“I know. You must be very confused. And in pain. We reached you just in time,” he said, gesturing toward my wounded arms. “All thanks to your furry friend there,” he said, pointing to Angel. “She found us on our way here, and I can’t explain why, but we felt compelled to follow her at a gallop. It was almost as if she were looking for us.” He reached over to scratch at Angel’s ears. “Your wounds are serious, but we managed to stop the bleeding. How do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Really. Just flesh wounds,” I answered.
He chuckled, and my heart sank again, for his laugh was nearly identical to Sir Thomas’.
“I beg your pardon again, sire, but who—”
“My name is Charles Leux. Thomas is . . . was . . . my younger brother,” he said. Now it made sense. His appearance was so similar to Sir Thomas that it made me uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, sire,” I said. “He . . . Sir Thomas . . . Before he died . . . Sir Hugh said he killed him. By the way, Sir Hugh is dead, isn’t he?”
Charles smiled. “Yes, he’s dead, but we have yet to find his body. No one could survive such a fall, though. And I understand you ran him through with a very large sword. As for my brother, well, he may have died doing his duty as a Templar, but I assure you, Tristan, Sir Hugh did not kill him.”
“How . . . do you know?” I asked.
“I have faith. Sir Hugh is . . . was . . . a coward who preyed on the weak. He would never face Thomas in a fair fight, not even if my brother had lost both his arms.” He dropped his head and murmured a brief prayer under his breath. “If my brother is dead, it was not by Hugh’s hand. He died fighting, on his feet, like the warrior he was.”
None of Sir Charles’ words were comforting.
He was silent a moment, then coughed nervously. “I assume you have come here with the Holy Cup of the Savior?” He paused, waiting for me to tell him where it was. “Do you have it with you? Is it safe?”
Something Sir Thomas said in Acre came rushing back. When he had given me the Grail in the Knights Hall, he had said to trust no one. The quest to find and possess the Grail “had turned even my brothers of the Order into glory-crazed hounds.”
My expression changed. And Charles noticed immediately.
“You have many questions, I’m sure—” he said, and he reached inside his tunic.
“Robard!” I shouted out in warning.
As always Robard had an arrow nocked and his bow drawn in less than a second and the shaft pointed right at Charles’ chest.
“Sire,” Robard said quietly, “I must humbly request that you very slowly and gently remove your hand from inside your tunic, lest I be forced to pin it to your chest.”
Sir Charles froze for a moment, then smiled. “I see Thomas has trained you magnificently. Of course, you are quite correct not to trust me. Splendid, in fact. But I assure you, I mean you no harm, and what I have here will explain everything. May I remove it? Will you instruct your friend the archer to hold?”
“Slowly. Please remove it very slowly,” I said. I was too weak to fight, but felt immense comfort knowing Robard was there to protect me.
Sir Charles removed his hand from his tunic, and in it he held a thick letter. When he held it out, I recognized Sir Thomas’ seal, and it looked like a letter Sir Thomas had given me—all those months ago—in Acre. He had commanded I give it to a King’s Guard named Gaston. Gaston was to carry the letter back to London to the Master of the Order. At the time, I merely thought the letter was some sort of routine business.
“This is for you,” Sir Charles said.
36
I stared dumbfounded at the letter. Did I now hold Sir Thomas’ last words to me in my hand? Sir Charles smiled, and my heart cleaved, for his smile, like his laugh, was so similar to his brother’s.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s something Thomas wanted you to read. Why don’t you open it and see for yourself.”
“But Sir Thomas told me this letter was for the Master of the Order,” I said.
“At your service,” said Sir Charles, waving his hand in a small circle and bowing his head slightly.
“You . . . are . . . the Master of the Order?” I stammered.
