“Well, that is fine,” William said, squinting up at the late afternoon sun. “But this was a bit more out of the way then you indicated. If we are going to rejoin the others tonight, you had best hurry.”
“Then we will catch them tomorrow,” Henry snapped.
“Since both Dawning men have abandoned this fool’s errand of a rescue, I would not advise being gone long. It will not take long for the men to get nervous.”
“Just keep an eye out.”
“An eye out for whom?”
“Anyone bad!” Henry's patience was getting shorter by the moment as he contemplated the task at hand.
“Does that count you, too? Cause in this mood, I would say that you are bad.”
Henry ignored him and stepped off the road to knock on the door of the cottage. It was some moments before the door was opened by a very elderly woman. She looked Henry up and down. As she recognized him and understood the errand he was must be on, she almost fainted.
Henry stepped forward quickly to support her. “You have come to tell me you did not protect my boy as you promised you would,” she said to him as he eased her down on one of the few chairs in the shabby one-room cottage. “You took Patrick from me.” There was no accusation in her voice; it was merely a matter-of-fact statement. She did not look at Henry as she said this.
Henry hung his head. “I did all I could,” he said feebly. “I tried to protect him, but we were overrun. Everyone was killed that day. No one survived.”
“And yet here you stand,” she said simply, still not looking at him.
Her words stung Henry very badly as this same thought had sprung into his mind a thousand times before.
“He fought bravely–Patrick, I mean. He never despaired, never shied away from onerous duties. He was a remarkable soldier.”
“So remarkable that you pledged to protect him. You are a knight, are you not?” Henry nodded. “Is not your oath your bond?” Again Henry nodded. “Then how can it be that you stand here while my Patrick is moldering in the ground?” She still spoke calmly and without anger, but that made her words all the more piercing. “Should not my last son have been safe from all danger until you yourself were dead and unable to protect him any longer?”
There was a long silence before Henry drew out a small pouch of coins. “I did all I could for your son, but that battle was… beyond my control. I recognize his loss is going to be a hardship to you both emotionally and temporally. There is nothing I can do for the first, but I can help with the second.” He held out the pouch to her. “I wish to do what I can to ameliorate some of the difficulty Patrick’s absence will cause.” She did not look at him, nor did she take the offered coins. “I am sorry,” Henry said as he turned to leave the cottage. "If there was any way I could trade places with your son, I would do so, but I cannot, so I do what I am able to do.” He dropped the bag of coins on the table as he exited the cottage, more determined than ever to free himself from this miserable life. The fear, the pain, the death, and then the aftermath—the eternal aftermath that would never leave him be.
Henry left the cottage. William was still sitting astride his horse but wore a knowing expression on his face. “You all right?” He asked as Henry mounted in silence.
“I hate this,” Henry muttered darkly.
“Hate what?”
"This life of chivalry and war. This is not what I want out of my life. Not at all.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
“You shouldn't have been there in the first place!” David said angrily. “I told you that going in. Do you remember that?” William said nothing. The truth was William did not remember that. “Not only did you not listen to me but you went in and antagonized a bunch of drunken ruffians. Should I then have had to die with you?”
William had brought up the incident to David on this long ride in an effort to resolve it within himself, and things had quickly declined. It was one big blemish that William could not understand in a long history of unwavering friendship, but David had never apologized, nor had they ever spoken of it after the fact. It was a source of tension that William did not particularly want to dredge up, but he had dredged it up and here they were.
“I was just being who I was, I suppose. You, on the other hand, were being someone I do not recognize. Perhaps if you warn me of such transformations in the future, I can make my decisions based on that.”
“Just being yourself?” David demanded. “Do you know how much trouble came down on my head simply because of my association with you while you were ‘being yourself’? There was a very real possibility those men could have strung you up. I was not going to go swing beside you for no good reason. If you chose to throw your life away, did that mean I had to follow?” The last was not a question, but William chose to answer it anyway.
“Yes, actually, that was part of your pledg—”
“If the roles were reversed and I was inciting a row for no good reason with people that were going to kill me, you cannot, in earnest, tell me you would not have done the same.”
“In earnest?” William was incredulous. “Can there truly be any question that I would have remained by your side until the bitter end? For me, there would have been no option. You were my friend, and that was enough.” William was surprised by David’s insinuation, as one of William’s youthful characteristics had been a fierce loyalty to his friends. He would often make enemies of those he felt had wronged his friends, even when those that were wronged did not feel strongly enough to do the same. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive. Once an enemy, always an enemy. “But I understand that hero charade is not for everyone.” William no longer became so impassioned over every slight, but he recognized that that had been part of his character while he was growing up and was very surprised that David did not seem to remember that detail. Perhaps it was a memory of convenience. “Neil did not hesitate. Neil, whose bond of friendship has been up and down since we were very young, did not hesitate. And yet you, my oldest friend, not only had to think but judged that my life was not worth defending.”
