by Chuck Black
Gavin stared at the man in shock. How can this be? he wondered. Had he too already passed the doors of death? The pain in his body reminded him that he was indeed alive, and yet he knew within his heart that this man before him truly was the Prince they had killed. The last time Gavin had seen Him, His face was beaten and bruised, but now there was only a countenance that radiated true nobility and royalty. The pain in Gavin’s arm was momentarily forgotten as he searched for words and found none.
The Prince knelt beside him, and Gavin tried to retreat into the dirt beneath him. He trembled, not for fear of what the Prince would do, but for the recognition of his own misdirected life.
“Look into My eyes, Gavin,” the Prince said. “I have been calling you. The peace you seek you will find if you follow Me.”
Gavin looked into the Prince’s eyes for the first time and fully understood what Demus had said about Him. He felt as though his soul had been split open for the entire kingdom to see. He was ashamed, humbled, and excited all at once.
“My Prince!” Gavin whispered.
The Prince placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Go to the house of Sir Chadwick. He will tend to your wound.”
“What am I to do?”
“Be still, Gavin … be still.”
Gavin could hear the distant sound of horses approaching. The Prince mounted His majestic white steed and gazed once more at Gavin before riding into the forest and disappearing.
“Sir Gavin!” Hanan shouted as he halted his men short of where Gavin lay.
The pain intensified once again, and Gavin winced as he tried to rise to a sitting position. The grass and leaves beneath him were stained bright crimson from his blood.
“Who did this to you?” Hanan scanned the surrounding trees. He quickly assigned four men to search the area.
“I don’t know.”
Hanan removed Gavin’s tunic and quickly began to bandage his wound. The bleeding was profuse, and Hanan looked worried.
“Take me to the house of Chadwick in Denrith,” Gavin struggled to say.
“But sir, that is the place of the Followers we seek to destroy. We must get you back to Chessington.”
Gavin grabbed Hanan’s tunic. “No! Denrith is closer. Take me to Chadwick. That is an order!”
Hanan hesitated. “Can you ride? We found Triumph.”
“Yes,” Gavin replied weakly, but the loss of blood was great and unconsciousness was near.
After an attempt to mount him on his horse, Gavin was instead placed on a cot behind Triumph. Gavin fought to stay awake to ensure that their journey continued toward Denrith and not Chessington. He had never been more miserable in his life as he endured the excruciating pain in his shoulder—and in his soul. Anguished hallucinations haunted him.
What have I done? he asked himself. What have I done?
BETWEEN TWO WORLDS
When Gavin awoke, three men across the room were talking in hushed tones. He remained still.
“His presence here threatens us all, Chadwick,” said one of the men. He was a strong, stocky fellow with a full beard.
“I had no choice. The other Noble Knights did not want to leave him here, but he insisted. I fear I would be in chains and on my way to a prison cell were it not for his insistence that I treat him.”
“Will he recover?” asked the youngest of the three men. There was genuine concern in his voice. Although he wore the clothes of a peasant, the other two men did not treat him as such.
“I’m not sure. The wound is severe, and he has lost a lot of blood. Whatever the outcome, we have been discovered and you can be sure that the Noble Knights will return,” Chadwick replied.
The stocky man turned and paced to the door and back while rubbing his forehead. “I don’t like this—not at all!” he said as he looked at his two friends.
“I don’t think we’re in immediate danger, Sir Bensen,” the young man said. “For now we must do everything we can to keep him alive.”
Chadwick took a deep breath and then paused.
“What is it, Chadwick?” the younger man asked.
“He claims to have …”
“To have what?” Bensen said, nervous and impatient.
“To have seen the Prince.”
The moment of silence was indicative of the astonishment they all felt.
Bensen shook his head. “No … no … this is a ruse to capture us all! Weston, you are wrong. We are all in very grave danger!”
“What if he is telling the truth?” the younger man named Weston asked.
Bensen looked at Weston fiercely. He pointed in Gavin’s direction. “This is Sir Gavin, the Tyrant of Chessington, we are talking of. I would not be surprised if he fell on his own sword just to gain our confidence so he could destroy us all!”
The Tyrant of Chessington? Gavin cringed and closed his eyes tightly.
Chadwick rubbed his beard. “What are we to do with him then?”
“We cannot kill him, for it is not the way of the Prince, but nothing prevents us from leaving him here. His men will return, and by then we will be long gone,” Bensen said.
Weston shook his head. “Gentlemen, this man could be a true Follower of the Prince, and we must believe him.”
“And risk condemning ourselves and our families to the prisons and torture chambers of the Tyrant?” Bensen asked incredulously.
“I will take him to Cresthaven,” Weston said.
Chadwick and Bensen stared at Weston in silence. Chadwick placed a hand on Weston’s shoulder. “Sir Weston, you have proven yourself both wise and brave as a Knight of the Prince, but I cannot help but consider this a foolish decision. If you are wrong, you will be sacrificing your wife and children to the prisons, and you will very likely be killed.”
