“I heard of Merton’s exploits as I crossed Avignon, on my way home. At first, I had no idea who they were talking about. They called him The Devil not Merton. The things they said he had done—”
“Don’t believe everything you hear. Half the things Merton is given the blame for, he didn’t do.”
“But what of the other half? What about the things he did do?” Garren asked. “Is he a monster?”
“A monster is someone who doesn’t think, who doesn’t care. A monster is someone who murders, rapes, pillages…for pleasure. A monster cares for no one but himself. A monster has no loyalties. To answer your question, I would have to say no. Merton isn’t a monster.”
“I am glad to hear you say that,” Garren replied, and he was, he felt relief.
“But some of the things Merton has done are monstrous.”
“Then you contradict yourself,” Garren said, the relief he felt vanishing as quickly as it came.
“Merton is full of contradictions. Perhaps I need to explain things from the beginning. You need to know what happened and how we find ourselves here today.”
“I am not going anywhere,” Garren promised. “I want to know the truth.”
“Do you think you are ready for it?”
“I won’t know unless you tell me. But I can’t go on like this. I want answers.”
“Don’t we all?” Sampson mused. “How much did Alden tell you about what has happened in the years since you have been gone?” A small frown marred Sampson’s face as he asked his question.
“Not much,” Garren stated, he sighed resignedly. “Alden couldn’t even bear to be in my company. I could see how much he hated me every time I looked into his face. I don’t understand his hate. I don’t know what I have done wrong,” he looked at Sampson for answers.
“You are the rightful King of Cerniw,” Sampson said simply. “Everyone knows that. And now you are back. The kingdom of Cerniw is holding her breath. She is waiting for you to demand your inheritance.”
“I don’t want the crown. Even if I did, I do not have the power to take it. I tried to explain that to Alden. I have no interest in becoming the next King of Cerniw, or Brittany, or anywhere. I just want…”
“What do you want?”
“A family,” Garren answered truthfully, for what else could he do in a church? “Peace. I do not crave adulation. I don’t want people to bow to me. I just… I want a home, with a door that I can shut. I want to be left alone to grow old gracefully. How could I do that if I were a King?”
“You seek a simple life,” Sampson stated. “The Church could offer you that and more.”
“I would make the most appalling monk,” Garren grinned at the thought. “Do not try to recruit me to your cause. There are worthier men than I.”
“The Church brings peace. For some, it is a refuge. For me, it is the only life I ever want to live. I cannot imagine a life without God in it. He guides my hands, my feet. He commands my soul, and he has opened my eyes.”
“Opened your eyes to what? All the pain? All the suffering? All the hate?”
“That, and the beauty, the tranquillity, the laughter, the songs. In God’s world, there is always balance.”
“Then tell me, old wise one, how do I convince Alden that I have no interest in his crown?” Garren asked, his words coming across a lot more condescending than he had hoped. But seriously, what did Sampson know about anything? He had said it himself; he had spent his life serving God — that wasn’t real life.
“Would you listen to my council, Garren du Lac?” Sampson asked as he folded his hands as if he were about to pray again. “Even if my words were not what you want to hear? Tell me, would you heed them? Or would you dismiss them because I am young and I wear the clothing of a monk?”
“That would depend on what you say,” Garren answered guardedly.
Sampson chuckled. “At least you are honest. I think I know why Alden is treating you the way he is.”
“Then please put me out of my misery and tell me,” Garren pleaded.
“Alden lost Cerniw to Wessex,” Sampson said quietly. “He lost the kingdom.”
“I had heard that,” Garren answered, he sighed softly. “Bits of it anyway. No one wanted to talk about it.” Garren scoffed. “No one wanted to talk to me let alone tell me about the past.”
“Wessex took Alden from the battlefield. He took him back to his castle and did unspeakable things to him. He tortured him.”
