Trail of Fate

by Michael P. Spradlin

  I laughed at the ingenuity of it. I could almost see the smile on Philippe’s face, knowing his clever method had outwitted Sir Hugh.

  “Are you positive it will work?” I wasn’t sure.

  “Certain,” she replied.

  “Then I guess this settles it,” I said, gazing out at the mountains to the north.

  “Settles what?” Maryam asked.

  I looked at the faces of all my friends.

  “I leave at first light.”

  21

  We had moved to an empty chamber room inside the keep. There was much I needed to tell my friends, and I didn’t wish to be overheard. As always, Angel trotted along with us. Maryam still held the satchel tightly in her hands. She made no move to return it to me yet. In fact, she looked as if she would be more than happy to smack me with it. I smiled at her, but she frowned back, not in the mood for charm.

  “I don’t understand,” Robard said. “If Sir Hugh is gone, why don’t we take to the woods and leave?”

  “He’ll be watching. And suppose Celia’s warning doesn’t reach everyone? He’ll kill them. I cannot live with the risk. I need to go,” I said, removing the battle sword from my back and unhooking my belt, relieved to be free of the weapons. It was good to not be weighed down by all those things. At St. Alban’s I never carried more than the shirt on my back and a hoe. Since leaving I was continuously weighted down by more things. The swords, the Grail, they all symbolized my obligations and my duty.

  “I still think you’re crazy,” Maryam huffed.

  “Maybe I am.” I shrugged.

  Twilight approached, and the interior of the keep was lit by torchlight and oil lamps. Now the time had come to tell my friends the truth, but I found the words stuck in my throat. In my mind’s eye, the face of Sir Thomas implored me to keep the secret of what I carried, not only because it would make the Grail safer, but because it would be an unfair burden to put upon my friends. He didn’t take lightly this duty he had given me. He trusted me to do the right thing. Now the right thing was to tell my friends for what they had risked their lives, and in Celia’s case, the lives of her people.

  “I don’t carry dispatches or testimony for the Master of the Order,” I told them.

  Maryam and Robard looked at each other.

  “No surprise—we already guessed it had to be something more important,” Maryam said.

  It was hard to say it. Though the moment was here, I couldn’t help but feel I was still disappointing Sir Thomas. It was easier just to show them.

  With trembling hands I opened the satchel. Removing all of my other gear, I flipped open the secret compartment and pulled out the Grail. I removed the linen covering, holding it out so they could see it. No one said anything, because they were unsure of exactly what I was showing them.

  “You risked our lives for a vase?” Robard finally asked.

  “It’s not a vase, Robard.” I set it on the table next to the satchel.

  “It looks like one,” he replied.

  “Tristan, what is it? Why is it so important?” Celia asked.

  “It’s the Holy Grail,” I answered.

  Robard burst out laughing, but Maryam’s and Celia’s faces turned to stone. Both of them studied the Grail intently while Robard continued to laugh.

  “You’re joking, right?” he finally asked when he had composed himself.

  “No.”

  “Well, the only problem is the Grail doesn’t exist, so you are carrying a vase.” He laughed again, finding the whole idea amusing.

  “Robard, it is not a vase. Sir Thomas gave it to me with strict instructions on its care. He wouldn’t have sent me into this much danger unless it was really important,” I insisted.

  “Not even to save your life? You were facing certain death if you remained in Acre—you said so yourself. What if he just wanted to get you to safety, so he concocted a story to remove you from peril?” he suggested.

  “I . . . No . . . He did not concoct anything! This is the Holy Grail. The Cup of Christ! I’ve seen it do things with my own eyes!” I don’t know why I was so frustrated. Why should Robard believe me? If I were in his position, I wouldn’t believe me either. He helps rescue someone from bandits who just happens to be carrying the most sacred relic known to man? No wonder he was laughing.

  “What can I do to convince you it’s true?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Wait. I’ve got it! Why don’t you have it perform a miracle?” he joked.

  “It already has,” I replied.

  “When?”

