by D. N. Carter
Philip leaned across the table and reached out to gently move Paul’s face into the sunlight now streaming through the large windows to see better the cut on his face.
“You were lucky. For many reasons,” he remarked with a sadness in his voice before sitting back, his eyes fixed firmly looking at Paul.
“You…follow me,” Firgany ordered nodding toward Taqi. As Taqi slowly stood up and moved towards his father, Philip gave a slight nod and briefly closed his eyes and sat in silence as Firgany and Taqi left the kitchen.
Paul and Philip sat for many minutes in total silence, the only noise being that of the chickens clucking outside, the odd goose honk and occasional pig snort. Paul knew his father was deeply upset. He pondered whether he should attempt to try to talk him out of his punishment for some other form, but the look on his father’s face said it all. There would be no negotiating this one. Paul lifted the wooden mirror mount, the silvered glass shards still on the floor next to him. He began to bend down to pick them up.
“Just leave it,” Philip said softly with a slight shake of his head.
“But…”
“No buts, my son. And whilst we have these few moments alone, I must also share an observation with you that both Firgany and I have noted.”
Paul feigned confusion but intuitively felt it would be connected to Alisha. It had not escaped him, or Taqi, that Raja had been actively busy keeping Alisha away from him. A stolen glance here or passing touch and a smile on the stairs was their limit over the past month. Every time Paul had made an excuse to help Alisha, or be in the same room, Raja was there instantly. They would be up, breakfasted and out before Paul and Taqi even rose in the morning. They would then eat separately, something they had never done on previous visits.
“We are not blind. We see the affection you hold for Alisha and she for you clearly,” Philip started to explain as a knock at the main doors echoed out into the main hallway. Paul’s heart quickened upon hearing his father’s words; his mind only focusing on the part where he said she clearly has affection for him.
Philip looked over his shoulder to see their house squire Simon open the main doors and beckon in a smartly dressed Knight Hospitaller and his squire. Paul looked on as he uncloaked his main black outer robe, passing it to Simon and then taking the ominous looking wooden box from his own squire. Philip raised a hand, indicating to come through. Paul watched apprehensively as the Knight Hospitaller approached. Tall, clean shaven, blonde haired and standing with a proud bearing, his blue eyes looked directly at Paul as he placed the heavy wooden box on the table just in front of him, and flipped a latch to open it, revealing an assortment of expensive looking metallic utensils and wooden implements, the look of which sent a shudder of dread through Paul.
“Fear not, young adventurer…this will but take a few moments and we will have you cleaned up,” the Knight Hospitaller said with a smile that instantly solicited confidence and reassurance. Philip stood up.
“This is Roger of the Knights Hospitaller. You are very lucky as I said earlier. He is only here until the morrow’s tide for he leaves for Outremer. He is the best medici physician there is. Be thankful for small mercies, my son,” Philip explained as he introduced him. Roger smiled in acknowledgement and sat down next to Paul and started to check over the wound immediately. Philip nodded at Paul and without any further words left, taking the squire with him.
Within seconds, Roger pulled a cork from the top of a small fired clay container, dabbed a piece of clean cotton with its contents until a large patch was soaked, and immediately started to clean downwards on the cut. At first the sensation was freezing cold, but then the pain started to register, first as a stinging feeling, followed by a rising burning sensation that just increased in intensity. Paul began to wince in incredible pain and tried to pull his face away.
“No you don’t! Just a little more,” Roger said calmly whilst firmly holding Paul’s head in place. “This may feel like it is burning, but it is necessary to clean the wound and stop any infection…and I shall stitch the larger opening. I lie not, it will hurt, but as said, fear not, we do not adhere to Greek methods alone,” he explained, immediately resealing the small container. As Paul’s eyes watered from the pain, he blinked just in time to see Roger lift a very thin curved needle made from silver, with thread attached. He did not feel the needle enter his wound as the burning sensation was still overpowering. He could feel the tugging of his skin as Roger efficiently stitched the wound. Before Paul knew it, Roger was done.
