Hope and the Knight of the Black Lion

by Mary C. Findley

  “Tahira, do you love Sadaquah?” I asked bluntly.

  She blushed scarlet. “My lady, do not ask me,” she whispered. “It is impossible.”

  “Why is it impossible?” I cried. “I will speak to Richard. There must be a way.”

  “Lady, do not do it,” she said desperately. “Do you not understand? Even if all the other obstacles were swept away, he does not know Christ. He does not know Christ. There can be nothing between us.”

  “Oh, Tahira,” I breathed. “Then let us pray that he will learn to know Christ quickly, because then I do not think there will be any obstacles.”

  Chapter Seventeen: Justice and Grace, A Family Found, A Friend Reclaimed

  Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ:

  By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

  And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience;

  And patience, experience; and experience, hope:

  And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.

  Romans 5:1-5

  Richard was in so much haste to complete all the repairs to the manor. I had so much to learn to catch up on my sadly neglected duties in managing the household. Old Simon was a sweet and patient teacher. I chided myself for having despised him all the months we had lived there. I actually began to enjoy being mistress of the house, and Sir Richard seemed to take well to being master. My mother and Uncle John had been made so weak by their ordeal and it was good that Richard and I were ready to assume our places.

  The tribunal came to its decision very quickly. The earl was executed and the Godwins established themselves temporarily in his castle until the king could determine the disposition of Chelmsford. I wept at Robert’s burial, and wondered if he had repented for salvation as well as learned better of his worship of the Frenchman. I had seen something in his eyes and speech that gave me hope he had.

  We learned that Hugo Brun was indeed the French noble who had supposedly been killed at Damietta. He had manufactured his death to get out from under the cloud of suspicion that had followed him from France. As far as the Europeans he sold salt to were concerned it was an Arab enterprise. It got him tolerable wealth in Palestine as well as the contacts to try when he ended his stay there and returned to Europe.

  When the scandal of old treason charges still clung to his name he simply avoided contact with his fellow Frenchmen and cried injustice to all who would listen. Apparently neither the dying men he pretended to aid nor their grieving families suspected his treachery until we were able to expose him. Gathering all the proof of this took much longer, of course, than the brief council meeting to determine Talcott’s fate. Richard made it his special mission in honor of those whose lives had been destroyed as his almost was.

  We tried to return the remaining treasures in the Colchester Castle hoard but those families we were able to trace wanted no part of the tainted fortune. We were saddened to renew their grief but they were for the most part grateful to at least know the truth and to hear that Hugo Brun was dead. We put the treasure in the king’s hands and he gifted some of it to Colchester. We believed the Duke of Sherbourne had a hand in that. There was much to be repaired and rebuilt at Colchester and we saw it as God’s gracious provision at a very good time.

  My mother and Baron Colchester and I stayed with the Godwins at times while the heavier repair work was being done. I flitted back and forth between the manor and the castle. Richard would sleep nowhere else but at the manor. Sadaquah, of course, stayed where Richard stayed. I told Richard how I had envied him being the first to see my beloved’s face each morning for so many years, but he laughed at me and said Sadaquah had done it long enough.

  Tahira and Sadaquah were schooling me in the herbs and medicines that would help me care for Richard. Sadaquah and Richard planned herb gardens and made me laugh a great deal more than I had in a long time.

  Sadaquah continued to become more agreeable, more entertaining, dearer to me every day. Even Richard said Sadaquah had never been less prickly. He agreed with me that somehow Sadaquah had become happy. I plied him with questions about Richard and all their doings together in the Holy Land, and found it was a subject he never tired of talking about.

  “I want to know how you lived while Richard was so helpless,” I said to him one morning as we sat in the garden together, he cross-legged on the stones, I with my feet tucked under me on a bench. “How did you get money? Where did you stay?”

