“Well, what if there was still a chance to live your dream. Would you seize it?”
Thomas lifted his head off the ground and stared at John. “What are you talking about?”
“Let me start again,” John said, leaning forward intently. “What is it that you always wanted to be? Even as a child, how did you truly want your life to turn out?”
“As a child?” Thomas exclaimed. “Children are stupid. Believe me, I know. I have two of my own.” Catching John’s expression that was not one of amusement, he dropped his head back on the ground. “When I didn't want to be a fairy princess, I wanted to be the cook because he could do all those great tricks with the knives and make delicious veal.” Thomas lifted his head again suddenly and looked at John. In a quite serious tone, he said, “Are you going to give me the chance to be a fairy princess, John?”
“I'm serious. How did you imagine your life would turn out?” John persisted.
“All right, all right,” Thomas sat up. “I don't know what I wanted,” he said reluctantly. His relationship with John was based more on a general disgust with life in general rather than on any actual deep bond. Thomas had thought it an unspoken understanding between them that everything was fair game for humor and mockery and did not like the turn this conversation had taken. “I suppose I just always assumed I would end up great, you know, like our father.” Thomas immediately regretted saying it and tried to qualify his statement. “I mean great like everyone thought he was, as great as his legend. I know he wasn't much of a father.”
“Not much of a father?” John repeated incredulously. “He was nothing but a bully, a pathetic thug that beat up on those weaker than him. Even his own children, whom he was supposed to protect, were fair game!” John spat angrily.
“Yes, well, as the oldest you got that much worse than the rest of us,” Thomas uttered placatingly.
“But I understand what you're saying,” John continued in a calmer tone. “We were born to a powerful family, a family of legend; we were meant to be great. So why aren't we?”
Thomas shrugged. “Why don't you ask William and Henry? Apparently they have it figured out. They both returned from the Holy Land as heroes, although William is cocky and Henry is self-righteous. But as you say, it is the reputation that matters, not the person underneath.”
“So why are they celebrated heroes and we are forgotten drunks? Didn't we do everything they did exactly, plus more?” John pressed.
“Drunks? Speak for yourself,” Thomas protested briefly, but then moved on. “Well, I know William’s campaign was marvelously successful. I mean capturing Damietta. How many times have they tried to take that city? And Henry is a tragic hero that fought desperately to save his men and barely made it out alive...” Thomas dropped his head. “I guess I was just along for the ride when I was over there. I did nothing to distinguish myself. I just put in the time and tried to get out alive.”
“No, don't do that!” John interrupted. “You are blaming yourself. I spent years blaming myself, but it is not my fault any more than it is yours. Consider what Henry and William had that we did not.” Seeing Thomas' blank stare, he answered his own question. “They were given every advantage. As the youngest children, they were spoiled rotten. No expense was spared for them. They were given everything.” John moved closer to Thomas and leaned in anxiously. “Ask yourself, would Damietta have been taken if William wasn't there?” Thomas shrugged, so John answered for him. “Of course it would have. You cannot in all earnestness tell me you think William was integral to that victory.”
“Ok, so it would have been taken anyway,” Thomas conceded. “What's your point?”
“My point is that he is a hero because he was there, because of the tools he was given, not because there is anything special about him. And what of Henry? What would you do if you got into a situation where you were vastly outnumbered and your men were being routed? Exactly, you would fight like a wild dog just to stay alive. And that is exactly what Henry did. He fought out of fear and desperation just to stay alive. Survival made him a hero. He did no differently than you or I would have done in the same situation, yet he is a hero because of his circumstances. And he knows it. That is why he has never been the same since returning.”
“All right,” Thomas said thoughtfully, “if that's true, then what about Richard? He has a mighty reputation. He is more feared than both Henry and William put together. But Mother does not care for him any better than she does either of us.”
“That is precisely my point,” John said excitedly as if Thomas had just walked right into his trap. “What makes Richard different from William or Henry?” He answered again without waiting for Thomas’ response. “The fact that he was willing to take what he needed to be great. He did not wait for it to be handed to him; he took what he needed and became greater than all of us.”
“Yes, but he's a complete ass that nobody wants around. Everyone is scared of him,” Thomas countered.
John shook his head. “You are missing the point. It is the reputation that matters, not the person behind it, remember? It is taking the glory for yourself.”
“What are you getting at, John? This doesn't sound like you,” Thomas said dubiously.
“That is why I brought you here. I have been talking to some people lately who have been expanding my thinking. They are who I wanted you to meet.” He turned to the trees, “You there?” he called into the darkness.
A dark-robed figured stepped from the shadows into the clearing. Thomas immediately climbed into a crouching, guarded position, unsure of what to expect. He watched in amazement as John got to his feet, hurried over to the figure, and kissed it. The two approached Thomas side by side. John extended his arm around the slender form under the light, clinging robe. The thin figure drew back her hood to reveal the finely chiseled features and dark skin of the prettiest Moor woman Thomas had ever seen. “Thomas, this is Anisa,” John said proudly from her side.
