic of Saint Agnes? Did you bid him farewell by tossing phrases at him in Latin?”
Lord Henry laughed and the other people in the great hall laughed as well, and dogs barked some more as scraps were tossed to them. Father Stephen thought of the hungry families in his village, who would gladly get on the floor to wrestle the scraps away from the dogs, and he stepped closer to his older brother.
“No,” he said, speaking clearly and plainly. “The wizard has not yet been vanquished. And if he is to be vanquished by my services, then I demand payment.”
From behind him he listened to the gasp of anguish from Gawain, and then the sudden silence, as the laughter and the jeers from the guests quieted. Even the musicians had silenced themselves. There was snarling from two battling dogs by the doorway and no other sound. Lady Catherine sat very still, her thin hands in her lap. Lord Henry’s face grew redder and he said, his voice no longer booming and full of laughter, “What nonsense is this?”
“There is no nonsense,” Father Stephen said. “Just fair compensation, for ridding your new possession of Lindsay Woods of a wizard, a wizard who has killed one of your knights.”
Lord Henry stared right at him. “You are a servant of the church. You will do your duty.”
“Aye, but I am not a servant of you, Lord Henry. I serve a greater master. To fight against a wizard who is not in my village, who has not harmed anyone of my parish, is something that I must be compensated for. It is only fair.”
“I shall not pay you, or any other meddlesome priest, by God,” he growled. “For I will take care of this matter myself. You can go back to your muddy village and starve for all I care.”
“Really?” Father Stephen said, looking about the faces of the men among the guests. “Which one of your knights or compatriots wishes to ride against a wizard, a man who strikes death from afar? I have seen what he has done. I have held Thomas’s own body in my hands, have seen the dreadful wound that this wizard has caused. I can vanquish the wizard easily, my Lord, but to do so, I demand payment. It is only fair. You know that well.”
Lord Henry stared at him again, and Father Stephen willed his legs not to quake. The look from those eyes was similar to what he had seen in battle in France, when Henry was approaching his enemies, and Father Stephen knew that was what his brother now considered him: an enemy, nothing else.
“A compensation, then,” Lord Henry said. “What price does a servant of God place upon destroying a wizard?”
He took a deep breath. “One-third of Lindsay Woods to be given to the Church of Saint Agnes, for service to the poor and our parish. That is all.”
“All?” Henry shouted. “That is all? One-third of my property to a useless man of the cloth? One-third of my property to one who will not raise arms against my enemies? Who will not perform his rightly duties for his family?”
By now Henry was on his feet, and his young wife was trembling as she listened to his shouts. Even the dogs had run away from the inside of the hall, and Father Stephen saw how all the guests were now looking away, as if afraid that by looking at Lord Henry, they, too, would incur his wrath.
Father Stephen clasped his hands before him in a prayerful gesture, but one that he knew was only being done to prevent his hands from shaking. Trying to keep his voice level, he called out, “My lord, my duties are now to the Church and to God. I have taken a sacred oath, one that cannot be broken, even by a man as powerful as you. While I no longer raise arms against your enemies, I am a loyal subject to our king and to you. Yet I am not a slave nor a serf. I ask for compensation fairly, not for my own purse, but to aid the Church and the people whom she serves.”
“One-third,” Lord Henry muttered, looking around the room. “One-third…”
“With all respect and graciousness, my lord, you know as well as I do that with the wizard in those woods, and the death that he can incur in the snap of a finger, that those woods of yours will forever be useless. It is better to have two-thirds of something, my lord, rather than three-thirds of nothing.”
A few brave souls at the rear of the manor hall—who could not readily be identified—chuckled in appreciation at his comments, and Lord Henry sat heavily down upon his great chair. Lady Catherine tried to hide a tiny smile with a handkerchief. He pulled up a goblet of ale and emptied it in a few large swallows, and then tossed the empty goblet upon the stone floor.
“Is this how you repay your older brother?” he said. “I called upon you to rid me of this wizard, to bring yourself fame and attention in these parts. Nothing else. And you come to me, filled with impertinence, demanding payment. I think, younger brother, it would have been better for all of us if you had not come back to Bromley from France.”
Father Stephen bowed slightly. “I came back from France due to God’s will, and nothing else.”
Lord Henry raised a hand dismissively. “If the wizard is vanquished, then you will receive your one-third of Lindsay Woods, priest. And may those woods be cursed to you and whoever from your church who gains to profit from them.”
A little voice inside of him said, You won, you’ve actually won, but Father Stephen pressed forward. “There is the matter of two more items, my lord.”
Lord Henry managed to smile. “Two more subjects, you slippery toad? And what might they be?”
“When I left this manor years ago, I left behind a trunk of some of my possessions. I wish to examine this trunk.”
“What, so you can charge me with theft?”
“No, my lord. It is just a matter that I must attend to.”
