“We need to get some food in you, my lord,” Thaddeus said. “Who knows how long it has been since you’ve actually eaten.”
“I don’t understand,” the Count said. “The last thing I remember is that Flemish noblewoman, Renata, trying to worm her way into my bed.”
Count Stephen took a hearty sip of water and ate a bit of bread Asaf had brought him.
“My oldest brother, Alan Rufus, recently passed,” Stephen explained, “and while my other brother, Alan Niger, made his way from Normandy to assume control of Richmond, I was tasked with watching his estates. I love my wife, Hawise, and when that woman tried to lay with me, I told her no. That’s the last thing I remember.”
“What was she doing here?” Thaddeus asked.
“I don’t know, really,” Stephen replied. “She came with a royal decree from William himself asking that we let her stay here. It seemed a mystery to me, with all the issues with Malcolm and the Scots so near, but who am I to question the King?”
“And you knew nothing of the crucifixions and the torture of the people you rule?” Asaf asked. He truly hadn’t recovered yet, his skin as pale as Count Stephen’s and his breathing still labored, but he pressed the nobleman.
“No,” Stephen replied, straightening his back and posturing a bit. “These people—the Saxons—they are as close to me as the Normans are. I am a Breton after all. My ancestors trace their roots to England, even before the Saxons came. My family has no disdain for these people, as long as they follow the King’s laws. I cannot believe this has happened. What will the King think?”
Stephen rubbed his neck suggestively.
“What will he do?”
“I don’t think the King knows,” Thaddeus offered, “and I don’t think he will know. This witch had him in her clutches almost as much as she had you.”
“A witch could do all this?” The Count sighed, shaking his head. “There must be some other explanation.”
“How do you explain not remembering the last several months of your life?” Gunnar asked. “There is no other answer. You were under the evil embrace of the witch.”
“Which means you were under the evil embrace of the Devil,” Asaf added, his voice flat and hard.
Count Stephen crossed himself.
“And how is it you came to dispatch this … this witch?” Stephen asked, still looking unsure of the prospect of having been under the influence of a witch.
“We are soldiers,” Thaddeus explained, “warriors for God. This is what we do, and as hard as it may be to believe, we have seen far worse than a witch. However, this is perhaps the most powerful witch I had come across.”
“It is a good thing my wife and children are still in Brittany,” Stephen said, rubbing his face.
“A very good thing,” Thaddeus said. “Renata probably would have killed them.”
“Do you have any daughters?” Asaf asked.
“One,” Stephen replied.
“She would have turned her,” the defrocked priest said.
“Asaf,” Thaddeus scolded, to which the priest simply shrugged.
“And you,” Stephen said, looking at Alden, “you are a serf in Richmondshire?”
“No, my lord,” Alden replied. “I am … was a hearthguard for the Saxon people.”
“A traitor,” Stephen said, straightening again, his turn to flatten his voice.
“Depends on how you look at it, my lord,” Alden replied. “For a while, I saw myself as a liberator. Now … I don’t know.”
“Where do your allegiances lie now?” Stephen asked.
“For now,” Alden replied, “they lie with the Lord our God. You are a good man, and your family has been good to my people. That is all that matters to me.”
“That is good enough for me,” Stephen said, “for now. You must understand, there is no hope for any Saxon to ever retake England. It is time to relent and let healing begin.”
“I would say the same for you,” Thaddeus said.
Stephen nodded with a slight smile.
“I suppose I owe you an apology,” Stephen said, looking at Alden and looking down at his bed sheets, which covered his legs. “I … my family is known for our compassion and generosity, not just in Brittany, but here, in Richmond. The people have served me well—the Normans who came with us, the Saxons, even some of the Scots that inhabit these lands. And we have had bountiful harvests.”
“You will again,” Thaddeus said, “as the witch’s grip on this place wanes. It will take some time for the land to heal, but it will.”
