The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series)

by James Batchelor

  “You run away and never come back,” Roland grinned, but seeing that Henry did not appreciate the jest, shrugged and said, “You get through it. Once you are back in a routine, everyone will realize that you are not the person that left and you will realize that you are still the person that left and everything will be fine.”

  Henry sighed, “I hope so. It just seems so foreign. It makes me want to be back on the battlefield. At least there I understood the rules.”

  “Yes, well, don’t run off just yet.” They walked for a time in silence, each thinking his own thoughts, until finally Roland said, “Well, this is where our roads diverge.”

  Henry was surprised that they had arrived so quickly. He was attempting to repay a visit Thomas had made to him when he was away. He had been directed to a tavern in the square, and Roland was destined for home.

  “Roland, I apologize for my outburst at you. I was affected by the news of Adler. But I am thankful for your friendship.”

  Roland smiled awkwardly and with a wave started down the adjacent road.

  ***

  Henry approached the tavern down a dirt road and into the cobbled streets of the town square. He had been directed there by Lindsay Dawning, John’s wife, after returning Thomas’ visit only to be told by Annie, Thomas’ wife, that Thomas was probably with John. Lindsay had indicated with obvious distaste that John had been frequenting this tavern. The tavern was a small cottage that was patronized mostly by the local farmers and tenants of Dawning Court. It was not a nice place by any standard, and Henry was sure there was some mistake. This was certainly no place for a nobleman. As he approached the door, he heard raucous laughter coming from inside. He hesitated a moment, his hand half-way to the knob on the door. Henry was certain this was not the setting in which he wanted to have a reunion with his brothers, but he was here now. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he swung the door open.

  The inside of the pub matched the outside. It was dark and dirty. There were a few tables placed haphazardly about the room and a bar along the back wall tended by a fat bartender in a filthy apron that looked to be part of the elaborate tapestry of dirt. He was absently wiping down the counter with a rag that could only have been making the less than clean surface even more questionable. It was early afternoon and there were only a couple of locals present. They were slouched over the bar in a drunken stupor.

  Henry was disappointed to see Thomas and John at a table in the center of the room. John had not turned out to greet Henry on his return, and now seeing him for the first time, Henry was struck by his altered appearance. He had put on a great deal of weight that was visible in his belly and face. His skin was splotchy and his brow darkened. Clearly the intervening years had not been good to him.

  Thomas and John were not alone at their table. They were joined by two women that were as filthy as the pub itself. They were probably fixtures of the place. The ‘ladies’ sat side by side on one side of the table.

  There was an empty pitcher of wine lying down on the table and another mostly empty pitcher between them. The two men were talking very loudly and laughing even more loudly at each successive comment either of them made. The clamor they were making was accentuated by the shrill laughter of the harpies that accompanied them. They were clearly well on their way to complete stupefaction. Henry turned to walk from the filthy establishment when John spotted him.

  “Hey, if it's not the hero of Persia.” His words were slightly slurred, and he was squinting through blurry eyes. “Have you come to rescue us, hero?” It unsettled Henry greatly to see his brothers sitting here like this, uninhibited, without a trace of shame, as it was an indicator that this was far more than a rare lapse in judgment but instead an indication of life choices they were making for themselves. No one had prepared him for this.

  Henry approached the table. “It doesn't look like you need saving, as both of you are doing an excellent job of running away on your own,” he said lightly, but with an air of disgust in his voice.

  “To running away,” John said, holding up his cup of wine with some of the cheap dark liquid sloshing over the side.

  Thomas held his cup up as well. “He who drinks to run away, lives to drink another day,” he added, and they all laughed heartily before draining the contents, with much of the beverage spilling down their chins.

  “Sit down, sit down,” Thomas ordered, indicating an unused chair on the opposite side of the table from their company. Henry pulled the chair back and inspected its dirty surface for a moment before sitting down. He sat upright in the chair that was pushed back from the table a ways with his legs crossed in order to remain aloof from his brothers’ activities and to make it clear he did not plan to stay long.

  “So what brings Dawning Court's golden boy to a cruddy little place like this?” Thomas asked, refilling both their cups.

  “I came to see my brothers for the first time in three years,” Henry said pointedly, hoping they would understand. They did not. “I had no idea they had turned into lushes in my absence.”

  “Lushes? Why, because we decided to have a drink today?” Thomas said, suddenly angry.

  Henry indicated the empty pitcher already lying on the table. “This was just a casual drink on the spur of the moment? It takes a lot of practice to imbibe that much.”

  “Well, we had some help,” Thomas said, evoking a shrill squeal from one of the ladies with a pinch. It was inconceivable to Henry that this gaudy, filthy, crass, and appalling creature could in any sense be of the same fairer sex that he so worshiped in the form of Leah. These persons with matted hair, cloying amounts of make-up, and a generous amount of cleavage exposed could not be the same species as his fair one.

  “Hmmm, and how do Lindsay and Annie feel about that help?”

  “Don’t mention those names in here!” John ordered. “If we were not married, we would not have to drink.”