“You're questioning my loyalty? After all we have been through?”
“That is what so disturbs me about this,” William was saying in a slightly antagonistic tone. Though he was speaking his real feelings, he could not seem to let them out in a vulnerable, sympathetic way. “I cannot reconcile this behavior in our history. I broached the subject in the hope of making peace with it. Instead I find myself doubting your loyalty on every occasion in which we rode into danger. I had always assumed I had a trusted companion by my side. It seems that I actually had no one watching my back at all. Now I understand that your highest priority was protecting your own skin.”
“How dare you accuse me of cowardice?” David yelled. “You of all people, who have so frequently put others in the path of danger on a whim and then fled when you were finally directly challenged because of your actions. You left us all behind. Now you accuse me of not being loyal to you. I was the only one who stuck by you through it all; nobody else was willing to take that place. In fact, I was often told that you were going to get us both killed, and I thought on that day you were about to prove that prophetic.”
“It causes me serious misgivings about our current situation,” William said as if he had not heard David’s protestations. “I believe that I will have you reassigned to a different detail, something that will keep you out of harm’s way, where you will not find it necessary to make those sorts of decisions regarding whose skin to save first.”
“You're what? Because of something that happened when we were children? That was a lifetime ago.”
“That's right, we were children, making decisions that would shape the men we would become. You have never once expressed any regret over what happened. To the contrary, you have defended your position with much passion. This quest is too dangerous and too important to take any chances.”
“I come out here to help rescue your brother, and you treat me like this?”
“For all I know you deem this to be an unworthy suicide mission also and are not to be depended on.” William turned his mount.
“William,” David called in a pleading tone. William turned his head to the side to indicate that he was listening. “What about Neil?”
“Neil stays with me,” William declared firmly. “I need people I can count on, and whatever Neil’s faults, he has proven his loyalty.”
“But removing me from your detail? It’s a disgrace, and he will know it as such.”
“That's where your thoughts lie? Your reputation? Not our friendship or your personal worthiness but your reputation?”
“You made the decision about our friendship. I am trying to salvage the only thing I can.”
“Pity you were not as concerned with such things all those years ago. It is said that one sees the essence of a person when times are at their worst. Not in the fat times but in the lean times does a man reveal himself for what he truly is. I am very sorry for what you are revealing.” William rode away. The truth was he was not overly concerned that David would have failed in his responsibility as part of his personal detachment; but in his anger he knew it was an affront to David that would wound him deeply and would be a small recompense for the wound that David had forced him to bear all these years. And objectively, no one could fault this move given the facts. Nevertheless, William felt in his heart that David would not abandon him here.
What David had said about leading them into trouble was basically true. Though often more of a consequence of his outspoken youthful disdain for virtually everyone and everything than any conscious desire to seek out trouble, William was the impetus for far more sticky situations than mild-mannered David would have, of his own accord, found his way into.
Even now, as William's anger cooled, he suspected David’s behavior on that fateful occasion may have been an attempt to teach William a lesson about his own brash behavior. It may have been an action more attributable to his youthful frustration over his friend’s repeated poor choices than out of any real maliciousness on David’s part. The burden of William’s friendship was a responsibility that not too many people could or would carry for long. William steeled himself against such thoughts.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“Anthony, please come with me,” William said as he walked by his distant cousin who was casually conversing with a group of soldiers. Surprised by the request, Anthony hastened to follow. Anthony was William’s grandfather’s sister's husband's niece’s son, and though it was a serious breach of etiquette from a young nobleman who was supposed to have the genealogy of every duke and earl in the country memorized, William never knew what exactly that made him in relation to Anthony, so he always just called him his cousin, and Anthony did not seem to mind. To William this was one more sign he was never meant for court life.
He did not know Anthony very well as his father was Sicilian and Anthony had grown up in the kingdom of Sicily. But William knew him to be dependable, if not the most skilled cavalier, and he knew Anthony had come running when he heard Richard was in trouble. That was worth a lot to William at the moment when loyalty was at a premium. And for reasons that William did not understand, Anthony had always looked up to the Dawning boys despite his own siblings being more financially successful and therefore more secure and socially refined. But there was something about the Dawnings that intrigued Anthony.
When they were out of earshot of the others, William turned to Anthony and inspected him to be sure he was making the right decision. His armor was burnished to a high shine. He was an average build, slightly taller than William himself if not so heavily muscled, with brown eyes and brown hair that had a slight curl to it but laid flat atop his head and was cut straight at the bangs. His round face gave him a gentle boyish appearance. William instinctively wanted to ask him what he was doing here, but instead said, “Anthony, I would like for you to be part of my personal detail for the remainder of our voyage.”