Lady Catherine stroked her husband’s arm and whispered into an ear. He said, “Yes, yes, you may examine the trunk. My servant Ambrose will tell you where it is. And what is the second matter, and be quick about it.”
“I plan to ride out and meet with the wizard tomorrow,” Father Stephen said. “I wish to be accompanied by one of your knights. Gawain. And none other.”
Father Stephen thought he heard the knight’s low moan from behind him. His older brother scowled and said, “And what for? So he may kill this wizard if you lose your nerve?”
“No,” Father Stephen clearly said. “So that he may come back and tell you if I have failed, and that the wizard has indeed killed me.”
Lord Henry’s smile was quite wide. “That will indeed be worth the time of one of my knights. So it shall be done. Now, leave me and this room. You bore me, priest.”
He nodded and quickly walked out, hoping his legs would not quite give out until he had passed through the door.
THE STALL AT LEAST had some clean hay, and Father Stephen made his bed again among the dry grasses. This barn was large, and there were the grunts and whinnies of some of the lord’s horses to keep him company. He knew that as a brother of Lord Henry and a son of the man who had first built this place, that he could have demanded better quarters. But when Lord Henry’s head servant Ambrose had directed him to these stables, he had not protested. Nor had he protested when Ambrose had said the kitchen servants were no longer available, so no evening meal could be provided. Father Stephen would give his older brother these tiny victories. He had gained one much greater.
He pulled his wool blanket about him and tried not to think of tomorrow, but only the here and now. He said his evening prayers and ate a dried apple that he had saved from their midday meal, and when he had closed his eyes, he tried to go to sleep.
But sleep would not come. There was someone else in the stable, someone coming in his direction. He could hear the steps upon the stone walkway leading past the main stables. A cold touch of fear stirred in his chest. He knew his brother well. His brother had been bested and humiliated today in front
of his peers. Perhaps that was not worth the eventual use of a portion of Lindsay Woods. Perhaps the death of an impertinent younger brother would make Lord Henry a pleased man this evening. There were many knights and men at arms who would come in this stable tonight with a sharp blade, to do their Lord’s bidding, as knights did Henry II’s bidding in killing Saint Thomas a Becket in Canterbury so many years ago. The flickering light of a small lamp was now visible.
Father Stephen spoke up. “If you mean to see me and do me harm, then do approach now, and waste not either of our evenings.”
A familiar voice came to him in reply. “That is an odd thing to say, Father Stephen, to one who is trying to bring you a meal.”
From the darkness Gawain emerged and sat down heavily on the hay next to Father Stephen. He held a wooden bowl that he passed over and which Father Stephen bent to. There was a hunk of cheese, some ham, and soft, freshly baked white bread. He ate the feast and offered some to Gawain, who declined.
“No, Father, I’ve had my fill of the lord’s hospitality tonight. When I heard where they had placed you and how they had not fed you, well… it did not seem right. So here I am.”
“Bless you, Gawain, for your thoughtfulness,” he said earnestly.
“Bah,” he said. “What kind of blessings have you brought upon me, to demand that I accompany you tomorrow to meet the wizard?”
He finished the last of the bread. “What I said earlier to my brother was true. I do not require your presence to fight the wizard. I will do that on my own. I require you to be a witness, that is all. You need not put yourself in any harm.”
Then, Father Stephen was surprised when Gawain grunted in reply and blew out the light. Gawain shifted his weight in the hay and Father Stephen could make him out, lying down next to him.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “Should you not go back to your own quarters?”
“Aye, you are right,” the knight said wearily. “I should go back. In fact, there is a new serving girl who has looked at me with interest, and I feel sure that I would not be spending my night alone if I had spoken to her earlier. But still… it is not right that you be in the stable alone, Father. I decided to come here and share your quarters, as poor as they are.”
“That is noble of you, Gawain.”
“Bah, nobility has nothing to do with it,” he said. “I wanted to speak to you, Father, about you and your brother. His lordship said something earlier, about your not returning to Bromley from France, and about your not taking arms to defend your family. What was the meaning of those words?”
In the darkness, now, in the dark it was easy to remember. With no light, with nothing to look at but the blackness, it was easy to recall all those memories. Not only the sights of what he had seen in France, but the sounds as well. The creak of leather. The clang of swords against shields. The gurgling cries of the wounded, drowning in their own blood. The dark growls of the horses, riding in fear. The snapping sounds of timber and thatch burning. And the scents, as well. The strong smell of spilt blood. The stench of sweat and tears. The musky odors of villages and bodies being burnt.
“It is no secret,” Father Stephen said slowly, “that I was not always a priest. That I once raised arms in defense of my family and for our king. That is all. That is no secret.”
“But what happened, then, to change everything?” Gawain asked, pressing on. “What happened?”
