“I can't believe this rain won't let up,” David said walking in, carrying some semi-dry twigs he had wrapped in his cloak. “I'm worried about that berm above us; it is saturated and could give way, sending us right over the cliff.” He shook his head. “I still can't believe I let you talk me into this; the ocean in October. Well, anyway, we should move the tent just in case.”
“What?” William protested. “The few remaining items that are not wet or muddy would surely be drenched in such an endeavor. The berm is fine.”
“Perhaps we should head for home,” David suggested. “I cannot even see the ocean for the fog.”
“What are you saying?” William pulled the flap of the tent back to reveal a spectacular view of a grey ocean that blurred into the horizon of dark ominous clouds forming a single grey mass. They were very exposed on the rocky cliff where they had pitched their tent the day before. “Tell me that sight does not stir your soul,” William challenged, half in jest.
“That sight terrifies me. Look at the weather that is headed this way.”
William snorted. “You mean headed away from us.”
David walked to the door of the tent. “Watch the clouds, William. Those are headed right this way.”
“No, they are not,” William countered, taking a second look at the sky. “They are clearly... well, heading toward us. What's your point?”
“My point is that this is going to get worse before it gets better! We are soaked already, and that berm behind us is about to give out.” The berm David was referring to was a high mound of grass and dirt that had overrun the rocky outcropping where they were camped. It sat about fifteen feet behind and stood some ten feet high, and was even now breaking loose enough to run a small stream of water down around their tent. William looked at the clouds rolling in off the sea. They seemed to be getting darker by the moment. He watched the steady stream of water running out from underneath the tent and looked at David.
“I say we weather the storm like men, not run away like mice.” William could not completely suppress his grin as David became even more agitated.
“That berm is coming down, and I will not be here when it does,” David said, stomping over to his bedroll and beginning to collect his things.
“That berm would not dare come down on noblemen. We are the princes of our country, and we own that berm,” William declared authoritatively. “It has not the audacity to sweep us away like some poor peasants.”
“Did you hit your head recently?” David asked, rolling up his bedroll. Just then a bolt of lightning flashed so close, the entire tent was set aglow. A mighty peel of thunder shook the ground they were resting on and, as if to punctuate the moment, a hole opened in the saturated rear wall of the tent and the small lake that was collecting there began flowing through the center of the tent.
William looked down at the water running over his boot. Looking up, he held up one finger and declared, “I have made a decision. We shall move on.”
“You've gone quite mad, Caligula,” David said, picking up his saddle. William knew they needed to move quickly, but he was having too much fun to stop there.
“David,” he commanded, “fetch me my cloak,” and he gave two small claps as a sign that his command should be obeyed immediately. David ignored him and pushed past with his saddle and gear, heading out to the horses. “You would abandon your master?” William called, throwing on his damp cloak, snatching up his saddle, and hurrying out after David. “What sort of servant are you to run away at the first sign of trouble? You must have some French in your lineage which, I should point out, you have never divulged,” William said gleefully as they saddled their animals. Just then with a mighty rush the berm gave way and swept the tent in a great wave of mud and water over the edge of the cliff and down into the violently rolling sea a hundred feet below, taking with it all of William’s gear except for his saddle, which was now on his horse.
Wordlessly the pair stared at the edge the tent had gone over. When the dramatic scene had ended and only the sound of rain and running water remained, they both raced over to the cliff edge to inspect the aftermath. A hundred feet below they could see a small white spot floating on the violent swells. “Well,” William said after watching it for a moment, “go get it.”
“I'm not going to get it. You go get it.” David shot back.
“I would, but when we were hunting yesterday I really hurt my shoulder,” William said, grabbing his right shoulder and working it around painfully. “And one can't scale a hundred-foot rock wall in a storm if one’s shoulder is compromised.”
“How come you are just mentioning this now?” David asked, obviously not believing a word of it.
“I do not like to burden my friends with my injuries,” William said with suitably understated heroics.
“Really?” David asked dubiously. “How very gallant of you. You know it’s interesting that you would say that because I remember a creag match last year in which you twisted your ankle.”
“So?”
“So you spoke of little else for three days. In fact, you still bring it up occasionally.”
“Look, are you going to go get that or not?” William persisted.
“No, I'm not,” David rejoined without the slightest hesitation.
William sat back away from the edge. “Well if you’re not going to get it, and I can't because of my ankle—”
“Shoulder.”
“Right. Then what do we do?”
David thought about it for a moment and then said, “We have enough to get home because my gear is all intact. It might be a little bit rough, but we’ll be fine.”