“Wessex tortured him?” Garren closed his eyes and breathed out unsteadily. Why had Annis left that part out when they spoke of the past? “I didn’t know.”
“You do now,” Sampson said turning to look at Garren. He noticed a muscle was twitching in Garren’s face and he wished he could somehow delve into Garren’s mind and listen to his thoughts. “Alden was lucky to escape with his life.”
“I thought that he and Wessex had come to an arrangement after the war. I thought that is why Alden married Annis.”
“Believe me, that marriage wasn’t an arranged one. Annis saved Alden’s life and condemned her own in the process. Somewhere along the way, they fell in love.”
“Why did no one tell me?” Garren didn’t understand why he had been kept in the dark. What purpose did it serve for him to remain ignorant? Alden must have known that he would find out, eventually. Why not just tell him and be done with it?
“Merton blamed himself for what befell Alden,” Sampson continued, ignoring Garren’s question, for he did not know the answer to it. “Merton tried to reach Alden on the battlefield, but there were too many, he couldn’t save him. Of course, to an outsider, the person to blame would be Wessex. But I have noticed that your brothers likes to take responsibility for everything — the exception, of course,” Sampson chuckled, “being Budic, who blames everyone else for his misfortunes.”
“I heard how Alden and Merton had fought to regain the kingdom,” Garren said, ignoring the comment about Budic. “But I didn’t know Wessex had taken Alden.”
“Your brothers fought and won, but it came at a price. Alden…he…he wasn’t the same after Wessex had finished with him. It is hard for me to tell you this because I wasn’t there. This is not my story. Everything I tell you came from Merton’s mouth first. But please, I beg you, never repeat to anyone what I am about to disclose. Swear before God that you will not. For the truth could topple a kingdom.”
“I swear,” Garren stated solemnly, his interest thoroughly piqued.
“I trust you to keep your word.”
“My word is all I have left. I will not break it.”
Appeased, Sampson continued. “Merton said, that not long after they had won the kingdom back, he discovered that Alden was contemplating suicide.” The monk crossed himself, for it was wrong to speak such wicked words in the House of God. “Merton said that the torture that Alden had endured…” Sampson’s words faded into nothing. The young monk raised his head and looked at the cross and thought of Jesus, for such thoughts always gave him peace. “Merton promised Alden that he would protect Cerniw and that he would make sure that Wessex never set foot on Cerniw soil again. Merton was only eighteen when he made that promise. But as far as I can tell, he never broke it.”
Garren shook his head while he was listening. “I should have been there,” he muttered. “And then none of this would have happened.”
“You speak as if you willingly stayed away — did you?” Sampson asked curiously.
“Why would I willingly stay away?” Garren asked with impatience. “Does no one believe me when I tell them where I have been? Why would I willingly stay away from my birthright?”
“I believe you, but why blame yourself for not being there? That is just ridiculous. What happened, happened. And as I said, Alden and Merton won the kingdom back, but that was only the start of their problems. Wessex had, in true Saxon style, razed the place. Castle Dor was burnt to the ground. Alden had won back a kingdom that was in ruins.”
“I saw so
me of the damage that Wessex did to the kingdom. But Alden has a fine fort now,” Garren mused. “Like a phoenix, Castle Dor has risen from the ashes.”
“And it has done so because Merton stole away and hired out his sword. Any money he earned he sent straight back to Cerniw. He fought in foreign wars to protect Alden and strengthen Alden’s kingdom.”
“Alden has rebuilt the kingdom using blood money?” Garren asked, rising to his feet. There was criticism in his voice as well as disbelief. “Surely, you of all people, do not sanction that?”
“Of course I don’t, but what was the alternative? His people, your people, were starving. They needed that money.”
“So Alden sent our youngest brother to war, hoping that Merton would earn enough to what? Feed a nation?” there was disgust in Garren’s voice.
“I don’t think Merton gave Alden a choice. Merton didn’t say a word to Alden, he just left.”