“Unless my brothers have seen fit to vote me out of office since I left the London Commandery, then yes. I am the Master. Thomas sent the letter with Gaston, who is also a brother of the Order, serving undercover in the King’s Guards. One can never be too careful. Monarchs are not always trustworthy, as I’m sure you’ve learned. So we sometimes keep an eye on them from the inside. Gaston brought the letter to me, as instructed. It was sealed by Thomas’ ring, not the Order seal. As we agreed before he left to claim you from St. Alban’s, when he sent me a letter sealed with his ring, it was a signal. He was sending you back to England and this letter should be held for you alone. Luckily you didn’t die along the way. If you read it, it will answer many of your questions, I’m sure,” he said.
With quaking hands I broke the wax seal and spread open the parchment. To my shock and absolute surprise, a small piece of blue cloth tumbled onto my lap that I recognized immediately. It was the missing corner torn from the blanket that had wrapped me as a babe, when I had been left on the steps of St. Alban’s.
I stared at Sir Charles in wonderment and he nodded at the parchment. “Just read it. Trust me, lad,” he said. I nodded at Robard and he lowered his bow, but being Robard, he kept the arrow nocked.
Looking again at the parchment, I found it covered in Sir Thomas’ neat, precise handwriting:
Dear Tristan,
Time is short. I fear with Richard and his main force leaving Acre that we are exposed and weak should the Saladin return. In the days ahead there may be a duty for you to perform, and if I do not survive, I do not wish you to go on through life without the answers you deserve.
Remember our first night in Dover? When I introduced you to King Richard? Remember his shocked expression at meeting you? It’s because you are the spitting image of your father. And Richard’s father and yours are one and the same.
Your father was Henry II, the former King of England. Your mother was a fine woman, deeply loved by your father. Her name was Rosamund Clifford, and I regret to inform you she no longer lives.
Charles and I served King Henry in his personal guard. When you were born, he and Rosamund knew Eleanor would not rest until she rooted out and destroyed all of Henry’s heirs except her own children. Hiding you was the best option. Better you be raised an orphan than murdered in your sleep by Hugh or one of Eleanor’s other minions.
Understand, Tristan, this happened through no fault of your own. Your father was in anguish at the thought of taking you from Rosamund, and in truth I believe she died of a broken heart because of it. But they also knew that unless your existence was kept secret, you would never be safe.
Your abbot, Father Geoffrey, was a loyal servant to Henry before he took his vows. It was Charles and I who left you on the abbey steps that night. The abbot was told to make sure you always kept your blue blanket, and I kept this section of it for when the day came that I would be able to prove to you who you are.
Now I fear I will not leave this place, but I will be sure that you at least are freed from Acre. You deserve your chance at life. You have claim to land and title if you choose it. Charles and the Order will support you in whatever you decide.
As for Charles, you can trust him with your life, as you trusted me. He is Master of our Order and Sir Hugh is deathly afraid of him. He will protect you and help you in any way he can. This we promised your father, a great man, a great king, and a father who loved his son.
Go in peace, Tristan. Know you were brought into the world in the full embrace of love. No Knight of the Temple has ever had a finer squire.
Beauseant,
Sir Thomas Leux,
Order of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of
Christ and King Solomon’s Temple
My hands shook as I stared at S
ir Charles.
“May I?” he asked, holding his hand out for the parchment.
I numbly handed it to him and he quickly read it, a smile coming to his face. When he finished, he folded it back up and returned it to me. “So like my brother,” he said, smiling as if remembering some pleasant memory.
“How did . . . When did . . . ,” I stammered, unable to get the words out.
“We watched over you, Tristan. As you grew, we sent many travelers to St. Alban’s to report back to us. You didn’t know it and rarely did the abbot. It was the best way. Before he left London for Outremer, Thomas and I talked. He felt it was time to bring you under our protection, to train you, support you and one day perhaps welcome you into the Order as a brother. Yet we had to be cautious, and perhaps Thomas revealed himself too readily by taking an interest in you. Sir Hugh caught on and nearly foiled us.”
“But why did Sir Thomas give me the Grail? After making me his squire, shouldn’t I have remained with him?” I wondered.