“Uh, yes, Sir William,” Anthony said, still unsure of what was happening. “But I thought your detail was already complete.”
“Bah, is anything ever complete?” William said dismissively. “Henry was worried about the command structure of the guards, so I divided them into two separate groups and put David over one of those...”
“Sir Henry was worried about the command?” Anthony asked, surprised. “Wasn’t it he who created it?”
“Or maybe not,” William waved a hand in the air. “I cannot keep up with everything I say. Anyway, I have an opening to fill, and I need someone I can trust to fill it. I would like to offer that place to you.”
“It would be my honor,” Anthony saluted with a fist over his heart and a slight, stiff bow. William suppressed his smile, knowing this to be a sincere gesture of respect from Anthony. Anthony was older and a knight but had insisted since their outset on treating William as a member of his own class with all due formalities.
“Thank you, Sir Anthony.” William put a hand on his shoulder warmly. “I cannot express how comforted I feel to have you by my side. There is one thing you should be aware of before accepting my offer, however. This is one of the most dangerous positions on this quest. Perhaps you have family considerations...”
“Family considerations?”
“A wife, children, a family?”
“Oh, no sir. I do not have a wife.”
“Really? No wife?” William could not hide his surprise at this. Besides being slightly older than the typical marrying age, Anthony seemed content in life. William assumed he must be settled domestically.
“No, but I hope to correct that shortly,” he said and flushed at the admission.
“Anthony,” William said in a mock serious tone. “Are you betrothed?” Anthony flushed more still.
“Not exactly,” he shrugged. “My father is trying to arrange a situation as we speak. Thus I was in the area when I heard of the trouble with Richard. But Sir William,” he confided, “she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I cannot believe she is not yet wed.”
“Well, there’s more to a lady than a beautiful face,” William cautioned. Then feeling he was sounding too silly, he added, “There is the size of her dowry as well.”
“Oh I know, but she is sweet and clever, too. I mean I have only met with her on three occasions, but she is all I can think about. I feel like I am floating on a cloud all the time.” Anthony sighed, clearly enamored with thoughts of his new love.
William laughed. “Why, Sir Anthony, I do believe you are in love,” he teased. Anthony did not seem to notice; he just stood there with a silly grin on his face, staring off into space.
“Sir Anthony, why don't I get someone else for this post? You clearly have much to live for.”
This snapped Anthony out of his dreamy state. “What? No! I will not dishonor you.”
William put his hands on Anthony’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I know, but you are clearly very distracted, as well you should be. It sounds as though you have met a wonderful girl. But we simply cannot afford any mistakes.”
William started to walk away, but Anthony held his arm. “My duty comes first. Give me a chance. I will not let you down.” There was great earnestness in his eyes. He seemed to William so childlike, so humble.
“Okay Anthony, okay.” William patted his arm “I believe you, and I offer my thanks.”
William walked away, hoping he had made the right decision. He trusted Anthony, but he was having visions of telling a sobbing young lady and her parents that this young man had been killed in combat. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now without insulting Anthony’s honor. How curious, William thought, was this honor business. If he were to move Anthony to a safer post, his honor would be offended, and he may never forgive William even though William would have been protecting his life. Yet, it was perceived that he was doing Anthony some great favor by putting him out front where the danger would be greatest. Sometimes things ended up quite ba
ckwards in this world, William thought, quite backwards indeed.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
“Let me cut his throat!” Khalid growled, pulling a long, curved dagger from the folds of his robe.
Anisa gingerly touched the wound on her lip that Thomas had given her in his rage. “No,” she snapped.
“He is unarmed! He is a fool! I could destroy him before he even knows what happened.”
“And what of John, you fool? Will you kill him as well?” She glared at Khalid, expecting him to be more astute rather than emotional. “You would have to, and then what? Or will you just explain to him that his brother dared to lay hands on your lover and you could not take it?” Khalid gritted his teeth but replaced his weapon. “So much better, then, to drive a wedge between John and the last of his brothers that might turn him from this path.”
“Wedge? What wedge?”
“Don’t you see? Thomas Dawning has just struck the woman John is in love with. He will necessarily protect me and tacitly our plans from further assault from his brother. That means he will continue to cleave to us while withdrawing from the last brother still at Dawning Court."
Khalid gave a noncommittal grunt.
“Besides, a Dawning even more proud, passionate, and easily manipulated than John could be very useful to us.”
“Useful?” Khalid snorted. “How so?”
“Thomas will be the last living Dawning male when Amir is through with the others. If John becomes a problem, then we will have a backup.” Anisa was still fingering the split in her lip thoughtfully as she looked into the trees after them.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Perhaps I need to pay Thomas a visit and be sure his ‘heart’ is in the right place should we need him.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
“Do you believe in God, Richard?” the voice asked.
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 36