  “That is a question my Christian dog has never even asked me,” Sadaquah said, piercing me with his eyes. “I think he was afraid to. That flea-ridden healer who was supposed to care for him disappeared as soon as Rasoul left. For months after we lived where we could and how we could. My brother took whatever food I gave him, wore whatever clothes I put on him, slept in whatever tent there was, or under the stars if there was no tent ...” Sadaquah heaved a great sigh. “Each day there was bread, lady. Each night there was bedding. My brother tells me that Jesus said the disciples were to pray, ‘Give us day by day our bread.’ So it was. He prayed, and God met our needs for the sake of my brother, who loved Him so much. At times I could get work, interpreting or fetching and hauling, but I could not leave my brother alone for long.

  “Rasoul, the Bedouin who helped us and hid us at the first, eventually came back and found us scrabbling in the wilderness. We learned that he was a wealthy trader. He had owned the caravan with which I traveled when we found my brother, and I did not even know it. He took us in and then we did well. How he honored my brother. He would tell everyone we met about what had happened, and show my brother like a war trophy. There was not a man who did not think my brother more than man.”

  “But Sadaquah, what you did was wonderful, too,” I said. “I am so grateful to you for saving Richard’s life, and for making him as well as he is.”

  Sadaquah cast his eyes down. “You are kind to say it, lady,” he said. “I always wanted to do more. I wanted to free him from the dreams, but some came from the opium, and I could not endure how he suffered without it. I cast about everywhere to find these herbs that I use now, talking to healers, drying the plants different ways, combining different ones and different amounts ... It was a long, weary time getting something that truly helped him rest. You have heard how he cried when he dreamt he was back in the pit?”

  I nodded, almost afraid to reply, remembering Sadaquah’s old jealousy, but I did, at last. “He has not done that since he has slept here,” I told him.

  “I know,” Sadaquah nodded, not seeming troubled in the least, only glad. “Not once.

  “Mayhap it is because the Frenchman is dead, mayhap it is only because he is home. I cannot say. But I am glad of it. Every night, all these years, he had that dream. At first it was every time he dozed, a dozen times a day, whenever his eyes closed, the hole was there. Merciful Allah, those were terrible times. We went round and round about how he would get home and see his father. I thought he would never do it. I had no faith at all. I just wanted him to live. I was ready to nurse him on a sheepskin in Palestine for the rest of his life. But he meant to walk, ride, use a sword, be all that he ever was, go home to England and get his father’s forgiveness. He acted as if everything that stood in his way was just some dust he had to brush aside, and then he would see his way home.”

  “You have suffered right along with him,” I murmured. “I never understood why you were so bitter. It was because you came here with him, thinking his sufferings were about to end, and saw them begin all over again. I am sorry, Sadaquah, for how I misunderstood you. It must have torn you apart to see him go through all this.”

  Sadaquah looked at me out of the corner of one eye. He nodded. Then he took a deep breath. “But he is very much better now. I think ... I think it is because what he hoped for has happened.
When he was in the pit, he had no hope. When he was so weak, and thought he would never even walk again, he had no hope. When the opium began to take away his mind, he had no hope. Now, he has hope. What? What have I said that makes you smile?”

  “All that hoping,” I laughed. “Hope. Do you not you understand? It is my name. All my life people have said, ‘I hope this, or I hope that,’ and then they look at me. I used to wish my name were anything but Hope. And here you are, going on about Richard’s hope. Do you see now?”

  “Ah,” Sadaquah said. “It was always how he said it. He told me the Scripture that says ‘Hope does not disappoint.’ I do not think – Pardon me, lady, do not be offended – That he thought of you that way then.”

  “I know what he thought of me then,” I laughed.

  “We talked sometimes about women, and he said he was betrothed to a baby,” Sadaquah smiled. “It is common among our people to do so. A man must be grown, and have a livelihood, so that he can pay the bride-price and support a wife. But a woman need only be able to care for the home and bear the children. For him to be … well … much older ... It is not at all strange to us. He did not like to think of his child-bride, though. He is not stupid about most things, but he just could not think in his head that you would grow. To him you were always ‘that baby I have to marry.’ He never even told me your name, and yet he always talked about raja – about hope.”

