Kingdom's Call

by Chuck Black

  Weston entered the room. “I see our friend has awoken.”

  He walked to the children and gave them a hug.

  “Have you been bothering Sir Gavin?” he asked Addy.

  “No, Papa. I was just telling him about the Prince.”

  “I see. Why don’t you run along and tell your mother that Sir Gavin is awake?”

  “All right,” Addy replied, and the two children ran out the door.

  Weston walked over to Gavin’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

  Gavin noticed that Weston was no longer in the peasant clothes he had worn in Denrith. He had on the garb of a knight. Gavin suddenly became aware of his intense hunger.

  “Like I’ve just returned from the dead,” Gavin said.

  “We were concerned you would not make it. You lost a great deal of blood, and the ride on the cart was too much for you. It will take some time to regain your strength.”

  Gavin looked at Weston and was humbled. Here was a man who had risked his life and was now risking the lives of his family to save an enemy. Is this the way of the Prince? This went beyond any code he understood.

  “Thank you, Sir Weston,” he said.

  Weston smiled. A lovely woman entered the room and came to stand beside him.

  “Marie, this is Sir Gavin of Chessington. Sir Gavin, this is Marie, my wife,” Weston said.

  “I am pleased to meet you, my lady. Please forgive me if I do not rise. I fear my legs would fail me.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, sir,” Marie said. “Welcome to our home.”

  “There are no words to express my gratitude. You have saved my life with your kindness, and I am greatly indebted to you.”

  Marie smiled, “Our home is your home. You must be famished. I will bring some food for you.”

  Gavin tried not to ravenously devour the food, but he could not remember being this hungry in his life. His shoulder felt better, although it was still nearly impossible to move his arm. He was thankful that the intense burning sensation was gone.

  A few days passed, and Gavin’s wound continued to heal, but the strength of his arm did not return. The best he could do was form a weak fist with his hand and raise it to his waist. One day, he tried to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it, but the sheer weight caused him to lose his grip, and the sword fell to the ground. He knelt to the floor to pick it up and hesitated. He ran his fingers along the fine blade and became downhearted. Although his physical wound was healing, the wound in his heart seemed only to worsen.

  “With this sword I wrought devastation when I believed I was bringing justice—for the King, no less!” he whispered. Gavin closed his eyes and shook his head. Nothing made sense anymore. His perfect world had come to an end, and all that was left was an empty shell of a man. Was it pride that lured me into playing the part of a zealous fool? he wondered. He clung to the vision of the Prince, for it was the only lanyard that kept him from complete despondency.

  Weston entered the room. “Are you all right, Gavin?” He knelt beside him.

  “I, uh, dropped my sword. I don’t think I would be much good in a fight right now.”

  Weston helped him to his feet. “Are you up for a walk?”

  “I think that would be good.” Some fresh air would help him feel better.

  Weston’s home was much more than a country cottage; it was a beautiful large manor nestled in the rolling hills of the countryside near the Wickmere River. Evidence of former grandeur was everywhere. It would require many servants and groundskeepers to maintain such an estate properly, but Gavin noticed that the only current occupants were Weston, Marie, and their two children. As a result, the less important aspects of the estate had fallen into disrepair both inside and out. Gavin later learned that much of Weston’s wealth was being used to support the Followers in Chessington and in the surrounding regions.

  The sky was beautiful and bright blue, and the smell of honeysuckle and wildflowers filled the air. Becoming absorbed in the lush country diminished the anguish of Gavin’s past … at least for a time. After a long walk about the estate, they arrived at the stables. They entered Triumph’s stall, and Weston began to groom the horse.

  “What a magnificent animal you have here,” Weston said.

  “I used to think so, but he has become more and more difficult to control. He has resisted me for some time now. He, along with the rest of the kingdom, seems to be against me.”

  “Perhaps your horse is wiser than you.” Weston looked up and smiled.