“Alden should have followed him and brought him back.”
“And what good would that have done?” Sampson asked. “If Merton hadn’t left, then you would have had no kingdom to come back to. Don’t judge either of them too harshly. Please do not take this as a criticism because I know it wasn’t your fault, but…you were not there. Maybe,” Sampson continued for he would not allow Garren to interrupt him, “if you had been King then Wessex would not have invaded. We will never know, and there is no use dwelling on maybes, for it serves us no purpose to do so. It is true, that in the years that followed, Merton became known as the Christian Barbarian, The Devil. I cannot condone Merton for the life he lived, but I firmly believe that you cannot judge a man without knowing him first. Merton pledged his life to the service of his king and his kingdom. Merton is loyal. If nothing else, he is that. He fought for Alden, not for himself. Ask yourself, what would a man do for his children? What would God—”
“Merton isn’t Alden’s father, he is our youngest brother,” Garren interrupted with rising anger. “I can not comprehend what Alden was thinking.”
“Alden didn’t hold a knife to Merton’s throat. Merton can think for himself, you know.”
“You said he was eighteen. Merton was a child,” Garren snapped.
“No,” Sampson contradicted. “Merton was a man, and he was doing what he thought was right. Which brings us on to more recent events. Merton had an opportunity to get out of Benwick Castle, but he didn’t take it because he would not leave Alden in the dungeons. If Merton had left when he had the chance to do so, Amandine would still be alive.”
Garren shook his head in disbelief and anger. “If he loved her, Merton wouldn’t have done that. He would have made sure she was safe,” He ground the words out between clenched teeth.
“At the expense of Alden?”
“YES,” Garren roared, and then he visibly sought to bring his anger back under control.
“Would you leave your brothers in the dungeon knowing they were to be tortured and executed? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you would.”
Garren moodily looked away from the monk and refused to speak.
“I thought not. And now, it is Alden that thinks he let Merton down. That it is his fault that Merton suffered the abuse he did. That it is his fault that Merton lost the woman he loved. If it were not for him, then Merton would have been spared, and Amandine would still be alive.”
Garren began to bite his nails on his left hand. Sampson noticed that all of Garren’s fingernails were bitten down to the quick.
“It wasn’t Alden’s fault. It was Philippe’s,” Garren finally muttered as he began to see a twisted sense in the story he was being told. “It was Mordred’s fault, Budic’s even, but not Alden’s. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Merton’s.”
“I know that, and you know that, but Alden doesn’t, and neither does Merton. After Brittany, the roles were reversed. Alden became the protector, but I think the responsibility was too much for him. Alden isn’t as strong as he seems and Merton was very ill — his spirit broken. Merton wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t do anything. He wanted to die. Alden was at his wits’ end, and then you turned up, and I think it pushed Alden over the edge. But that isn’t your fault either,” Sampson hastily added. “Bad timing, that is all.”
Garren tasted blood where he bit the skin on his finger. It was then that he realised that he was shaking. He felt cold, terribly cold, and the walls were closing in on him. He had to get out of here.
“Everyone believes that Merton is dead, and it is best that it remains that way,” Sampson continued, watching Garren’s response very closely. “Alden didn’t know what to think when you came home. He didn’t know if it was some cruel trick, or if you were a spy for Mordred, or if you had just innocently found your way back to him. He didn’t know what to do for the best.”
“Alden hates me. I think he always has,” Garren looked at the door, and breathed out unsteadily.
“What makes you say that?”
“Budic says that Alden didn’t mourn me. Everyone else did, but not Alden,” Garren couldn’t stand any more of this room, he had to escape, he had to get out. He crossed the church in ten long strides and was about to yank the door open when Sampson spoke again.
“Of course he didn’t mourn you, he never believed that you were dead in the first place.”
20
Garren’s hand fell from the handle of the door, and he turned back around and looked at the monk. “He what?” Garren just about managed to get the words passed the lump that had formed in his throat.
