Trail of Fate

by Michael P. Spradlin

  My mouth watered at the sight of it, and I took a proffered slice. I placed it on a slice of bread and bit into it. What a delight. After many days of nothing but dates, grapes and figs, and whatever we could scrounge up, it tasted wonderful.

  A familiar barking sounded from just outside the door. I thought Angel might have smelled the food and was hungry herself. Wearily I rose to my feet and took a small chunk of cheese. I was about to open the door when she growled, and I froze. I then stepped to the dirty window and peered out at the crossroads.

  The High Counsel and his fifty men rode into the village, reining their horses up at the well. Angel whined, and I cracked open the door. She darted inside.

  “Trouble,” I said to Maryam. She joined me at the window and gasped.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  By then the woman had joined us at the window. She looked out at the High Counsel and his troop, some of whom had dismounted and were standing about looking menacing. The arrival had cleared the village, as the women we had seen earlier at the well had vanished and the blacksmith had made himself scarce.

  The woman muttered something in French under her breath that I didn’t quite catch but was fairly certain was a curse. She vanished behind the curtain.

  “It looks like the High Counsel has uncovered my deception. They must be headed toward Celia’s fortress. We need to get out of here. I don’t suppose you have any ideas, do you?” I asked.

  Maryam shook her head and continued to study the scene at the well. “No. You’re the one with the ideas,” she said smugly.

  Angel whined nervously, and to quiet her I tossed her the small chunk of cheese I still held in my hand. She snatched it out of the air and swallowed it whole.

  “All right,” I said. “Maybe we can sneak out the back and . . .”

  Just then the woman pulled back the curtain from the back room and waved to us.

  We followed and found another room, nearly equal in size to the one we’d been eating in but with a back entrance. The wooden door swung open, and there stood a boy about ten or twelve years old, waiting next to a small wagon with a pony hitched to it. The back of the wagon was full of hay.

  “Hide. Go,” said the woman in accented English.

  “Tristan? What is she . . . ?” Maryam asked, but she stopped, not understanding completely what was happening.

  But I did. Or at least I thought I did. Since we had left the campsite, without really knowing how far we needed to travel to reach Celia, I’d had a feeling we were at least getting close to her lands. And judging by this woman’s reaction when she saw the High Counsel, I decided to test my assumption.

  “Cathar?” I said to the woman.

  She nodded and smiled. She pushed a small cloth bag into my hands, holding it open. It was full of bread, cheese and apples.

  “Montségur. Celia. Ami,” I said, pointing to myself.

  The woman nodded and smiled. I felt a brief sense of relief, despite the High Counsel’s arrival. We were on the right trail and headed toward Montségur.

  “Hide. Now,” she said.

  “Come on, Maryam,” I said.

  I climbed up into the bed of the wagon. Maryam joined me. Angel looked at me with her head cocked.

  “Hurry, girl,” I said.

  She jumped up. The boy and the woman covered us with the hay. Then I heard the lad whistle and the wagon moved. We rolled around the side of the small inn and bounced over the bumpy ground. The ride smoothed out a little when we reached the trail leading out of town.

  I carefully reached up and cleared a small section of hay out of the way so I could see the village crossroads as we left. The High Counsel stood there, still talking to one of his soldiers in the street. The boy kept a casual pace with the wagon, not drawing attention to himself. He was just a simple farm boy completing one of his many chores.

  We were almost out of sight of the village when I heard a cracking sound and the wagon lurched to a stop. It tilted crazily to the side, and Maryam and I grunted sharply as it hit the ground. The boy muttered a curse, and I assumed the wagon’s axle had broken or the wheel had come loose. Angel whimpered, and I grabbed her about the muzzle. The hay had settled with the fall, and I gently cleared another space to look back at the village.

  As I watched them in the distance, nearly two hundred yards away, the High Counsel and his men mounted up, steered their horses about and rode down the path.

  They were headed straight for us.

  11

  The High Counsel took the head of the column and spurred his horse along the trail. The jangling sounds of swords and chain mail grew louder as the riders drew near. Then, softly, a familiar humming filled the air around me. Having heard it so many times before, I was relieved at first, but I still worried. I felt the Grail would protect me. But what about Maryam and the boy? What if the boy were forced to reveal our presence?

  He wasn’t visible from my position in the hay, but I offered up a prayer that he had the good sense to remain calm and not draw attention to himself. My hand was still firmly clamped over Angel’s muzzle and she wiggled beneath my grasp. We held our breath for what seemed an eternity.

  As the horses thundered toward us, she became more anxious and struggled so much that I lost my grip on her. She wormed her way out of the pile of hay and jumped off the back of the wagon, barking madly at the horses. I couldn’t see anything, but outside the wagon she put up quite a fuss. Even worse, the column reined to a stop.

  Angel ceased barking, but continued to growl and whine. Maryam and I lay frozen beneath the mound of hay, and the beating of my own heart pounded in my ears, nearly drowning out the whispering hum of the Grail.

  The High Counsel spoke to the boy in a gruff, commanding voice, but his words were muffled by the hay, as was the boy’s reply.