Thomas realized he was still crouching and stood self-consciously. “Uhhm, well met, milady?” Thomas said with a slight bow, his customary nervousness around beautiful women returning immediately. Anisa nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
“Anisa and her friends are the ones I was telling you about,” John clarified unnecessarily.
“Friends?” Thomas glanced about the dark tree line nervously.
“Oh, they’re not here,” John explained. “I meet Anisa here, and she takes me to them.” Anisa gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head toward John.
“What is it?” John turned to her, drawing Thomas’ attention to the action.
“My darling, you did not tell me you were bringing anyone with you,” Anisa said in a smooth alto voice with just the trace of an accent that made her seem even more exotic. “We are not prepared for visitors,” she said in a tone that belied her displeasure.
“What of that? This is my brother; we can trust him,” John said, giving an embarrassed sidelong glance at Thomas. Anisa gave a noncommittal grunt and sat down on a stump facing Thomas. Thomas could not help but see this exchange as a displeased mother chastising a child that did not understand what he had done wrong.
“Now, Sir Thomas, would you be good enough to enlighten me as to what your brother has told you of me?” Anisa continued in her mother hen tone.
“I regret to say, my dear brother has seen fit to impart very little of such a lovely subject,” Thomas switched into very formal language as he always tended to do when attractive women were present. Not because it impressed them, for he had yet to meet one that was openly impressed by it, but because he thought they should be impressed by it. “Only just now he mentioned that he had been privileged to partake of an expanded understanding regarding what station in life a person is relegated to.” She arched an eyebrow slightly at this.
“Is that so? And what has he told you?”
Thomas shrugged. “Very little, I fear. He alluded to a certain possibility that you possessed means whereby one
could seize the helm of one's abysmal life and redirect it.” He became uncomfortable with her silence and added, “Have I erred in my understanding?”
“That depends,” she said slowly.
“On what might that depend, milady?”
“On the reason you have found yourself in this ‘abysmal course of life’.”
Thomas considered this for a moment. He had never said anything of himself, and for Anisa to direct such an implication toward him was the height of rudeness. On the other hand, if she did have a way to help him and he denied needing any help, well that, too, was rather foolish. Thomas decided to walk a middle ground and neither confirm nor deny what she had said. “Are you inquiring about my humble life, milady? Are you asking for the reason I believe it to be humble or the reason it actually is?” Thomas asked lightly. “Because the two are not always the same thing.”
“You are mistaken!” Anisa sat forward with startling vehemence. “There is no difference! Our reality is what we perceive. That is all that matters. That is all that is important. Anything else is merely second-guessing ourselves, and great men do not doubt themselves.”
Thomas looked at John for guidance, as he was taken aback by what he felt was a resounding rebuff by this foreign woman. John merely raised his eyebrows, pleased that his brother was confounded by Anisa. Having been the recipient of many such tongue lashings himself, it now instilled a certain sense of pride to see how ruthlessly efficient his woman could be. She was so different from other women. She did not get hung up on ceremony. She was strong and intelligent and refused to be treated otherwise simply because she was a Saracen or a woman.
“What is it you are looking for, and what difference could it make to you who or what I have become?” Thomas was angry and embarrassed at having this strange woman blatantly humiliate him in front of his brother when he was merely trying to hold a pleasant conversation. The fact that she was beautiful and a foreigner only made the insult that much worse.
“It does not make any difference to me,” Anisa said primly. “But it ought to be a matter of some importance to you. Now, who made you this way?”
“What way?” Thomas demanded in confused irritation.
“Who made you into this?” She gestured at him in disgust.
“What ar—”
“Who made you a drain on your family?” Anisa cut him off, her demanding tone growing with each question.
“I’m no—”
“Who made you a useless leech on your own people?” she demanded still more loudly.
Thomas was shocked. How dare she speak to him in such a tone! He had a mind to strike the belligerence from her mouth. “I make my own—” Thomas’ voice was rising in anger now.
“You were born of a great family. Why are you the least among them?”
“I am—”
“Who made you so soft, so spoiled? You are nothing compared to any of your family. Why?”
“I am better than—” he shouted, but Anisa was already talking over him.
“You are the worst of the Dawnings. You could not even stand up for yourself. You are weak. How is it that you have no strength when all your brothers are powerful warriors?” Thomas was furious and tried a number of times to interrupt, but Anisa plunged on, enraging him further. “You are a rotund, lazy dog! How can you bear to be the one Dawning that is looked at like that?” This cut Thomas very deeply as he had always been acutely aware of his size. Though he made light of it in public, he always felt that was how people actually viewed him: as the adopted Dawning. All his brothers were handsome, strong, and charismatic, and he was ugly and fat.
“Close your mouth, woman!” Thomas’ face was red, and he was trembling with rage. “Lest I close it for you.”
“You are the reason your life is worthless! You are nothing to the rest of your family.”
Thomas lunged forward and crossed Anisa’s chin with the back of his hand. She gasped and fell backward. “I could be the greatest Dawning!” he shouted at her. “I am only here because my mother turned me into a simpering servant beholden to her. I should be the greatest Dawning!”
