Orphan of Destiny tyt-3

by Michael Spradlin

  Robard plopped down on a log next to the fire. “Feh,” he said, kicking at one of the flaming timbers with his boot. “Wendenal doesn’t worry me.”

  We let the conversation drop, and before long Maryam returned from her sojourn to the forest and we all fell into a fitful sleep, with each of us taking turns standing watch.

  The next morning, we ate a light breakfast from the bag of food Tuck had sent along with us and then Robard rode off, as was his custom.

  Later in the day, we skirted the city of Leeds and kept heading north. The countryside became more remote and uncultivated, with dense forest and underbrush, and it was often difficult to find a clear trail. We crossed back and forth trying to make decent time, but the landscape did not cooperate.

  A few days later we finally pushed past the city of Gateshead and made better time along the coast. Now that we were firmly inside Scottish boundaries, Little John’s words came back to me and I worried about the clans. Each morning as Robard prepared to depart on his scout, I begged him not to engage in any conflict with anyone. The last thing we needed was angry Scotsmen chasing us in addition to the King’s Guards and whatever Templars Sir Hugh had enlisted. He promised he wouldn’t, and for several days he spoke to no one.

  One night he returned to our camp and asked to see the crude map Little John had drawn for us.

  “What was the name of the river leading to Rosslyn?” he asked.

  “The River Esk,” I replied. “Why?”

  “I found it,” he said. “There is a small hamlet not far north of here, and I inquired from a smith if he knew the river. Told him I had cousins lived along it, south of Edinborough. He wasn’t a friendly chap. Scotsmen aren’t free with the talk. But I dragged the location out of him, and sure enough rode off and found it.”

  We were almost there. As we lighted a fire that evening and sat by it talking amongst ourselves, I pondered our next moves. We should reach Rosslyn tomorrow, and I felt excitement and nervousness all at once. After months of desperate travel, the end of my journey was near.

  As the fire dimmed, we all grew quiet and I wondered if Maryam and Robard were thinking the same thoughts as I. Then a low growl sounded in Angel’s throat and she stood up. We were shocked to see our camp surrounded by ten mounted men. They all wore kilts and carried large battle-axes, swords and various other instruments for killing and maiming.

  We did not have to worry about finding the Scots. They had found us.

  28

  The three of us stood back to back, our weapons in our hands. Angel growled and barked and stood in front of me. The men said nothing and their horses stood stock-still. Their faces were painted in an odd assortment of colors. One of them did not brandish a weapon and nudged his horse forward.

  “Guid evenin’ tae yoo,” he said.

  “What did he say?” Robard whispered to me.

  “I’m not sure. I think he said he was going to eat us,” I answered back.

  “What?” Robard cried.

  “I think he said ‘good evening,’” Maryam offered.

  “I thought he said ‘good eating,’” I replied.

  The man on horseback watched us talk amongst ourselves for a moment.

  “Yur oan McCullen land,” he said.

  “What did he say now?” Robard asked.

  “Something about someone named McCullen and his hand,” I said.

  “No, he said he’s with McCullen’s band. They look like they’re just back from a fight or about to leave for one,” Maryam said.

  “Tristan, you better see if you can talk us out of this,” Robard said.

  “Me? Why me?”

  “You chose this campsite-this is your fault,” he said. “Besides, you gave me specific instructions not to talk to any Scots.”

  “What? No, it was Maryam who found it, not me,” I said.

  The man, who I assumed was their leader since he did the talking, nudged his horse a little closer to us. With the firelight, I could see him more clearly, and immediately wished I could not. Scars lined his face like a brush pile, and he had them everywhere. Over both eyes, along his chin and one in particular that started by his left ear, traveled down his cheek and disappeared into the collar of his cloak.

  “Wha’ brings ye oot haur?” he asked.

  “Hello, my name is Tristan. May I ask your name?”

  The man tilted his head back and looked at me as if he were trying to focus. I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly. I wondered if I had violated some ancient Scottish custom by requesting his name. Knowing my luck I had just challenged him to a duel.

