Orphan of Destiny

contain my rage. My swings rained down on Sir Hugh, but he easily parried every one.

Already my breath was coming in ragged gasps. We circled each other. Sir Hugh darted at me again and I danced out of the way, spinning around and slashing him across the arm of his empty hand.

He jumped back, looking down at the wound in shock.

“Apparently we both bleed, Sir Hugh,” I said.

He came at me in a flurry of blows. All I could do was hold on to my sword with both hands, keeping it in front of me, trying to sweep his blade away. He cut me deeply on the left forearm, and I cried out this time. Then another slash nearly took me in the chest, but I jumped back just enough, and instead his sword sliced neatly through the strap on the satchel and it fell to the ground.

I struggled to get clear of it, afraid of stumbling. My arms were suddenly weak, and it was difficult to lift my sword. Maryam and Robard were yelling instructions to me, but I could not focus on what they were saying.

Sir Hugh stood perhaps six paces away from me, the satchel on the ground between us. He circled to my left and I countered, moving to his right. Despite the cold, I was sweating. I felt weak. He came at me again, and I was so exhausted that I could not lift my sword in time and he opened a vicious slash on my chest. He laughed, and then his foot kicked out at me, landing in my stomach, and I flew backward to the ground. I was down and barely able to struggle to my knees. Sweat poured into my eyes, and the whipping wind and snow made it difficult to see.

Sir Hugh appeared in front of me out of the snow with his sword raised over his head. I don’t know where I found the strength, but as he whipped it downward, I lifted my sword over my head with both hands. His blade was blocked, but with a sickening crack my sword broke in two. I swung at him with the broken blade as I tried to stand, but Sir Hugh stepped well back out of reach.

Then as the wind blew fiercely across the hilltop, I spied Sir Thomas’ sword on the ground a few feet away, nearly covered in snow. I dropped forward to my hands and knees and crawled toward it.

“Look at you! Crawling along the ground like an animal, knowing I have bested you. Though I’ll give you some small measure of credit, squire,” he said. “You’re not quite the worthless, puny weakling you once were. In a few more years you may have become almost a worthy adversary. And what makes this so enjoyable for me, besides the fact that you are about to die, is how I managed to destroy everything in your life. You’ve been to St. Alban’s, no doubt. You know I had it burned to the ground. Since I couldn’t give a whit about Eleanor or her desires anymore, I’m just going to kill you. It doesn’t even matter who you really are.”

“Less talk, more fighting,” I said wearily as I scrambled along the ground. But then I decided that if I could get him talking, he might grow careless. He did love to brag, and I needed only a few more feet to reach the sword.

“How did you know to come here?” I asked.

“Ha! You worthless fool! How did I find you in France? I have spies everywhere, especially within the Order. I hear and know everything! Sir Thomas thought he could keep the Grail from me. He was more stupid than you. He never knew I was three steps ahead of him the entire time. It was no trouble at all to find the place he’d ordered you to go. You evaded me in Dover, but I knew you’d come here eventually. I only needed to wait.”

I was almost there, just a few more feet. “You better learn to enjoy your own company, Sir Hugh. Kill us all and see what good it does you. Take the Grail. You’ll never be able to keep it. You talk too much. You won’t be able to resist telling someone what you have, and they will speak of it to someone else, and before long Sir Thomas’ true Brothers of the Order will find and kill you,” I said.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s almost over, boy, and I promise it will be quick. Well, maybe not. I do so love it when death lasts awhile. But there is one more thing to tell you before I take your life. I want to tell you about the look of stunned surprise and disbelief on Sir Thomas’ face when I killed him at the altar of the Crusaders’ Palace in Acre.” His eyes bore into me and the wind blew through his hair. His snarl made him look like the devil himself.

“No,” I gasped. The breath left my lungs. Though I wished to look away, I could not. Curiously, the world around me appeared to be changing color, the white of the snow becoming a hard, hot red. This could not be.