“What about the people?” Stephen asked. “They will never trust me or my family again.”
“If you give your word, as a follower of Christ, that you will protect these people, make recompense for the wrongs done to them, and treat them fairly,” Thaddeus said, “we will help explain to your people what happened here.”
“You mean to tell them a witch enchanted me and killed the ones they loved?” Stephen asked with wide eyes. “You mean to tell them that the Devil was here, in this place? Then they will never trust us.”
“No, we cannot tell them all that,” Thaddeus said.
“So, you mean to lie to these people?” Asaf asked.
“No, my friend,” Thaddeus replied with a smile, “we will not lie to them. We will tell them as much truth as we dare and leave it at that.”
“What do we tell them, then?” Gunnar asked.
“We will tell them that Count Stephen took ill … a very serious illness,” Thaddeus explained. “We will tell them that another noble stepped in as a favor to the King and that she became power hungry. We will say that the King then banished her from these lands and has agreed to repay for lost life and property. This will help William Rufus as well, although I do not know if he cares.”
“He does,” Stephen said. “At least, he cares for Yorkshire. It is wealthy and a barrier between his lands and the Scots. It is a good plan. And my family is very wealthy. I can pay the recompense.”
“You must also persecute those soldiers who willingly committed atrocities against your people,” Thaddeus said.
“But they are Normans,” Stephen retorted.
“Do you want these people to trust you?” Asaf asked, his voice hard and cold.
“Many of your soldiers thought they were following your orders, and you cannot hold them to that,” Thaddeus said, “but there were others who followed the witch, and willingly. Remember, Norman or not, they aligned themselves with the Devil. That, alone, deserves death. And then add the brutalities they committed.”
“It will be done,” Stephen said. “I still have my reservations about what happened here, but I know it was something tragic, and I know you men are to be thanked for my rescue and that of my family’s lands. You are always welcome here. If you are ever in need, whether you are in Normandy, Brittany, or England, you need not hesitate to ask.”
The Count extended his hand, and in turn, all four men shook it.
†
Several days later, having continued to both advise the Count and to initially protect him as word spread about what had supposedly been happening, Thaddeus, Asaf, Gunnar, and Alden made their way through the streets of Richmond. The mood of the people had altered. They heard laughter and saw smiles as children played, and adults went about their daily tasks. As they turned a corner heading towards the exit of the city, two familiar figures stood up from a stone bench.
“Hugh, what are you doing here?” Thaddeus asked.
“We waited for you. We came to thank you one more time,” Hugh replied.
“It is the Lord’s work,” Thaddeus said, “not ours. Thank Him.”
“We do,” Hugh said, “daily.”
“Thank you for believing in me,” Anson said.
“You believed in yourself,” Gunnar said, “and you believed in the strength and courage the Lord has given you.”
“Your home is untouched by fire?” Thaddeus asked.
“It is,” Hugh replied. “Most o
f our homes were untouched. How, I don’t know …”
“Never underestimate the blessings of the Almighty,” Thaddeus said with a smile.
Hugh handed Thaddeus a sack.
“For the road. It’s the least we can do.”
“Thank you,” Thaddeus said. “May the Lord bless you and give you peace.”
“Pax Cristo,” Anson said.
“Pax Cristo,” Thaddeus replied, and they said their goodbyes.
As they left the city of Richmond, the crucified that lined the road had been replaced by gallows. More than twenty Norman soldiers hung there, hands tied behind their backs, bodies stripped of all but their undergarments, and faces bruised. Stephen had wanted to burn them at first, and the people of Richmond had wanted to torture them, but the Count decided hanging would be enough, lest he look like the witch and her evil ways.
“Does the sky seem brighter to you?” Alden asked as they rode south towards Chesterfield.
“It’s cloudy and rainy,” Asaf replied, grumbling and groaning as he spoke.
“I know,” Alden said, “but the sky still seems a little brighter.”
