“But surely my brothers should know so we can help—”
“They do not need to know and you are not to tell them,” she interrupted him. “Trusting my sons has only brought me heartache and trouble,” she said bitterly. “For all I know they would be the first ones breaking down the gates if they knew we were vulnerable.”
Her words stung as Henry felt he was being unfairly lumped in with his wayward brothers. “Now don’t you have a trip to prepare for?” she reminded him.
“Yes, at once!” He jumped up. “I had very nearly forgotten.” He quickly strode toward the exit and ordered the nearest servant to send for the tailor. He was traveling to London, and he had to look the part.
“Henry,” Martha called lightly.
“Yes, Mother?” He turned to face her, his mind still occupied with his preparations.
“In all your rushing about, do not forget that your presence will be required at this evening's repast.”
“What? I don't—” He started to protest but realized there was no getting out of it. “I haven't forgotten, Mother,” he assured her. “I will be there.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Richard started awake in the darkness. The rat was back, gnawing on his foot again. It was pitch black other than some ambient light that must have been coming from somewhere down the hall outside his cell door. The rats had gotten more aggressive as he had become increasingly weak.
He resisted the urge to kick at it and send it scurrying back into the wall as he usually did, for he knew it would just return to try again later. It was not the darkness that had taxed Richard to the core when his captors had first thrown him in here. It was not the cold stone floor, the dank smell of mold and urine. It was not even the silence punctuated only by the screams of the tortured that tried Richard; it was the rats—little parasites that ruled the darkness. They ran free, they spread disease, and there was no end to them.
These rats were hungry and seemed to think Richard would make an excellent meal. They were persistent in their attempts to turn him into just that. They tried again and again until they got what they wanted. They were persistent creatures. Unable to get what they wanted by force, they simply nibbled and tested until their victims had no more strength to fight. The rats had almost pushed him over the edge of sanity. But as much as they continued to disgust him, much like the rest of his surroundings, he was getting used to these, too.
He waited, biting back on the exclamation of pain as the rodent bit into his flesh. Without warning, Richard slammed his foot down on the creature. The rat flinched at the last moment and avoided the crushing foot fall, but he trapped its tale under his bare foot. Seizing it in his hand, he hurled it against the stone wall. It squeaked loudly, he heard it hit the floor, and all was silent. He was gratified that he did not hear the sound of the little claws scurrying away. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. “One down, only a million more to go,” he thought to himself.
Physically, Richard was just a shell of his former self. At first, when he was stripped naked and thrown in here, his captors had paraded people past his cell to mock and laugh at him. The mighty terror of the Moors, the Christian Curse, was nothing but a filthy, naked slab of meat. He smiled vaguely to remember the first time they came in to torture him. They sent three men in to get him, thinking the fear of the armed men would be enough to control him. Richard did not fear death, particularly since he knew that was his inevitable fate at the hands of these barbarians. One had held a sword point at his chest while the other two tried to bind him. He knocked the sword aside and slammed his elbow into the face of the sword-wielding guard, crushing his nose and knocking teeth out. He kicked backwards, knocking the guard trying to bind his wrists behind him into the wall, and then turned and slammed the body of the first guard into his friend. They both hit the ground in a heap, and he turned on the third one only to find he was already barring the cell door from the outside. After that they had starved him until he was too weak to resist. Then they came to get him in force and dragged him out of the relative safety of his cell to perform their foul deeds.
His food, now that they had begun feeding him, again consisted of old rotted cabbage and fetid stinking meat about every other day. He had lost a lot of weight and was very skinny now. His skin hung off him in saggy, loose folds. His fingernails had fallen off from the bamboo shoots. Many of his fingers and toes were broken. He had been burned, been stretched on the rack, and had a hundred other unspeakable things inflicted upon him out of pure hatred. There was nothing the Moors wanted—they never asked him any questions—it was out of plain and simple hateful vindictiveness that they did what they did.
He wondered how long he would exist here until they tired of him and finished him off. Early on he had maintained the hope that his men would come for him, but they had not. “Perhaps your family?” the voice suggested. The voice had appeared a few weeks after he had been in here. At first he had just thought it part of his own inner conversation, but now he found that he was responding to it vocally.
“My family? I'm sure they think I'm dead.”
“Would they not come on the chance?” Suddenly Richard was standing in Dawning Court on a grey spring day.
“You can't do this,” his mother said. Richard had taken a large percentage of the treasury to finance his own personal crusade. “Crusades have to be ordained of God and sanctioned by The Pope. You may not take this upon yourself.”
Richard was saddling his horse and had servants saddling mules with supplies and money for mercenaries. “The Pope? Be serious,” he spat, disgusted. “Why would you believe in some doddering old fool more than your own son?”
“Because I see you are making a mistake.”
“Why do you doubt me?” he demanded loudly. “On the battlefield I am treated like a God, only to return here and have you try to control me like a child.”
