Keeper of the Grail

by Michael P. Spradlin

  With the point removed it was much simpler to pull the shaft free of her shoulder. Simpler perhaps, but not without pain. When I pulled it free of her body, she stiffened, letting out a pitiful moan. But it was out. I cut a section from the fabric of her tunic and fashioned a bandage, which Robard helped me secure tightly around her shoulder.

  “We need to take her with us,” I said.

  “What?” He was incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m completely serious. She is wounded and in our care. It wouldn’t be right to leave her. She could die here alone,” I said.

  I could tell from the look on Robard’s face that he had no problem leaving the Assassin behind. He stared at me a moment. “You are a strange one, Tristan, squire of the Templars,” he said.

  “Yes. Well. We need to make a litter to carry her,” I said, drawing my short sword and offering it hilt first to Robard. “Can you take my sword and cut two saplings, strong enough to hold her, about six feet in length?”

  Robard made no move, merely staring at me a moment. Then he seemed to come to terms with something and nodded, taking my sword and exiting the camp.

  The girl was still unconscious. I built a small fire, figuring it would be safe since we were well hidden from the road. Besides, anyone drawn to it meaning us harm would have to contend with an angry King’s Archer before relieving us of our possessions.

  In the woods nearby I picked some waxroot. Back at the fire, I shaved the roots of the plant into small slivers, filled my cup with water and heated it on the fire. While it warmed, I gathered up everything from the campsite, including the Assassin’s daggers, and packed them away.

  Eventually she began to stir, groaning in pain a few times. Her eyes opened, and with her good arm, she struggled to push herself into a sitting position. She began to wail, chanting something in Arabic, and I didn’t know what she was saying, but I heard fear in her voice.

  Robard returned from the woods carrying the two saplings I’d asked for.

  I held up my hands to her, palms empty. “Please,” I said. “Do not move. Quiet now. It will be all right.” I kept my voice calm and low.

  She looked at me and fell silent as we appraised each other.

  Slowly, I reached for the cup, lifting it in front of me. I held it out for her, but she did not take it. In fact her eyes grew narrow and suspicious.

  “Please. Drink.” I held the cup near my lips, then reached out with it again. She sat there as silent as a stone.

  “She won’t drink it unless you drink first,” Robard said. “She thinks you might be trying to poison her. I’ve heard Assassins often use poisons to kill an enemy.”

  At the sound of Robard’s voice, she turned to look at him, studying him intently for a moment before returning her gaze to me. While she watched, I took a long sip of the waxroot tea, then held the cup out to her again.

  Finally she sat up straight, reaching for the cup with her good arm. She took a small sip. The tea was bitter and she made a face at the taste, but I held up a sprig of the plant as she drank, hoping she would recognize it and realize what the tea was made from. She nodded and drank again.

  We were silent while she drank her tea. When she finished, she handed me the cup and lay back down on the ground. I added more limbs to the fire, and in a few minutes she had fallen fast asleep again.

  While she slept, I removed my tunic, turning it inside out so the sleeves were inside the garment. I pushed the saplings through the armholes. By tying the front of the tunic closed I created a very crude stretcher. It should hold the Assassin long enough for us to get away safely.

  I sat it on the ground next to the sleeping girl, motioning for Robard to help me lift her onto the stretcher. Surprisingly he did so without complaint, and when we had her nestled safely there, we each picked up our end and carried her out of the campsite and into the woods.

  We had delayed our departure long enough. Her companions could return at any moment with a larger force. We took off at a slow trot, heading east. For the first few minutes the girl whimpered in pain as she bounced along on the litter. After a while, though, her cries ceased and she fell unconscious again.

  We didn’t speak or stop to rest. It was difficult to make good time. Robard had taken the front, and as he ran, I heard him mutter under his breath. Words and phrases like crazy plan and stubborn and what am I doing filtered back to me on occasion.

  After running for nearly an hour, I estimated we had traveled three leagues. We stopped to rest. I had some figs and dates in my satchel, and Robard and I wolfed them down hungrily. We were breathing hard and sweat was streaming off our faces. For a moment I wondered if we were doing the right thing. Would Sir Thomas or Sir Basil do as I had done? In enemy territory where silence and stealth is of the utmost importance, would they crash loudly through the woods to carry a wounded enemy to safety? After thinking on it a moment I realized that yes, they would have.

  Robard knelt a few paces away, scanning the trail ahead of us. I took the water skin to him and offered him a drink.

  “Tristan, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going. This is dangerous. With the noise we’re making and the fact that we won’t be able to draw a weapon until we put down the litter, we’re at a big disadvantage. Anyone, bandits or Assassins, could be upon us before we even know it,” he said.

  I knew Robard was right, but I still felt that we needed to make sure the Assassin was well enough before we left her behind.

  “How much longer until we reach Tyre, do you think?” I asked.

  Robard shrugged.

  Then a voice from behind us said, in perfect English, “Well, since you’re headed in the completely wrong direction, I’d say never.”

  24

  At the sound of the voice I was so startled I visibly jumped in the air. Robard let out a gasp and fumbled at his bow, but when we turned at the sound, we saw the girl standing behind us, her wounded arm held loosely at her side.

