by Justin Kauer
“You should not be out of bed!” Joan scolded with feigned tones of anger.
“Well . . . I am.” Alban replied as he took his gaze from the stars to look at Joan. “Why should I not be up and about? I should think that you might be happy to see me! At least after this afternoon’s . . . I mean . . . evenings? ‘event’, I thought that . . .”
“You thought what? That I am madly in love with you after all that you have put me through? You have another thing coming to you!”
“I am quite taken with you, too!” Alban said.
“What do you mean, ‘too’?”
“I thought that we had already been through all of this. Is it that before, when I was a slave, things between us seemed more like forbidden fruit? Or is it that now that I am a free man, you are afraid that there is nothing holding me back? By the way, if you did not have any feelings for me, then I could never have put you through anything!”
“Ooh! You are so conceited at times!” she snapped back.
“I have to wonder how it is that you think that a recently freed slave could possibly be full of pride! Besides, is it conceited, to tell the truth? I see it plainly enough in you. Do not think that your heart betrays you; it is probably on the right track. But I must ask you, Joan. Are you betraying your heart? One must be true to one’s self before he or she may be true to anything or anyone else. Would you betray yourself?”
“Do you say such things to all of the women that you come across or is it that you think me to be stupid enough to fall for such cheap lines?”
“Joan, I have no recollection of the past — and you know that. Furthermore, I think you to be quite intelligent. I think that you are intelligent enough to recognize the truth when it scares you in the face.”
“I think that you mean to employ the old adage that it ‘stares me in the face’.”
“No. I said what I meant.”
“Why should I ever be afraid of you?”
“You are not. I make you feel safe and loved. At least I do try hard to do so. You are scared of those feelings, but that is only natural.”
Joan hung her head in defeat.
After a few seconds of silence, save the yelping of some desert foxes, Alban continued, “Actually Joan, I do not know why I came out here. I just felt compelled to go out on a moonlit walk, I guess.”
“All alone?” Joan asked flirtingly.
Joan tried to sit down next to Alban, but the small boulder that she had chosen gave way and rolled backward, leaving a small, dark opening in its place. Alban caught her hand just as she was disappearing into the abyss below. He felt a sharp stab of pain shoot through his lower back as it twisted under the sudden weight. He was sure that the stitches were split. He got his balance and began to pull Joan up.
“You could have just said that you had fallen for me, you did not have to use such a drastic visual aid!” he grunted, as he held her in suspension.
“Just pull me up and dispense with the hilarity!”
“I don’t know if I can by myself.”
“Just do not say anything!”
“No, I mean, I do not know if I can raise you! I just felt something pop in my back!”
Alban positioned himself to where he had more leverage. To his surprise, he was easily able to pull her up. It must have been a good pop that he had felt. Joan wrapped her arms around him and hugged with all her might. Maybe it was the adrenaline that had kicked in, but her might was formidable then and there.
“Joan.”
“Yes?”
“I do not mean to dissuade you from your embrace at all. But, I wonder if you could put just a little less pressure on my back area . . . and my ribs. They are still a bit sore.”
“Oh! I am so sorry!” Joan said as she released her embrace.
To her surprise, she could still not get clear from Alban; he held on.
“I thought that you said . . .”
“Joan, I said that I wondered if you could put a bit less pressure there on my back, but I suggest you keep holding on as well.”
She repositioned her hands and they continued their embrace for a few more seconds. Just then, Ryan came walking up.
“What are the two of you doing out here?” he asked suspiciously, though, it was fairly plain what they were doing.
“Joan was just falling for me!” Alban chuckled.
“What?!” started both Ryan and Joan at once, followed by an icy silence.
Joan began again, “I nearly fell . . .”
“Yes, and I caught her.” Alban interrupted.
“You are lucky that I found you and not Decebal. He would have had the both of you whipped — innocent or not.”
“I do not think that we were lucky that you found us!” said Joan, before she realized it had slipped.
Alban chuckled a bit and added, “If you had found Decebal why would he have had us whipped?”
Alban and Joan snickered a bit. Ryan did not laugh at either attempt at humor, though.
“What were you doing out here, anyway?” Ryan asked.
“We . . .”
Alban offered, again in interruption, “Joan came to see why I was out of bed. She slipped and fell. I caught her . . .”
“Oh. Well, neither of you should be out and about this late at night. A guard could . . . might think that you are up to no good, lurking about taking that which does not belong to you. You need to be more careful.”