  “What about you, Sadaquah? Have you never thought of marrying?”

  “Never,” snorted Sadaquah. “What would it profit to make a lot of mongrel Arab-English whelps? My mixed blood will stay in my own veins. I have no wish to make children who will grow up as despised as I am.”

  “No one will dare to despise you while you are here with us,” I said.

  “You cannot stop what is in a man’s heart just by ordering him not to feel it,” Sadaquah said.

  “Sadaquah, have you never wanted a wife?” I persisted. “Do you really despise all women? Do you not know that God gave woman to man to help him … to make him complete?”

  Sadaquah sprang to his feet. “You cannot understand,” he said. “You did not hear what I said. I am not English, and I am not Arab. I have always pretended I was Arab, and despised all that was English, but in my blood there is a taint that neither your people nor mine would find appealing. It does not matter what I think or want. It cannot be.”

  “Tahira told me almost exactly the same thing,” I said, half to myself. Sadaquah started and I looked up at him.

  “She said I was tainted?” Sadaquah demanded.

  “No, of course not,” I exclaimed. “She was speaking of herself.”

  Sadaquah relaxed. “She does not know,” he said. “That I am half-English, I mean.” I did not meet his eyes, and he did not seem to notice. “Among our people … well … both our peoples … we are thought of much the same way.”

  “In God’s eyes we are all the same,” I said. “We are lost sinners in need of saving. We are not English or Arab, just defiled and tainted. Oh, Sadaquah, if you would only accept Christ you would see that He can give your soul peace and it will not matter what blood you have or how other people think of you.”

  “She is a follower of Christ,” Sadaquah said slowly, “But it still matters to her.”

  “If a man who loved Christ came to Tahira and asked for her hand, I do not believe she would refuse him. But she would not have anyone who does not share her faith.”

  “That is wise,” nodded Sadaquah. “To mix faiths is far worse than to mix blood. It has come between my brother and I and caused many quarrels. He has his one God, and I have mine, and they are not the same. But it is true what he says, that we cannot both be right, no matter how much we both believe. Each faith says there can be no other. One of them must be wrong.”

  “Look at Richard, Sadaquah,” I smiled, seeing him come out on the terrace at that moment and look around. Sadaquah did not realize I was speaking of Richard joining us, so did not look up and see him approach. “Why would a man endure all he has endured for a false faith?” I asked Sadaquah. “Can you not see that all that has happened to you is not because of Islam, but because of Christ bringing you into Richard’s life? If there were an Allah, he would not give you a brother who became a true follower of Christ. Why would he? Why would Allah lead Tahira to hear Richard sing and help save him, and so fall under the spell of Christ as well? Too much has happened that Allah would not like, Sadaquah. It cannot be Allah who has had the doing of it all.”

  “How is it that you understand all of these things so clearly?” Sadaquah demanded. “I have turned it all around until my head aches. You see it all just so.”

  “I did not always see it like this,” I said. “I believed in all the things the Church taught, and I tried to follow them as hard as you tried to be a Mohammedan. But we were both wrong. My Uncle John tried to teach me the truth, but until I read Richard’s diary, and heard him tell me how God saves us, I did not understand it either. Sadaquah, you must believe – Have faith in what God has said. The peace and surety will come with believing.”

  I saw out of the corner of my eye that Richard had come near and stood out of Sadaquah’s line of sight, listening intently. Sadaquah stood without speaking or moving for a full minute. “I must believe,” he muttered finally. “There is a woman in the Scriptures … the one called Ruth. She left her people to go live among the Israelites. And she knew when she did she must leave her gods as well. She said, ‘Your people will be my people, and your God my God.’ I must do the same.”

  “Oh, yes, Sadaquah,” I exclaimed. “Please say you will accept Christ.”

  He nodded. “I will.” I stood up as he bowed his head and prayed to be saved. He needed no prompting from me. Richard had taught him well. When he looked up again I saw that now he understood, just as I had.