“Didn’t Alden tell you? Oh my goodness, you du Lacs are wearing my patience thin. ‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’ How can you all hope to get along if none of you talk to each other? I would like to bang your heads together and knock some sense into you all. Alden went looking for you when you didn’t come home. He spent months at sea searching for your boat. Alden would not accept that you were dead. He never accepted it, not really.”
Garren leant back against the door and looked about him as if somewhere he would see a tangible sense in what Sampson had said. Finally, his gaze came back to rest on the monk.
“He looked for me?” Garren asked with a voice filled with emotion.
“Yes. Merton thought that he would make things easier on Alden by leaving with me. Merton said that he could be no more help to Alden, but you could. Merton sees himself as something inferior now that he is crippled. Merton, right or wrong, made a choice for Alden, so I can only imagine that when Alden looks at you, he thinks only of what Merton sacrificed, yet again, for him. Alden loves you both, I am sure of that, but he can’t have you both.”
“And why is that?” Garren asked in a voice that broke. “Why…Why…Why can’t he have us both? All, he had to do was tell me what you just did.”
“Merton was your wife’s lover. Your wife died because Merton failed. Because Alden failed. What was Alden meant to do? Put yourself in his shoes, what would you have done?”
“I would have told him the truth,” Garren stated vehemently. “I deserved to know the truth.”
“Merton tried to save her,” Sampson spoke with quiet sympathy. “As God is my witness, he tried, and Alden pleaded on her behalf for clemency, but it was to no avail. How could Alden have both you and Merton around his table, knowing what happened?”
“So you are saying that Alden drove me away because he feels guilty? Because he doesn’t think I deserve to know the truth?”
“No, that is not what I am saying.”
“Alden should have told me and given me a chance. We could have figured it out.” Garren swiped angrily at the tears that were forming in his eyes. “I want to ask you something,” his voice broke, and he took a long moment to compose himself. “And as you are a man of God, you have to tell me the truth. That is how it works, isn’t it?”
Sampson nodded, although he seemed reluctant to do so.
“By sending me away, does Alden hope that Merton will return t
o him?”
Sampson shook his head, “No. Alden sent you away, not because he doesn’t want to see you, although maybe guilt does come into it, you would have to ask him that. I don’t know this for sure, but what I believe to be the real reason Alden sent you away is because Merton is missing. The knights who travelled with you, Yrre and Eadger, they didn’t accompany you to protect you. They are looking for Merton. Only a few know that Merton is still alive, Alden could not send out a search party for someone who is supposed to be dead.”
“Oh my God,” Garren swore, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sampson wince. “I am sorry,” he immediately apologised. “I didn’t mean to take the Lord’s name in vain, it is just…this is just… Alden is using me?”
“In a way, perhaps,” Sampson said, finally rising to his feet.
“What was the point in me coming home? All these years I stayed alive, hoping I would see my family again, but…”
“You can make it right with Alden,” Sampson stated. “And God will see you through this.”
“God?” Garren scoffed again. “The only way I can make it right is if I give Alden want he wants. I take it Yrre and Eadger will continue the search for Merton.”
“Yes. Yrre wants to come to Brittany with me.”
“So do I,” Garren said with a decisiveness that stunned the monk.
Sampson shook his head. “No. I don’t think that is a good idea.”
“I want to see Merton. I want to look him in the eyes and see how much he loved my wife. I need to see that.”
“Why?”
“Because… If I saw that his love for my wife was greater than mine, then I want him to know that I would have divorced her and I wouldn’t have gotten in his way. And I also want to thank him, for trying to save her. I think he needs to hear that from me. He needs me to tell him that he did everything he could and that he cannot continue to blame himself for what happened.”
“As selfless as that sounds, Amandine is dead, so it matters not what you would have done. But if she were alive, you would not have been able to divorce her. No man may—”
The Du Lac Princess: (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles) Page 23