Trail of Fate (6 page)

“Oh? And what would you suggest we do? Walk home?” Robard said.

“Yes,” I said.

“You must be joking,” Robard said.

I shook my head.

“All right, forget that for an instant. Why would Sir Hugh care so much about a squire?” Robard asked. “If he did follow us, he saw the storm. What would make him keep coming after you? Why wouldn't he assume our rickety ship had sunk, and us with it? What do you have that makes him take after you with such determination?”

Part of me wanted to tell them exactly why. After all this, they'd earned the right to know. But I couldn't forget my pledge to Sir Thomas. The fact that I carried the most sacred relic in all of Christendom must remain my secret. Luckily, for once I had thought ahead and prepared a story.

“Sir Hugh wants power. He wants to be Master of the Order. In Acre, he was accused by Sir Thomas of breaking Templar law. I carry evidence of this, the written testimony of Sir Thomas and a few other knights. If this knowledge becomes known to the current Master, Sir Hugh is finished. This is why he wants me dead. I buried the evidence in the alley in Tyre before we went to the Commandery and retrieved it before we left. I swore to Sir Thomas I would see this duty through. I'm following the last order of my knight.”

“Yet in Tyre you only told them Acre was lost. You didn't present your evidence to the Marshal there,” Robard said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I didn't know if he could be trusted. Sir Hugh was already there, and Sir Thomas thought word must be sent to warn the Master alone. And to do so I must return to England.”

“So you lied to us?” Maryam interrupted. “You kept the true nature of your mission a secret from us. Why?”

“If we had been caught or Sir Hugh had captured us before we got to Tyre, it was better for you both if you didn't know anything. He is after me, not you. If I'd told you or if he suspected I'd told you, you'd be in even more danger.”

I tried hard to confuse them so they wouldn't focus on specifics. I wanted to get moving and leave this discussion behind us. My story was full of holes, and all I could do was make Sir Hugh out to be an evil and manipulative villain and hope they would concentrate on him.

I held my breath. Robard and Maryam were studying me. My gaze never dropped from their eyes. If they demanded to see the evidence I carried, I was safe with Robard, for I knew he could not read. I didn't know about Maryam. She had been born a merchant's daughter, and if she could speak English, she might be able to read it as well. If they wanted proof, I was in trouble. Sir Thomas' letter said nothing about Sir Hugh.

The sun had fully cleared the horizon now and was burning away the early morning mist. We had to get moving. But I waited while Robard and Maryam considered my words.

“So if we accept your story, how do you intend to get to England?” Robard asked skeptically.

“I have thought about this. Since the ports are the first place Sir Hugh will look, I think we go overland, north to the Channel, and get a ship there. It will take him time to search this part of the coast. If we head inland, we can get a head start on him.”

“Do you have any idea how long it will take?” Robard snorted. “Weeks, at least! Months even! Not to mention your friend the High Counsel will also be looking for you when he finds out you lied to him. What do you intend to do about him?”

“I intend to hurry.” I knelt down, shaking out my blanket and rolling it up. It had been soaked in salt water, and as it dried, had grown stiff, but it still looped over my shoulder easily enough.

“Maryam,” I said. “I would like you to come with us. If we can get to London, the Master will make arrangements for you to return to your home on a Templar ship. If you wish to try to find your way alone, I understand.”

Maryam looked at me for several seconds. Her face was impassive at first, then changed, and for a brief instant doubt flashed across her features. She didn't believe me. She knew I hadn't told either of them the truth, but didn't challenge me. Since we had first met her, Maryam had argued with Robard repeatedly, but she took me at my word. I wondered why, but had no time to think about it.

After putting the fire out, we were ready to leave. I was hungry and hoped we could find something along the way. Berries or nuts or maybe Robard could shoot some game.

I waited while Maryam washed her face and hands in the stream. She stood looking at me and nodded. She was ready. “All right, Tristan. If you think this is the best approach, I'll go with you.”