They returned to their horses. David did not voice the chills that ran down his spine as he considered how close to disaster they had come. But William, noticing he had no bedroll or dry clothes to change into, managed to voice what was on his mind. “Ahh, David?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like to trade gear? I should think you will find mine ever so much easier to carry.” David shook his head in disbelief, climbed into his saddle, and started for home…
William smiled to remember now as he sat in silence in his tent, Richard’s occasional incoherent murmurs his only company. He wished David were here to reminisce about that day with him. But the unrequited desire only made the loneliness bore into his soul that much deeper, and a great sadness began to settle on him. It was difficult for an individual to find a friend that could tolerate him, but finding someone who understood or appreciated him was rare indeed.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
It was day three of the downpour. There was nothing in the camp that was not soaked and muddy. The men were soaked, and dry firewood was not to be found. That left them cold, with only dry rations to nibble on that were tough on the teeth, did little to fill the belly, and left the knights miserable and depressed. William sat with Richard in his own tent, which had sprung a leak. He was using a cooking pot to catch the water, but having moisture penetrate his only shelter seemed to make it all the more dark and depressing. William hated being soggy. He had spent so much time in that condition over the course of his campaigns that he had come to detest the feeling.
Henry came in, stripping off his soaked cloak. “I am so tired of this rain!” he was almost shouting in frustration.
“I know,” William agreed. He was reclined on his saddle with his fingers interlaced behind his head, watching Richard thoughtfully.
Henry walked over to a small steel kettle and poured some thin soup into a small cup. “That's cold,” William said casually without looking at him.
“So is everything else,” Henry grumbled before swallowing the bitter drink down. “This weather is going to make traveling interesting. There is nothing like calf-high mud to slow down progress.”
“We cannot move now anyway. Richard’s fever is up, and look at him.” Richard was under three blankets and shivering violently.
“We have to get back,” Henry said. “And the sooner
we get him into a warm bed with regular warm meals, the better.”
“I agree, but if we move him now, in this weather, all he will get out of it is a cold grave. He cannot be moved until this fever breaks”
“I do not think that's a good idea—” Henry began.
“Henry, he is at death’s door; these next few hours are critical. I'm not moving him!” William insisted.
“If we wait any longer, you are guaranteeing we get caught in the snow! What then? Hunker down and wait for spring while we watch our men die from starvation and exposure? And what if the Nizari have figured out our little trick and are riding us down as we speak? Then we all die for the sake of one sick man who may die anyway?”
“You may continue on if you like, but I am not going anywhere until this fever breaks.”
“It is the epitome of irony that we went to all this trouble and lost a good man only to lose Richard to a fever after the fact,” Henry said bitterly. “What a waste.”
“Do not speak such tripe in here!” William barked. “We are staying to ensure our effort was not wasted and that David’s life was not spent for naught. Now why don't you do something useful, like find some dry wood so we can make a fire.”
Henry looked at him for a moment and then slammed down the empty cup and pulled on his wet cloak. “You know, I think I liked flippant William better,” he grumbled.
“Isn’t this exactly what you wished for, brother? That I would feel the weight of the burdens I carry? Well, I am feeling them now.” William’s voice cracked, and he turned his head away.
Henry stopped for a moment. “William, I know you are sick over David. I know you feel responsible. Believe me, I understand better than I can convey. I wish there was something I could say that would accelerate the grieving process, but there isn’t. What is absolutely imperative, however, is that you maintain objectivity through this. Maintaining your reason is more important than ever, or you may find the weight of many deaths added to the weight of your friend’s.”
“All those I have heretofore lost in battle were associations that I only knew because of the battle; they were not a part of who I was. But now my life is forever changed because of this. A part of me that infuses my past will not extend into my future.”
Henry squeezed William’s shoulder. “You want to know what I have always most admired about you? The thing I wish that I had, that you have?” William did not respond, so he continued. “Your indomitable spirit. No matter what came, it never seemed to faze you.”
William laughed through the tears. “I thought that drove you to distraction.”
Henry smiled and stood. “I did not say it did not tax me to no end. I only said I wished I shared that spirit.” And he stepped back out into the rain.
“William?” Richard asked through chattering teeth.
“Yes, Richard?” William said, leaning forward, looking after Henry. Richard lay there shivering under his blankets. His eyes were so narrow that William was unsure if he was still awake. William settled back after a moment, assuming Richard had drifted off again.
“It is so dark. So dark,” Richard muttered suddenly.
“What do you mean?” Much of what Richard said appeared on the surface to be nothing but nonsense, but William would listen closely for insights or clues into his dementia.
It was several moments before Richard spoke again, “S- so dark.”
William shook his head. “The tent? Would you like more light?”
“Their souls are so dark.” Richard lapsed back into silence. William was unsure if there was some profound message to be garnered here or if Richard’s comments were merely the bleating of a demented mind.
“William,” Richard whispered so softly it took William a moment to realize he had spoken at all. William leaned in close to him and put his ear near his mouth.
“I'm here, Richard,” he assured him.
“William, I have seen it.”
“Seen what, Richard?”