“If I trust this man and ill fortune befalls me and my family, then I am guilty of too much trust and can stand before the Prince in honor. But if I do not trust him and his heart is true, then I will have turned my back on a brother and on the Prince. My honor will have forsaken me. I choose the former, for I believe in the Prince and in His power to transform the hearts of men … even the heart of the Tyrant of Chessington.”
After a brief moment of contemplation, Bensen spoke. “So be it. We must get Chadwick and his family away from here immediately.”
“Agreed,” Weston replied. “Whether this man speaks the truth or not, his men will eventually be back for him.”
Bensen turned to Chadwick. “Prepare your family. I will return shortly with help.”
“The King reigns,” Chadwick said.
“And His Son,” replied Weston and Bensen in unison.
Gavin tried to move his arm and moaned in pain.
Weston came to him. “How are you feeling, Sir Gavin?”
Gavin looked at Weston and marveled. Though he was dressed as a peasant, there was nobility in his stature. Gavin wore the splendid clothes and armor of the Noble Knights and yet felt small next to Weston. He knew he could trust him, for his dark blue eyes were full of compassion. Weston’s hair was dark brown and slightly wavy. His chin was square and accurately characterized the confidence of the man. He knelt down to inspect Gavin’s shoulder.
“I am … wounded,” he said, speaking more of his heart than of his shoulder.
Weston paused and looked into Gavin’s eyes, then nodded. “Had the sword been a bit lower, you would probably be dead. We can be thankful for that.”
Gavin grasped Weston’s arm, and he winced from the pain the movement caused. “I am thankful for the trust of one man.”
“And that you have. We must prepare you for a journey out of Denrith. It could be a very difficult one for you considering your condition.”
“I understand,” Gavin said. “The large fellow’s concern is not unwarranted. I don’t think my men will return to Chessington without me. It would be a disgrace, for in their eyes I am now either a hostage or a traitor. Either way, Lord Kifus will insist that they recover me.”
Bensen ret
urned with six other men, and they wasted no time in their preparations to abandon Chadwick’s home. Within a short time, the residence was empty, and Chadwick and his family had disappeared into the community of Denrith as common citizens.
During this time, Weston tended Gavin’s wound and prepared him for the journey ahead. This proved quite difficult, for his dressings needed to be changed and the pain that accompanied any movement was nearly unbearable. It radiated from his shoulder throughout his entire body, and his right arm felt as though it were on fire.
Bensen stayed behind to help Weston, but he was clearly apprehensive. Out behind Chadwick’s home a two-wheeled cart was configured to carry Gavin on a makeshift bed. Triumph did not resist the rigging and patiently waited for Weston and Bensen to set Gavin on the cart behind him.
Both Weston and Bensen became concerned when a man on horseback galloped down the alley and did not slow his horse until he was nearly upon them. It was one of the men who had earlier helped evacuate Chadwick and his family.
“The Noble Knights are returning!”
“I knew it!” Bensen said.
“We can’t outrun them, and he would not survive the flight,” Weston said.
The rider looked back from where he had come. “They are on the outskirts of the city and riding quickly. We have only a few moments!”
“Get him to Eagle Pass, and I will gather the men and meet you there. The passage is narrow enough to fend them off,” Bensen said. “If we can hold them, you should be safe. They would have to ride for miles to find another way through.”
Weston grabbed Bensen’s forearm. “I thought you didn’t believe him.”
Bensen squinted his eyes, and the look of battle was in him. “I don’t—but I believe you, and I am praying that you are right. Now go!”
Weston mounted his horse and grabbed Triumph’s reins. Gavin saw Bensen look down at him. There was a measure of consternation on his face, and the pain in Gavin’s heart deepened. Here was a man who was putting his life and the lives of others on the line for him when just a day ago Gavin would have gladly had him beaten and thrown in prison. Nothing he could say or do would justify his past or convince this man of his gratefulness.
Weston quickly rode up the alley, leading Triumph by the reins, with Gavin in tow on the cart. Gavin could hear Bensen giving the messenger orders as they departed.
Every jostle of the cart brought agonizing pain to Gavin. At times it felt as though the sword was still embedded in his shoulder. Gavin raised his head to look behind them, but thus far no one followed them. They cleared the limits of the city and entered the woods that bordered to the north. The road became rough, and Gavin thought he might lose consciousness simply from the pain. He sensed an increase in the elevation of the terrain. From what he could see, the surrounding landscape was becoming a rugged mixture of trees and large rock outcroppings. After a few moments he heard the sound of many galloping horses.
The road straightened in a small clearing at the edge of the woods just prior to the entrance to the pass. Hanan and the rest of the Noble Knights soon appeared behind them in full pursuit with swords drawn. Weston saw them too and increased Triumph’s speed. Gavin wondered if he would survive the pounding of the cart. The Noble Knights gained on them quickly, and it looked as though their flight would be cut short. He heard Weston slap Triumph’s hindquarter and yell as he drew his sword. Weston quickly circled his steed and faced the Noble Knights single-handedly. Triumph raced onward without a guide. Gavin knew that Weston would never survive such a gallant encounter, but just before they met, a dozen mounted men burst from the woods on one side of the clearing to join Weston in the fight. The two forces collided and the sound of crashing steel upon steel filled the air.
