Over The Edge
Lord Alexander looked puzzled, “Why are you here and not out getting the men I want?”
Shafterly couldn’t resist playing this out a little longer, rarely was he able to keep ahead of Alexander’s wants and demands. This was one of those times. He had by intent not told the guard he sent to Alexander the reason for his early return. “I ran out of coin Lord.”
He knew he couldn’t continue this game for much longer or Alltimont’s mood might in a heartbeat turn from irritated to outraged, so he added, “How many fighting men do you want?”
“How many do you have?”
“The hundred you asked for, most are here now, the rest will arrive during the next two days time. Do you require more than these?”
Alexander couldn’t hold back a satisfied grin, “Yes, another hundred if you so manage it, and by no later than weeks’ end.”
“That would not seem to be a problem, your incentives are most motivating. I have not given them all their pay as yet, by the look of some they would take it and run. So they see some of the others have received the coin and believe in the promise of theirs’ before the battle. There are wagons of supplies on there way here as well as horses, for all who would ride them.”
Alexander looked hard at Shafterly. “All who would ride them? Do I take your meaning correctly?”
“Yes Lord, there are at least three score of picts and goths among those recruited. You did ask for men that would obey without question, did you not?”
Alexander smirked, picts and goths; they are murderous even to each other. These tribes showed neither fear nor back up in any situation even when outnumbered. Some refused any contact with horses to the point of believing the four legged animals to be evil. Even Norsemen and Danes respected the savagery of the picts.
“Be very certain you keep these groups at bay Shafterly. We don’t want to disseminate our own ranks before we even begin this fight. I will make you responsible for any, shall we say, incidents.”
“Duly noted Lord Alexander.”
Alexander turned to leave the hall when Shafterly called him back, “There is another matter.”
“What matter is that?”
“I have a new spy within Strathenham.”
Alexander looked at Shafterly, “Go on!” he bellowed.
“A guard actually, apparently a friend of Neeley the stableman and one who is quite against the knight who killed him. He awaits without.”
“Get him in here.”
“As you say my lord.”
A scruffy unkempt man in guards clothing was presented. Lord Alexander, who was hooded and had stayed in the shadows walked out and with great ceremony folded his hood back to his shoulders. The man had been relieved of his weapon and three of Shafterly’s guards stood just behind him. He wore a small patch of color on his jerkin that identified him as a guard of Strathenham.
Alexander eyed him. “Well, what can you tell me?”
Drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth filled with broken teeth, the man sputtered, “I don’t know.”
Alexander looked at his captain in disquiet.
This rube had one thing going for him, thought Shafterly, he made no sign whatsoever when he saw Alexander that the Lord’s grotesque abnormal appearance was even the least bit out of the ordinary.
“A moment my lord, he’s a bit slow witted but he catches on quick. Ask him specific questions, he’ll answer with alacrity.”
Alexander tried again, “tell me about the knight at Strathenham.”
Again the man sputtered, “Which knight me lord, Sir William or Luke or Robert the Good?”
Before Alexander’s patience ran out, Shafterly interjected, “Lord, please allow me.”
“Niknarr, you have the gold piece I gave you, isn’t that so?”
The man gave an ugly smile, “Why yes, your Captainship, I does.”
“I gave you that gold coin because you know things about Strathenham that I want you to tell Lord Alexander, isn’t that also so?”
“Yes, your Captainship.”
“Tell us about the Black and White Knight, Luke you said his name was.”
“Aye, your Captainship that’s ‘is name all right. Luke Woodford of somethin’ or other, he’s the one what kilt my pal Neeley. Most gruesome he did to, I was there on the parapet a watchin’ I was.
Neeley told me just that day this here poppin’ jay was a devil spawn, and he was too. Saw ‘im drop from the bastion I did. Forty feet he dropped and crunched his boots all atop poor Neeley without himself sufferin’ so much as a scratch. But me mate, he wasn’t dead see, just all busted up.
Then this ‘ere Black and White Knight whispers somethin’ to poor Neeley then bongo, he upends the poor bugger and throws ‘im over the wall to 'is death on the rocks below.
And that ain’t all, then ‘his ‘ere high and mighty knight starts shouting orders to the guards and the priest. Well, the young lord of the castle didn’t like it not one little bit that some bloke just out of the woods should be given orders in ‘is very own castle. So he orders the bloke out even though that same bloke did that very mornin’ save the sassy lil’ miss Enarrah’s pretty hide by killin’ off six of your lordships’ men.”