“No one realizes what affect evil has on a place,” Thaddeus explained, “until it has infected it and then been cleansed away. Yes, the sky seems brighter. Look at the grass, it is already greener, and we are seeing more wildlife, hearing birds singing to praise God’s creation. Evil is losing its grip on this place.”
“Evil or no,” Asaf grumbled, “I can’t wait to get away from this wet and dreary place.”
“Perhaps the Lord needs us to stay here,” Thaddeus said, his smile evident in his voice.
“For the next couple of hundred years,” Gunnar added and, even though the look on Alden’s face said he had no clue what they were talking about, Thaddeus and the Norseman laughed.
“God be good,” Asaf exclaimed. “That in itself would be a curse above all other curses,” but the defrocked priest managed to crack a smile.
“This is my homeland, you know,” Alden said, his mouth flat and his eyebrows furled.
“And I will not hold that against you, my friend,” Asaf replied.
“It’s all right,” Gunnar said. “Sweden is much the same.”
He slapped Alden on the shoulder as they rode next to one another.
“And there you have it,” Asaf said, “the reason why both of you are so dimwitted.”
“Oh ho!” Gunnar cried before Alden could say anything, “the grumpy cur makes a joke. Evil has surely lost its grip on this place.”
Thaddeus laughed, as did Asaf.
“Maybe one day, Alden,” Thaddeus said, “I will take you to Rome … or the Holy Land. There, you will see the sun shining in all its glory and a land that has truly been kissed by the lips of Jesus.”
“You would do that?” Alden asked. “You would take me to Rome?”
“Agh!” Asaf cried. “Everyone is always so excited about Rome. We say Holy Land, and it means nothing to this youngster, but mention Rome, and the world stops.”
“It’s where the pope resides,” Alden said.
“Is it now?” Asaf replied, his voice rich with cynicism. “And what about the land of milk and honey, the land where our Lord Jesus walked and breathed and broke bread? Does that mean nothing to you?”
Alden didn’t say anything. He just stared at Asaf, eyes wide and mouth open.
“This generation,” Asaf huffed, throwing his hands into the air. “I would trade all the supposed wonders of Rome for the simple brilliance of Jerusalem.”
“Don’t mind him,” Gunnar said. “You should know by now that under all of his self-loathing, he thinks rather highly of himself and his homeland.”
“He is from the Holy Land?” Alden asked.
“That he is,” Gunnar replied.
The absence of evil in England became more evident as they rode closer to Chesterfield. Despite the rain and clouds, primroses and anemones and ferns were popping up everywhere. The grass looked lusher, and the birds’ songs sounded sweeter. Passing small villages, the people didn’t scurry into their homes, afraid of strange passersby. And, finally, as they reached the lands of Derbyshire, they could hear the bells of All Saints church ringing.
Chapter 29
THADDEUS, ASAF, GUNNAR, AND ALDEN sat in a large room in a manor house of the Lord of Chesterfield. The lord wasn’t there, an effort to save himself from any accusation of treason, but being sympathetic to the Saxons, he let them use his house as a meeting place. Prince Harold was there with several of his bodyguards as was the Byzantine priest Cyril.
“Your work is already evident in this land,” Harold said with a smile on his face. “It seems Count Stephen has changed his ways. He has paid recompense for his sins.”
Thaddeus never had the opportunity to meet the Prince’s grandfather, Harold Godwinson, but he could imagine men following such a man. Now Prince Harold was charismatic and sincere.
“We learned the Count was incapacitated,” Thaddeus explained. “A relative of the King seemed to worm her way into his confidence and then imprisoned him.”
“Truly?” Harold asked. “Does the King know?”
“No,” Thaddeus replied, “and we will not tell him. It is better this way, for the Norman people and the Saxon people.”
“Well, you did good work,” Harold said.
“It is the Lord’s work,” Thaddeus said.
“Yes, of course,” the Prince said. “Well, I thank you and the good Lord for the work you have done for the Saxon people.”