  Then there was only silence. Every muscle in my body was coiled and tense as if I’d been frozen solid in a sudden winter storm. The only sounds reaching my ears were Angel’s whine and the snorts of the horses as they waited impatiently to resume their trip.

  The High Counsel spoke again, but I could only hear the boy answer, “Oui.” Angel quieted. We waited and waited, and I half expected a sword or lance to come poking into the hay.

  Finally he gave an order to move out. The horses sprang to life and we heard them ride off.

  Dizzy and light-headed, I took slow, deep breaths while the feeling returned to my limbs. Angel jumped back up onto the wagon and dug at the hay in an attempt to uncover us. The boy knocked twice on the side of the wagon.

  “La voie est libre,” he told us. All clear.

  We sat up, pushing the hay out of the way. I jumped out of the wagon and vigorously shook the boy’s hand several times.

  “Well done, mon ami. Well done,” I said. I wanted to thank him more profusely but wasn’t sure my French was adequate for the task.

  Maryam, whose clothing and hair was covered in bits of hay, thanked him as well.

  He smiled, and the expression on his face said he was more than happy to help two slightly crazed, hay-encrusted strangers.

  I examined the wagon with the boy, and we discovered that the wheel on one side had indeed slipped off the axle. I offered to help him repair it, but he would have none of it. He waved us on our way.

  He pointed to the trail we stood on, then lifted his arm and pointed up toward the mountains in the distance. “Montségur.”

  His meaning was clear.

  I bowed to the boy in gratitude. It was unusual to see such courage and cool-headedness in a boy so young, and for a moment, though he looked nothing like him, his manner and disposition reminded me of Quincy, my friend and fellow squire whom I had left behind in Acre. His memory came rushing back to me, and I was overcome by feelings of regret.

  “Very well. Merci,” I said. Maryam was busy pulling bits of hay from her hair, but she waved good-bye to the boy. Gathering up the small bag of food, we took to the road. Angel fell into step a few pace
s in front of us.

  “Next time, Little D—. . . Angel,” I said, “try to stay quiet when enemy soldiers are about.”

  She kept trotting ahead of us, ignoring my admonition, and bounded about, rushing to and fro as if madness had overcome her.

  “Angel, you need to be quiet. Stop acting foolish. There could still be . . .”

  “Tristan?” Maryam interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “You do realize you’re talking to a dog?”

  “Yes.”

  “She can’t understand you. You didn’t by chance hit your head on the hay wagon, did you?” she said with mock concern.

  “She heard me. She just chooses to ignore me.”

  Maryam’s ill temper had returned, and we walked on in silence awhile longer. Several times, I found myself slowing my pace, as she appeared to have no interest in moving quickly along the trail. Fearing she would tear my head off if I asked her to hurry, I remained quiet.

  “What do you suppose has become of Robard?” she finally asked. At last, I thought. She wants to talk about it.

  “I don’t know. He must have reached Perpignan by now. I hope he found a ship,” I said gently.

  “I wish he hadn’t left,” she said with a catch in her voice.

  “I know.”

  I looked at Maryam and thought I saw tears in her eyes. She looked away.

  “Maryam?” I asked a while later when she had composed herself.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you explain something to me? A question about men and women? Keeping in mind I grew up in a monastery?”

  She laughed. “I’ll try.”

  “You’re sad Robard is gone,” I said.

  “I am.”

  “Yet when we were together, you argued constantly. Quite heatedly, I might add. But when he tried to leave, you did everything you could to talk him out . . .”

  Maryam chuckled again. “I know. He can be incredibly annoying. But often, as you’ve seen, he is brave and noble. After we lost you in the ocean, we were still tied to the deck of the ship. The storm worsened and I was certain we were going to die. Robard kept telling me to hang on, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. When the ship broke apart, we went under, but Robard managed to get both me and Angel to the surface. He grabbed on to a piece of wreckage and we held on to it together. All the time he kept talking calmly to us, over the roaring wind and thrashing waves. He repeatedly told me we would be fine. We just needed to make it through the storm. Several times I thought I would lose my grip and sink into the water, but Robard wouldn’t allow it.”

  Maryam gazed off into the distance as she walked. She had a smile on her face as she remembered, which I thought odd, because I would have done anything to forget such a terrifying experience. Then I realized she wasn’t remembering almost drowning. She was remembering Robard saving her.

  “I lost consciousness a few times, but Robard held on to both of us. The next thing I remember is waking up on the shore with a fire going and Angel licking my face. Robard must have carried both of us out of the water, because I have no recollection of getting there. When I asked him what had happened, he just shrugged and changed the subject.”

  Her story gave me pause, and I wondered if the Grail, even though I carried it with me, had extended its protection to my friends. The fact of their survival was miraculous to me. Was it another miracle of this sacred relic, or did Robard save them by himself?

  “There’s no question of Robard’s bravery,” I said. “And he is a decent fellow. He has just grown weary of the war and misses his home and family. It’s hard to blame him for wishing to return there as quickly as possible.”

  “I suppose,” she answered. I still didn’t understand though. The brothers had explained the ways of men and women to me, and had told me that someday I might wish to marry when I left St. Alban’s. Yet, so far, I found women . . . puzzling.