  We stared, dumbstruck. Though pale and somewhat unsteady on her feet, she otherwise seemed well enough.

  “Who are you?” Robard asked, not quite sure what to do. The look on his face was comical. My hand had flown to the hilt of my sword at the sound of her voice. Now I felt ridiculous and dropped it to my side.

  “I am Maryam,” she said, looking at me. “Your name is Tristan, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “I thank you for tending to my shoulder. It is painful and will be for a while, but I appreciate your efforts,” she said.

  “It was nothing,” I answered.

  “I helped,” Robard said. I shot Robard a glare. If helping constituted complaining and gathering water, then yes, he had helped.

  “Yes, and thank you as well,” she said, looking at him.

  She spoke perfect English, apparently able to understand us the entire time she had been conscious.

  “How is it you speak English?” I asked.

  “I come from a small village near Jerusalem. My father owned a farm nearby, and we traded there when Christians occupied the city. It was necessary to learn English to make a living,” she said.

  Robard and I were unsettled. First we were attacked. Then we discovered that one of the attackers was a girl. Next we learned she spoke English. What next?

  “Why are you headed to Tyre?” she asked.

  I had no intention of telling her the true nature of my mission. Or even that I carried dispatches for the Templar Commandery there. She was an enemy after all. I decided to use Robard’s excuse, glancing at him first and tilting my head, hoping he was wise enough to play along. “We are hoping to find a ship to England. Our conscription is over,” I said. Robard nodded in agreement, understanding the need for a ruse.

  Maryam looked at me a moment as if she didn’t quite believe me, but did not press it.

  Now that she was standing, the color was slowly returning to her face. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders, glimmering in the moonlight.

  “I
helped,” Robard reminded her.

  She laughed. It sounded like music. “Thank you, Archer, even though it was your lucky shot that hit me,” she teased. She appeared to bear him no ill will for having wounded her in the first place.

  Robard’s eyes narrowed. He was not quite sure what to make of her. He muttered under his breath, but the phrase lucky shot, my arse stood out.

  “How did you find us in the woods?” I asked.

  She looked at me, then stared off, either not knowing or not wanting to say.

  “I’m not sure. We were patrolling. Ahmad, our leader, saw the boulders and thought that it might make a good hiding place for enemies. He spotted you and ordered an attack,” she said.

  I wondered then if she was lying. Her explanation didn’t make sense. There were dozens of outcroppings of boulders in the area. Out of all of them they had stumbled across ours? Had we made some mistake? Her answer seemed vague, and I wondered if we had accidentally revealed ourselves somehow. Did she hope we might make the same mistake again, leading her companions directly to us?

  “Why were you sleeping in the daytime? Why travel at night?” she asked.

  “We thought it safer. This area is full of bandits as well as Saracen patrols. And Assassins, as we’ve learned. With just the two of us we thought it better to travel by night.”

  She accepted my explanation with a nod. “Well, shall we get started?” she asked.

  “Get started? What do you mean?” Robard asked.

  “To Tyre, of course.”

  Robard coughed and asked to speak to me privately. We ventured a few paces away.

  “Tristan, I can understand you treating her wounds. I can even understand carrying her to safety, but we cannot trust her. She’s an Assassin for heaven’s sake! What if she’s leading us into a trap? She seems well enough to travel alone now. I say we leave her and make our way to Tyre on our own,” he said.

  I was quiet for a moment, trying to think. Perhaps Robard was right. It was time to take our leave.

  We ambled back to Maryam.

  “Maryam, I…we appreciate your offer, but since you seem well enough to travel, Robard and I think we will move on alone from here. Thank you though,” I said.

  Maryam looked at us a moment, then smiled and laughed.

  Robard grew a little hot under the collar. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Except that you are heading directly away from Tyre now. If you got lost so easily, what makes you think you’ll be able to find it on your own?” she said.

  In all the excitement, I had momentarily forgotten that Maryam had informed us that we had been traveling in the wrong direction.

  Robard’s cheeks turned red. “We knew that. We were merely taking a slightly easier path since we had to carry you,” he said.

  “Hmm. Really? It just looks like you might want someone to guide you there,” she said.

  “What? Why do you think we need to be led anywhere?” he sputtered.

  “Because if you keep going this way, you’ll run into a few regiments of Saracens,” she said.

  My stomach tightened and I felt a momentary surge of panic. Saracens nearby? Patrols, yes. Small units, perhaps, but whole regiments? This far east?

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “My patrol camped with them just two days ago. If you wish to avoid them, you need to head toward the coast. Stay inland like this and you’ll be discovered for sure,” she said.

  “And just what makes you think they will discover us?” Robard asked.

  “Well…we did, didn’t we?” she said. From where I stood I could swear that her eyes twinkled as she said it.

  Robard looked at me. His face was a mask of red. Not rage, but embarrassment. “Tristan? A moment?” He nodded for me to follow him.

  We again stepped away where Maryam couldn’t overhear us.

  “Do you believe her?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if she’s telling the truth though? About the Saracens?” he said.

  I just shrugged.

