Oddly enough, I also found myself wrestling with a desire to see Sir Chris again that had nothing to do with getting news. We had been together such a brief time but I could not help admiring his strength, his resolve, his courage and thrilling at his apparent devotion to me. Whatever his secret past might be, I knew he was a true knight – my true knight.
Someone thudded on the inn’s front door. I knew at once what was happening. Gil’s whole family slept on the raised platform opposite the front door with just a wood screen separating us from the public room. It felt like my uncle’s manor house all over again. I scrambled out of bed along with the other girls. Meg appeared at once and herded her brood and me back into the storage room off the kitchen. Shouts and wood splintering came from the front door. I pictured poor Gil just like old Simon at Colchester, facing down Hugo Brun with nothing but his wood staff, and I began to cry.
Then I heard a weird, undulating cry and horses swept down the road. I slipped out from under Meg’s protective arm and peeked under a shutter. Into the fight came my knight, Sir Chris, and with him his Arab companion Sadaquah. Four men battered at Gil’s door but the knight and the Arab made short work of them. I had no more doubts about Sir Chris’ fighting ability. He was a whirlwind of scarlet fury and his sword sang left and right so fast I could not follow its path. In only moments the four men were dead and the bodies dragged off into the woods.
I ran across the common room with Meg and the children behind me. Meg scurried to her husband who stood in the doorway and nursed a cut on his brow. I saw Gil’s old staff splintered like kindling. Sir Chris leaned against the wall just outside the inn and breathed as if there were not enough air in the world to fill his lungs. Sadaquah hovered over Sir Chris and seemed to be earnestly offering him a beautifully decorated tapestry pouch. Sir Chris kept shaking his head and finally pushed Sadaquah away.
“Lady Hope,” he said hoarsely, seeing me at his side. “You are not hurt?”
“No, but you? Did they wound you?” I rushed to him. “You are so white and faint. Sit down.” I guided him to Gil’s bench.
“My lady, it is not proper,” Sir Chris said as he sank heavily down. “Look at your poor little naked feet, and the night is cold. Go back inside. I am well enough. They did not injure me, I swear.” Sadaquah stepped between us, again thrusting the pretty pouch at Sir Chris.
“Nay, I will not,” the knight snapped. “I will rest, and it will pass. Put that away, Sadaquah. Throw it away. Sink it in the river. I will not touch it again.” Sadaquah let out his breath in an angry burst, glared at me, and swirled away. His trim brown stallion was decked out in heavy scarlet fringe and handsome leather trappings. He mounted the fiery horse and spurred away.
“You are in pain,” I insisted. I struggled to push aside the neck of his tunic and look down at his back. “Are you sure you did not catch a chance blow? Let me look ...” I broke off and gasped in horror. His back was a welter of old scars. The knight jerked away from me and settled his clothing back into place. “Who has beaten you so?” I cried. “Your father? Is that why you are estranged?”
“Lady, let me have a little peace,” Sir Chris rasped. I drew back and waited until his breathing seemed to slow and he recovered some of his strength. “No man on earth was so good to me as my father,” he said at last. “Do not ever try to conclude that the break between my father and me was of his making. Do not do it.”
He stood up, a colossal effort, it seemed, and his face straightened into a mask where there was no pain, no weariness, only determination. “I have been trying to divide my time between my search for answers to our mystery and watching for such an event as this. I knew your hiding place would be discovered ‘ere long. I must take you from here. I was a fool to endanger Gil and his family.”
“Sir knight, we were glad tae shelter the Lady Hope,” Gil said as he pushed Meg off and came out onto the porch holding a cloth to his head. “In the name ae Baron Colchester and Lady Ada I thank ye fer saving air sweet young miss.”
“Thank you, honest Gil, for your efforts,” Sir Chris said. “But I cannot make your wife a widow nor rob this brood of a father. I will take the Lady Hope with me and see if I cannot find a better place for her.”
“She may stay, though a company shaild come after her,” Meg said bravely. “Dinna take her out intae the woods, good sair knight, ta yer rough camp. It be not proper.”
