Leaf and Branch (New Druids Series Vol 1 & 2)

by Donald D. Allan

  "You lie! God does not speak to the likes of you. The Cathedral in Jergen is our most sacred location. God would not speak to someone who associates with demons! Demons have corrupted your soul!" Seth grabbed the damaged pinkie and forced it back to almost the breaking point. Brent cried out. Fear bubbled inside of him and he reached out to God and prayed for strength.

  He fought to keep control of his thoughts. Reason would see him through this. Brent could see and hear that Seth was getting worked up. He had to push him beyond rational thought. He had to gain the upper hand. He spoke quickly. "I have Faith, Seth Farlow. I am a true believer in God," His voice was clenched with pain but he forced the words out. "I believe His words and heed them. The Seven Tenants of God rule my life. I sit here naked on the dirt and trust in God. I am defenceless and unarmed and yet I trust that He will protect me and deliver me from evil. Do you follow the Tenants?"

  "Who are you to tell me what is faith and what is not? I am the head of the Sect of the Church of the New Order. God speaks to me directly. I commune with the Archbishop!"

  Brent swallowed and forced himself to talk calmly and directly to Seth. "The first tenant is 'strive to act with compassion and empathy toward all creatures in accordance with reason'. I see no reason here. Do you recall the fourth tenant?"

  Seth's face grew red.

  "The fourth tenant is 'the freedoms of others should be respected, including the freedom to offend. To wilfully and unjustly encroach upon the freedoms of another is to forego your own'. You are not respecting my freedom or my friends."

  Seth growled and lowered the pruner to his pinkie and closed the blades on the second knuckle. Brent shuddered and decided then to completely trust his Faith in God. He surrendered his life to God.

  "The seventh tenant is my favourite. God tells us 'every tenant is a guiding principle designed to inspire nobility in action and thought. The spirit of compassion, wisdom, and justice should always prevail over the written or spoken word'. You have no compassion. You work without wisdom." Brent was speaking calmly and clearly to Seth now. The words were right and they needed to be said. I trust in you Lord. My life is yours. "Your justice is a twisted corrupt perversion of what you desire. Your own carnal delights. It is you that is the demon! Can you not see that?"

  A snick sound was loud in the room and Seth leered in Brent's face. Brent looked calmly back at Seth. Seth looked from Brent to the pinkie and cried out. Brent looked over and saw the second segment of his pinkie lying next to the first. Fresh blood soaked the ground. He looked at his finger and saw that it was whole. His pinkie stood pristine. He could feel Seth's grip on it.

  Seth screamed in rage and brought the pruner back to the second knuckle and snipped the end of the pinkie off. It flew through the air falling short of the other two pieces. Blood spurted through the air and Seth made a noise of joy that quickly turned to a cry of dismay. Brent looked down and saw his pinkie remained whole. Seth scrambled on his hands and knees to the pieces of finger lying in the dirt and cradled them.

  "How?"

  Brent felt removed from the room. He felt as if he was floating. He felt no pain. His headache cleared and with it gone clarity returned. He felt reborn with unlimited energy and potential. He smiled. God watches over me. The room seemed brighter and he looked around, bewildered. The two men on the other side of the table were staring at him in fear. The strange light lit them up and they blinked and shielded their eyes with their hands. Behind them a lone black figure turned and ran. It's me, I'm the one making that light, realised Brent. Like a beacon.

  He heard a high-pitched cry and the ropes binding him writhed and fell free of him and burst into flame before being consumed in a flash of heat and smoke. The cry cut off. He lifted his arms and examined them. Seth looked up in horror, still holding the remains of Brent's finger. The room grew brighter and Seth's men cried out and fled, leaving Seth behind. Seth scrambled away from him, dropped the finger pieces, and pointed at him.

  "Your forehead! It can't be!" Seth cried out and jerked to his feet and ran from the building crying for help.

  Brent turned to see Comlin and James standing and staring at him with open mouths. The light coming from him lit them up and they blinked. Their ropes were gone and they rubbed their wrists. "What?" he asked.

