speak. What I’d wished to learn my entire life was tantalizingly close. The abbot knew. I wasn’t an orphan. He knew all along. He and Sir Thomas were in this together. Had Sir Thomas deceived me? Was making me his squire part of a larger plot?
As he had done ever since I could remember, Brother Tuck rushed to my side to brush the tears away. But they would not stop, and his face grew concerned. According to the abbot’s letter it was only because of luck that Tuck had not been here when the King’s Guards arrived, but he had still witnessed something horrible happen to his home. And though he might never fully understand the details, he recognized the source of my grief.
Handing the parchments to Maryam, I buried my head in my hands, more confused than ever. The abbot and the brothers had died keeping my secret from Sir Hugh. Sir Thomas was meant to explain everything to me when the “time was right,” but no one could have expected Sir Thomas to die fighting in Acre. Now I had nothing.
“Oh,” Maryam exclaimed as she read the pages. She looked at me with eyes wide. “Tristan, this letter from King Henry, the handwriting. . Did you notice?”
“Notice what? What!?” Robard said impatiently.
“The note Tristan has carried forever, the one left with him here. . when he was orphaned-it was written by King Henry,” she said.
Little John let out a low whistle. “Tristan, lad. . what does this mean?” he asked.
“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. Just because King Henry may have written some note, that doesn’t mean anything,” I said. My head was fuzzy and full of mush. From where she was lying on the ground by the fire, Angel padded over and sniffed at my face, licking my cheek before she curled up into a ball at my side.
“Tristan,” Maryam said, “could it be that. . You said Eleanor believed you were born of a noble. Could it be your King Henry is. . was. .?” She stumbled over the words, her faced knitted in deep thought. “This makes it sound like he was your father!” Little John and Robard gasped.
“I thought you. .,” Little John said slowly. Then he waved his hand in the air, as if pushing the words away.
My mind was too full to consider it. These letters explained a great deal. In his mind, the abbot had deceived me for my own safety. But he would not have made up such a tale. Though stern, he was not a cruel man. He would not have told an elaborate lie to me about my parenthood. If I accepted these documents as the truth, it forced me to confront matters I had no energy to deal with. No, it was better for me to go on as I always had. Not knowing who I was.
Maryam came quickly toward me, grasping me by the elbow. I wanted to yank my arm free but she held it too strongly. “Sir Hugh and Eleanor were searching for you. . when you were first born. . This must mean-”
Shrugging my bedroll off my shoulders, I stalked away from the firelight. The loss I felt was too much to bear. Everyone from my childhood was dead. There was no home left for me. And now a massive weight crushed me. I had just been told the one thing I had wanted to know my entire life, and I wished I could take it back. If I’d never met Sir Thomas, none of these horrible things would have happened. They had died because of me. Because someone believed I was a person I couldn’t possibly be.
I paced about the camp for several minutes, stalking back and forth. Tuck studied me with a worried expression, but the others said nothing. When I had tired myself out, I lay again by the fire. I made a sleeping motion with my hands, and Tuck smiled and readied his own spot by the fire. As I drifted off to sleep, I could hear Robard and the others talking in low tones. Tuck came and sat cross-legged on the ground next to me, resting his hand on my shoulder. He had lost as much as I had, if not more, and I knew I should offer him comfort. My heart nearly cleaved in two at the thought of poor Tuck returning to the abbey to find it either in flames or ashes. In between caring for the abbot he must have dug each grave and prayed for the departed souls of his brothers. I was certain it was he who had marked each cross with a memento. I could not bear the thought of it, that my own foolish existence had brought death and destruction down upon his home.