“Mayhap not proper, but go we must. Dress warmly, Lady Hope, and do it quickly. The folk peek out their windows already and we shall be trailed if we do not hurry,” Sir Chris urged. “Meg, I would be grateful for some provisions, and whatever you can quickly gather for the lady’s comfort, please.”
“Aye, sair,” Meg said reluctantly, and herded me inside. I dressed rapidly, putting on my man’s clothing again, and ran back out to the porch. Meg thrust a bundle at me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “God gae wi’ ye, dear, sweet lady,” Meg whispered. “God and yer brave knight. He be good dain tae his soul, and I knae it, else I waild nivver let ye go like this.”
“Thank you, dear Meg.” I stretched up and kissed Gil. He flushed and tousled my hair. “What will you tell people has happened to your door?”
“Drunken brawlers,” Gil shrugged. “It happens in the nicest of inns. Take care o’ our lady, sair knight.”
“That will I,” Sir Chris replied. “My life is worth little enough already. I have no other reason to let it go on but to take on this cause and see it through, friend Gil.” Gil came close as Sir Chris boosted me into the saddle of his huge horse.
“What ye told me … about yer father…” Gil said hesitatingly to him. “ … Were it true?” Sir Chris settled me comfortably, then swung up behind me.
“We will speak no more of that, good innkeeper,” he said from over the top of my head. “Let God reveal it in His good time.”
Off we rode, and quickly turned into a narrow forest path. Shadows darted over us and Sir Chris did not speak a word. We rode the better part of an hour, far into the forest. Finally I saw the light of a campfire ahead. Sir Chris quickened his pace and a moment later dropped off the horse and led him up to where Sadaquah squatted before the fire. Sir Chris helped me down and took my bundle from me. He spread out my bedding across the fire from Sadaquah, who had not even looked up.
“I am sorry for these poor quarters, lady,” the knight said awkwardly. “Here…” He picked something up out of a bundle that I had not seen outside the circle of firelight. “Here, lady, lie upon this, and see if it does not make a softer bed.” I took the big, heavy object and realized it was a sheepskin. I buried my fingers in the lush wool and smelled the rich lanolin scent. There was another scent, too, of fragrant herbs, and I blushed when I realized what it was. I had smelled it when I looked for a wound under Sir Chris’ shirt.
Sadaquah leaped to his feet. “La!” He spat. He grabbed the sheepskin from me. Sir Chris spoke to him sharply, angrily. “Atini!” He seized it and thrust it back at me. Sadaquah argued violently with him, though the knight scarcely answered him. He turned away, kicked up the pile of bedding from which he had pulled the sheepskin and lay down in it, rolling himself into an indistinguishable bundle of blankets. Sadaquah came toward me, so close I stepped back from him, hugging the sheepskin to me as if it could protect me from his inexplicable fury. But seeing me do that only made him angrier.
“Matha toreed?” Sadaquah hissed abruptly. “What do you want from him?” He spoke English, but it was as if the words had been torn out of him against his will. “He suffers,” he added harshly.
“Yes, I know,” I said. “I saw the marks on his back. I know he has pain – great pain. What has happened to him? Who has abused him in this way?” Sadaquah looked into my eyes. In spite of my fear, I did not flinch away from his gaze.
“You are only a woman,” he said through gritted teeth. “I would not speak to you at all except that he … he is my brother. I must help him if I can. He had to come to this miserable place of cold and fog
to find his father. I could not stop him. Now he must fight for you too. Do you not understand what it costs him? Mein? Why must he fight for you?”
“Why do you blame me for this?” I asked. “I did not seek him out. He came to my uncle’s manor. He was there and fought those men before I even saw them. He told me he had known my uncle many years ago and he said he would help me before I asked.”
“You English,” he spat. “You cannot see a man as he is. You doubt him; question him, wonder why he does not tell you everything. Taffadhali – I beg you -- to know what is in his heart ...” Sadaquah broke off and he was actually trembling with his intensity. Then he made his infuriating noise of dismissal and turned away from me.