  "Do you know you have the symbol of the Church of the New Order on your forehead?" said Comlin.

  Brent reached up and touched his forehead and felt nothing. The light in the room flickered. "I do?"

  "Yes," added James. "And, it's kind of glowing. A lot."

  Brent swivelled his head and the light tracked with it. He reached up to touch his forehead again. He felt nothing. No heat and no flame. The light flickered once and then was gone. The room seemed dark with just the one lantern lighting it. Cries were heard outside and the men turned to look at each other.

  "We need to leave. Now," ordered Brent.

  "Follow me," said Comlin and started toward the door.

  Brent grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Take me to Bill's house first. I want his armour and sword."

  Comlin looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "Good idea and worth the risk. We'll need armour and weapons if we are to survive this. Plus, we're naked."

  Comlin started toward a back door but Brent stopped at the table and looked down. Lying next to the lantern was his amulet. He reclaimed it and put it around his neck. Thank you, Lord, he prayed. He looked for the black figure but it was gone. He shuddered.

  Brent nodded to Comlin and they followed him out the back door and into the dark streets of Jaipers. Over to the left men were pouring out of the Woven Bail Inn. They wore armour and carried swords. They were Seth's men. Comlin kept them to the shadows.

  "Follow me closely," said Comlin. "They won't see us. Not in my town."

  Forty-Two

  Jaipers, 900 A.C.

  COMLIN LED THEM quickly through the deserted town and Brent was impressed with his skills. Armed men were running down the streets and looking into alleyways searching for them. Somehow Comlin kept them from sight until they reached the small but pristine home of Bill Redgrave and entered through the back door. They stood in the dark kitchen. James kept an eye to the backyard by the door.

  Comlin pulled Brent in close and whispered in his ear. "I'll leave you here and take James to my house for gear."

  "What?" said Brent. "That's too risky. We stay together."

  "If you think I am leaving this town without my own gear you are mistaken. It will take you time to get suited up. During that time, James and I can be to my house and back again."

  James interrupted before an argument broke out. "Sir, we will survive better with armour and weapons. He's right. We'll be fine. Where do we meet?"

  Comlin answered. "We'll come back here. Then head to the docks. I have a friend who runs a barge down river. We can escape with him. He's planning on leaving tomorrow morning. Hopefully, he will agree to hide us."

  "Hopefully? That doesn't sound reassuring," snapped Brent.

  "You have a better plan? Trust me. I've spent my whole life planning for contingencies. This is just one more. I'm not worried. The captain of the barge owes me. We'll be back in no time. I'll make this noise when I return." Comlin made a strange bird noise and then disappeared out the back with James following close behind.

  Brent cursed but waited and listened for cries that they were discovered. When it remained quiet, he crept up the stairs to the study. He closed the door in the dark and found a thick candle on the desk. He struck a spark with the lighter and lit the candle. He placed the candle back on the desk and turned to the armour tree in the corner. The field plate gleamed in the candle light and he could see his reflection in it. The sword hung almost as if it had just been placed there.

  He reached up and touched his forehead but felt nothing. His reflection looked normal. He held out his hand and looked at his pinkie. Right away he could see that it was a new pinkie. His hard-earned calluses were missing from it. It
was pink and lacked the tan of his other fingers. Strange, it's as if it had suddenly grown back. Thank you, Lord, he thought reverently.

  Brent crouched down in front of the small chest in front of the armour tree. He opened it and coughed against the fumes of mothballs. Inside were a neatly folded gambeson, leather gauntlets with metal plates at the back of the hands, a surcoat, armour oil, wire brushes and rags. "Thank you, Bill," he whispered to his friend's memory and pulled the gambeson out of the chest and threw it on with practised ease. It felt good to not be naked. He felt less exposed and vulnerable.