  “When you shot me in Outremer, the Grail stayed your arrow.” I fingered the still visible hole in the satchel. “The arrow entered here, right where I carried it. It should have shattered, but it didn’t even leave a scratch.”

  “Hold! You shot him too?” Maryam asked, a look of horror on her face.

  “Yes. No. I mean, yes, I shot him, but it was an accident. I was trying to shoot you,” Robard stammered.

  “What?!” Maryam nearly shouted. “But I don’t understand. You shot me when we attacked the two of you outside of Tyre. I was wounded and defenseless after that. Are you saying that you tried to shoot me again?”

  “It’s not . . . I mean . . . He got in the way . . . I didn’t know you . . . Things were different then!” Robard said.

  “I was lying helpless on the ground and you were going to shoot me?” she went on.

  “It’s not like that! How was I to know you weren’t still dangeous? You had daggers and had already tried to kill us once! Besides, Tristan got in the way and . . .”

  “Enough!” I barked at them. “We don’t have time for this. This is the Holy Grail. Sir Thomas told me it was, and I trust him. Besides, I’ve seen it do other things, things that can’t be explained.”

  Maryam and Robard stopped abruptly and both glanced at me. Celia, who had been silent during the exchange, looked at me, then down at the floor, as if she were trying to decide something very important.

  “What things?” Robard said, his eyebrows knitted in disbelief.

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Try.” Robard was resolute.

  “Sometimes . . . it makes a noise when I am . . . when we are in danger,” I said.

  “What kind of noise?” he scoffed.

  Celia and Maryam both spoke at once.

  “A low humming sound,” they said softly. Their voices were so quiet, they were barely heard.

  Robard’s head snapped around to look at them, and now it was my turn to stare in disbelief. If Maryam had heard it, why hadn’t she said anything? Celia had mentioned it when she found me on the beach, but I’d ignored her and changed the subject.

  “I’ve heard the sound,” Maryam said. “The first time was on the night when we attacked your camp. I had no idea what it was or what it meant. When I heard it, it was I who led my fellow Hashshashin to your camp, not my leader. It was almost like the sound drew me there. I told myself it was Allah’s voice carrying me to my hidden enemies.”

  Maryam was pacing now. She looked at the Grail. “Then when you survived the attack and nursed me back to health, I heard it in the underbrush as the Saracens searched for us. But I had no idea it was this holy object. All this time I thought it was you.”

  “Maybe it is him,” Celia spoke up.

  “What? What do you mean? What’s so special about an orphaned squire to a Templar Knight?” Robard asked, clearly not believing or understanding anything we were saying.

  “What is so special about a squire, you ask? Wasn’t a simple carpenter from Nazareth chosen by your God for greatness? And wasn’t a common merchant chosen by God to lead Maryam’s people? Look at who was given this duty: someone who is kind and good and loyal, and puts the lives of others above his own. Why Tristan? Why not Tristan?” Celia said, never taking her eyes away from mine.

  I felt the heat rise to my face. Try as I might, I could not keep my chest from swelling. The sounds of the world stopped and everything was quie
t. Maryam and Robard and even Angel melted away, and for a moment it was only the two of us. She thought this of me? Would I ever be able to live up to her?

  “I heard the same sound Maryam describes as we rode along the beach,” she went on. “When I asked Tristan if he’d heard it as well, he changed the subject. He knew what I was talking about—I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to tell me, and now I understand why. I think it was the Grail leading me to him. We Cathars do not believe the way your church does, Tristan. We do not believe in things like divinity or saints or miracles. And yet I heard this sound. And so did Maryam. So I must pray for understanding, because it seems clear you are carrying a miracle.”

  “What? I’m not much for church, God knows, but even I know blasphemy when I hear it! God would never allow something so sacred to be used in such a frivolous manner,” Robard said. “Assuming this is the Holy Grail, which it’s not! I’ve been with Tristan the whole time and I haven’t heard anything. Nothing at all! I don’t believe there even is a Holy Grail.”