  “You’re married?” The woman closest to John squealed in a thick Irish brogue. “If we had known that we would have charged extra.” And she let out a great shrieking laugh that hurt Henry’s ears.

  “No wonder you're Martha’s golden boy,” John said. “You’re exactly like her. A person does one little thing you don't like and they are trash, good for nothing but to be ground under your heel.”

  “To the golden boy of Dawning Court,” Thomas said, holding up his mug again. The others followed suit, and they all drained their cups simultaneously.

  “Maybe Martha would be a better person if she had a drink occasionally,” John suggested as Thomas stared into the bottom of the now-empty second pitcher, trying to grasp what he was seeing.

  “Of course; look how much good it has done you two.”

  “What do you mean?” John said, his blurry eyes narrowing at Henry. “We are just having a little fun. This isn't hurting us, but our mother definitely needs something, because she has a whole lot of problems.”

  “Wine!” Thomas called, crashing the pitcher down on the table. Henry winced from the noise. “You wanna drink?” he asked, glancing at Henry and crashing the pitcher down again.

  “No, thank you,” Henry replied with disdain, then turning back to John, “The only thing I can see that our mother lacks is noble sons. You should be tending to Dawning Court and ensuring that her final years are spent in comfort rather than anxiety over her useless children.”

  The bartender arrived with another pitcher of wine. “It is on that fellow’s tab of course,” John indicated a tall, lean Saracen merchant that was hunched over the bar, ready to pass out. As the bartender nodded and retreated, the conversation continued.

  “So what are you doing to take care of her? You are her golden boy, the one she loves best. It escapes me how much her life has improved under your loving protection.”

  “You are correct, of course,” Henry assented. “I have been back for nearly three days; I should have a lot more to show for myself than you do after 11 years.” Henry leaned forward. “You are her eldest son;
the birthright, the inheritance and, yes, all the responsibility goes to you. So much depended on you and your good decisions, and yet you have consistently failed.”

  “Oh, you’re so righteous?” Thomas jumped in after refilling all their mugs from the fresh pitcher. “What happened to that young man that we grew up with that was into everything bad that came along? I never did the things you did when I was young, so we indulge a little now and you are so much better than us?”

  “That would be William,” Henry sat back, surprised by the unpleasant reminder of his younger brother’s misspent youth. He had been a very angry young man and had lashed out at most everything. He defied every authority that was placed over him except one, Jurou.

  “Oh that’s right!” John said. “William was the malefactor. You were not bad, nor were you good. You did nothing. You did not live at all.”

  “So we drink,” Thomas continued. “We drink to forget. We drink to take our minds off of the terrible things that happened to us.”

  “What terrible things?” Henry asked quizzically.

  Thomas looked at John for support. “Our wives,” John said, raising his mug.

  “Yes,” Thomas confirmed. “To our wives, the plagues sent from the underworld to scourge us for our sins.”

  “And to cause us to sin more,” John added.

  “Oh that’s right,” they both laughed and noisily drained their cups.

  “So you have made a lot of bad decisions in life that have left you unhappy—”

  “And have your good decisions made you happy, Henry?” Thomas interrupted him. Henry was disconcerted by the question. What had his desire to always be on the side of right brought him? Did he have the company of the woman he loved? Did he enjoy the pleasure of the reputation he had always dreamed of? All he really had were a bunch of painful memories and nightmares that would not let him escape even in slumber.

  “Well, if you are looking for happiness,” said one of the women, rising from her seat suggestively. The whole table laughed.

  “So you have made a lot of bad decisions in life that have left you unhappy,” Henry repeated. “I’m sure the choice to forget your troubles by becoming useless sots will bring you the self-respect you have failed to achieve thus far. That seems reasonable.”

  “Go to Hell, golden boy!” Thomas said. John raised his mug and they both drank to that. The trollop, encouraged by their laughter, continued around the table and leaned against Henry, her ample bosom pressed very near his face. Henry tried to avoid acknowledging her at all. “If it is experience you are looking for,” she breathed into his ear, “I will make sure you never forget this.” She stuck her tongue in his ear.

  Henry shot up out of his seat, dumping the harlot to the floor in the process. He was blushing furiously. “I came here hoping to find my brothers, but I see they are not here. I hope for your sakes you have no recollection of this tomorrow.” He slid his chair into the table to hide any evidence of the fact that he had been there. “I can't tell you two how sad I am to see how you have fallen.”

  “We didn't fall,” John said, looking at Thomas.

  “No,” Thomas added. “We walked arm in arm down here.” They both laughed and drank again.

  “You two do bring out the best in each other.”

  Henry exited the pub to cries of “to the golden boy of Dawning Court. May you never lose your luster,” and loud, drunken laughter.

  Henry felt very much alone as he made the trek back home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Dawning courtyard was in full tournament regalia on this beautiful summer day. There were banners fluttering in the gentle breeze. There were streamers of every color decorating the stands, the walls, and the castle itself. Along one side of the courtyard were pavilions set up for each champion and his retainers, the two largest, of course, being that of the Dawnings and the Braddocks. All were in attendance. The villeins and serfs were crowded into an area with no seats other than the makeshift places of rest they were able to elbow out in the press of bodies. The nobility were seated comfortably above the rabble on an adjacent side that abutted both the pavilions of the champions and the area cordoned off for the peasants. There was a general air of excitement that pervaded everything.