Alexander stood transfixed, with slow deliberation he raised a hand high in the air, very still, it seemed to reach all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. To his own credit Niknarr shut his mouth.
Shafterly watched his lord with great care, he had never seen him look so intent, so focused, not even in his most violent of rages. Alexander asked in a low slow monotone, “Was the man’s name Sir Luke Wynnewood of Lamasco?”
“Why, yes your Lordship, ‘ats it ‘xactly. Just how Sir William intoned it when he said it, interdusin’ ‘im like, even tho’ ‘e weren’t even thereabouts. Sir Will said that this showoff was his friend, like Robert the Good sittin’ next to ‘im was and how this ‘ere Luke was not now there at the castle but seems ‘ow ‘ed be back right soon.”
“Neeley was beatin’ the two o’ them whelps for going round saying they was pages to a real knight. Then this ‘ere Luke saw Neeley wailin’ on them two youngins and kilt ‘im. Though comes to find out at break of fast next day them lads was sure ‘nuff wearing that knight’s colors o’ black and white.”
Alexander turned cold eyes on the man and Niknarr quieted.
He then turned those same eyes on Shafterly who, in spite of himself shuddered and said, “I saw those Pages when we stopped on our 'visit' Lord Alexander. Niknarr, who is Robert the Good?”
“Why for months now ‘es been a guard like all the rest of us ‘cept ‘es been Cap’n Ivar’s fair ‘aired boy ‘e ‘as. Got all the plum work while the rest of us got the pits.”
Four upraised fingers of Alexander’s slow crooked hand beckoned to Shafterly.
Shafterly’s eyes never left Alexander and he demanded more information,
“What else can you tell me about Robert the Good.”
The Guard Niknarr drew a ragged breath and spoke, “’Es a big man ‘n tall thou not as tall as you m’ lord, with dark rusty like hair. Hard as an oak ‘e is, and never beaten by any man in contest that I knows of. ‘Es sweet on the cook ‘e is and ‘er youngins. 'Ya see, thems the two Neeley had under his boot and whipped on occasion, ‘cause they was haughty ‘n always wantin’ to run under there mama’s skirts.”
Again Alexander’s open hand raised straight up. The informant again shut up and Shafterly watched as his lordship’s hand descended down the length of his body, Shafterly knew the wordless entreaty.
“What were this Sir Robert’s coat of arms, his colors?”
“Why your Lordship (even though Shafterly asked the questions Niknarr knew it was the lord he must address) they was white, bright white with a big blue cross a Jesus on it and lil’ three petaled flowers with green wreaths round ‘um. “
His eyes never leaving Alexander, Shafterly watched the lord raise his ha
nd with one finger extended pointing towards the door.
Without preamble Shafterly ushered all out of the room, last at the door he heard two words, “You stay.”
Shafterly shut the door, and watched, and waited. Alexander put his hands behind his back, clasped them there and walked to the hearth where a banked fire crackled. The apprehensive Captain Shafterly did not think it possible to be stunned anymore with his lord’s ever changing emotions. He was found quite wrong when the man addressed him by his given name for the first time.
“Erick, we have here a once in a lifetime opportunity. The knight 'Robert' that this guard describes; red-haired wearing white with a blue crucifix rampant and fleur-de-lis circled with green wreaths is Robert Verragon the man who left my brother Terrell to die on the field of battle in Jerusalem.”
Alltimont's sword hand trembled and shook as he continued, “Terrell’s comrades tried to tell me that Verragon fought off attackers so that Terrell could be gotten to safety but I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now. I will see Verragon and all that he holds dear dead at my feet.”
The lord paid no heed to his fiercely shaking hand.
During his time with this Lord Alexander, Shafterly thought he had seen every reaction that Alexander had, but he was wrong. Even with all his rantings and ravings nothing compared to the voice he now heard.
Being glad that Alexander faced away from him Shafterly shuddered again when he realized the voice that spoke was that of a madman.
Alexander continued, “The other, why the other is the ‘Ghost’ himself, knight, ha! Coward more the like; after seeing his squire cut down in battle, he blazed a swath of blood across the battlefield with his two swords, walking on the dead as he left. Ahh, and never to be seen in the East again, but reported to have been seen in a dozen other places.”