  “There is.” I shrugged. There was no way to easily convince Robard. “This is it.”

  “So what do we do now?” Maryam asked.

  “I have to do my duty. Sir Thomas ordered me to get to Scotland and make sure it is safe,” I said.

  “I understand,” said Celia. “And I would go with you if I could. But I have a responsibility to my people.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said, surprised at how much the news disappointed me. I knew she couldn’t go, but still wanted her to. What was wrong with me?

  “I’m with you,” Maryam said. “I will do all I can to help you finish this. I will help you keep the prophet’s cup safe.”

  I smiled my thanks at her and looked at Robard.

  “What?” he asked, surprised. “Did I not tell you earlier I was in this to the end? Nothing has changed. I still don’t believe it. But I knew you just weren’t carrying papers. I thought maybe you’d stolen something, like gold, and was going to tell you to just give it back, whatever it was. Then we met Sir Hugh, and I realized that whatever you had of his, he probably didn’t deserve it anyway. But I didn’t think you thought you were carrying a priceless relic. I still don’t. It looks like a vase to me!”

  Despite myself I couldn’t help laughing, and for the briefest instant I wondered what I had ever done to deserve friends like these. I was no longer angry with Sir Thomas for the burden he’d given me, for without it I would never have met these three. That could not be measured.

  “There is something else I need to tell you,” I said.

  Robard looked at Maryam. “You realize he’s probably going to tell us his tunic is made from the Virgin Mother’s veil or something.”

  “Robard!” Maryam said, shocked at his blasphemy.

  “What?” He threw up his arms and shrugged, feigning innoceNce.

  “That’s not it. I carry only one relic. As far as I know. The way my luck is going, Sir Thomas’ battle sword could belong to King Arthur. But there is something else you should know.” And I told them all about my encounters with King Richard and his guards. Every detail. I wanted to cleanse my soul of all my secrets, and once I got going, I couldn’t stop.

  Robard pursed his lips. “If I didn’t know better”—he stopped and walked to the window and spat—“I would think the Lionheart wants you dead.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “But why?” Maryam nearly shouted. “What interest could he possibly have in you?”

  I shrugged, for I had no answer. “I just wanted you all to know everything. Before our next step. If you want out, I understand.”

  Robard and Maryam didn’t hesitate. “We’re in,” he said. “I don’t expect to have to have this conversation again.” He clapped me on the shoulder. Maryam and Celia smiled.

  Angel gave a happy yip, which a moment later became a low growl. Stopping to listen, we heard the rising shouts of alarm and general commotion coming from outside. Just then Jean-Luc knocked at the doorway and threw the door open. He spoke quickly to Celia, then rushed away.

  “What is the matter?” I asked.

  “Your friend Sir Hugh has returned,” she said, “with more men this time. His leaving was a ruse. We are under attack!”

  22

  We ran out of the keep and across the bailey. Jean-Luc had moved quickly to man the forward battlement. Other villagers were running about, bringing their pitchforks and swords forward, determined to drive back Sir Hugh and his invading hordes.

  “Start the fires!” I yelled. My siege engines still stood at the ready. I hoped we would have enough earthen jugs and time to use them before Sir Hugh’s men could get a foothold on the walls.

  “Tristan,” Robard yelled as we ran toward the battlements, “I don’t have enough arrows to even slow them down. You had better come up with something quick.”

  “Can you shoot a crossbow?” I asked.

  “Of course I can shoot a crossbow, but why would I want to?” he scoffed.

  “Because it’s all we have at the moment. Save what arrows you have for when they are really needed.”

  Robard nodded and cut toward the armory. Maryam and Celia were rallying the villagers along the northwest wall. Several of the village elders, with Angel’s assistance, were herding the children back into the keep. They would be safe there.

  While they stoked the fires, I raced up the ladder to the forward battlement to survey the field. I was shocked by what lay before me. A quick count of regimento flags told me there were more than six hundred Templars on the field before us. Even with the loss of the High Counsel’s men, wherever they had gone, Sir Hugh had still gained numbers. For a moment, I was glad to at least be rid of Father Renard, though the way my luck went I was sure I would encounter him again somewhere. Sir Hugh was more than enough to deal with at the moment. If he had managed to gather more Templars from nearby commanderies, would more be arriving? And how soon?