And then he surprised himself, by letting go, by telling tales that he had only shared with his confessor. “I was young when I was with my brother in France. It was a glorious adventure, at first. To serve your family, to serve your King, and to serve your God. It all seemed destined, all seemed right. The first few battles, knights against knights, they were desperate battles, but they had a… well, a righteousness about them. But later, then, we pressed a siege against a French town. The town belonged to the King of England, but they pledged their loyalties to the King of France. My brother would not let this happen. We laid siege to the village and when we finally broke through their walls, the killing started. The burning of the homes and farms. The slaughter not only of the men at arms, but the women as well. And the old men. And the children.”
Oh, the cries of the small children, as the knights chased them along the muddy paths, screaming for their mother, screaming for their father, screaming for the Lord God to save them all…
“When I saw all that happened, I threw away my sword and left the battle,” he said. “I could not stand to see what I had done, in aiding my brother and our family and our King. I swore then on that bloody soil, that if I survived getting back to England, that I would enter the priesthood and serve the poor, the people who have no arms nor men to defend them. That is what I swore, and that has angered my brother ever since.”
Gawain spoke softly to him. “But you were in the service of your King, and your God, when you were in France. There was nothing wrong in what you did, you must know that.”
“Hah,” Father Stephen said. “What I do know is that the King of England and the King of France and all the people they rule, they all worship the same God, and that God must shed tears of anger and sorrow at what those Kings do in His name. And when I witnessed this by own eyes, and I saw what I had joined in doing, I knew that I could no longer raise arms, nor support those men who raise arms as well. And that is what I have done.”
“And what will you do tomorrow, against the wizard?”
Father Stephen rolled over in the hay. “I will do the bidding of my God, to help my people. Nothing else.”
If Gawain said anything in reply, Father Stephen did not hear it. Soon, Gawain was snoring, loud enough to drown out the sounds of the horses in their stalls, and the ever-present rustling of rats in the stored hay.
MORNING DAWNED COLD AND wet, with a heavy mist over the fields of Lord Henry’s manor. Today was the feast day of Saint Mark, the Evangelist. Father Stephen had gotten up the earliest and had examined his old trunk, given to him as a young boy by his parents, and where he had stored his old memories and possessions of his previous life. The chest had been in a crowded cellar and when he was done, he had been glad to get out into the morning light.
He had clambered up on his donkey, Job, his chest feeling heavy and slow, and he joined Gawain out in the front of the manor. And to his surprise, they were not alone. Lord Henry was there, in simple clothes, sitting astride a huge white horse, his face scowling yet again.
“Ah, so the priest is still here and has not run away, his bowels and bladder loose with fear,” he said, holding the reins of his horse tightly in his beefy hands.
Father Stephen nodded. “I have pledged to you that I will vanquish this wizard today. Just as you have pledged to pass over one-third of Lindsay Woods to my church when this deed is done.”
Lord Henry managed a smile. “Ah, priest, but perhaps I do not recall making such a pledge. Perhaps the drink I had last night loosened my tongue and my wits. Perhaps there is no such pledge.”
Again, he nodded, in polite deference. “My lord, of course, is correct. Perhaps there is no pledge. Yet I remind him that he uttered such a pledge in front of numerous lords and ladies yesterday in his manor hall. To back away from such a pledge… well, my lord knows all too well what would happen to his reputation and standing among his peers and subjects.”
His brother’s face was glaring again, and even his horse shifted anxiously, stomping one hoof and then another. “Be gone, priest, and be quick. The King has called a council, about a campaign upon Scotland, and I need not to burden my mind with the problems of a wizard and poor priest. Go on and do what must be done.”
“So I shall, my brother, so I shall.”
But before Lord Henry went to return to the manor, he leaned over his mount and spoke quietly to Gawain, who nodded at the words told to him. Then Gawain moved on, spurring his horse, Shadow, to the open road. When Father Stephen started out to the trail, he looked back, knowing somehow that he would never again see his brother o
r the manor.
THE TRIP WAS SLOWER this time, as the weight about his chest and shoulders seemed to grow heavier with each passing step. Even his donkey, Job, seemed burdened by all that had occurred, and Father Stephen could sense the frustration of Gawain, riding next to him.
“By God, Father,” he growled, “could we at least pick up our pace? I do not want to face this wizard at dusk or at dark. I want this awful job done as soon as possible, in the brightness of noon, if possible.”
Father Stephen replied, “We will be there when we get there, and not any sooner. Be patient, Gawain, be patient.”
Eventually, they were in the fields near Lindsay Woods, and they crossed the first of the three streams, and then the second. When they approached the third stream, Gawain crossed himself and halted his horse next to Father Stephen. The stream was wide and seemed deep, and it moved with ferocity, raising white-caps and spumes of spray.
“There, Father,” he said, his voice lowered. “To the right is a ford, which even your donkey should be able to traverse. Then, the trail goes up this slight hill. Near the top of the hill is where we saw the wizard.”
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