  Gavin accepted the teasing, but then considered the bizarre possibility that Triumph had actually understood his folly while he was fighting against the Prince and His Followers.

  “He is not an Arrethtraen horse, that’s for sure,” Weston said as he combed the steed’s mane.

  “Not Arrethtraen? I’ve never heard of a horse that wasn’t. Why do you say that?” Gavin asked.

  “The extra folds inside his ears—have you ever noticed them?”

  “Yes, but I assumed them to be a defect of some sort,” Gavin said.

  “They are no defect.” Triumph allowed them to inspect his ears. “Ever ridden him at night or in thick fog?”

  Gavin thought for a moment and realized that on such occasions the other knights had struggled to keep up with him, and he and Triumph had usually led the way, even when Kifus was commanding.

  “A horse like Triumph has the ability to navigate the terrain even when it is impossible to see. He is a special horse. How did you come by him?”

  “It is an odd story,” Gavin said as he reached to stroke Triumph, but the horse raised his head up and away from his hand as if to refuse his touch. Gavin shook his head.

  “I was raised by my mother in a home on the outskirts of Chessington. My father was a Noble Knight but was killed in battle when I was just an infant. My mother did the best she could, and when I was old enough she arranged for me to be a squire under Kifus, who had trained under my father for some time. One evening, when I was still a boy, a large fellow came to our home asking for food. It was raining heavily, and he was soaked to the bone. He looked weary, so my mother showed pity and invited him to eat supper with us, even though I could tell she was very nervous about letting him into our home. He did not carry a sword or any weapon that I could see, but when he took off his drenched cloak and stood straight I was amazed at his size. He said he was just passing through the city on his way to a distant land. He was a quiet fellow, so my mother did most of the talking through the meal. He seemed genuinely interested in all she said.”

  Gavin paused as he thought of his mother.

  “She talked more about my father that night than I had ever heard before or since. After the meal, my mother offered the man a place to sleep in the stable, and he accepted. We quartered his horse and a colt he had with him. In the morning, we fed him breakfast, and he prepared to leave. Before he did, though, he put the colt’s reins in my mother’s hand and said, ‘The compassion of One heals many sorrows.’ My mother tried to refuse his gift, but he would not allow it. The man mounted his horse and then looked at me. ‘Take good care of Triumph, and he will take good care of you,’ he said. I never understood why the man felt as though he needed to give us a colt in exchange for a meal and a straw bed, but I was grateful. Triumph trained well, and he brought great success to me as the mighty horse of a Noble Knight. He saved my life on more than one occasion.”

  Gavin paused. He tried to make a fist with his right hand and then looked to the ground.

  “Now I am no longer a Noble Knight, and neither am I a Knight of the Prince. My cause has left me, and my heart is empty but for the grief that swells with each passing hour for my offenses against the King, the Prince, and His people. My sword is not what I thought it to be, and the strength of my arm has abandoned me. Even Triumph seems to understand that I am nothing but a pauper now.”

  Weston looked on Gavin with compassion and smiled, but Gavin’s sadness deepened even further.

  “D
o you delight in my demise, Weston?” Gavin asked. “Although … I cannot condemn you, for I deserve much more than a vengeful smile from a former foe.”

  Weston shook his head. “No, Gavin. I do not delight in your demise. I delight in your heart, for everyone who is to follow the Prince must first understand his own unworthiness. He must first understand that he is indeed a pauper.”

  Weston placed a firm hand on Gavin’s good shoulder. “You are in the place of beginnings, my friend. Few find it, but now you are not far from beginning your new life in service to the King, the Prince, and the Code.”

  Gavin was confused, for Weston seemed to talk in riddles. He was not comforted, and the memories of his past continued to haunt him.

  Over the next few days, a friendship grew between the men, and Gavin found opportunity to further enjoy the company of Adelaide and Keaton. Their joyful presence often left him smiling. The children entreated him to join in a number of their games. With each passing day he became fonder of the children. Weston talked frequently of the Prince, and the veil of deception was slowly lifting from Gavin’s mind, although he was becoming impatient with his healing. The zeal within his soul was awakening again, and he could not find peace on the bed of recovery.