“I have seen it,” he was still speaking in a soft whisper as if he were afraid of being overheard. “I have seen the Hell of Hells where Lucifer lives. I have seen it.” A chill ran down William’s spine. “It is darkness—cold, lonely darkness. There is no light, no peace, only angry, bitter darkness and nothing else.” William waited. “I'm so scared, William. I don't want to go there. I don't want to go there!” Tears began to flow from Richard’s eyes.
“You won't,” William reassured him weakly, surprised that his own voice cracked with emotion. “You are safe now.”
“I feel the black enveloping the darkest parts of me and pulling me down. It wants me back. The blackness wants me.” Richard’s breathing became very rapid as panic set in.
William seized the once mighty shoulders in his grip and spoke in a firm, commanding voice. “Listen to me, Richard. The devil shall not have you today.”
“He is coming for me! I have done so much evil—too much to ever be forgiven.” His eyes opened wide at William, and he whispered, “So many things I did not realize—so many things that were sealing my soul to him. I did not know, William. I did not understand.”
“In God’s name, we have snatched you from the jaws of Hell, and he will not have you today!” A moment later the panic passed, and Richard’s rapid breathing slowed. He settled into a fitful sleep once again.
William sat back, surprisingly shaken by the experience. Whatever Richard was seeing and feeling, he clearly believed he was looking into the seventh circle of hell and it was looking back at him, reaching out to claim him as its own. William felt it all around him and suddenly had an overwhelming desire to go out into the air and walk around, but he did not dare leave Richard for fear that somehow the gate to Hell would open up and claim his brother if he were not there.
William could not help but reflect on his own past misdeeds. If Hell were reclaiming all those that were fit to be taken, why not take him as well as Richard? All at once William was standing back in Dawning Castle as a young man.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
“You will report every evening and weekend until the property is repaired and restitution has been made!” Martha ordered William.
William glared at her defiantly. “Who said it was me?” He asked, revealing what was foremost on his mind.
“I am sufficiently satisfied that it was you, and you will make amends with the tailor.”
It had been him, of course, William and his friends, that smashed the window and vandalized the contents of the tailor’s shop after the tailor chased them off that day from loitering about the square. But William had not been alone, and only one that was among his friends could have betrayed him.
”I want to know who told you!” William said darkly. He did not bother arguing the punishment as he knew no headway would be made on that account, nor would he betray the friends that were with him as he had so clearly been betrayed.
”We are finished here,” Martha said with a note of finality in her voice.
”Tell me who betrayed me!” William shouted at her.
Her countenance darkened even more. “Get control of yourself, William. Now leave me!”
William stood defiantly rooted in place for another moment, reluctant to give up his object. But seeing it was pointless, he fled the castle to find Neil and David waiting for him inconspicuously in the courtyard. They were anxious to know of his fate, but even more anxious to know of their own.
“What happened?” they asked, quickening their stride to keep up with William’s agitated pace. “Are we in for it, too?”
“Your names were not mentioned,” William indicated disconsolately. “I need to know who is behind this. Who betrayed me?”
Relief being so freshly on them, they were anxious to accommodate their doomed friend. “It had to be Callum and Tyler!” Neil suddenly exclaimed. "They have been working extra hours in the fields for the last few days. I could not understand why, except now it all makes sense. They are being punished for their complicity in the
act and must have given your name as the perpetrator.”
“My mother sounded as if she believed I alone was responsible for this. They must have incriminated me alone in this!” William suddenly diverted onto a side road. The blood was pounding in his head like a drum beat.
“Where are you going now?” David asked nervously.
“I am going to pay my friends a visit.” He put extra emphasis on the word friends. David and Neil exchanged nervous glances but hurried to keep up.
There was a small, one-room cottage on the edge of Callum’s family estate that was generally unused. This is where the boys tended to congregate in their leisure hours in the evenings. As it was near dusk, William guessed that they might be found here. When they reached the small place, set some distance from the main stone house, he was not disappointed to see a light glowing inside. He heard Callum and Tyler laughing inside, and the warm passion he had been nursing swelled into a great rage. How dare they laugh and make merry while their cowardly hearts had been contemplating his destruction!
Exercising a good deal of self-restraint, William knocked gently on the door. The laughter inside immediately ceased, and there was silence for a few moments inside. Then hesitantly the door opened, and Callum’s thick frame stood before William, with Tyler peeking over his shoulder. “William,” he said with surprise and nervousness. “I am surprised to find you here.”
William’s head was low and he was looking right through Callum, struggling to restrain his fury. “How are you, Callum?” he asked darkly. Just then a small blonde face peaked out from under Callum’s right arm. The boys were not alone. For the briefest of moments, William’s resolve faltered, but he reassured himself that whatever consequences Callum and Tyler were about to suffer was a result of their actions, not his own.
“I am well,” Callum said nervously. “My cousin Maria is up from London visiting with us.”
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 43