  He examined the field plate. It was a mix of a waist-hauberk, thin-hammered steel plates, and boiled leather. Plates covered the chest, shoulders and back, chain across the abdomen, and leather for the remaining areas. Plates also adorned the forearms and the area of the lower back covering the kidneys. It was beautifully crafted. All the plates were engraved with ornate scroll work. The rank insignia for Knight General was engraved on small steel ailettes at the shoulders and worked with gold leaf. Brent could see that it was well oiled and cared for. The leather was hard but not cracked or drying. Like most field plate, nothing covered his legs. This armour was for field work and allowed maximum movement with maximum shielding. It weighed half what a full hauberk would. Brent could wear it and move easily enough. It was a useful artisan blend and Brent was pleased. I don't know how you managed to get your old armour out of Munsten and down here to Jaipers, but I am glad you did, old friend. Thank you.

  He dressed quickly using tricks he had learned over the year. Tricks to attach pieces to the gambeson he normally would need a squire's help with. He took out the surcoat and shook off the mothball fragments. It was a formal surcoat and not one that Brent could wear in public without drawing everyone's attention. He was about to lay it aside when he noticed the inside was brown drab. He turned it inside out and smiled. Reversible, how smart, he thought and threw it over the armour. Finally, he stood in the study fully fitted out in armour and he felt calmer and more in control. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms and it felt right. The surcoat hid the quality of the armour nicely.

  He took the hand-and-a-half sword — often referred to as a bastard sword by his men — down from the armour tree and pulled it partially free of the scabbard. It was honed and oiled. Small chips in the blade marked it as being a working sword. And one Bill trusted with his life, thought Brent. I'll trust it with mine. He slammed it home in the sheath and wrapped the sling around it.

  He moved behind the desk and laid the sword on it and started opening drawers. Inside he found only papers and knick-knacks. He reached under the front of the desk and felt something there. He put the candle on the floor and knelt down under the desk.

  "I should have bloody well done this before I put this armour on," he grunted. He looked up and grinned. Two daggers were sheathed under the wood. He ripped them free and strapped them to his legs. Field plate is a wonderful thing, he thought.

  He looked thoughtfully at the desk again and re-opened the drawers and studied the depth. One looked slightly off and he rapped the back panel and it sounded a little hollow. Like there is a space behind it, he thought. He pulled on one of the gauntlets and punched the panel. His fist broke through with ease. He felt around inside the space and latched onto something. When he pulled back his hand he saw what looked like a book wrapped in oilskin and small leather coin pouch. He laid the items on the desk and examined the contents of the bag. Several silver groats and a dozen or so gold crowns gleamed back at him. A small ransom and more than enough to pay our way back to Munsten, he thought. He unwrapped the oilskin and inside found a small diary. He opened it and started scanning the pages.

  "Oh, you cheeky bugger!" he laughed as he flipped the pages. Inside was a complete account of the crimes of the Lord Protector with dates and names. But more importantly, Bill detailed where he had hidden the gold from the treasury. "I can't believe it! You sneaky, fucking bastard!" Brent looked up to the heavens. "Well done, Bill Redgrave! Well done!"

  Reeve Comlin led a quick route behind the buildings of Jaipers and paused in view of his home. He scanned the area but could see no one guarding or watching the place. They watched as a patrol of three guards marched down the street and away into the night. James touched his shoulder and Comlin looked back at him.

  James was looking past him out to the street. "Clear?" he asked.

  "I think so, do you know which home is mine?"

  "Well, no."

  "So how about I check it out first. I'll signal you if it's clear."

  "And if it's not?"

  Comlin just looked at him.

  "Right, I'll know. Sorry, I'm a bit shaken. Thought we were dead."

  "It will pass. Trust me. I've been held captive before."

  "You have?"

  Comlin didn't answer. Instead, he sprinted to the back door of his house and slipped inside. He paused, held his breath, and listened. After a count of thirty, he heard nothing and breathed again. He quickly searched his house and looked out onto the front porch. All was clear. He ducked out the back door and gave his bird call to James. He watched a shadowy figure separate from the fence near his home and join him at the back door.

  "Follow," he whispered and led James into his house. He went over to the couch in the living room and indicated for James to take the other end. They lifted the couch and moved it to the other side of the room and set it gently down on the wooden floor. Comlin went back to the floor where the couch had been and lifted up a small ring handle. He pulled and a trapdoor swung open silently.