  “Although I suppose it’s just as likely she could be deceiving us,” he said.

  There was much to consider. I remembered conversations I had overheard among the knights in Acre. They spent hours discussing strategy and tactics. King Richard wished to hold the coastal cities. From there he hoped to push inland, retaking Jerusalem. He could keep his supply lines open as he moved into the interior. However, he had already lost Acre. The Saladin was likely to move toward Tyre next. It would be a logical target. So, in fact, Maryam could be telling the truth. Saracen regiments could be nearby.

  “I think she’s telling the truth,” I said.

  “I’m not sure I trust her,” Robard said.

  “I know, but she knows this country better than us. She could be leading us into a trap, I suppose, but from what I know of Assassins they are honorable warriors. She will be honor bound to us for saving her life,” I said.

  “That’s taking a big risk,” he said.

  “Yes, but if there are that many Saracens nearby, then we need to get to Tyre as fast as we can to warn the Templars there.”

  Although Robard wasn’t happy, he agreed. He may not have loved the King, but he still behaved like a soldier. He would do his duty. We returned to Maryam.

  “We accept your offer. We will follow you to Tyre. Are you well enough to keep up?” I asked.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about me,” she said, smiling.

  “Very well then. Let’s get going.” I picked up the litter and removed my tunic from the poles, tossing the saplings into the underbrush.

  Slipping it back on, I was tying it about my waist when Robard hissed, “Do you hear that?”

  From out of the darkness came the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

  25

  Maryam and I froze. Ahead of us, Robard waved frantically, motioning us back the way we had come. With no clouds and the light of the half-moon, we could see well enough to pick our way back through the trees on the trail we’d just traveled. The sound of hoofbeats grew louder, but it was impossible to tell who might be about to ride down on us. It could be Saracens or Crusaders. We needed to make ourselves invisible.

  Robard scurried back to us. “This way! Hurry,” he whispered.

  We followed Robard a few paces toward a small thicket. The bushes were dense and close to the ground. It would provide good cover. We wormed our way down through them until we lay on the ground, facing the clearing we’d just left.

  Before long, a group of horsemen rode into view. Saracens. I felt my heart rise to my throat. It appeared to be a single detail of ten men. They reined to a stop and the leader of the group began talking to his second in command.

  We lay still, not twenty yards from where the men sat astride their horses. Maryam lay between Robard and me, studying the men intensely. Robard had managed to draw an arrow and nock it in his bow, which was on the ground in front of him. He was ready to rise and shoot in an instant.

  Moving my hand to the sword at my belt I managed to silently draw it while keeping it at my side. We barely dared to breathe.

  “What are they saying?” Robard asked in a quiet whisper.

  “The second in command is explaining that he heard voices here,” Maryam whispered back.

  “Shh!” I hissed. I wished them both quiet. This was no time for a conversation!

  We watched the patrol as they talked, their horses prancing and whinnying, impatient to be under way again. After a moment, four of the men dismounted and began studying the ground. They each walked outward from the group in a different direction. I held my breath. If they discovered our tracks, they could follow them right to where we were concealed in the thicket. The half-moon was lower in the sky now as morning approached. It would make it difficult, but not impossible, to find our footprints. The men took their time, moving farther outward from the main patrol, which stayed mounted in the clearing.

  I turned my head
facedown into the ground so the moonlight would not reflect off my face, but still tried to keep an eye on the patrol. The four dismounted men were examining the bushes. To my dismay one of them headed straight for us. He walked slowly, looking carefully at the ground, his hand on the scimitar hanging at his belt. His eyes swept back and forth through the underbrush, and with each step he grew closer and closer to our position in the thicket.

  Robard and Maryam were completely silent. The sound of my own blood thundered in my ears. In a few more seconds the Saracen would be upon us. I squeezed the hilt of my sword, certain that he must be able to hear my heart beating.

  Slowly, agonizingly, he walked toward us. Then, when he was so close I could reach out and grab his ankle, I heard a low humming sound—the same sound that had awakened me as Maryam and the Assassins attacked us in the rocks. It was coming ever so softly from the satchel, which now lay on the ground beside me. I felt sickness rising in my stomach. Surely the Saracens would hear it and discover us. Robard and Maryam were still and soundless next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maryam, and if she heard the sound, she did not acknowledge it.

  The Saracen drew closer. He was standing less than a foot away from me. In our dark clothing and what little moonlight there was, we blended in well with the ground cover. I tensed, expecting to feel the thrust of a scimitar at any moment.

  The Saracen stood still. From the angle now I couldn’t see his face, only his feet. Surely he must be looking directly at us. Yet he remained motionless as the seconds crept by.

  At a sharp order in Arabic from his leader, the Saracen turned on his heel, returning to the clearing. After a few more minutes of talk, the men remounted and rode off.

  I let out a breath and felt like I might faint. We waited for several minutes, making sure they didn’t return. When enough time had passed, and the night sounds of the forest began again, we crawled our way out of the thicket. Robard returned the arrow to his wallet, and I sheathed my sword. I waited there a moment, bent at the waist with my hands on my knees, trying to relax myself. I had no idea how the Saracen had not discovered us.