  Richard burst out of his hiding place then and they embraced. “I have waited so long for you to do that, Sadaquah,” he laughed. “God be thanked.” Richard hugged me too. “Now I have nothing more to want.”

  “I have to go,” Sadaquah said abruptly.

  “Go where?” Richard demanded.

  “I will tell you when I return,” he said. “If all goes well, that is. Just let me go, my brother. It is not dangerous, and you will not have to rescue me. My lady, you are – There are no words. There are no words.” He grabbed my hand, kissed it, and ran off.

  “Where can he be going?” Richard said as we watched Sadaquah ride away from the manor. I smiled and nestled under his arm.

  “To Chelmsford Castle,” I said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because there are no more obstacles,” I said. I came into his arms and he took me willingly enough. We stood quietly, but I knew he was worried about Sadaquah.

  “He spoke true – There is no danger?” Richard said uneasily after a few moments.

  “There is always some danger of being hurt in a quest like Sadaquah’s,” I said teasingly. Richard tensed at once. He pushed me out to arm’s length.

  “What is’t he has made you privy to but has not told me?” he asked.

  “Oh, Richard, it is not my secret to tell,” I protested.

  “Well, then,” he said, dissatisfied but seeing he would get no more from me. “Perhaps I should ride to Chelmsford,” he muttered.

  “Believe me, my lord, we will know straightaway if there is news.”

  But Sadaquah did not return as the day passed. Richard paced around like a caged lion and I began to be a little uneasy myself. What if Lady Godwin was not agreeable to giving up Tahira? Could we give up Sadaquah and let them take him back to their estate at Sherbourne when their business at Chelmsford was concluded? Things were never so simple as they seemed. Richard burned to know what was afoot and I hated not being able to tell him. Then a messenger came saying that Sadaquah would not be returning to the manor today. No other word was given.

  Richard rode over at once. He came back with the news that Lord Godwin had som
e pressing private business which had taken him off, and that Lady Godwin, Tahira, and Sadaquah had gone with him. Richard demanded to know what Sadaquah had done to cause such an upheaval but with this turn of events I was as puzzled as he. I told him I thought Sadaquah had gone to court Tahira and he scoffed.

  “I cannot say I believe it,” he snapped. “Sadaquah, in love with Tahira? But even if it were true, why would it result in his lordship uprooting all of them and taking off so hurriedly? Hope, if you know something else it is time to tell me. I do not like secrets.”

  “I swear I cannot think what it all means,” I cried. “I only know that Tahira confessed her regard for Sadaquah before he became a believer, and I discerned that he … that he seemed to love her as well. Look how he tore off the moment he was saved. It was only to see Tahira. I am sure that is all.”

  An anxious week passed with only a short note from Lord Godwin saying they were dealing with some urgent family matters at home and that Sadaquah was well and with them. But the message did not come from Sherbourne. It came from Cheltenham, where Lady Godwin’s family lived. Richard went at their request to oversee Chelmsford and I could tell he was very unhappy to be away from home and also to be so uncertain about what had befallen Sadaquah. I was with him as much as I could be but it was difficult to divide our time between the two estates. The week passed into two weeks.

  Chapter Eighteen: Friends Reunited, Faith Rewarded, Hope Renewed

  “Non Nobis, Domine,

  Domine, non nobis Domine

  Sed nomini, sed nomini

  tuo da gloriam.”

  “Not to us, O Lord, not to us,

  But to Your Name be glory.”

  Finally we received word that Lord and Lady Godwin were coming to the manor. They would arrive near the time of the evening meal and were bringing with them the new Earl of Chelmsford. I flew to the kitchen and made sure all was prepared for receiving the great lord and his lady. There was no time to worry about Sadaquah while I was occupied in that way. Richard, on the other hand, had little to do but fret. I saw him twice or thrice skulking about the hallway outside the kitchen as if he would speak to me, but I had not time.