I drifted into a fitful sleep and woke up more than once calling out for the abbot and Sir Thomas. Several times I opened my eyes to find Maryam or Tuck kneeling beside me, gently attempting to soothe me from my nightmares. When I finally woke before sunup the next morning, my wound still ached, and my head felt like it was full of sheared wool. My mind was empty and reluctant to think anymore. Tuck was squatting by the fire, stirring something in a large pot that smelled delicious. Though I was groggy and disoriented, my mouth watered. I needed to use the tree for enough support to rise, and I couldn’t rid myself of the aches and stiffness ravaging my body. As I took a step toward the fire, pain radiated from the wound in my side, and down my leg. I winced and dropped to one knee.
Tuck was there in a heartbeat. He pushed the hair back from my eyes, feeling my face for heat. He pulled my hand away from where it clasped my side, and we were both shocked to find blood on my hand. His eyes widened and he hurried away, returning in a short time with a small crock full of one of his potions.
I never knew what Tuck put in his peculiar mixtures. But I was not worried as he cut away my shirt, clearing space around the wound. He had studied all the plants and wildlife of the forest, and experimented with dozens of different concoctions for healing and soothing. From the jar he applied a greenish, rather foul-smelling paste to my injury.
My howls woke everyone in the camp. Robard and Maryam were so shocked that they immediately assumed we were under attack. “Whaaa!” Robard yelled as he sprang from the ground.
Whatever Tuck had given me, it made my eyes burn and water, and I prayed for relief. For a moment, I wondered if he’d somehow inserted a large wasp inside the wound. The paste felt as if it were burning through my flesh.
“It’s nothing.” I grimaced. “Just one of Tuck’s salves. But, oh, it burns!”
Maryam returned her daggers to their sheaths and harrumphed at me. “Don’t whine. Being shot by a longbow hurts much worse.”
“No it doesn’t,” I said.
Slowly the pain from Tuck’s concoction receded, and the bleeding stopped. But my mood did not improve. As everyone finished their breakfast, I sat apart, stewing in my own grief and feeling disconnected from the world around me.
Several times Maryam or one of the others tried to draw me into conversation, but I would snap at them and turn away. Even in my funk, I watched Maryam and Robard share a wooden plate of food. As we had traveled these past few weeks, whenever we built a fire, they would sit next to each other. Whatever food we’d managed to hunt or find, Robard would always wait until Maryam had eaten her fill, no matter how hungry he was. After we had escaped Montsegur and traveled through France for many weeks, Robard had done all of the hunting and most of the cooking. We would have starved if not for him. He delighted in cooking whatever game he found and serving it to Maryam. And I could tell she appreciated it. Most of the time their growing closeness made me happy. Today it only annoyed me.
Finally, after I had snarled and snapped, and had offended each of them in some way, Robard challenged me directly.
“What’s next, Tristan? Where do we go from here? What are you going to do now? You have a duty to your knight, don’t you?” he asked, intruding on my self-pity.
“Just leave me alone,” I said. “I don’t know. None if it matters. No matter what we do, death and destruction will follow in our wake.” I sat picking at the food Tuck had insisted I take.
“Well, too bloody bad. You need to get ahold of yourself. You’ve suffered a loss, there’s no denying it. More than anyone should have to. But you’ve got work to do, so I say let’s get to it.”
“No. Don’t you realize what’s happened here? You don’t-” I stammered.
Robard grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me to my feet, his face inches from mine. “Enough of this, Tristan. We’re sorry for what happened here, but we will grieve for your friends in time. Have you forgotten Sir Hugh is still looking for us? And the King’s Guards? And Eleanor won’t stop either. Don’t you think it might occur to them that you might come here? Looking for a place to rest or hide? Sir Hugh is probably on his way here now. You made an oath to your knight. You have a duty. If you sit around here feeling sorry for yourself, you’re going to get us killed,” he said.
I tried to push away, but Robard’s grip was like iron. Angel let out a low growl and Brother Tuck moved toward us, worried Robard might try to hurt me. Little John held out his hand and gently pulled Tuck back.
“You don’t understand! These men died. .” I tried not to cry again, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
“You think you’re the only one who’s suffered in this world? Are you the only one to lose a friend or comrade?