“He is here, he is here now, and I have him.”
“You know Erick, as Terrell was weeks in delirium dying from wasting and fever he told tale after tale of what it was like over there. The horrible deaths, the King and His court, the intrigues, the Saracens and their strange ways and customs. When Terrell went into death throes I went mad with rage. Weeks later I regained my senses at the Stones of Carnac.”
Some of his stories were about Wynnewood. That second short sword that he carries on a scabbard behind him was a gift from the Calif whose son he saved. After his return to the city from his captivity by the Calif and debauchery with his wench daughter; a group of knights, under the leadership of a Frenchman by name of Jacques were berating Wynnewood for having two swords when all any real man needed was one broad sword.”
“One huge hulk of a Frenchman wanted to impress this point about weaponry even farther by taking a mighty swing at a palm tree. The broadsword embedded deep into it and with several feverish pulls the knight retrieved his blade.”
Wynnewood walked into the center of the circle of these men holding a silk scarf, which he tossed into the air, drawing his scimitar he held it motionless. As the thin gossamer cloth descended and made contact with the blade it cut neatly it in two pieces without a whisper of a noise. With a swift arc he then cut those two pieces in half in mid air and four fluttering pieces of silk lay in the sand.”
“No man ever chided Wynnewood about having two blades again. This is the man I have in my grasp. By account of all the men who are missing he has killed thirteen of our fighters.”
“This is the legend whom I will defeat in single combat. Then all the glory of his death will be mine. I will be the most feared and respected man in the all of Christendom.”
After several minutes Shafterly managed to say in a controlled voice, “Yes my lord.”
As if waking from a reverie Alexander growled , “I want that girl, I will have Enarrah of Elleghane and I will have her now! Do you understand me Shafterly?”
“Yes my Lord, I do have a plan and I will put her into your hands before the end of the week.”
“You do that, and the next batch of men let them be savages. Let them all be picts for all I care, but make you sure that all know to a man, do you hear me Erick, to a man, that Wynnewood is mine and mine alone!”
+++++
They stood at the bow together watching the land grow larger as the ship cut through the rolling waves.
“Britainia,” John said.
“Yes, Britainia”, replied Terrell Alltimont, “ I have comrades here, many from my homeland in Brittany. It was there that I spent long months recovering from the crusades. My comrades took me home to die you see.
I almost did, more than once, but the breath of life stayed with me. It was during one of these close brushes with death that, thinking the last of life was gone from me, Alexander disappeared. I vowed if I survived I would find my brother and go back to find Robert Verregon, the man who saved me from certain death.
Departing home I sent missives throughout the continent inquiring of his and my brother's whereabouts. Good fortune that I did because I returned to Jerusalem I waited months to hear word and it was that very morning of your arrival at the Templars I received word that Robert was here in Britain. There had been no hint as to the whereabouts of Alexander.”
“Terrell, You have told me amazing things about my brother Luke. It is had to believe. I was just a callow youth when last we were together, he was always my hero. I do know that even then he had an intensity in his manner and his intent as you have described. Do you believe he is here as well? John asked.
“If Robert is still here your brother may be as well. It's as good a place as any and better than most. If not, Robert will know where Luke can be found. I hope they are both here, for I would be hard pressed to part company with you. You a learned and worthy man. Our time spent discussing Socrates, Aristotle and Pliney, as well as talking in any one of six languages on the spur of the moment have restored my sense of purpose. If you are a reflection of the generation to come there is hope for us all.”
John Wynnewood smiled. “Your words do me great service Sir Terrell. You are a venerable man. At every twist and turn of our journey you interceded more times than I can count, putting your life and your honor on the line as a man of truth and justice. Why did you not wear your colors on this trip? You are a true Templar Knight whose entire existence is dedicated to foster peace and maintain good order in our world.”
“I do not wish my station in life known until it is the right time. As for the other, thank you for your good words, Templar Knights who abide their oath give up all possessions. We cannot be bribed or influenced because we own nothing. We are impartial. We are justice in an unjust world.
But let us not say our farewells just yet young Wynnewood. After good food and a days' rest we go overland norwest to the Borders of Scotland.
There by God's good graces we will find our answers and mayhap our future as well.
For I say to you man of Lamasco, finding my brother Alexander would give me back my faith.”