Robard still stood quietly. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“So are you coming with us?” I asked.

Robard looked out at the sea for a second, then at me. “No,” he said. “This is good-bye.”

M
aryam looked stricken.

“What? Robard, you can't be serious!” she said.

Robard shook his head as he slung the wallet onto his back and fiddled with the bow's string.

“I'm sorry, Maryam, but I can't. I have duties at home, responsibilities to my father and family. The longer I delay, the greater their burden,” he said. Robard sounded sad when he spoke of his family, and for the first time since I'd met him, I realized how much he missed them. I was already guilty of delaying his return. Yet I still needed him.

“Robard, I understand, but you musn't . . .”

Robard held up his hand, shaking his head.

“No, Tristan. Not this time. You are my friend. Aside from being thrown in jail, shot at by crossbows, shipwrecked and wrestling with a large Frenchman, I have enjoyed your company. I even appreciate your sense of duty. But I cannot wait any longer. And if I do, you'll talk me into something again, and before I know it, I'll be hiking through the French countryside dodging who knows whom or what. This is what I need to do.”

My shoulders slumped. I wished to tell him the truth and almost did. It was there, right on the tip of my tongue. I would gladly reveal all of my secrets to both of them. But I could not. And I could not deny Robard this.

I stood up straight and held out my hand, and he shook it.

“I owe you much, my friend,” I said.

“Try to stay out of trouble,” he said. He looked at Maryam and his face softened.

“Good-bye, Maryam. I have enjoyed . . .”

“What are you going to do? How are you going to find a way home? Tristan, will you try to talk some sense into him?” She stormed off a few paces and glared at both of us.

Maryam's reaction confused me. She had done nothing but argue with Robard from the first and now she expected me to persuade him to stay? I had grown up in a monastery, without women. Was this how women acted all the time? They said one thing, yet did another. If so, I now understood the monks a little better.

“His mind is made up, Maryam,” I said.

“So un-make up your mind!” she said sharply. “You have a duty to your friend. What kind of soldier are you!”

This was the Maryam I was used to.

“I am no longer a soldier. I have done my duty,” he snapped.

“I think you're afraid!” she yelled.

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Of Sir Hugh, of this High Counsel . . .”

Robard held up his hand. “Enough. It's decided. I'm leaving. Good-bye, Tristan. Good luck. I hope we'll meet again. When you reach England, come to Sherwood Forest and look for me. Our farm lies along the eastern edge of the forest, not far from Nottingham.”

Without another word he started walking toward the west, following the tracks of the High Counsel and his men.

Angel had remained silent through our exchange but now barked at him.

“Sorry, dog . . . Angel. He's leaving,” I said.

She sprinted after Robard and circled his feet, barking and pushing at his legs, trying to drive him back to us.

“What . . . Get down! Stay. Go back!” Robard exclaimed.

But she would not be deterred. She ran back and forth between us, barking madly, but Robard kept walking, and Angel finally returned to us and sat on her haunches, whining pitifully.

Maryam stood silent, glowering at the receding figure. “I hope he's happy with himself,” she scoffed.

“Don't be too hard on him, Maryam. His family does need him. Times are hard in England,” I said. “Now, if you're coming with me, I think we should get started.”

Robard had vanished around the bend, so we headed back the way we had come the night before. Angel waited and waited and finally followed along reluctantly. Both she and Maryam were in foul moods, and Maryam muttered under her breath as we walked. I had the feeling she had no desire for conversation, so I kept silent.

Worried as I was about Maryam, my greatest concern was finding our way to England. We were in a strange country, and I knew only that home lay somewhere to the north. Since I had left the temple in Acre, nothing had happened as I had hoped. Now I was blundering about in a foreign land, hoping to somehow stumble my way home. Robard, on reflection, may have been right. I assumed it would take weeks for someone to reach the northern coast if they
knew
where they were going. Traveling blind like this was a bad idea. But I truly believed it was safer than trying to find a port city. Carry on, Tristan, I told myself. Beauseant!