  As we walked, the path got steeper and the mountains we had first observed from far off drew nearer. It grew colder as we climbed higher. The trail we followed was well traveled, marked with numerous ruts made by wagon wheels and horse tracks. The boy had said we could follow this trail all the way to Montségur, but had given no indication of how far it was.

  The sun rose high in the sky and we kept on northward. Each time we came to a village or town, we either went around it and found the trail again, or moved through it as quickly as we could, trying hard to remain invisible. After a few more hours of walking, we stopped in a shaded glen to eat. Angel ate her fill of cheese and apples and curled up next to me for a nap. For a brief instant, sitting there in the beautiful spot, I forgot everything: the Grail, my duty, and the fact that Robard had left us. I even forgot about Sir Hugh, and the High Counsel and his men, who were undoubtedly trying to find me.

  I sat beneath the shade of the trees and watched the sunlight filter its way through the leaves and dance across the ground. It was refreshing. The soreness that plagued me from my adventure in the ocean left me. It was amazing what rest and food could do to restore one’s spirits. But the feeling was fleeting.

  I wished to stay longer, but we had to press on. After an hour we rose to our feet and resumed our march north. We talked some, but finally concentrated on making good time. Back in Outremer, we had at one point run nearly nonstop for several days to make our way to Tyre in advance of the attacking Saracens. The High Counsel had a head start, and I suppose we could have quickened our pace. But Celia knew the High Counsel was coming, and as long as he didn’t catch her before she reached the fortress, she should be safe. I would be no good to her if I arrived exhausted. I would need my wits and energy about me.

  We walked on and on, finally silent, as we had grown too tired to talk anymore. The sun was sinking in the west, and we would need to find a place to bed down for the night soon. It had been a very long day.

  But thoughts of rest vanished when an anguished scream pierced the air.

  12

  What was that?” Maryam asked, her daggers ready as she scanned the trail ahead of us.

  “I don’t know. It sounded like a woman’s scream,” I said. “It came from up ahead.” Angel scream,” I said. “It came from up ahead. Angel paced cautiously ahead of us. She sniffed and tossed her head, and we crept quietly along.

  A few yards farther up the trail, we approached the outskirts of a settlement. Another scream startled us both, and we leapt off the trail into the safety of the trees. Maryam crouched, petting the dog to keep her calm. I drew my short sword and peered through the trees at the buildings ahead, trying to get a sense of what was happening.

  It was a small village, like the one we’d stopped at a few hours before, with about a dozen wooden dwellings and a few other buildings crowded alongside the trail. It looked deserted. Then there was a louder and even more tormented scream that echoed off the trees around us.

  Angel looked up at me with her brown, intelligent eyes. I held my fingers to my lips and told her to stay. She stared back at me and whined quietly, then lay down on the ground, her small tail bobbing madly back and forth.

  I gestured for Maryam to follow me.

  We crept up behind the first small dwelling. With my back to the wall, I peered around the corner toward the interior of the village but saw nothing. The only sound was the breeze as it moved through the woods. Then I thought I heard a muffled cry coming from a small cluster of buildings a few yards ahead. I motioned for Maryam to go around the other side and work her way forward. She melted away in an instant, and I carefully stepped around the corner, my sword at the ready.

  The doorway of the hut was open, but with a quick look inside I found it deserted. I moved quickly past it and on to the next building. Also empty. There was a murmur of voices up ahead, mingled with the sounds of soft cries. Still advancing forward, and pausing at the space between two of the huts, I found Maryam waiting for me. She had heard the noise as well, and signaled for us to keep moving toward it as she faded away again.
>
  A few paces ahead I came to the last building facing the village square. I peered cautiously around the corner to find two of the High Counsel’s men standing, swords drawn, before a man slumped to the ground with his hands tied behind his back. A young boy and girl were sobbing uncontrollably, clutching their mother’s skirts a few steps away.

  Looking down the side of the building, Maryam was already studying the scene from her vantage point. Her eyes found mine and I nodded for her to meet me out of sight of the two men.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she whispered, her voice quivering with anger.

  “I don’t know. What do you suppose this man has done to be tied up so?”

  Maryam shrugged. “Maybe they are some of Celia’s people. If they couldn’t make it to the fortress, perhaps they hid out here and were discovered by those cretins.”

  “I wonder if those are the two men who survived the encounter with Philippe,” I pondered.

  “Safe to assume. They must be on their way to Montségur to rejoin their forces. What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I tried to concentrate, but then from the other side of the hut came a loud smack and another scream. I didn’t know what was happening, but I had little patience for those who would injure innocent people.

  “Circle through the woods and work your way to the far side of the buildings. I’ll draw their attention and try to get them to chase me. When they do, take those people to the woods and find a place to hide.”

  Maryam nodded and left me there. I counted to one hundred very slowly to give her time to move into position. Then I stepped out where the men would see me.

  One of the soldiers was holding the bound man’s hair in his clenched fist while the other tried to work a length of rope around his neck. The boy launched himself at the two men, his small arms flailing and kicking at the villain who held his father’s hair. The man laughed and backhanded the lad, sending him sprawling in the dirt.