“And for you?” Thaddeus asked.
“How do you mean?” Harold asked.
“Are you rallying your people?” Thaddeus asked. “Are you making preparations to retake your lands?”
Prince Harold laughed softly and then shook his head.
“A dream,” he said. “Could I hope for so many blessings in such a short time? No. In the last few weeks, I have finally realized it is a fool’s hope to think my people will ever rule these lands again. The Normans are now the rulers. It is time we understand that and learn to live with it.”
“Will you stay here, then?” Thaddeus asked. “Do you mean to live in disguise for the rest of your life?”
“No,” Harold replied. “Several Irish lords have expressed their willingness to take me and my family in and protect us. I do not know where I will settle, but I am rather looking forward to a life of peace.”
“Will you ever come back, my lord?” Alden asked.
“I don’t know,” Harold said, but then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. This land will always be in my heart and in my blood, but it is time for change.”
“The Lord’s blessings,” Thaddeus said.
“Indeed,” Prince Harold said, shaking each one of the four men’s hands as he stood. Alden had tears in his eyes.
†
“Has Prince Harold left?” Wulfstan asked, sitting in a secret meeting room with Thaddeus in All Saints church in Chesterfield.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Thaddeus said.
“That is good,” the bishop said. “I wish him luck.”
“He seemed at peace,” Thaddeus said.
“Peace might be a way of putting it,” Wulfstan said.
“How do you mean?” Thaddeus asked.
“He expected to be a king,” Wulfstan explained, “and now he will live the rest of his life as just a man, albeit a wealthy and well taken care of man. I like Prince Harold, and he is a good Christian man, but I highly doubt he is at peace with leaving England for Ireland, a place that, at times, was at odds with the Saxon people of these lands.”
“I guess sometimes we have no choice but to relent to our circumstances,” Thaddeus said with a shrug, taking a sip of the wine the bishop had given him.
“Truly spoken,” Wulfstan said, “and something you would know intimately, yes?”
Thaddeus nodded.
“I think this land is better with the Normans as its rulers,” Thaddeus said.
&nbs
p; “Oh?” Wulfstan said, leaning back in his chair.
“They have all but ended the slave trade here,” Thaddeus said, “and ever since I first came here with a Roman legion, it has been fragmented and broken, and now, it has a single ruler and one strong enough to hold it all together.”
“Perhaps,” Wulfstan said.
“The Normans are ruthless,” Thaddeus said. “It is in their blood. But they will be good for England.”
“Again, another reason why I am glad my time on this earth is coming to an end,” the bishop said. Then, he shrugged.
“And what have you learned, Thaddeus Christopoulos, on this Lord’s mission?” the bishop asked.
“This witch—Renata—was the most powerful witch I have ever encountered,” Thaddeus said.
“Yes, she was,” Wulfstan agreed.
“She commanded minions from hell,” Thaddeus said, “including a succubus … and a powerful one.”
“She was powerful indeed,” Wulfstan said. “She was the High Priestess of a witch’s coven in France, ruling with a warlock named Galen.”
“He was there as well, Your Excellency,” Thaddeus said.
“As I suspected,” Wulfstan said. “She was close to the Devil.”
“I feel as if she could have killed us with little more than a thought.”
“Humility is key to righteousness,” Wulfstan said with a smile. “I wouldn’t doubt yourself, or your companions, so much. You are stronger than you think. And evil is always boastful. I believe she thought us beneath her and her efforts. You did kill her, after all.”
“Alden killed her,” Thaddeus said.
“Truly?” Wulfstan said with raised eyebrows.
“Yes,” Thaddeus replied. “So, what now?”
“At some point, I believe the Lord will call you to France, to follow Galen,” Wulfstan said. Then, he breathed deeply and let out a long sigh. “I am so thankful that my time on this earth is coming to an end. Simpler times are giving way to an age that would prove quite difficult for me to live in.”
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