John immediately leapt to Anisa’s aid, interposing himself between her and Thomas. “What is wrong with you, Thomas?” he shouted. “Are you all right, Anisa?” he asked, gently helping her to her feet. “I am so sorry about that. I am so sorry,” he sounded almost pathetic.
He did not notice the faintest of smiles cross her lips as she raised her hand to feel the trickle of blood that was coming from her broken lip.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
“I think we are done here,” Anisa said shortly and disappeared into the trees. Thomas was already descending the hill to the horses again.
John started to go after Thomas and then realized Anisa was leaving and turned to follow her, but she was already out of sight. “Anisa?” he called but was answered only with darkness. Frustrated, he turned to pursue Thomas. “What was that about?” he demanded of Thomas when he had caught up to him. “How dare you strike a woman, and especially Anisa?”
Thomas rounded on John. “She had better learn her place or she will get worse than that!”
John retreated a step, surprised by the venom in Thomas’ voice. He raised his hand in submission. “Anisa forgot her place, I will grant you that. But striking her? I did not expect such behavior from you, Thomas. Particularly toward someone who has done so much for me.”
“And what exactly has she done for you, John?” Thomas was walking again with John a pace behind. “You are still married; do you remember that?”
“Anisa has reminded me that there is more to life than the miserable existence I am living…more than the life you are living,” he added after a brief pause.
“What are you talking about?” Thomas demanded. “You are living in exactly the same manner you have been for years. Simply because some little trollop has shot a little ray of dirty excitement into your life does not mean your situation has improved—”
“Anisa is not a trollop!” John insisted. “And I will not permit you to speak of her that way.”
“Then what is she, John?” Thomas stopped his rapid descent long enough to wait for an answer. John became uncomfortable and did not reply. “Uh huh,” Thomas said and continued his descent. “Are you telling me you are not intimate with that woman?”
“I would never—” John feigned shock. Then, under Thomas’ level gaze, “How did you know?” He gasped.
“I am not blind. I saw that woman, and I know you,” Thomas said simply. “Adultery is a big one,” Thomas said off-handedly, “even for you.”
“You have the audacity to judge me?” John demanded. “Who is the first to pick up the strumpets hanging around the tavern?”
“That is not adultery,” John said. “That is only… letting off steam. Those women mean nothing to me, but this,” he said, pointing back up the hill, “is clearly something more dangerous.”
“It’s not adultery,” John instinctively protested, but then rethought his approach. “At least, I don’t want it to be. I am trying to find a gentle way to let Lindsay down and release her.”
“It’s not that easy,” Thomas replied. He was still walking rapidly and responding in an indifferent tone of someone who had no more than an academic interest in the subject at hand. “You have to get permission from the Church, which you will not get, and even then Lindsay will be a marked woman. Nobody will touch her. You will ruin her life.”
“You don’t really believe all that, do you? About the Church and their power?”
“Were you married in a church?” Thomas asked simply.
“You know I was,” John responded sullenly.
“Then you will have to get the Church’s consent for a divorce.”
“So you do believe the clergy have power?” John again plied Thomas.
“Of course they have power,” Thomas replied. “The people give them the power, and as long as that remains unchanged, the Church has power.”
“So you don’t believe they get their power from God?”
Thomas’ pace unconsciously slowed as he considered this. “I think they are men. Some good and some not.”
“So why be bound by their authority? It’s your choice.”
“Because they have the power. There is no choice.”
“But what if there was an alternative that would distribute the power differently, and you would have the ability to overthrow all these silly, antiquated traditions?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about us being in control. You and me. We could rule Dawning Court and maybe England. We could change all these old, unjust laws. We would be just rulers because we know what it is to be poor and be subject to unjust laws.”
“How could we rule England?” Thomas asked, his interest piqued despite himself.
“One step at a time.” John saw Thomas' growing excitement and his passion grew. “We start with Dawning Court. Then we expand from there.”
“I am not fighting my own family,” Thomas said simply, losing interest and continuing to the horses.
“Don’t you see, Thomas?” John snatched Thomas' arm and turned him around. “We won’t have to fight our own family. I am the rightful heir of Dawning Court. Legally, our mother cannot keep it from me.”
“What about the other brothers? If she wants them to stop you, they will.”
“I don't think so, but should such events come to pass, you are correct, they may be able to stop me. But they could not possibly stop both of us. Richard is the only cause for worry and if we act quickly, we will be in power before he ever returns from the mainland.”
Thomas suddenly smacked his head dramatically. “Richard!”
“Spare no thought for Richard. He is hundreds of leagues away.”
Thomas’ heart sank as he realized that he had missed the other knights’ departure. He briefly considered racing home, throwing together some quick preparations, and pursuing them but shortly discarded the idea. They were setting a brutal pace that he would have had a difficult time keeping up with in his present condition even had he departed with them. Catching them now was unlikely. Plus, he did not know what he would be doing it for. He truly did not want to be with them.
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 33