“Ryan, I will do as I please!” Joan shot back at him. “You are not anyone to boss me around!”
Alban stated calmly, “He was merely concerned for your safety, Joan. He meant no harm.”
By the light of the torch, Ryan’s eyes seemed to thank Alban, but it was still dark. At any rate, the inquisition ceased and the tone changed to more pleasant timbres.
“Well, let’s get the both of you back.” Ryan insisted again.
“If it should be the same to you, I want to stretch and walk around a bit, Ryan. Sometimes that is the very thing that is needed to help heal wounds. Joan, I will walk you back, though. You can stay in the carriage for the night.”
“But I wanted to see . . .”
“Joan, we can talk about this on the way. Thank you, Ryan. I suppose that you feel obligated to take over, having been second in command of the caravan. It is good that you wish to take care of all that are here in this fraction of what used to be a caravan. It shows that you are responsible for . . . that you take your duty seriously.”
Ryan seemed almost perturbed as he shot back, “You have said as much before.”
“Well, then it must be true!” Joan soothed.
Alban took advantage of the break in tension and said, “Let us get you back, Joan. We will need to be well rested for tomorrow.”
“Why? What are we going to be doing tomorrow?” asked Joan.
“I would wager that it will be something exciting, judging by the past few weeks!” quipped Ryan.
“I suppose so, Ryan,” smiled Alban. “Well, Joan, may I escort you back to your chambers?”
Before Ryan had a chance to protest, Joan chimed in, “Yes, you may!”
With that, the two walked slowly toward the carriage, and Ryan skulked off toward the camp where the other men were sleeping.
When they were out of earshot, Joan whispered, “What is with all of the secrecy?”
“What do you mean?” Alban asked aloud.
“I mean all of the covering of what happened between us.”
“I said nothing that was not true.”
“Yes, Alban, but you did try to cover the fact that we had embraced for quite some time and there is also the hole. Every time that Ryan approached the subject, you seemed to cover. Why?”
“Well, I do intend to cover that hole back up, but not before I have had a good look into it. From the light of the moons, it seemed as though the boulder that you so gracefully tossed away was carved out to fit the opening. That may mean that there was som
ething hidden there. I just want to find out exactly what that might be. I am going to grab some rope and a torch. Then I will go back to see what is in that pit.”
“A hole opens in the ground, and you have to jump right in it?”
“No. That is why I am going to get a torch and rope. I’ll throw the torch down, and if the hole isn’t too deep, I will lower myself down with the rope!” explained Alban.
“Yes, I get that much. What I am saying is that just because you see a hole in the ground, does not mean that you have to go throwing yourself into it.”
Alban got a devilish look in his eyes and smiled as he said, “You are the one that started it!”
“I?”
“Yes! It had just barely opened up and you went throwing yourself right into it! At least I have the sense to go get a rope and torch before I try anything like that! Well, I admire your courage, do not get me wrong, but what were you really trying to do?” Alban cackled, sending Joan into a rolling laughter herself.
“I suppose that I did!” she giggled at length.
When the laughter had died down a bit, Joan could see by the light of the greater moon that had suddenly come up undetected that Alban had a grave, distant look usurp itself upon his face.
“What is it?” she asked.
“What is what?”
“I see that look on your face. You went from happy laughter to solemn stillness. What is going on in that head of yours?”
“I guess that I am just happy.” he sort of explained.
“I should hate to ever see you sad and stoic if this is happy!”
“It is as if I left a lamp burning . . . somewhere. I do not know where. That is the turmoil that has registered itself upon my mind. I am incredibly happy now . . .”
“Alban, I know. I feel it, too. You feel as though this whole thing could come crashing down around us at any given second. You struggle to hold it up, but you are afraid that some secret, however innocent, may be found out and melt the white snow that covers all the dirty mess that your life has been.”
“That begins to describe it. I just do not know what kind of ‘dirty mess’ that my life has been before this one!” he teased.
“You know what I mean!” laughed Joan.
Alban turned serious again and whispered softly, “I do. I understand. This desert could prove to be a difficult place to keep that snow from melting, though I do not see the problem as snow.”
“How would you describe it, then?” Joan asked playfully.
“I would call it a well of sweet, clear water that springs up from this desert floor, washing away the filth of the past, in my case, completely. You seem to replenish my heart!”