Weston engaged Hanan. In that brief encounter, Gavin saw the skill of an expert swordsman in his new friend.
“Get him through the gorge” Bensen yelled to Weston, “and we will hold them off here.”
Weston pulled back, turned his horse around, and galloped to catch Gavin and Triumph.
The rugged trail narrowed, and the rocky pass towered high on each side. Gavin could see Bensen and his men defending the entrance to the pass as the Noble Knights fought aggressively to break through. A gentle curve in the road caused the rocky walls of the pass to obscure Gavin’s sight as the sound of neighing horses and clashing swords slowly diminished behind them.
There was no turning back now. In that moment, he knew that he had severed all ties to his former life. Gavin was no longer a Noble Knight, and the life before him seemed as uncertain as the rugged terrain that surrounded him.
NO MORE A KNIGHT
After a great distance of harsh travel, Gavin finally felt the horses slowing. He opened his eyes to see Weston looking back to confirm that there was no pursuit by the Noble Knights. He hoped that Weston’s friends were able to not only deter their pursuers, but escape themselves. Gavin was pale and barely coherent. His bandage was soaked with blood. As Weston attended to his wound, the warm and friendly arms of unconsciousness enveloped Gavin.
Gavin awoke just enough to sense his misery. His world seemed to bend and shift as he tried to focus his mind, but he could not stop the apparent delusions. He sensed wetness in his mouth and tried to swallow, but it required great effort. He could just make out two dark figures standing over him.
“This is the man?” he heard a hollow voice say.
“Yes,” replied the other form. “Fever has set in … there is nothing else I can do. I fear he shall die.”
“If it were not the Prince Himself who told me, I would not believe it.”
Gavin felt unconsciousness beginning to swallow him again.
“Told you what?”
“He gave this to me. You are to apply it to his wound. It should save his life. He told me that this man is chosen. For the sake of the Prince he will suffer many things and …”
The figures slowly disappeared into the blackness along with the words that Gavin could no longer hear.
The voices seemed so small and distant, like footsteps echoing down a long hallway. He was sure they were real, but Gavin couldn’t quite understand the words. The fog was lifting, but only very slowly.
“Why do you suppose Papa brought him here?” one small voice said.
“I don’t know. I heard him talking to Mother about the Noble Knights.”
Gavin opened his eyes and the voices stopped. He wondered where he was. It took him a moment to remember why his shoulder was so painful.
He turned his head to look about the unfamiliar room. Every motion took monumental effort. The room was quite large for a bedroom. The tall ceiling was comprised of intricate inlaid tiles and ornate moldings. There were white columns at the doorway and at the large window on the opposite side of the room. The curtains and tapestries looked older and not quite fitting for a room that appeared to have been designed for regal and expensive adornments. His eyes came to rest on two children standing a few feet from his bed.
“See, I told you he wasn’t dead,” said the little girl to a younger boy, who was standing partly behind her.
Gavin took a deep breath, and it felt as though it was the first his lungs had ever taken. “Hi there,” he managed to whisper.
The little girl smiled. Her nose and cheeks were dotted with freckles, and her dark brown eyes matched the long brown hair that hung to her waist.
“You sure have been sleeping a long time, sir,” she said.
Gavin tried to move, but even his good limbs protested with stiffness. He managed to rise up on his left elbow.
“How long have I been sleeping, little miss?” he asked.
“It’s been six days since Papa first brought you here. Keaton thought you were dead because you were lying so still,” the little girl said.
“I see.” Gavin figured the little boy had almost been right. “What’s your name, little miss?”
“I’m Adelaide, but everyone calls me Addy. This is Keaton.”
“Papa says you saw the Prince. Is that true?” Addy asked with big eyes.
“Yes it is, although I’m not sure why He saved my life.”
Addy’s smile vanished, and she looked perplexed. “You don’t know much about the Prince, do you?”
“No, Addy, I don’t. In fact, I don’t know much about anything anymore. That which I thought was right is wrong. And that which I thought was wrong is true. I believed the Prince to be an imposter, when in truth, I was the imposter all along.”
Addy looked as though she was thinking hard about his words.
“What do you know about the Prince?” he asked.
“I know that He doesn’t kill people; He saves them. And I know that He did so many wonderful things that all the parchment in the kingdom could not contain them.”
“That’s a lot of wonderful things,” Gavin said with a smile.
“Yes it is, and I know something else”—Addy smiled back—“He likes children … Do you?”
Gavin dropped his head, and his gaze went to the floor as he remembered all the terrorized little faces of the children whose fathers and mothers he had taken and put in prison. He did not think his heart could ache any more than it already did, but the honest and innocent comments of this little girl found a corner of his heart to prick.
“I’ve never had a chance to try,” he said sadly and managed a weak smile.
“What a sad place you must come from … a place with no children to like.”
Gavin’s remorse overwhelmed him, and he found it difficult to swallow or talk. He felt his eyes beginning to tear up.
Keaton pulled on Addy’s sleeve and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Gavin took another deep breath and gathered his composure.
“Keaton wants to know what it feels like to be stabbed with a sword.”
“Well, Keaton, I hope you will never find out, for it is very painful,” he said, grateful for a different topic.