Eventually his memories of his father had resolved themselves into an amalgam of his vague firsthand recollections and the stories he had heard from family, friends, and even strangers everywhere he went since he was young. He had even studied his father as a historical figure with his tutor, which was very strange to try to relegate the legend of the man his tutor spoke of to the memories he had.
He forced a smile for his mother again. “Thank you,” he said weakly.
She kissed his forehead. “Now if you ever scare me like that again, I will have your head.”
“I guess you were right,” he said, remembering her oft-repeated words that she had uttered again last night. “I guess I am too small.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “I hope you do not equate small with weak. You simply take after my side of the family. Richard and John take after their father, and the others seem to be a mix of the two. My father was not built like your brothers. He was shorter than you, but he was massively strong.”
She sat back in reflection as she spoke. “I remember when we were little, he used to hold his arm out and we would swing on it like a tree branch. My family were woodsmen, and one has to be strong to make a living that way.” She looked dreamy for a moment. “We were very poor, but we were happy. In fact, it was in one of those little forest communities when I first saw your father. He was not the mighty, self-assured warrior that you know. He was a young man that was up routing out the remnants of an insurrection. He was so handsome and unsure of himself, I couldn't help loving him.”
“Really? That’s hard to imagine.”
“Well, it was a long time ago. He was there in our area with his father, whom I did not meet until later, which was fortuitous because I might have been scared away from the Dawning family altogether if I had. His father was a harsh and cruel man. Your father was always struggling between appeasing his father and his conscience; the two rarely coincided. I know he wasn't the perfect father, but his father was even worse. Given the upbringing he had, it is a wonder that he turned out as well as he did.”
She settled back in her chair: “I remember the time I first saw him—your father, I mean. As I said, he was trying to put down a serf insurrection and capture those involved. The problem was, he well knew the horribly cruel things his father would do to any captured serfs in the name of securing loyalty.
“He came into our town chasing a serf of your grandfather’s that had fled the rebellion when the insurrection was crushed. The serfs knew your grandfather and what they were risking, but they had finally revolted because of the miserable living conditions they were forced to endure. Your father, I was later to discover, was personally acquainted with this particular serf. His whole family had died of cholera and starvation. He felt he had nothing left to lose, so he revolted with the rest of them. His name was Lamar, as I recall.
“Braden was questioning my father about dissidents in the area when Lamar, sure that his detection was imminent, jumped up from behind a wood pile by the house and fled into the trees. Your father gave chase. I was a young, impulsive girl and wanted to see what would happen, so I jumped onto the bare back of our old plow horse and rode after them.
“Lamar had such a long head start and your father was wearing so much heavy armor that I figured he would never catch him. But catch him he did. He ran him down over a mile in the heat, and when he caught up to Lamar, he smashed him in the back of the head with his elbow. She made a slight motion with the underside of her elbow to indicate the strike. Lamar sprawled on the ground, dropping the bread and dried meat he had stolen from us. I stayed concealed in the trees where I could see it all. The people in my community were not vassals of your grandfather, and we knew his infamous reputation for brutality. I should have been aware I would not want to see what would become of this unfortunate serf, but I had never seen a real knight before. He was so noble looking in his glittering armor compared to this dirty old serf, I could not help but think he was a hero and the serf was evil. I had to see the denouement.
“Lamar drew the old, rusty sword he had tied to his side and pointed it menacingly at your father. I can still remember the glare from the shiny steel as your father drew his own long sword. He looked like a giant compared to the little peasant. ‘Don't do this, Lamar,’ he said.
“There were tears running down Lamar's face as he pleaded, ‘Master Braden, you have always been good to us, please. We had to. Don't you see? We had to fight. Your father's cruelty is killing us.’
“‘Lamar, watch your tongue,’ Braden said, enraged by the serf’s negative reference to his father.
“‘Please, sir, you know what he will do to me if you take me back.’
“‘You attacked our home and tried to kill my family; what would you have me do?’
“‘Please, sir, I have nothing left,’ Lamar pleaded pathetically. The anger seemed to leave Braden, and his sword dropped to his side.
“Suddenly, Lamar charged Braden. Braden swiped the old sword aside. Lamar stood there helplessly and finally dropped to his knees, tears flowing freely. ‘Your father has taken everything from me. My family is dead. I just watched my friends die by his hand, and now I will be returned for him to break me on the rack.’ I cannot imagine a more debased spectacle than that serf at that moment. Lamar dropped his face onto the forest floor.
“I remember so vividly your young father standing over Lamar for a long time. His back was to me, so I could not see his face, but he just stood there holding his sword, looking down at this poor man. I can only imagine what must have been going through his mind. This man had rebelled and had attacked his family, behavior which could not be brooked under any circumstances. However, this serf had indeed been the victim of fortune’s cruelest turns. Neither man moved for a long time, and then without a word, Braden raised his sword high over his shoulder and brought it down, severing Lamar's head completely from his body.