“You have a gorgeous way about you!” Joan spurted out, astounded.
“I . . . shall . . . try . . . to take that as a compliment.” joked Alban.
“Well, you had better!” smiled Joan. “You find the beauty in everything and bring it to light in the lives of those around you. You did it as a slave! How do you do it?”
“What else is there, Joan? Perhaps because I was a slave it was all that I had left. No, that is not it. I never did feel reduced to slavery, as though there were something more than a mere position about me. I expect that I cannot explain it.”
“Then allow me. You are a beautiful man!”
“I do moisturize as often as possible, though this desert life makes it ever so difficult!” laughed Alban.
“Stop it!” Joan warned, unable to keep a straight face. “I will pay you this overdue compliment! I am talking about that which is not seen on the surface, and you know it! Most people that are good looking in this world believe that they can get away with anything because they are . . . well . . . good looking. Having learned that lesson when young, they do as they please and make others atone for their sins, if you will. You do not do that. You are probably the best looking man that I have ever known in my life, yet you are kind and generous, even to your captors. How is it that you are so? Why?”
Alban’s grave look returned as he said, “Perhaps that is the secret of which you have spoken, dear Joan, then again, maybe not. I am torn between two worlds — this one which is here and now and the one that I came from . . . which I cannot remember.”
“I see it as a blessing, Alban. You have been able to see who you are deep down inside, and though a slave, you have done it without the constraint of position. In fact, while the very positions that most men fill usually constrain them, you constrained your position. You made it into something much more dignified. You bloomed too brightly to stay tucked away out of sight.”
“If I have ‘bloomed’, it has been by God’s good grace. He allowed me to be placed in the arms of a woman who would care for me when and how I needed it most. I do not know how it is that I deserved that. All I have done is to pray and the rest was provided for me.”
“I have heard and read that God does such things for a purpose. You must have a greater purpose in life.”
“Well, my only purpose right now is to get down that hole and figure out what it was that was so precious that whoever hid it took the time to hide it with a carved boulder!”
“Don’t you think that maybe there was a good reason to keep that thing stopped off? What if there is a den of cavern zaffs down there?”
Alban grabbed a rope and torch from Ryan’s great wagon and said, “Joan! Your grammar! At any rate, if there is a den of cavern zaffs down there, then, I hope to live to tell the tale; they do not live this far south.”
“What is it with you and danger? Do you have to find it, wherever it may be, and run headlong into it?”
“Joan, we may already be in danger and not even know it. What if there is a passage down there were a host of soldiers or thieves . . . or both wait to come out and murder us in our sleep? Vigilance demands that I go down that hole.”
“I demand that you do not go down that hole!”
“Well, if ‘Vigilance’ demands that I go down and you demand that I do not, I will have to call you ‘Distraction’ from now on!” Alban said as he began to walk away. “Excuse me, Miss Inattentiveness; I must go, possibly, to save your life yet again!”
“Stop it!” chuckled Joan.
“You said that I may have a purpose in life.” continued Alban. You do not know if that purpose was merely to save your neck a few times, and now that is all over. Maybe I have served my purpose here in this life!”
“Yes, I meant to thank you properly for having saved my life . . . again! I apologize that it has taken me so long to do so. I do not know where my head was.”
“Right above your heart on that cute little neck!” he quipped, sarcastically flirting.
With that, Alban disappeared into the night. He came back a long while later and was surprised to see Joan standing right where he had left her.
“Well, did you find any armies or bandits?” she teased.
“No. I did not,” he answered in a solemn softness. “Do not go down there! There are things not meant for the eyes of man down there!”
Joan’s blood curdled at the tone in his voice — just a bit, though. Her curiosity was piqued to the point that she started to press.
As she opened her mouth to ask, Alban’s voice stopped her from uttering a sound, as it said, “It is not yet time. For your own sake, do not ask and do not go near the hole. I have sealed it up again, anyway. It is no use.”
With that, he passed out again. Had it been anyone else, there would have been some sort of nickname assigned to him at that point. But, given the situations that had weakened him, and the fact that he had saved many lives and won the affections of a great many, no names, cruel or otherwise, were allocated to him.
Joan called for help and soon Alban was on the bed in the wagon again.
“Oh, Joan . . .” Alban mumbled as he came to.
“Yes?”
“It was so horrible!”
“What happene
d to you?” Joan queried.
Alban was unresponsive.
Chapter Eleven – Back in Bonds