“Perhaps. But the fact that you are here more than answers why he chose you. He chose wisely. At first I argued with him. I was against taking you to Outremer, but we finally agreed, on one condition,” he said.
“Which was?”
“He agreed to send you back if it became too dangerous. He would make arrangements to send me this letter, marked with his seal, with the scrap of blanket enclosed. When I received it, I was to keep it until you either returned here or he sent you away. Thomas knew that once King Richard decided not to reinforce Acre, the city could be lost. So he made his preparations, but perhaps the Saracens arrived before he was ready. I think he sent you with the Grail not only because it needed to be saved but because it also gave you a purpose. You were his most loyal servant. He knew you would finish this or die in the attempt. And again, I say he chose wisely.”
I was overwhelmed. “I still don’t understand, sire. Why me? He could have chosen anyone.”
Sir Charles smiled and looked up at the sky. “Let’s just say this: Thomas and I loyally served your father. He was a great man. And he commanded us to keep you safe, no matter the cost. As you followed the last order of your knight, we did the same, as the King instructed. When Thomas learned what a fine young man you’d become, he wanted you to have a chance at a good life. That is why he chose you.”
I motioned for Maryam to bring me the satchel, and when she handed it to me, I removed the wadded-up blue blanket. Spreading it out before the fire, I held up the piece of cloth Sir Thomas had secreted in the letter. It was a perfect match.
“Sire, this is all . . . I cannot . . . My father was King Henry?” I stammered.
“Indeed he was, lad. My brother and I guarded your mother, Rosamund, while you were born. He was torn. He was married to Eleanor for politics alone. It was a loveless marriage, but at least it brought temporary peace to two kingdoms. Such is the way of kings and monarchs. Eleanor returned to France whenever she could, and your father spent a great deal of time alone. But when he found Rosamund, he was happy. She was your father’s true love.”
“What happened to her?” I asked. “Sir Thomas’ letter says she’s gone?”
“Yes, lad, I’m sorry to say that not long after you were born, she caught a fever and passed. I’m sorry you will not have a chance to know her. She was a fine woman.”
The priest who had been sitting there the whole time began to pray. Maryam had returned to Robard’s side, and their faces were full of questions as they struggled to hear what was going on.
“So what am I to do?” I asked.
“Well, lad, we can discuss it later, but first I think we should make sure the Grail is safe.”
“Yes, sire,” I interrupted. “I still have it.” I reached inside the satchel and pulled up the secret bottom, removing the Grail still wrapped in its white linen covering. Very carefully, I handed it to Sir Charles, and when I did so, an enormous weight lifted from my spirit.
“Sir Charles . . . there is something I must tell you . . . ,” I said. “I’ve been inside Rosslyn. Sir Thomas instructed me to deliver the Grail to Father William at the Holy Redeemer Church, and I’m afraid I was too late. Father William is—”
“Father William is sitting right next to you,” he said, smiling.
I stared at the priest in shock, not understanding.
“But how? Who—” I was completely confused.
“At your service, Tristan,” said the priest from his place beside the fire.
“When Thomas sent me the letter for you from Acre, it was also a signal,” Sir Charles said. “I think he knew Richard’s foolish plan to leave Acre without reinforcements would mean another attack by the Saracens. He had a dual duty, to keep both you and the Grail safe. When Gaston arrived with the letter, I knew it was also his signal that he would be sending you out with the Grail. I don’t think he ever intended for you to do it alone, and I am sure he regretted not being able to send help with you.” He paused a moment, letting the words sink in. I believed him. Right after I had given the letter to Gaston, the Saracens had arrived. Sir Thomas had had no choice but to have me escape with the Grail. Now I understood why he had chosen me. I glanced at Maryam and Robard.
“It is all right, sire,” I said. “I managed to find help on my own.” Sir Charles followed my gaze and beamed at the two of them.
“So it would seem,” he said.