“Is it done?” Paul asked and suddenly felt very emotional as he recalled his father previously telling Stewart that Roger was in fact Roger de Moulins, who had studied widely, including at the famous medici school in Salerno in Italy and had contributed to their Code of Health of the School of Salernum, and who would be attending the initiation ceremony. He was the Knights Hospitaller overall Grand Master for their Order. A greater honour perhaps than that of having the English Grand Master, Richard de Hastings, attend. Paul suddenly felt very silly and embarrassed.
“It is. I shall dress it to keep it free from further dirt or infection,” Roger said kindly as he packed away his wooden box. Paul was impressed and grateful. He also wondered how much this would cost his father. Tiredness suddenly began to envelope him. It had been a long night indeed, his mind awash with ideas and questions and emotions. The shock of seeing his brother so angered and almost unrecognisable had scared him. But he smiled as he again quickly recalled his father’s comments about Alisha. He must speak with her, he thought, alone.
“I thank you. I am honoured and eternally grateful for I know who you are,” Paul said, his voice shaking slightly.
“No, ’twas a pleasure and the honour is all mine. To be able to administer to the sick and to relieve suffering and pain is a privilege and serves God directly just as his only son, our Lord Jesus, did and taught. Perhaps a path you should consider for I know you have the mind for it,” he explained as Paul pulled away to look him in the eye. “Yes Paul, I know much about you, young man,” Roger replied as he finished attaching a cotton gauze bandage to his face, then sat back and folded his arms, looking at him intently.
“You do. How come?” Paul asked puzzled.
“Your father often speaks of you. I know that you have a deep love of maps and navigation. I know that you can draw with excellent cartographic skills way beyond your age. I am also aware that you have a deep longing to understand the mysteries of our past,” Roger answered with a knowing smile.
“I, I am utterly taken by surprise to hear this,” Paul replied as he shuffled awkwardly on the bench.
“Surprised…Why? Do you not know the pride your father has in you?”
Paul shook his head slowly no.
“No, I did not know this. I thought Stewart took his attention always,” Paul sighed.
“Your father loves you both in equal measure. Maybe the failing in noting this fact is yours. Do you not know your father at all?” Roger asked almost coldly.
“I thought I did. After what I saw and heard this past night, I am not even sure what to think or believe!” Paul replied and sank his shoulders.
“Your father is a greater man than you realise. Do not rush to judge or condemn him over matters you do not appreciate or grasp the meanings and importance of, but all of such you shall one day understand yourself, fully,” Roger said reassuringly. Paul looked at Roger, studying every facet of his being. Paul liked him…this tall stranger that had entered his house to help heal him and make good the deep cut on his face. In that one moment Paul realised how much he trusted his father who had allowed Roger to come to him at his hour of need without any hesitation. Without consideration or further thought, Paul had readily accepted Roger simply because his father knew him. How totally he trusted his father’s judgements with his welfare and safety and unconditionally; yet he had let down his father’s trust in him. Paul lowered his head, saddened and ashamed. Roger placed his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Look
at me, boy,” Roger commanded softly. “You are between being a boy and becoming a man. Your father knows this. He is prouder of you than you can imagine. And I for one can see why. If ever you wish to learn more of our ways, to do as our Lord did, to administer to the sick, then know you have a place already. You would make an excellent physician. And we have the biggest galley ships too,” Roger said with a smile and winked.
Port of La Rochelle, France, Melissae Inn, spring 1191
The old man shook his head gently clearly saddened and sighed heavily. He paused as he took deep breaths and appeared to fight to control himself not to cry.