“What about your brothers? Don't you think they need you? Don't you think John could use your help running Dawning Court?” she pleaded with him.
“My brothers are worthless fools. John is useless as a warrior and will be even more worthless as a baron. Edward is such a coward that he could not even meet his most basic responsibilities as a man. Thomas just takes up space but will never have anything to show for his life. Henry has no mind of his own. He can't figure out what he wants and vacillates constantly based on what he thinks will win him respect; and he will continue to do so all the days of his life. And your baby, William, for all the extra time and attention that you have lavished on him over any of the rest of us, is just a little Caligula. I am the one who was meant to be great, and I will not find greatness here. And I certainly won’t wait for the Pope’s permission to do it. I will go out and take what is rightfully mine!”
“I should be very sad if your brothers heard you say this.”
“They already did. I told each of them what I thought of them.” He finished cinching up the saddle straps and turned to find his mother standing very close to him.
“I will not permit you take that money from our family. Not for this.”
“Permit? Why don't you try and take it from me?” he sneered at her. “When I have returned this gold to you a hundredfold, you will see that I was right.”
She shook her head sadly. “No. Even if you return it to me, what you are doing is still wrong, and it will always be wrong. What you do, you do on your own and you go without God; you trust to the strength of your own arm.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, climbing into the saddle of his warhorse. “The weak need God. I make my own destiny instead of waiting for it to be delivered to me.” With that he drove his heels into the sides of his steed and led the procession of supply-laden mules out of Dawning Court.
“No,” he said to the voice, now back in the blackness of his cold, miserable cell. “Why would my family come for me?” He took it for granted that the voice had been at Dawning Court with him just now.
“Don'
t you think your family still loves you?”
“Why would they? I would not forgive someone who had done what I have done... Besides, how could I face them again? How could I face them after everything I have taken and all I was supposed to do but did not? I think that would be worse than being here.”
“So rather than support your own family, you ran off in search of personal glory?” The voice was exceedingly soft, but always struck him at moments like this as being very loud.
“You know I did. Why must you keep rubbing my face in it?”
“And now that you have failed, you would rather die here than go back and right the wrongs you have left behind?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Henry struggled within himself. He did not dare open his heart again without some assurance that it would not be ripped out of his chest once more. But he needed to know if she shared his affection.
“Leah, I am leaving on the morrow.” She looked surprised.
“But you have only just returned,” she said. She was seated in the Dawnings’ private garden amongst the plants and flowers in full summer bloom and looked to be in her natural surroundings in this picturesque scene. Henry had called upon Leah and taken a walk back here where he knew Edith would be enticed away for as yet undiscovered reasons, and he could speak to her privately.
“I would tarry longer, but King John has requested my assistance in an intellectual endeavor.” He tried to sound nonchalant, as if the king were always consulting him on something or other.
“Well, his Majesty could not have chosen better than you, Sir Knight. I know of no one who surpasses you in intellect.” Henry gritted his teeth in frustration. She seemed genuinely pleased for him. Did that mean she cared for him, or that she did not care, since she was not concerned that he was leaving her again?
”I do not know how long I will be gone,” he blurted.
”Well, you must go with all speed and return to us as soon as his Majesty can spare you.” Henry was bursting with frustration. He wanted so badly to simply blurt out what he was feeling. He was, after all, leaving the next day, but that was the exact thinking that led him to his rash profession of love for her in the past and resulted in his most humiliating memory to date. He decided to take a more roundabout way to the point.
“Why do you still cherish feelings for William?”
Leah drew back in surprise. “Sir Henry, I—”
“Is it because of his first battle when we were kids? Because he was a hero?” he demanded. “He was no hero. We told everyone that to protect him.”
“Sir Henry, I am sure I do not know where this is coming from.”
“Oh, come now, milady, confess it. You still cherish feelings for my buffoon of a brother.”
”Sir Henry…” Leah was at a loss for words.
“He is never coming back! Do you understand that you are wasting your life on a phantom that was no match for you even before he dishonored his family?”
“Sir Henry, what are you saying? How can you speak so against your own brother who has never done you any wrong?”
“He has wronged all of us!” Henry said angrily. “Every resident of Dawning Court has been tainted by his cowardice.”
Leah stood. “I do not consider that my reputation was harmed, nor that your brother’s actions were the actions of a coward, and I am quite sure I do not know why you felt it was appropriate to address yourself so to me. I consider myself to be a staunch friend of the Dawnings and will remain so.” She hailed one of the gardeners, who was inconspicuously pruning a rose bush at the edge of the garden. “Please tell Edith that I will be departing shortly.” He bowed slightly and departed. Leah turned back to Henry, who sat fuming. “Sir Henry, I wish you all the best on your travels to London. I hope to see you again soon.” She turned to go and stopped when Henry called to her.