  Late one bright afternoon, Gavin and Weston were walking beside a row of mature elm trees that framed the front courtyard of Cresthaven. A rider on horseback approached the men. Gavin had never seen him before, but Weston did not seem alarmed.

  “Sir Nias! It is good to see you again,” Weston said as the man halted his horse and dismounted.

  Gavin recognized the mark of the Prince on his tunic.

  “And you, Sir Weston. I see your patient is in better condition than when I last saw him,” Nias replied.

  “Sir Gavin, this is Sir Nias of Denrith.”

  Gavin bowed. “I am pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “Were it not for Nias, you probably would have died, Gavin,” Weston said.

  Gavin was confused, for he was sure he had never seen this man before.

  “Nias arrived at Cresthaven just when we thought we were losing you to the fever. He brought a salve to apply to your wound that broke the fever,” Weston explained.

  Gavin turned to Nias. “Then I am indeed indebted to you and all the more pleased to have met you, sir, that I may someday repay your good service to me.”

  “I am not the one to thank, sir, for I had little to do with your recovery. I was simply a messenger.”

  “Can you join us for supper?” Weston asked Nias.

  “Thank you, but I must decline your kind offer. I have come to deliver a message, and then I must be on my way.” Nias turned to Gavin and looked at him as though he was unsure if he should speak his words.

  “Sir Gavin,” he paused. “The Prince you saw on your way to Denrith did also appear to me and commanded that I deliver a message to you this day. He said, ‘By the shores of the Crimson River, you shall be made whole.’ ”

  Gavin waited for more, but there was none.

  Weston looked at Nias. “He would have to travel through the Forest of Renault to reach the Crimson River.”

  Nias looked somber. “The message is not mine to change, Weston. I must be on my way.”

  He mounted his horse and prepared to leave, but first turned to face Gavin.

  “You should know, Sir Gavin, that word of your change in allegiance has reached Kifus. The Followers in Chessington tell us that he has sworn to find you and kill you. Contingents of Noble Knights are searching for you as we speak.”

  Nias looked at Weston, saluted, then turned and galloped back toward Denrith. Gavin and Weston spent a moment in silence as they watched Nias disappear over a grassy knoll in the distance.

  Although Gavin had expected such a reaction from Kifus and the Noble Knights eventually, he was not fully prepared to hear Nias’s blunt warning, especially since he knew that it was likely very few of the Followers even believed that his heart had truly changed. He felt like an outcast between two kingdoms at war.

  “My presence here is putting you and your family in grave danger,” Gavin said to Weston.

  “I knew the risk when I agreed to bring you to my home.

  We will be all right.”

  “I admire your courage, my friend, but I will not be the cause of any more anguish to innocent people.” Gavin’s gaze left the knoll and rested on Weston. “I know the Noble Knights. They will be ruthless in their search and execution of those abetting a traitor. How do I find the Crimson River?”

  “You don’t understand, Gavin. The journey there is—” Weston paused.

  “What is your concern?” Gavin asked.

  “There are regions in the Forest of Renault that are extremely dangerous. Are you familiar with the caralynx?”

  “I have heard of such cats, but have never seen one.”

  “The caralynx of Renault are very aggressive and thus make travel through the forest quite treacherous,” Weston said.

  “Why are they more dangerous than any other wildcat?” Gavin asked.

  “Because of the manner in which they attack. They have skin that joins their forelimbs to their hind limbs. This allows them to glide through the air when leaping from trees, which is where they dwell almost exclusively. They descend silently on their prey from above. What makes them especially dangerous are the dewclaws on their forelimbs.”

  “Dewclaws?” Gavin said.

  “Dewclaws are the usually harmless appendages above the claws on an animal’s paws, but the caralynx’s dewclaws are highly developed ripping claws. The cats often sharpen this claw on the bark of a black walnut tree, which can poison its prey through an open wound.”