“Paul did not quite realise it then, but that one evening of adventure was to change everything for him. The innocence of his youth had forever been turned on its head. Taqi had gone from being a friend, to becoming a Muslim friend; something he had never considered or thought about before. Also a new flame of interest and desire had been lit within his soul about the Knights Hospitaller and of being a physician, for Roger’s words had touched him deeply. Paul thought he would soon lose the interest and that it had only been intense due to the night’s escapade and deep wound on his face. But the feelings did not fade, only intensified. As did his desire to see Alisha. A gut wrenching feeling for her he could not quash no matter what he tried to do. Taqi likewise had to fight in his mind to understand why his father would attend such an initiation ceremony that was so blatantly anti Muslim despite being one himself. The night’s adventure had unsettled them and both had come away with scars. Not just the physical scar on Paul’s face, but a deeper scar that affected them more profoundly than they could then imagine. It was a new beginning for all of them. A forced new beginning,” he explained.
Chapter 3
Sword to my Heart
La Rochelle, Chapel of Sainte-Marie, late spring of 1178
Paul and Taqi approached the main doors of the chapel just as the midday sun burst through a gap in the clouds above them, immediately illuminating the ornately carved wooden doors.
“That’s a sign,” Taqi joked, prodding Paul’s side.
The doors were sealed shut as Paul gave a slight push. He quickly checked the bandage on his face then tried turning the large door latch but still the door would not open. Suddenly they heard an inner bolt being released and slid aside. With a groan, the right hand door slowly opened inwards, and a very pale and clearly very aged man peered out, his old gnarled fingers slowly wrapping around the edge of the door.
“Ah, boys. Typical, as is the way of youth, you are late,” the old man said in a confident and authoritative voice which took both of them by surprise. He beckoned them in.
“But, but we only came to see the orchard owner of yonder field and fix the fence we broke…we were told to meet him here,” Taqi explained as the old man still ushered them into the chapel.
“That explains why you are late then,” the old man continued as he gently pushed them onwards down the aisle and moved to walk in front of them.
“I think you have us mistaken for some others,” Paul tried to explain as the old man just smiled and kept ushering them forwards. Paul frowned quizzically at Taqi. Taqi motioned with his finger in circles near his own temple to infer the old man was mad. As he did, the old man stopped and turned slowly and gave Taqi a look that made him stand still in his tracks. But then the old man smiled disarmingly.
“Sit, boys, sit,” he said, motioning with his hand for them to be seated on the front pew nearest the statue of the Virgin Mary. After Paul and Taqi sat, still puzzled, the old man stood in front of them and simply looked at them for a while smiling. Taqi eventually let out a nervous laugh, beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Do I have your attention now?” the old man asked as he stood hunched over and looking incredibly frail.
“I guess so, but, please, I fear you have us mistaken,” Paul tried to explain again.
“No, you are the ones. You have the cut upon your face have you not?” the old man stated and pointed to the white gauze bandage stuck to Paul’s face. “But of course correct me if I am mistaken, but are you not the two who only last night stood at my chapel stealing a view of the events that took place within these hallowed walls?” the old man asked as he nodded his head knowingly. Taqi and Paul looked at each other bemused. Paul half nodded. “I thought so.” Then the old man stood again for many minutes just studying their faces.
“Sorry, but okay, this is getting a little too strange for me,” Taqi said, breaking the silence.
“Strange you say? Look around you. Do you see or sense anything that is strange in my chapel?” the old man asked, outstretching his hand and panning it around the chapel as if to say to look.
“I do not wish to offend or be rude, but you are behaving a bit strange, and is this not your God’s chapel? And I am pretty sure I should not be in here,” Taqi shot back uncomfortable.
The old man smiled even more and looked around the chapel. Then his gaze fell directly upon Paul. Paul shuffled on the bench conscious of the old man’s stare.
“Appearances can be, and are often, deceiving. And yes, I can say this is my Lord’s chapel, and therefore my chapel,” he explained with all solemnity in his voice.
“Ha, truly you are mad. Now you blaspheme and mock us,” Taqi said agitated.
The old man closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again looking at Taqi.
“Mad you say. Perhaps, for this is a mad world. But, I helped build this chapel, and what lies beneath it. And are you not but both aware that as the Lord said, ye are all gods yourselves, though I do know your understanding of the word ‘Lord’ is different to mine,” he explained, still staring at Taqi. Taqi stood up quickly and went to pull Paul up, but Paul shook his head no, sensing something in the man’s manner, his curiosity roused.