  It was almost dark but still light enough to see the lines forming. Several small groups had already raced forward to the walls and were making a halfhearted attempt to use scaling ladders, but they were paying a dreadful price as Jean-Luc’s crossbowmen cut through them.

  At first I was confused by their tactics. Why were they not more deliberate in trying to overcome us on the battlements? I could not see Sir Hugh on the field in the gathering darkness, but something wasn’t right here. The Templars at the walls shouted now and then, and a few of them even chucked a few rocks at the crossbowmen, ducking behind shields when the bowmen answered with a shot, but their surge was unorganized and lacked intensity.

  Then Sir Hugh’s plan was revealed and my mouth fell open to my chest.

  From out of the tree line, pulled by several teams of horses and dozens of men, came a giant battering ram. It moved on four huge wooden wheels supported by a triangular base. From the framework hung a log, carved by ax to a sharp point, covered with an iron casing. It would be rolled up to the gate and then several teams of men would swing the log back and forth until the metal-tipped point battered down the doors.

  Wooden shielding had been affixed over the frame to repel our flaming missiles and crossbowmen from harming the men below it. And I was sure the wood was green and coated in mud so it wouldn’t catch fire easily, at least not before they had broken through the gates.

  As I watched the attack unfold, I was angry at myself for allowing Sir Hugh to dupe me so easily. I should have known he would never agree to leave without a fight. He had only sought to buy time until his reinforcements arrived and he could attack in force. But as Sir Thomas once told me, battle is no time to dwell on one’s mistakes. I had to regain my focus and figure a way to counter this move.

  Down below, next to my small siege engines, the kettles of lard over the fires were bubbling. Robard, Jean-Luc and the crossbowmen held the battlement and pushed back the scaling ladders, but the men-at-arms below were not at all interested in climbing the ladders; they were only buying time and mak
ing us waste precious bolts until the battering ram could be rolled into place.

  “Jean-Luc!” I shouted. “Hold your fire! Save your bolts for the men pushing the battering ram!” Celia stood at the southwest corner shouting orders.

  “Celia, come with me, please. Hurry!” She left Martine in charge and we made our way down to the courtyard.

  We reached the fires below a few seconds later. “I need you to tell everyone manning a siege engine to get the lard as hot as possible and hoist those kettles up on the parapet over the main gate. We’ll need ropes and timbers! Get them to hurry!” Frantic shouting came from the battlement above us, and there was more noise outside as the battering ram slowly made its way toward the gate.

  Celia repeated my orders to her men, and they went about their tasks diligently and in a hurry. More firewood was carried from the bailey, and the fires beneath the kettles were stoked again. Several men ran forward carrying timbers on their backs and shoulders that they handed up to those manning the battlement. In short order they had lashed together a small windlass that would work perfectly for our needs.

  “Robard! How much farther until they reach the gate?” I shouted up to him.

  “Not far! One hundred paces, I’d say. If you have something in mind, you better be quick!”

  Everything was in place. I grabbed the rope hanging from the windlass and tied it carefully about the handle of the big iron kettle. When it was secure, the men above us hoisted the kettle slowly upward toward the battlement. One of the villagers on the ground held a long pole that he kept locked against the side of the kettle to keep it from tipping.

  “Hurry!” Maryam shouted from her spot on the wall. “They’re almost here!”

  The kettle rose a few more feet, and then we all heard and felt a thundering boom against the main gate. The noise was deafening and the walls shook, but the door held. A few seconds later another boom sounded against the door. We were almost in place now as the men above moved the kettle onto the battlement. A small pile of torches had been brought out of the keep, and grabbing one, I laid it to the flame in the fire. When it caught, I raced up the ladder. Running forward, I peered over the wall and saw the ram right beneath us.