  "Oiled hinges," he whispered to James. James nodded appreciatively. "Come here, help me with this."

  Inside the trapdoor was a small compartment dug into the earth and lined with oilskin. A flat wooden crate filled the space and they reached in and pulled it free and set it aside. Comlin closed the trapdoor and together they moved the crate over to the back window and the moonlight. Comlin pulled out his familiar brown and green leathers, a beautiful longbow devoid of a bowstring, a matching quiver, and a plain sword in a black and green leather sheath. He laid them aside and pulled out another full leather armour suit, and a sword with a little ornate work around the pommel. These he pushed over to James.

  He watched James stand up and start pulling on the armour and he did the same, saying nothing. The leathers were brown and green, offering perfect camouflage in late Spring through the Fall. The armour was remarkably tough but allowed movement at the joints and shoulders. Expertly made, as I should know, they cost a small fortune. He was certain the second suit would fit James and was pleased to see it did. He's the same size as Ben, he thought. James finished suiting up and looked over to Comlin. They could be twins except Comlin knew he looked like he belonged in the armour. Putting it back on again changed his whole outlook on life.

  The Reeve is gone now, he thought and felt a deep pang of regret. He looked around the living room and felt nothing. It was never truly my home. Just a place to hang my hat. But the job, that was important work.

  Comlin knelt down and started pulling out throwing daggers from the bottom of the crate. He handed six to James and took eight for himself.

  "Watch," he said to James and took one dagger and inserted into a sheath built into the armour. James raised his eyebrows and did the same with his own armour and smiled. Comlin repeated this until James' daggers were gone and hidden in the suit. The last two daggers Comlin placed in the sheaths at his lower back. He finished by slinging the sword and picking up the longbow.

  "Pretty slick," said James. "Almost as if you were not a nice Reeve in a small town. More like a highwayman."

  Comlin didn't move. He merely looked back at James. A quiet descended on the room and Comlin could see James starting to look uncomfortable. Finally, Comlin laughed and James joined him a moment later. "Highwayman? What made you think that? Come, couple more things to grab."

  Together they bundled up arrows, a fletching kit, bowstrings, maps and a large
bag of coin. Comlin emptied the coin bag and James saw a red ruby in the mix. Comlin split the coin in two and put them in two smaller bags. He handed one to James. "For the road."

  Last he went to his closet and brought out a second bow. He handed it to James. "Know how to use this?"

  "Of course," replied James and accepted the bow. He looked it over and whistled softly. "Beautiful."

  "Thanks, made it myself," he said and felt a little pride creep into his voice. "String up and let's go."

  They each took a bow string and strung their bows. Comlin finished his in a matter of seconds. James struggled a little but Comlin just watched until he had it done.

  There was a small sound from the back of the house. Comlin whirled toward the sound, nocked an arrow, drew the bow, and released in one continuous motion. A grunt was heard and the sound of someone hitting the floor. Comlin nocked another arrow and drew. Two, then three heartbeats went by and a second sound was heard. Comlin released and something hit the floor with a loud moan. They moved forward quickly as a team into the kitchen and to the back door. Just inside the kitchen was a black boot dead on the floor with an arrow deep in his heart. Just inside the door and sprawled across the door jamb was a second black boot. He was still alive and moaning.

  Comlin knelt and slipped a dagger up under the back of the skull and jiggled it. The man went silent and stilled. He withdrew the dagger and wiped it on the man's shirt before returning it to his leg sheath. He looked at James and was pleased to see grim determination there.

  I was worried the man would be soft about this kind of stuff. Glad he isn't.

  "Come. Let's go get the General and be off. I can feel the noose tightening."

  Brent waited by the back door and listened. He could hear cries in the town and smelt smoke. They were searching for them. Brent kept wanting to think about what had happened in the large common room tonight but his mind refused to want to dwell on it. Later, he thought. Later I will need to find answers. He thought again of the Cathedral in Jergen and knew he would have to return for those answers.