“Oh yes,” Sir Hugh said, laughing gleefully. “Such a pompous donkey, your Sir Thomas, always believing himself to be superior. I watched him send you on your way and knew what he had given you. He was hiding it somewhere in the city, and he wouldn’t risk having it fall into the hands of the Saracens. So, as he closed the altar behind you-and what a touching little scene it was, by the way. . Beauseant, indeed,” he spat. “When he turned around, he laughed! At me! His Commander and Marshal! He said I was too late, and he laughed again. But his laughter died in his throat when

I drove my sword through his guts. He died right there in front of me-”

“NO!” I screamed. “You’re lying! The other knights, Sir Basil, Quincy, someone would have stopped you! You liar!”

“Feh! Sir Basil and his fat pig of a squire were already dying in the courtyard by then. They’re either dead or rotting in one of the Saladin’s prisons. No one saw me. I followed you through the tunnel. But I lost you in the countryside. Didn’t matter. I knew you had to be heading for Tyre, that Thomas would send you to the Commandery there. It was almost too easy.”

“You’re a liar!” I screamed, rage rising in my gut. I tried to stand but could not. So help me, I would kill him.

“Enough of this.” He smirked. He lifted his sword to shoulder height and came forward, drawing back for a mighty swing, a killing blow.

Just as Sir Hugh came at me, the world slowed down. My eyes opened wide and Sir Hugh advanced in slow motion. One step, then two, then a third. He swung from the shoulder, and his blade whistled, louder than even the sound of the wind.

I lurched to the side and scooped up Sir Thomas’ sword in my hands. Rising to my feet, I caught his blow with my sword. The power of it nearly lifted me into the air, but Sir Thomas’ blade held. Before he could strike again, I countered, managing to slash his tunic. I don’t know where I found the strength, but our steel danced, back and forth, each thrust and parry sending sparks jouncing into the winter wind. As we circled and tested each other, I thought I spied the smallest sense of alarm on Sir Hugh’s face. He had expected to dispatch me quickly. Yet I was still standing. Bleeding and growing weaker by the moment, but refusing to give up. I stared down at the satchel, lying on the ground between us, nearly covered in the snow. The Grail remained silent.

My back was to Maryam and Robard. They had been shouting out encouragement, whereas the knights remained silent. But their voices sounded far away, and my concentration remained fixed on Sir Hugh, who charged at me again, his sword swirling back and forth like a whirlwind.

My eyes were still clouded with red rage as he surged toward me, and strange sounds overwhelmed me. Off in the far distance, I thought I heard a familiar bark, but over it all finally it came: the low faint humming sound of the Grail.

For a moment, I believed myself too weak to raise my sword in defense. Sir Hugh had won and this would be my end. But the soft, musical sound grew louder, and as Sir Hugh crossed the ground between us, whether by accident or miracle, he tripped over the satchel. He staggered toward me, glancing down at his feet momentarily. He tried to halt his fall forward but it was too late. His momentum carried him toward me, eyes wide with shock, and with my last bit of strength I thrust forward with Sir Thomas’ sword, stabbing Sir Hugh through the ribs.

With a defiant cry of “Beauseant!” I drove my sword deeper into his flesh, and as I did so, for a moment I felt the presence of Sir Thomas, and Quincy, Sir Basil and the abbot and Brother Rupert and the other monks there with me. And my hands became their hands as I pushed with all my might. It felt as if they stood beside me, helping me deliver the world from a great evil. With a groan, I pulled the sword free.

Sir Hugh dropped his blade to the ground. His eyes fell to the seeping wound in his chest. Blood ran from his mouth, and he staggered past me. His horse, standing behind us, pranced out of the way, skittish and spooked at the sight and smell of blood. Confused, Sir Hugh reached down and grasped the satchel in his hands. He staggered backward, holding it as if it were as fragile as a bird’s egg.

“No,” he said wearily. “Not like this. . No. . You filthy squire. . I. .” He looked at me and his head shook. He shouted at his assembled knights. “Kill them. . Don’t let them get. . He has it. . the Grail. . Kill them.”

I moved toward him and he swung his head up at me, watching me advance.

“No,” he said as he staggered backward. “No, not by you. I. . will. . not. . be. .” Sir Hugh collapsed, falling to the ground right on the edge of the promontory. Then to my horror he began sliding over the side.