  “What a lovely creature,” Gavin quipped, but Weston did not reply in kind.

  “During mating season, they are extremely territorial and aggressive,” Weston said.

  Gavin shook his head. “I have no choice. I will leave after supper.”

  Weston looked as though he was going to protest, but remained silent.

  That evening during supper, Gavin arrived in the dining hall dressed and prepared to travel. Weston and his family were all seated at one end of a grand table that had formerly hosted exquisite banquets for many guests. Gavin placed himself in a chair beside Addy.

  “I am at a loss for words to express my gratitude for your kindness and gracious hospitality over these past days,” Gavin said. “I must, however, take my leave from you.”

  Addy and Keaton appeared sad and looked down at their plates.

  “Where will you go?” Marie asked.

  “There is a river that beckons my heart to come,” Gavin replied.

  “You are hardly fit to ride, my friend, let alone embark on a journey through treacherous country,” Weston said, still looking concerned. “I will accompany you.”

  Gavin smiled at his new friend. “You have given too much already, and this is a journey I must make alone.”

  “Will you come back to see us?” Addy asked. Keaton looked up with the same question in his eyes.

  “You can count on it, little miss,” he said, winking at Keaton.

  The meal was simple but delicious, as usual. Afterward, Gavin returned to his room to gather his sword and a few miscellaneous items. Addy and Keaton appeared in the doorway.

  “We’re going to miss you, Sir Gavin,” Addy said with big sad eyes. Gavin turned and knelt on one knee. He lifted his good arm, and the two children ran into his embrace. At that moment, Gavin experienced the beginning of the healing of his heart. He held them tight, and some of the ache disappeared.

  “I’m going to miss the two of you,” he said with tears in his eyes. “I want to thank you for teaching me how to like children.”

  Addy released her hug, but Keaton held his embrace a little longer. When he finally let go, he turned and ran out of the room. Addy stayed a moment longer. She gently put a hand on Gavin’s wounded shoulder.

  “When you find Him, will you tell Him hello from Keaton and
Adelaide?” Addy asked.

  “Find who?” Gavin was somewhat perplexed.

  Addy smiled and left the room to find her brother.

  Gavin said good-bye to Marie and then walked to the stables, where Weston was saddling Triumph. When all was ready, he turned and looked at Gavin.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Weston asked. “Couldn’t you wait at least until morning? You only have a few hours of daylight left.”

  “I am compelled, Weston. I have much to sort out. If I am to live at all, I must find my way again.”

  “I understand.”

  Gavin mounted Triumph. His sword hung at his side, but there was no whole or skilled arm to use it.

  “I put provisions in your pack. You know you are always welcome here,” Weston said. Gavin nodded his appreciation.

  Weston handed Gavin a long-knife.

  “You may find this useful.”

  Gavin instinctively tried to reach for the knife with his right hand, but his lame arm did not move. He reached across his horse with his left hand and took the knife.

  “Thank you,” Gavin replied and stowed the knife in his belt.

  He looked out across the countryside in all directions.

  “The Crimson River flows from the Boundary Mountains across the Brimshire Plains and eventually into the Forest of Renault. Traveling northeast should get you there,” Weston said as he pointed. “Be careful, my friend.”

  Gavin took a deep breath. “Perhaps this time Triumph and I will work together,” he said as he patted the steed’s powerful neck. Gavin looked down at Weston. “In this short time you have already become as a brother to me.”

  Gavin extended his left arm to Weston. “That is what the Prince creates between men—brotherhood.” Weston grabbed his forearm. “I am honored to have known you, my friend. May the Prince guard and guide you in your quest.”

  “And you!”

  Triumph seemed anxious to be on their way. Gavin crossed the Wickmere River and traveled away from Chessington, on toward a land he had never seen before, searching for a resolution to a forsaken past and a hopeful future.