It didn't work.

Maryam seethed with silent rage as we made our way through the woods. For no better reason than it was familiar to us, we followed the stream north again. Once past Celia's campsite from the night before, we would enter unknown territory.

After a while I tried again to engage Maryam in conversation, but despite my efforts she remained sullen. I knew her anger was not directed at me, but the farther we traveled, the more I wished to have the old Maryam back.

As we rounded a bend in the stream, the wind picked up and Angel suddenly stiffened, then growled. She had smelled something on the breeze, and sensing her alarm, Maryam and I stopped in our tracks.

Angel paced forward, standing rigid, her nose working the air.

“What do you think she smells?” Maryam asked quietly.

“Don't know. Most likely a squirrel,” I answered. But I didn't believe it. Something in her manner urged caution. Silently I drew my short sword. I was about to encourage Maryam to draw her daggers, but a quick glance showed me they were already in her hands. How had she done that?

“Easy, girl,” I said to Angel. “Let's go.”

The three of us moved silently along the stream, the sound of our movements muffled by the bubbling water. Several yards past the campsite, Angel stopped to sniff at something on the ground.

“Maryam,” I whispered. “Is that . . . ?”

“Yes,” she answered.

A large spot of blood covered the leaves and ferns lining the forest floor. Something big had been killed or severely wounded nearby.

“Maybe we should take a different route,” I offered.

Maryam shrugged. In her present state, with her pent-up anger at Robard, I thought she might actually enjoy finding something to fight.

Angel sauntered past the blood and this time kept her nose to the ground, moving quietly along the stream. Then without warning, she let out a bark and took flight, charging ahead. She bounded into the nearby underbrush and disappeared from sight.

“Dog . . . Angel!” I stammered. “Come back!”

We crept forward through the thicket until we reached Angel, barking and pawing at the ground near a large oak. As we approached her, I nearly screamed when a man fell from behind the tree and onto the ground.

I circled around to the front of the man while Maryam held her position at the rear. When I could see his face, I was shocked to discover I knew him.

It was Philippe.

His shirtfront was covered in blood. One of his arms looked broken, and as I knelt beside him, his eyes opened. He looked up at me and said, “Celia!
Vous devez la sauver!
”

Then he pitched forward and collapsed in my arms.

“What did he say?” Maryam asked.

“He said, ‘Celia. You must save her.'”

P
hilippe was barely breathing. I knelt beside him and cut away his shirt with my small knife. A large wound just below his heart still bled. Having seen men die on the battlefield, I was amazed that Philippe was still alive and that he'd managed the strength to crawl as far as he had through the trees. I also realized there was nothing I could do for him.

“What should we do?” Maryam asked.

“There is nothing we can do except pray for his soul,” I said.

“He was a fellow warrior,” she said sadly, kneeling in the familiar position that I knew meant she was praying.

“Yes, he was,” I replied quietly.

I studied Philippe again. His sword was missing. There was no sign of his horse.

“Who do you think could have done this?” Maryam asked. “Was it this High Counsel?”

“I don't know. Philippe was always circling back to see if they were being followed. It could be they . . .”

Philippe reached up and grabbed my arm, and I yelped in surprise. His eyes flew open, and with every bit of will he had, he focused on me. My heart pounded in my chest and my breath stopped.

“Templar! You must save her. I'm nearly done. The High Counsel will not rest until he crushes her and her father. Swear to me.” So Philippe
could
speak English! I had been right after all.

“Philippe, what happened? How were you hurt?” I asked.

He struggled for breath.

“The High Counsel left a small force behind, trailing north. They must have found my tracks from my earlier scouts and guessed I would ride back to check. Six of them ambushed me.” He coughed then, and a horrible gurgling sound came from his chest. He groaned in agony.