“I tried to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. I wanted to turn and run, but I just sat there in the trees, watching. I could not turn away. When your father turned around, his handsome face was tear-streaked. He cleaned his sword and then buried Lamar's body with his own hands. I remember the tender way he laid him in the grave and said a prayer over him."
William was gawking at her. He had never heard anything like this before. “You mean he did not help him? Or at least let him go?” He protested.
Martha smiled sadly. “I hated your father for that. It seemed so cruel, so horrible, I could not fathom it. In fact, when Braden reappeared around our village again, I would not even speak to him. Eventually, though, I began to realize he was being merciful to Lamar, not cruel. He could not let him go; he had committed treason and would be a danger to his family. But even if he had released him, Lamar had nowhere to go. On the other hand, if he brought him back as a prisoner, he would be tortured and killed in a most horrible way. Braden was doing the only thing he knew he could do to spare Lamar any further suffering.
“I never told your father that I saw that. We never talked about it, but as he got older he got harder and harder, and the tears came less frequently to his eyes. As much as I found the warrior life distasteful, it was what I had agreed to when we were betrothed. What broke my heart was not the ways of the warrior, but watching this good man harden and turn dark. The legendary hero of the Crusades was not the man I married.
“The same reason I hated your father at first was the reason I came to love him later. Whatever your father’s flaws, he had a mighty heart.” His mother seemed to break from her reverie at that point. “I have never told anyone that before,” she said, surprised at herself.
“So why bring it up now?” William asked, recovering from his shock enough to think it a very odd time for such a story.
“Because I do not want that to happen to you. There is too much good in you. That is too valuable to lose. The world will always have good warriors, even great ones, but it is very short of good men. That is what I mean when I
say you are young. Not that you are weak, but that you are a sensitive, good soul, and I can't let anything happen to that. The goodness in you is what will make you a great leader.”
“Leader? But I am not going to be a leader. I am the youngest son. John will inherit Dawning Court.”
“You do not need to be lord of Dawning Court to be a great leader. Titles do not make a great leader. Braden’s father should be proof enough of that. You will always be a leader in everything you do. It is in your nature. It is who you are. So make sure you are a great one, whether as the king of England or the lowliest peasant. Always be true to yourself.” She sat for a moment, then abruptly changed the subject. “Leah has been asking to see you, when you feel up to it—”
William almost choked. “Oh, Mother, not now. I am just not up to it. Just give me a day or so.”
“She is very insistent.”
“Just give me a day or so, please. Then I will go and see her. I promise.”
“Okay,” she sounded unconvinced, “just see that you do.” She rose and started to leave the room.
“Mother,” he called after her.
“Yes, dear?”
“What day is it?”
“It's Thursday, dear.”
One day! It had been one day since William had been standing in that field a mere hour’s ride from his own bed. It was dark when he had stirred last night with John and Martha hovering over him. Therefore, even allowing four hours to clean up the mess caused by the battle and to burn or bury the bodies, his brothers were fighting for hours after he collapsed. They fought at a disadvantage for hours because he was with them.
He leaned back in bed feeling very depressed. Ordinarily a visit from Leah would have been just the thing to lift his spirits, but he couldn't face her with this weighing on him. He felt so ashamed that he doubted he could keep it from her. William sat reflecting on the battle and becoming increasingly melancholy.
He was unaware of how long he sat in that state before a brief knock at the door brought him back to the moment. John walked into the room without waiting for an answer. He was wearing a brown leather tunic that tied down the front and matching breeches now.
“I heard you were awake, thought I would come up and check on you. How are you feeling?” He sat down in the chair next to the bed.
William shrugged, “All right.” Then after a pause, “Thank you for saving me out there, John. I am sorry I let you down.” He blurted it out lest he choke on the words.
“Saving you? Let me down? What are you talking about?” John seemed genuinely confused.
“You know...” William prodded, hoping John would not make him rehearse the details of his disgrace.
“The skirmish?” John waved it away. “From where I stood it looked like you were doing just fine. He just got in a lucky shot, but hey, even I had some trouble with that behemoth. That was a big fish to fry on your first fight. You are fearless as a bloody bull, taking on that monster.”
“I let him take my weapon,” William could hardly say the words. “I had to be rescued, and as a result, put all my brothers in danger. That is shameful.”
“From what I saw even after you lost your weapon, you were still fighting. You are a bloody bull. All we did was move the fight we were engaged in to a slightly different spot on the field. It didn't change anything. Besides, we practically had a fortress behind the pile of bodies you stacked up. Finishing 'em off was easy from there.”
William smiled despite himself. John had harbored a deep sense of personal inadequacy for as long as William could remember. He always felt he was never strong enough, good enough, or smart enough. He could see the positive attributes in those around him, but he could not see them in himself. If one listened to John long enough, they could easily come to believe they were something more than mere mortal men. If William allowed himself the luxury, he really could start to believe he had played some great role in the battle.