  This was an annual tournament that was staged alternately between the Dawnings and the Braddocks. Many knights would travel great distances to participate in it, but the real excitement came from the intense rivalries of the two families. The Dawning men were invariably pitted against the Braddock men of similar status, and the competition was fierce.

  Leah did not particularly care for the violence of the tournaments, but these so-called “tournaments of sport” were usually fairly mild, although they could and frequently did get out of control. The long-standing rivalry between the two families often fanned the embers of the competitive game into something more fierce. But today she had a special interest in arriving early and sitting close to the yard. Today was William’s first tournament. There was an unmistakable air of excitement to it all. Leah was nervous and excited for him all at once.

  “Milady,” said a familiar voice. She turned, and there was William in his beautiful white armor with blue and gold embroidery. She had never seen anything quite like it, and she thought if very striking and William particularly handsome in it. “I hope this day finds you well,” he said with a slight bow. He could not suppress his grin.

  “It does indeed,” she replied, smiling back at him. “And how is your arm today? The competition is said to be fierce.”

  “Fear not, milady,” he said with mock humility. “I am spared the anxiety of the heated battle as I have not yet had the honor of being knighted. Therefore I am good for nothing but periphery exhibition before the real entertainment commences.”

  Leah leaned forward over the rail until her mouth was close to his ear. “I await your match with earnestness. I have no doubt you will be victorious.”

  “The lady does me too much honor,” William said, bowing again to try to hide his smile at her compliment.

  “When you are finished fawning over the lady, Dawning,” a mocking voice interrupted them, “clear the lists to make room for the real knights.” They both turned to see Vincent Braddock, the youngest son of the neighboring baron, approaching in his new suit of armor. Vincent was Leah’s age and therefore a couple of years older than William. He had been knighted in order to participate in this tournament, and his armor was a little large on his frame.

  “Terribly sorry, Vincent,” William said, still looking at Leah. “I did not see you hiding there in that suit of your father’s armor.” Leah quickly dropped her head to hide her smile.

  “This armor was made for me by the finest armorer in all of England,” Vincent retorted haughtily.

  “The finest armorer he may be, but he needs a new ruler,” William continued in his mock serious tone.

  “At least I don’t look like a peacock,” Vincent shot back, making reference to William’s own unusual armor. William had five older brothers that had been teasing him about his choice of armor and weapons for as long as he could remember; Vincent’s remark did not faze him.

  “Ah, but how much better to be a peacock that knows he’s a peacock than a lamb that thinks he’s a lion,” William tittered.

  Vincent’s face crimsoned. He was keenly aware that William was getting the better of him in front of Leah. “What would you know about it? You are not even close to becoming a knight. You cannot possibly understand the importance of a good suit of armor.”

  “I should hope it is not to make one look noble, as the greatest armorer in England was clearly unable to manage that on your person,” William replied, still watching Leah, who was still studiously pretending not to hear any of it but not entirely successful at covering up her reactions. She did not care for Vincent Braddock or his brazen overtures toward her, of which he took every opportunity of availing himself. He was handsome with a thin, refined face, delicate nose, and brown hair tha
t swept back from his forehead in flowing locks; but he was presumptuous that she would be flattered by his advances, and that irritated her to no end.

  Turning abruptly from William to Leah, Vincent addressed himself to her. “Milady, I trust you will be selected the Queen of Honor and of Love for this tournament,” he said formally to Leah with all the chivalry of a full knight. “For there is certainly no one more fair than you are in all of England.”

  It was William’s turn to color with jealousy at this. “She is too young, fool,” William spat.

  This flustered Vincent for but a moment before he continued, “Nonsense! I assure you, milady, if I have the fortune of making the selection for the Queen of the Lists, there is no other before you.”

  “You do me too much honor, Sir Knight,” Leah replied demurely, “but I should be mean indeed to accept an honor to which I am not entitled. Surely your affections and your gallant eye would more suitably and more deservedly fall upon one of the many beauties in attendance rather than on a mere child such as myself.”

  “Nonsense,” Vincent said again, more determined than ever by her objection. “I will settle the crown of Queen of the Lists on you in anticipation that I will be rewarded by your fair kiss at the end of the tournament.” The tournament was a two-day affair with the victor of the first day receiving the honor of selecting the most lovely maiden in attendance to bear the coronet and sit in the place of honor for the remainder of the tournament.

  “That is perfect,” William uttered caustically. “The only thing stopping you from carrying out that promise is your lack of skill and your cowardly heart.”

  “Saxon Dog!” Vincent turned and shoved William who stumbled and fell backward.” I will kill you for insulting my honor.” He ripped his long sword from its sheath and leveled the tip at William, who was just pushing himself up on his hands.

  Leah leapt up in alarm. “Sir Knight, you would attack an unarmed man?”