  The man grunted, “A’am th’ Earl a’ McCullen. Yur oan mah lain.” He was an Earl with a hand in the air? Something about his hand?

  Looking up at the man and his nine mounted companions, I decided diplomacy was our only option. Slowly and with great deliberation, I retuned my sword to its scabbard and held my hands up in front of me.

  “Tristan!” Robard said through gritted teeth. “What are you doing? Have you gone mad?”

  “We’re not going to fight our way out of this one, Robard. I’m wondering if we aren’t on his land and he’s asking me for an explanation of why we’re trespassing,” I said.

  “If we have trespassed here, we are sorry and we will quickly be on our way,” I said.

  He looked down on me from his horse and then dismounted slowly, never taking his eyes off the three of us. Slowly he strode toward me until he was an arm’s length away. He was taller than I was, by a half foot at least, and he looked even more frightening close up.

  “That’s a braw lookin’ sword thaur,” he said. He pointed to Sir Thomas’ battle sword on my back. It was impossible for me to divine his meaning. Did he want the sword? Was he going to steal it from me?

  I held up my left hand and very slowly, using just the tips of my fingers, pulled the sword free of the scabbard. It was so heavy I nearly dropped it, but I held on to it, grasped the blade with my right hand and held it out for him. He took it from me and inspected it closely.

  “Urr ye Crusaders?” Then it came to me: he wanted to know if I was back from the war.

  “Yes, yes!” I said, nodding vigorously. “We’re back from Outremer.” The word got his attention.

  “Ootremer? Urr ye a Templar?”

  “Yes, sir, I am of the Order but not a knight,” I said, and then wondered if I had made a mistake. What if he considered the Knights Templar to be his enemies?

  “Beautiful blade,” he said, returning the sword to me. “Urr ye hungry?”

  I didn’t know what to do or say. Without understanding him, I was afraid my next words could be my last if I said the wrong thing. To my immense relief he repeated himself and made a motion of spooning food into his mouth. Aha!

  “Are we hungry? Yes, we are,” I said, which was true, as we had not eaten yet.

  The man gave a command and his men dismounted. From out of the shadows they emerged with several sacks and jugs that had been tied to their horses. I gave a nod to Robard and Maryam, and they lowered their weapons.

  “I think they’re going to feed us,” I said.

  “Are you sure they aren’t going eat us?” Robard cracked.

  “I’m reasonably certain they won’t,” I answered.

  He knelt by the fire and watched as his men prepared the meal. In short order a flank of venison was roasting over the fire and they passed around a bag of bread. We each took a small piece.

  “My name is Tristan,” I said again, holding out my hand. The man took it and nearly crushed every bone in it with his grip.

  “The Earl a’ McCullen,” he said. I finally figured out that he was the Earl of someplace called McCullen, which I assumed was a nearby estate or manor. Or maybe his name was McCullen. I couldn’t be sure.

  He broke off a small piece of bread and held it out to Angel, who still maintained her position between us. Her resolve melted on seeing the scrap of food in his hand. She inched forward and gulped down the bread. Then s
he allowed the man to scratch behind her ears.

  “Whaur ye headin’?” the Earl asked. The more he talked, the better I could understand his thick Scottish brogue.

  “We are traveling to Rosslyn,” I said. His eyes went wide, and before I could speak, a small ax appeared out of his cloak, and he tossed it so quickly and effortlessly, I almost did not see it until it thudded into a tree ten feet away.

  Apparently, I had said the wrong thing.

  29

  No one moved. The entire camp was silent. Maryam and Robard stood stock-still, afraid to reach for their weapons, their eyes wide. The Earl glared at me.

  “Why urr ye ridin’ tae Rosslyn?” he asked, the fingers of his right hand tickling the hilt of his sword, which hung at his side.

  “Well. . you see. . we are going there to meet someone,” I said.

  “Who will ye meit thaur?”