“I do not doubt him!” I said fiercely, trying to keep my voice low, as Sadaquah had done, to keep from disturbing Sir Chris. “I know that his secrets are a matter of honor, and I do not seek to know them. I know that his heart is sick with longing to see his father, and I am only grateful that he helps me in the midst of all his own trouble. I told him to go and be reconciled with his father, not to concern himself with me or my quest, but he refused.”
Sadaquah looked back at me, and his expression was puzzled and uncertain. “You speak truly?” he asked. “You did not beg him and weep tears and make him swear to be your true knight?”
“I did weep, but only because my sorrow was so great. It was not to get his pity. I have not made him swear anything. Here. Take this. I will not use it.” I threw the sheepskin at him and lay down with my face turned away. I heard the rustle of Sadaquah’s robes move away from the fire. I peeked around and saw him lay the sheepskin over Sir Chris’ still form, arranging it as tenderly as a mother would her child’s coverlet. I ducked my head back around as Sadaquah returned to his place by the fire. I realized that he would keep watch and wondered if he would even waken Sir Chris for a turn at the post.
Chapter Five: A Knight’s Duty, A Lover’s Scorn, A Maiden’s Doubt
Fairest Lord Jesus, Ruler of all nature,
O Thou of God and man the Son,
Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor,
Thou, my soul’s glory, joy and crown.
Fair is the sunshine,
Fairer still the moonlight,
And all the twinkling starry host;
Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer
Than all the angels heaven can boast.
Beautiful Savior! Lord of all the nations!
Son of God and Son of Man!
Glory and honor, praise, adoration,
Now and forever more be Thine.
The morning dawned cold with thick white fog. Stiff and ill-rested, I awoke to a strange sound. I sat up and listened. Some animal had come near the camp, I thought at first. Sadaquah was not in sight. I drew my knife, but then I realized the sound came from the huddled form of the knight of the black lion. It was a kind of sobbing without tears, a hopeless noise of fear and pain. It chilled my soul to hear it.
“Sir knight,” I whispered.
“The hole,” he said in a harsh, tortured whisper. His eyes were slits but I could tell he still slept. He shivered and whimpered again.
“Oh, God be merciful to you, poor tormented creature,” I murmured. “Wake, sir knight. It is a dream. It is only a dream.”
He started up, breathing heavily, and looked at me with wild eyes. “What is it?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I said. “You had a nightmare. I did not want to wake you, but ...”
“Ah,” he said. Sadaquah came into the clearing with a bucket of water and glared at me. “Assalam -- Peace, brother,” the knight said. “Do not look daggers at the lady. She only got me out of the hole. You have done it enough times yourself.” He stood up slowly, painfully, and started to sing softly, a tune I thought I knew but words that were very foreign.
“Your voice is wonderful,” I whispered. “What are you singing?”
“Oh,” the knight said with a self-deprecating noise. “It is Fairest Lord Jesus. Your pardon, lady. I do muddle in my mind where I am and the Arabic and the English twist themselves up in my mouth.”
“Did you watch all night?” I asked Sadaquah guiltily. He looked away, and I understood that he did not mean to let Sir Chris know he had actually condescended to speak to me, and in English, no less.
“Nay, he would have, but I am not one for sleeping long stretches,” Sir Chris said. “I took my watch while this fog rolled in.” He rose slowly to his feet and limped a few steps toward the fire. I quickly helped Sadaquah build it up.
“We should not even have a fire,” the knight grunted. “I daresay they can see it a mile off.”
“No one can see anything in this fog,” I said. “You are so cold. Here.” I brought him the sheepskin, which I had found over me when I awoke, and draped it over his shoulders. “Do not give this to me again, please. I was warm enough without it, and my bones mind the ground but little. Truly.”
“So we must coddle the feeble old man,” Sir Chris laughed wryly. “So be it. Sadaquah gave me this when we were in Palestine. He saw how my bones took the desert nights and rocky ground.”
Sadaquah snorted and stirred some dry leaves into a pot of water he heated on the fire. I opened my bag from Meg and started to prepare some bacon in the little pan she had included.
“Oh, my life!” Sir Chris exclaimed as the bacon began to sizzle and the air filled with the rich, delicious scent. “Bacon, Sadaquah. We shall feast today!”