“We knew there were brothers inside the order who would kill to possess it. Thomas couldn’t be sure that his attempt to have you carry it out and bring it here wouldn’t be uncovered. We needed a plan in case anyone discovered your destination or followed you. Like that scoundrel Sir Hugh. So, many weeks ago, we replaced Father William here with a brother from the Order—who sadly gave his life to protect the Grail.”
“What is going to happen to the Grail now?” I asked.
“It will be safeguarded forever,” Father William said. “Within our small circle of guardians we have plans to build a great cathedral here. And inside that house of the Lord will be—”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Father William,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll find someplace safe for it, but please don’t tell me. I really have no desire to know.”
THREE DAYS LATER
37
My wounds healed quickly, and for the next two days we camped near Rosslyn with Sir Charles and his knights. Meals were cooked and stories were told and songs were sung by the fire. We relayed to Sir Charles our exploits along the way, and he became quite fond of Robard and Maryam.
With Sir Charles’ blessing, Father William disappeared with the Grail, and I was glad it was now someone else’s responsibility. The handful of knights who had assisted Sir Hugh were nowhere in sight, and I thought it best not to wonder what punishment Sir Charles had seen fit to offer them.
One of Sir Charles’ sergeantos had tended to my wounds, and after three days’ worth of food and rest, I felt ready to leave. The only question was, where would I go? St. Alban’s was gone. Sherwood was Robard’s home, and I had no idea what Maryam planned to do. She was far from Outremer, but I was certain, given her service in our cause, that Sir Charles would find her passage back if she desired. Whether she wished to return there was the question.
The three of us strolled through the village streets of Rosslyn, Angel at our side. We paused outside the church, and I wondered if Father William was somewhere inside, finding a secret hiding place for the Holy Grail until his mighty cathedral could be built. For a moment I thought about how, long after my bones had turned to dust, the Grail would still be here, hidden safely away from those who might attempt to use its wonders for ill purposes.
“What are you going to do, your highness?” Robard asked me.
“Stop calling me that! I’m not a highness!” I replied, only slightly annoyed. Ever since we had learned my true identity, Robard had delighted in teasing me about it.
“Seriously, Tristan, what are your plans?” Maryam asked. “You English and your laws are
confusing, but what will you do? Sir Charles says you have claims to land—”
“I don’t want it,” I interrupted her. “You’ve met Eleanor and Sir Hugh? And I’ve met Richard, and I could do without the lot of them. I don’t care about land or title, and I certainly will make no claim to the throne. Not even with the backing of the Order. It’s all too much. Far too much. From Outremer, I carried the weight of the Grail. I have no desire to carry anything so heavy again. I have a different plan in mind,” I said.
“Really?” Robard asked, snickering again.
“Yes, Robard, a real genuine plan. Thanks for asking. What are you two going to do?”
When Robard and Maryam’s eyes met, they danced with joy. She was not going back to Outremer, at least not now, and maybe not ever.
“We’re going to return to Sherwood for a while,” Robard said. “Maryam has never seen the forest in the spring and summer. I want to show her the meadows and the fields. I want her to see the chestnuts and the sycamores come to bud. There are many things I want her to know.” Maryam smiled at him and gently slipped her hand into his.
“And what of the Shire Reeve?” I asked.
“What of him? I think he’s learned his lesson. I doubt he’ll soon bother the good folk of Sherwood again,” Robard said assuredly. I smiled and nodded, though I did not share Robard’s confidence. I would not ruin Robard’s high spirits, but the Shire Reeve of Nottingham did not strike me as someone who would give up so easily.
“But enough about us, Tristan. What is this plan you have?” Maryam asked eagerly.
When I told them, they smiled and clapped me on the back.
“Come,” I said. “Let’s find Sir Charles and I’ll tell him what I’ve decided. He’s at his tent outside the gate.”
We were a few strides down the street when I realized Angel was not at her usual place, loping along beside us. Looking back, I saw that she sat on her haunches in front of the church.
Orphan of Destiny Page 19