  Now I was truly unsure of what to do or say. I couldn’t be sure, but it appeared that the Earl and his men had been raiding or fighting someone, maybe in northern England or perhaps another clan. When he understood we were Crusaders, he made some internal judgment and perhaps accepted us as kindred spirits. He was certainly no one to be trifled with, and I could not reveal my true mission, but a lie very close to the truth might work.

  “I need to deliver a letter to Father William at a church there,” I said.

  “Faither William?” he asked.

  I nodded yes and smiled, wanting to make sure the angry Scotsman knew I was his friend.

  “Why urr ye seekin’ Faither William?” he asked.

  “I served with his brother in Outremer. I’m sorry to say, he was killed in battle. I’m taking his last words to Father William.” It was all I could think of on the spot, and as soon as the words left my mouth, I realized he could easily discover my deception. What if he knew Father William didn’t have a brother? Or he wanted to see the letter? Knowing my luck, he was Father William’s brother.

  “Oh, puir Faither William,” he said. He bowed his head and closed his eyes and prayed silently for a moment, then crossed himself.

  “In th’ mornan’ we’ll tak’ ye thaur,” he said.

  Robard and Maryam had relaxed, but we were all still wary.

  “Did he just say ‘there’s a bell cow here’?” Robard asked.

  “No, he said he’ll take us to Rosslyn in the morning.”

  “Wonderful,” said Maryam, not meaning it at all.

  The Scots were excellent campfire cooks, and we listened to them laugh and tell stories of their exploits long into the night. We couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying but were afraid to be impolite. From their laughter and antics, the tales were apparently funny and full of adventure. We’ll never know. Then it was time for rest, and they all dropped where they sat and went to sleep.

  “Should we try to leave?” Robard whispered.

  “I don’t think so. The Earl might be insulted. Let’s try to get some sleep and worry about it in the morning,” I said.

  But I did not sleep. I half expected another clan to arrive and murder us all in our sleep. The horses the Earl and his men rode looked loaded with plunder, and someone must have been after them. Finally sleep overtook me and I remembered Little John’s admonition: “For every friend you make in Scotland, you make an enemy of someone else.”

  I slept fitfully, waking every few minutes to keep an eye on my new “friends.”

  Something nudged me awake. I looked up to see a boot attached to a leg. Then I heard the words “It’s mornan’. Gie up.” What? It didn’t make sense. Did someone say it was time for soup? It was not even dawn yet.

  When I came fully awake, I found the boot belonged to the Earl. He repeated the words, and by now, I was awake enough to understand. He had said it was time to get up. We stood and found the Earl’s men already mounted up and prepared to ride. Hastily gathering our belongings, we too were ready to depart in a few moments.

  The Earl climbed up on his own horse, a large black stallion. “Rosslyn’s tae th’ north.”

  “He just said, ‘Rosslyn is north,’” Robard said, delighted he had deciphered the Earl’s announcement.

  “I know. I heard him,” I said. We followed along behind the Earl but ahead of his column of men.

  “Do you think this is a good idea?” Maryam asked.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. At first I thought not, but perhaps if he shows us the way to Rosslyn, we’ll be less likely to run into any trouble with his countrymen,” I said.

  “Unless a bigger, meaner Scotsman with more men comes along,” Robard said.

  “Thank you for mentioning that, Robard,” I replied sarcastically.

  “I do what I am able,” he said.

  We rode through the countryside all morning, and unlike us, the Earl rode through towns and villages with little thought. No one appeared to pay us any attention, but we did stand out, and I worried Sir Hugh would learn of our presence before long.

  Shortly after midday we forded the River Esk and climbed up a tall promontory that I later learned the locals called Rosslyn Glen. It was a beautiful spot, with rolling hills that must have been magnificently green in summer. The sound of rushing water made the forest and the earth around us sound as if it were alive, with its own pulse and beating heart.

