But I couldn’t say anything more. I lay there on the ground, folded up like a turtle in its shell, rocking back and forth.
“Tristan,” Robard said. “Those graves we found, we don’t know who lies in them. And perhaps the fire was an accident. . If Sir Hugh-”
“Sir Hugh?” Little John interrupted. “Sir Hugh Montfort? Of Sir Thomas’ regimento? Is he the one you refer to?”
“It is,” Robard replied. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve run afoul of him many times. When Thomas and I served in the King’s Army, he was a minister to the court of King Henry. More crooked than a thistle’s root, he is. What does he have to do with this, Tristan?”
Maryam stood, taking Little John by the arm and walking him a few steps away. She spoke to him in low tones, but I neither heard nor cared what she relayed to him. I stayed on the ground and refused to move. My soul was empty. The only family I had ever known had been destroyed.
“Tristan, steady now,” Robard said. “We don’t know anything for certain. Maybe those graves-”
“No! He did this. He killed them. Or he sent the King’s Guards to do it. Because of me, because that witch Eleanor thinks I am a noble! She thinks I want Richard’s throne!”
“Oh!” Maryam exclaimed.
Robard stared at me as if I were insane. Which was entirely possible. It took him a long moment to process what I had said.
“Tristan, I’m very sorry for what you have found here. For your loss. But what did you just say?” he asked.
“When we were in Calais, as I held the Queen Mother hostage, she said she would see me dead before I ever sat on Richard’s throne. I told her I’m an orphan, but she thinks I’m born of some noble who has claim to the throne. It’s the only explanation. And Eleanor has been working with Sir Hugh all along! Someone must have hidden an orphan child somewhere and those two think it’s me. Sir Hugh and Eleanor killed them so they wouldn’t tell! To keep Richard and their ridiculous kingdom safe! But I’m not a noble, I can’t be. . I’m just. .” Sobs came again. I had never felt so alone.
“Tristan, you are upset. . I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. But you are talking nonsense. You can’t believe. . that woman. . The chances of you. . My God. .” Robard stopped, unsure of what else to say.
With his giant hand, Little John gently pulled me to my feet. “Lad,” he said. And then he stopped a moment, staring hard at me in the advancing twilight. He studied my face as if he were meeting me for the first time. “You do. .” But his words trailed off.
“What?” Robard asked.
“I. . thought. . It’s nothing. It’s getting dark. We should find a place to camp for the night. We’ll sort this out. Tomorrow. . those graves. . Well, I won’t lie to you, Tristan, a horrible tragedy has been done here to those who lie beneath those crosses. But your friend is right. Tomorrow I can visit some of the nearby villages, try to find out what happened. Maybe some of the brothers survived.”
“No!” I said, jerking my arm away from Little John’s grasp. “Leave me be.”
I ran, sprinting around the remains of the abbey. At first I heard someone coming after me: Robard. But Maryam called for him to stop.
I ran behind the crumbled pile of rubble and ash to the grounds beyond St. Alban’s. The outbuildings and stables were burned as well. So I kept running, not stopping until I passed across the wheat fields and reached the distant woods. With each step, my wounded side caused me to nearly howl in agony, but I wanted the pain. I wanted it to squeeze and encircle me in a red hot rage. I cried as I moved through the trees, dodging limbs and branches and rocks and roots. The faces of the monks appeared everywhere as I ran. The abbot. Brother Rupert. Brother Tuck. What horrors they must have felt at the hands of such evil men.
Finally, I could run no more. There was nothing left inside of me. It was late in the afternoon and the shadows lengthened in the woods. It would be dusk soon. I staggered to a small clearing and slumped against the base of a tree. Resting my back against it, I sat there, arms on my knees, silent tears flowing down my face. There was nothing I could do to bring my friends back. I put my head on my knees and closed my eyes, sobbing until I could cry no more.
I must have dozed, for when I lifted my head, it was dark and the evening woods awakened as the night birds sang. It was getting colder, but the wind and weather did not concern me. The breeze picked up, and the trees swayed as their limbs creaked and knocked against each other.
I peered up at the sky, wanting to curse God for allowing this to happen. I had lost everything. The monks. Sir Thomas. Quincy and Sir Basil. My heart leapt at the thought of Celia. What if Sir Hugh had done the same to her? Let Sir Hugh find me, I thought, for when he did, I would strangle him with my bare hands.
Some instinct brought me back to the present moment-I don’t know whether it was the long months of battle or merely an inborn desire for survival, but I sensed movement in the underbrush behind me. Someone or something was attempting a stealthy approach. The evening stars were rising in the sky and there was a dim light to the forest. I listened hard. If my friends had come to retrieve me, I would run away again. I wished only to be left alone.
Another rustle in the bushes convinced me it was no animal. Whoever was there was big, and thus it could not be Maryam or Robard, both of whom would likely be upon me before I even knew either of them was there. It must be Little John, come to find me.
“Who’s there?” I demanded. No answer. “Go away!”
There was silence for a moment, but then came the shuffle of footsteps, creeping as quietly as they were able, along the forest floor.
“Leave me alone!” I shouted. My words echoed off the trees, and startled ravens and starlings cried out as they burst into flight.
The woods were stilled momentarily, and the sound resumed. With a heavy sigh I stood up, drawing my sword as I did so.
“Don’t come any closer!” I commanded.
Pushing myself out from the tree trunk, I turned to face whoever it was who dared disturb me. “I warned-” I stopped, the words dying in my throat.
For there before me, his gentle face outlined in the starlight, arms open wide, stood someone I knew in an instant. I threw my sword to the ground, staggering forward.
And I fainted dead away into the arms of Brother Tuck.
14
I woke to the hum of voices and, opening my eyes, found myself next to a crackling fire. My dreams haunted me, and for a moment I wondered if I still slept. I hoped so. Then all I had learned this day would be part of a horrible, horrible nightmare.
Maryam said, “There you are,” and I felt a large warm hand on my forehead, gazing up to see the smiling face of Brother Tuck. It was not a dream. He was really here.
I stood up and so did he, clapping his hands with glee. From the time I was a child, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an expression of happiness cross his face. His giant hands cradled my head, and he pushed the hair out of my eyes, looking at me like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said. He couldn’t hear me, as he was deaf as well as mute, but I touched my heart and pointed at him. Through the years Tuck and I had found our own way of communicating with each other. Using simple signs and motions, I could make him understand what I needed, wanted or sometimes even wished. The abbot once told me Tuck was a genius at “understanding people.” Because he could not hear or speak, he had learned to watch our eyes and faces. Even by the way we stood or gestured he could on some level understand what we required of him. Since Tuck had practically raised me, we had our own method of wordless communication, and it surprised me how easily I fell back into it. My heart was overjoyed at finding him alive.
“Everyone, this is Brother Tuck, the monk most responsible for raising me. In fact, it was he who found me on the abbey steps when I was left there as a babe. He is one of the kindest, most decent men I’ve ever