”Leah! Leah, I regret speaking so rashly.” He walked quickly after her. “Have I lost your friendship?”
She looked at him as someone deserving her pity, which Henry did not like, but it was infinitely better than her stinging anger that he had felt a moment before. “Henry, I know what a good and noble person you are. It is those feelings that have earned my respect and friendship. And that is still who you are to me.”
Henry collapsed onto the bench where she had been sitting a moment before, and slumped. “What, then, is required of me?” he said weakly. “I have done all that I know to do, and the person I admire most in the world values her memories of a misguided boy over my loyalty here, now, and forever.”
“Dear Henry,” Leah said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “We are kindred spirits and shall always be, but that is not the same as romantic love. We were simply not meant to be. Do not waste your strength on me. I am no match for your wit and intellect. Someone far more challenging awaits you,” she said with a smile.
He smiled sadly up at her as a tear spilled from one eye. “You did not deny having feelings for him. Only tell me how he has done it. Tell me how a brash young man could snare the heart of the fairest, most wonderful maid in all of England. Then I will believe I can find someone like you."
Edith glided into the garden looking flushed. A slight, blond girl who was pretty, though not as pretty as her mistress, kind but not so much as Leah, Edith was the perfect lady in waiting. She possessed all of the qualities of a noblewoman but not so much so that she would ever outshine her mistress.
Leah looked vexed at being cut short, but whatever she might have said, Henry would never know. Instead she squeezed his shoulder and said softly, “I am forever your truest friend. Everything will work out for you, but you must trust to the Lord.”
Her words did little to comfort Henry, but he forced himself to smile in acknowledgment of her kindness. He did not move for a long time after the ladies had departed. Part of him hoped Leah would come rushing back, but he knew just as well that she would not come for him now or ever. He felt he had lost her, but he was forced to acknowledge he had only lost the idea of her that he had enjoyed for so many years: the girl—the woman had never been his to lose. He felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness, that he truly had nothing in his life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You look scared, boy,” John said to William.
“Hmm? Scared? No, just thinking,” William tried to dismiss his eldest brother’s comment. In truth his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it, but he was not going to admit that to his brothers.
“Don't worry about it, boy,” John said. He always called him boy, probably because of the age difference between the two of them. John was not old enough to be William's father, but he did have twelve years on him. “A little fear will keep you alive. It's good for you.”
“That's true,” Richard chimed in. “That's why John always does so well in battles: because he's such a coward.”
William smiled at his brothers as they roared with laughter. He could see Henry sharing an expression not too dissimilar from his own as he pretended to be calm and collected like his older siblings, though he, too, had very little time on the battlefield.
“Next time we were thinking of leaving John home and bringing Mother. At least she is only physically feeble; she's not weak on the inside,” Richard continued to prod John. Though they were all laughing as John swung a heavy blow toward Richard, this was a bit of a sore spot between the two. Both of the eldest brothers were massive in stature and naturally gifted warriors, but Richard had always shown more dedication to his studying and training than John did and had excelled at every physical endeavor he had set his mind to. Richard was driven and disciplined, whereas John’s primary motivation seemed to be to try to keep pace with his younger brother. This dynamic between them in many ways made Richard seem like he was the elder of the two.
The group passed Dawning Court’s outer gate and proceeded to the nearby town. They met up with the local guardsmen there. This was a group of local militiamen and retired soldiers that were employed to keep peace in the area.
They mostly watched the town square during business hours and escorted the occasional drunk home safely. A full scale uprising was far beyond the scope of their duties.
William watched as the head of the local detachment came to report to William’s knighted older brothers, a consequence of good and faithful service on their crusades. Of his older brothers, only Edward and Henry had not been knighted, and Henry had yet to serve.
The guardsmen briefly explained that the rebellion consisted of the local townsmen, who had since fled to a nearby forest for cover. He indicated a tree line that was adjacent to a disused field about a hundred yards long that backed up to a group of cottages occupied by the townspeople. “While they are in there, it is impossible to mount a straightforward assault,” the guardsman explained to justify why the knights had been sent for.
“Fine, Captain,” John said, looking at the tree line. “We will handle it from here. Hold your men in readiness.” John turned to his brothers. “We must draw them out,” he said, looking around for ideas.
Without a word, Richard dismounted and walked over to a nearby fire pit the guardsmen had lit. He snatched the end of a burning log from the fire and walked to the nearest thatched cottage of the town. He held the burning log aloft until the flame caught the thatching on the roof, which was immediately consumed. Then he walked to the next one and did the same thing.
John jumped down from his saddle and hurried over to him. “You can't do this,” he said quietly. “These are our subjects. We are sworn to protect them.” An old man came running from the burning cottage, shouting in surprise and fear. He stopped short when he saw the massive, iron-clad knights standing before him, evacuated his wife and grandchildren from the cottage, and ran for the other edge of town as quickly as possible.
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 13