Sadaquah scudded back away from the fire. “What is that?” he demanded, forgetting himself so far as to speak English. “It is swine flesh! Bismallah, I am doomed to defilement among these infidels! Min Fadhlak! Protect me!” He fell down on his face well away from the fire and began to mutter in his own tongue.
“Do not mind him,” Sir Chris said as I snatched the bacon off the fire. “His faith forbids the eating of pork, but by my life, lady, it has been so long since I even smelled bacon I will risk Sadaquah’s wrath and share a bit with you, if I may.”
“I did not mean to anger him,” I said. “All I have done is anger him.”
“Why would he be angry with you?” Sir Chris demanded as he pulled out the bread that Sadaquah had set to warm in the coals and handed some to me. He prayed earnestly for the food and then repeated his question. “Did he actually speak to you last night about the sheepskin? Is that why you gave it back? Sadaquah!”
“Do not, please do not,” I begged. “He is good friend to you, and he only wants to help. I am an intruder. I keep you from your duty, I tax your strength and I put your life in peril. It is right that he should resent me.”
“He has no cause. Who has a better claim upon my duty than you do? There is no one, and he knows it well. He only tries to be both friend and mother to me, and he thinks little of a man risking himself for a woman because that is the way of his people. I will not let him trouble you again.”
“Why do you say no one has a better claim on your duty than me?” I asked. “How can that be?”
“It is … It is because of the love I bear John Cloyes and Lady Ada,” Sir Chris stammered. I wondered why it seemed so hard for him to get the words out. “And because it is any knight’s duty to help the helpless, especially fair maidenhood.”
“But your father,” I persisted. “Must he go on waiting for your reconciliation?”
“He must, and he will,” Sir Chris grunted. “But he does not even know I still live, so it cannot matter so very much to him.” He stood up and stretched again. He stepped up on a fallen log and let his right leg hang off, balancing against a tree and swinging his leg. Sadaquah rose from his attitude of prayer and came sullenly back to the fire.
“Min Fadhlak, please, drink the tea,” he said to Sir Chris.
“What did you put in it this time?” the knight asked suspiciously.
“Just the herbs,” Sadaquah said. “I swear there is nothing more. It will help you. Drink it.” He strained his brew into a metal cup carved with strange,
intricate designs.
The knight stepped down and took the cup from him. “Na’am. All right,” Sir Chris conceded after he had tasted the tea. “If you ever slip opium in on me again I will cut your head off.”
Sadaquah shook his head, his lips tight. He began to pack up while Sir Chris finished his tea. I saw from his eyes that he already felt better.
“Were you wounded in battle?” I asked timidly. “Is that why you limp?” Sadaquah snorted in derision. Sir Chris glowered at him. He spoke to me in a very light-hearted manner. “Aye, my lady, I was, a time or two, but as to why I limp ... well ... the better question might be why I still can walk. It is no matter, though.”
“You mock me,” I said with a frown. “I only wanted...”
“To properly pity my weakness?” he finished for me with a bitter smile. “Lady, if you think I am too feeble to be your true knight, then seek another. When a knight goes on a quest for a lady, he must at least have her faith in him to keep him in good heart. If you doubt me and kull --everything -- I do and say I cannot serve you.”
“I do not doubt your courage or your resolve or … anything …, “ I quavered, tears filling my eyes. “Pray forgive me. And I do not pity you, either, but only wish God would grant you peace from your pain and your nightmares.”
“God has granted me His grace to bear what he sends,” Sir Chris said, a real smile lightening his face. “It is enough. Asre’a. Hurry. Let us go now.”
“Where are we going?” I asked. Sir Chris boosted me up into the saddle before answering. “Steady, Ariel, steady,” he said to the great horse. “We go away from here, lady. More I cannot be sure of yet. I mind me we may yet make use of Gil’s old gamekeeper cot, if it still stands. You must not spend the night in the open again.” He got up behind me and Sadaquah’s horse fell in beside him as we set off.
“Yes, Gil’s cottage is still just as it was,” I nodded. “I have even spent a night or two in it, when I quarreled with…” I stopped.
Hope and the Knight of the Black Lion Page 5