“Taqi, please,” Paul said softly, motioning with his eyes for him to sit again. Reluctantly Taqi sat back down.
1 – 13
“I have waited for you two for some while…but do not ask or expect me to explain now. You will work it out yourselves in time. But I do expect you to fix the orchard wall and fence, not just the section you destroyed, but all the other sections in need of repair,” the old man explained despite the protestation in Taqi’s eyes. “And when you have done so, I will tell you a little secret.” He smiled and winked.
“Now you do indeed mock us,” Taqi said. Paul grabbed his forearm.
“No, Taqi, I do not think he does,” Paul stated looking at the old man intently trying to work him out.
“Then you must be as mad as he is. This is madness. I came to fix the fence as our fathers instructed, not to do this, whatever this is,” Taqi argued, his voice becoming raised.
“Then that is fine, young man. You may go. Both of you may go if you so wish. I am but an old frail man. What can I possibly do to you?” the old man asked softly.
“No, we shall do as you ask. Our punishment for last night,” Paul said calmly as he stood up. Taqi shot a look of perplexed bewilderment at him. “It is only right we do so. Not for any reward or secret to be shared. We shall do it as it is the right and proper thing to do,” Paul continued and nudged Taqi hard.
“Thank you. And that is why I shall tell you a secret when you are done.” The old man smiled and started to beckon them to follow him. Paul immediately began to follow but had to grab Taqi’s arm to pull him along. It was only then that Paul noticed the altar was completely clear of the flags, banners and other items from the night before and even the wooden and canvas fake doom had gone. Reluctantly, Taqi followed as the old man led them through a side door. Within minutes, the old man handed them working gloves, tools and a large basket containing sticks and pegs. “You know what is required. You will also find building stones stacked at the far end of the orchard for the other wall section repairs.” The old man simply smiled.
By late afternoon, Paul and Taqi had managed to fix, as best they could, the fencing and broken parts of the stone walls. Taqi had given up trying to place the
stones properly and handed that aspect of repair to Paul, and instead ferried back and forth the stones and sticks from the far end of the orchard. It started to rain gently and the old man came out with a leather overcoat for each of them. He looked at the main wall where they had repaired it. As Paul and Taqi quickly pulled on the large leather overcoats, the old man pushed the wall gently and it collapsed. Paul and Taqi looked on in despair.
“Not good. You have not copied what is clear to see. Look again, and make good this time,” the old man stated and simply turned and walked away without any further words.
Taqi kicked a stack of piled stones, immediately wishing he hadn’t as he stubbed his toe and hopped in pain. Paul looked on laughing as Taqi tried to hold his foot, and then slipped over in the mud where a puddle was forming. Taqi looked up, his face angry seeing Paul laugh at him. He grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at him hard but Paul ducked just in time, but then Taqi jumped up and threw another handful of mud which hit Paul squarely on the chest splattering mud up on his face. Paul froze for a moment, felt the bandage on his face, then quickly leant down, grabbed some mud and threw some back at Taqi. Within moments both were covered in mud and soaking wet from the rain. They eventually stopped, stood and stared at the state of each other. Both erupted in laughter.
The sun was already setting on the horizon behind dark clouds by the time they had repaired and completed the walls and fencing. The rain was still falling gently as they left the orchard in time to see a large double rainbow arch across the sky ahead of them, framing the outline of the chapel. When they entered the side door, they found the old man sitting at a small table, three meals laid out upon proper expensive earthenware fired plates and a drink each, waiting for them. The smell of freshly cooked bread filled their nostrils. Hot water was steaming from a large bowl on the other side of the room and large white towels hung near the fire. The old man motioned them towards it to obviously clean themselves up. He took their dirty overcoats and threw them in the corner very unceremoniously, which made Paul laugh. The old man smiled at seeing Paul laugh. After washing their hands and drying themselves off, they sat where the old man motioned them to sit. Taqi looked into the bowl of hot food in front of him quizzically as he sat down.