“Well, anyway, thank you,” William finished, wanting to end the matter. “So how did the fight with the giant finally end?”
John looked disgusted. “He ran off, if you can believe that. We were deadlocked, truth be told. Neither of us was really gaining the upper hand, and then all at once, off he ran into the trees. Miserable coward! He must have been some sort of mercenary that was watching the rebellion topple and realized he was not going to get paid that day, eh?” They talked for a while longer about the battle and what had come of it. John finally excused himself, promising to stop by the next day if William was still not up and about.
Henry stopped in later. Henry had little to say and left as quickly as he had come. Thomas was the next visitor that evening. He came bursting through the door still wearing his armor. Thomas’ larger than life personality was infectious, and William was cheered somewhat for his visit.
William stayed in his room until the next day. No one else came to see him. He half regretted refusing Leah's visit. He would have very much liked the companionship of his old childhood friend now, but he had no wish to rehash the previous day’s events yet again, and more importantly he could never let anyone know of the fear that had taken root in his heart.
William was light-headed when he first climbed out of bed the following morning. He thought to take a walk in the anonymity of the early morning hours. Unfortunately, the castle seemed bustling with life on this particular morning. And as promised, everyone he passed was glowing with praise for his brave deeds and expressed concern over his health. Rather than argue with them, William would force a smile to his lips, thank them for their kind words, assure them he was well, and extricate himself from the situation as quickly as possible.
He was fleeing one such encounter with an elderly servant that had been at Dawning Court since before William was born. The servant called after his retreating back, “The Dawnings have a new prince that will restore them to the glory days of your father!” This sent a shudder through William as it struck at the very heart of the doubts he was harboring.
He made it to the courtyard with some relief. It was still early and the few people who were about were engaged in their daily activities and took little notice of William. It was easy to avoid people out here. He breathed deeply the spring air. He moved over to a small garden adjacent to the main courtyard. It would be empty at this time of day and allow him some peace.
He stood in the privacy of the garden provided by the high hedges and inhaled deeply, extending his arms, closing his eyes and letting the cool breeze wash over him. For the first time since the battle, he started to feel joy at being alive.
“Waiting for the fairies to come and take you away?” a soft alto voice said from behind him.
Despite the start he received from this unexpected interruption, he forced himself to stay standing quietly with his arms extended and eyes closed. He waited as long as he dared without responding. He did not want to seem rude, but he wanted to look like he was at peace, even though he had forgotten all about the beautiful spring morning and was acutely aware of the person behind him. He could hear the rustle of her clothing when she moved and smell her perfume. He was half excited and half annoyed at the interruption. He sighed and dropped his arms, turning on her.
“Does the warrior prince wish to be left alone in his glory?” Leah asked with a wry smile. She looked wonderful. Her slight but curvy form was accentuated nicely under a red dress that tied at the waist. Leah always wore brightly colored materials that stood out dramatically against the drab materials most everyone else chose for their day-to-day wear. Her brown hair hung just past her shoulders and always seemed to have a strand hanging in front of her hazel eyes that she was forever brushing aside.
“I don't remember you being quite so rude. It would seem the time I spent away has not favored you with any more grace than when I left,” William returned as if it had been much longer than a few days since he had seen her.
“My character must seem crude and unrefined to a mighty hero such as yourself. Indee
d, I can never hope to be worthy of your attention.” She curtsied slightly and bowed her head in mock respect.
William nodded approvingly. “Well, just so long as you understand that.”
Leah grinned and embraced him fondly. William returned it with his right arm, but kept his wounded left arm at his side. “Are you all right?” she asked, stepping back and inspecting him.
“I'm fine,” he said, though not really feeling it.
She looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”
He realized that by his tone he was inadvertently inviting her to pry about the very subject that he did not want to talk about. He forced himself to smile. “I'll be all right,” he told her.
“Well, I hope so,” she said, still looking doubtful; we can't have the Hero of Dawning Court moping around.
“I'm no hero,” he said a bit too quickly.
”Well of course you are. Everybody is talking about your glorious battle and they're all saying, “If there is one thing that I know, it's that William Dawning is a hero’. Why I even heard—”
“Stop it!” he said much more forcefully than he had intended. “They carried me away, okay?” he blurted in disgust. “My brothers carried me off the field like a child!”
There was an awkward silence, both of them unsure of what to say. William sat on a nearby bench, and Leah sat next to him, looking intently at his face.
William sighed, realizing there was no way out of telling her now. He told her of arriving in the village and Richard setting the houses on fire and calling out the men. He told her of the battle, and of the fight with the giant, and getting wounded and collapsing. “My brothers surrounded me and fought late into the day to keep me alive and then carried me home and put me in bed.” He shook his head in disgust. “All their lives were in danger because I could not hold my own against a bunch of farmers. I was a disgrace.”
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 19