  In the middle of the small village of Rosslyn stood the spire of a church steeple. I hoped it was the Church of the Holy Redeemer that Sir Thomas had instructed me to find. My heart sprang for joy at the thought.

  Then as fast as my hopes had risen, they were dashed. Hanging from the gate of the village hung a Templar banner, and a half dozen Templars guarded the entrance.

  Sir Hugh was waiting.

  30

  Well, this truly ruins a fine day,” Robard said, staring at the knights assembled below us. They were camped outside the town walls, with several tents and a cook fire blockading the village gate. Not far away their horses were hobbled and grazed quietly on the underbrush and grass.

  The Earl and his men retreated a few paces out of sight of anyone watching from below.

  They looked impatient to be on their way. Something told me the Earl was no longer on his lands and would likely find trouble with another clan if he delayed too long. He rode up beside me and offered his hand.

  “Guid luck tae ye,” he said. As far as we go. We shook hands and I winced as he squeezed my hand with a death grip. Then we watched him and his men melt away into the trees.

  “Lovely people,” Robard said.

  “I expect it could have been worse,” I said.

  “Sure, after all, they could have eaten us. Now instead we get to face Sir Hugh and a brace of Templars.” Robard often delighted in pointing out the many challenges of our situations.

  “How does Sir Hugh keep finding us? How could he have known where you were headed?” Maryam asked as we returned to the top of the glen to study the town.

  I couldn’t answer, because in finding him already here, I had come to a horrible conclusion. Someone in Sir Thomas’ inner circle must have been one of Hugh’s spies.

  “I don’t know. When Sir Thomas entrusted the Grail to me, he spoke of a small circle of knights within the Order who knew of its existence. It had been their solemn duty to keep it safe. No one else, not even brother knights beyond those few, even knew it was real. But he must have suspected something or someone was unfaithful to their Code, or else he wouldn’t have instructed me to give it to a priest and not a fellow Templar.”

  In truth, none of it mattered anymore. I would find Father William and do as Sir Thomas had ordered. Even if Sir Hugh had beaten us here, and even though it was a mystery how he was always able to stay a step ahead of us, it was time for this to be over.

  “What now?” Robard asked.

  “We wait until nightfall. I’ll sneak into the city and try to find out as much as I can about these knights, and whether Sir Hugh is holding any hostages. If I can find Father William, I can sneak him out of town and
he can decide what to do with the Grail.”

  “We won’t allow you to go in alone,” Robard said. But I ignored him.

  It was approaching late afternoon. We found a copse of trees fed with a spring and watered the horses. The trees would keep us somewhat hidden, but I doubted Sir Hugh would be sending out scouts or setting pickets. He was waiting for me to come to him.

  We spent anxious hours anticipating nightfall. Maryam sharpened her daggers on a stone, and Robard tended to his bow and inspected each of his shafts, and took the time to examine several bundles of arrows he had tied to the back of his saddle. I paced back and forth nervously while Angel slept.

  “Why don’t we just leave?” Robard finally suggested. “We can go back to Sherwood. You’re both welcome to stay there as long as you like. Let Sir Hugh wait here until he grows old and feeble.” Maryam smiled when Robard mentioned returning to Sherwood, and her expression told me that when this was over, going back to her home in Outremer was no longer first on her list of things to do. For some reason, her look reminded me of Celia, and I thought how I would almost rather be back in France, penned inside Montsegur, than freezing in the woods of Scotland.

  I shook my head. “I can’t. Sir Thomas told me the Grail would be safe here. What if Sir Hugh is holding Father William against his will? What if he’s murdered him? I can’t just leave without knowing his fate.”

  “So you’re going to go through with it?” Robard asked. “Try to sneak into the village after dark? Alone?”

  “There’s no moon tonight. I’ll make my way in somehow and find out what has happened to Father William. If Sir Hugh is not holding him, I will try to persuade him to leave with me. If he is a hostage, I’ll return here and plan our next move.”

  “You should let me go instead,” Maryam said. “I’m stealthier than you are.”