Keeper of the Grail

The night grew darker, and it was getting harder to see.

A black-clad figure plunged through the opening in the rocks. No arrow protruded from him, so it must have been the one I had heard climbing from the rear. I yelled and Robard turned, letting loose a shot, but the Assassin darted to the side as Robard’s arrow struck the rocks behind him. Reaching to the ground he pulled his now- conscious companion to his feet. They dashed into the forest away from the rocks, zigzagging from tree to tree, making it difficult for Robard to shoot. In moments they had vanished.

Robard and I kept quiet, slowly circling in the hushed clearing, waiting for another attack. Silence. For several seconds there was very little sound. Then the noises of the night began to return. The chirp of insects. The call of birds.

“I think they are gone,” I said.

Robard still held his bow at the ready. He was tense, arm held in front of him, the muscles coiled. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Al Hashshashin do not run. They fight to the death.”

“Yes. Strange,” I agreed.

We circled again, but there was nothing more to see or hear.

“We need to leave,” Robard said.

“Agreed.”

Robard lowered but did not completely relax his bow, and we cautiously made our way back to the boulders. I held a sword in each hand and we kept a sharp eye, but the woods around us felt empty.

We quickly gathered up our blankets. Our plan was to move as far away from there as quickly as possible. I rolled our blankets together, slinging them over my shoulder. I would carry Robard’s blanket tonight, giving him quicker access to his bow and wallet.

We had turned toward the freedom of the woods when I heard a small gasping sound coming from the Assassin who lay on the ground inside the circle of boulders. Robard’s arrow had hit him high up in the right shoulder, and as I looked, I could see him moving. Not to attack, but not dead yet either.

“Wait,” I said. “He’s not dead.”

Robard stopped and I approached the Assassin, kicking the daggers out of reach. Another groan, and then his eyes flew open; two black ovals stared up at me in both alarm and hate.

“Careful, he may still be armed,” Robard said.

I looked at the wound where the arrow had entered his shoulder. I didn’t see much blood, but he wore a black robe and it was hard to tell. When I touched the shaft of the arrow, the Assassin cried out in pain and his eyes shut.

“What do we do now?” I asked, not looking at Robard as I spoke. “He’s not dead. If we leave, and if he lives, he may be able to find his companions. We don’t need them following us.”

Robard had remained quiet while I checked the Assassin’s wounds. And as I turned to look at him, awaiting his answer, the blood drained from my face.

“There’s only one thing to do,” he said.

I felt as if I were falling into quicksand. With my back turned, Robard had pulled an arrow from his wallet, nocked it on his bowstring and pulled it taut. It was now pointed directly at the heart of the wounded Assassin. I struggled to stand, but it felt as if my legs weren’t working properly.

Robard drew the bowstring to his cheek, and I could see his fingers twitch as they were about to let it go.

“Robard! No!” I shouted, launching myself toward him. To my horror I saw his fingers release the arrow, and I could only gasp as it flew through the air headed directly for my chest.

21

Time stood still. I felt I could see and hear everything that happened in exact detail. I had leapt from my crouch and thrown myself in front of the helpless Assassin. I watched Robard’s fingers twitch as they released the arrow. It left the bow, and in this state of heightened sensation, I heard the twang of the string and saw the shaft move slowly past the sight rest. I could hear Robard’s sharp intake of breath and the word NO! leave his mouth in a stunned gasp. But it was too late.

The arrow moved with frightening speed. Robard stood but a few paces away. He had no chance of missing at this distance. I thought of many things in the instant before I died. I remembered Sir Thomas, the brothers and even Sir Hugh and his hatred of me. I thought of the musky smell of the stable at the abbey and the quiet shuffle of the monks’ sandals as they filed into the chapel for prayer. I heard the sound of the songbirds that called to me each day when I worked in the abbey garden.

I also thought this was a silly way to die-in defense of a man who would undoubtedly have slain me if the situation were reversed. I remembered Sir Thomas, and how he had tried to teach me honor and humility and his lessons that a warrior is humble and compassionate in victory. Then, not quite dead yet, I hoped he would be proud.

I closed my eyes. I heard it pierce my flesh before I felt it. I fell spinning in the air and landed upon my back, feeling the air rush out of my lungs. My eyes opened briefly to see the arrow sticking straight up, and I waited for the flash of burning pain that would be the last thing I experienced on this earth.

Except the pain didn’t come.

Robard rushed to my side, dropping to his knees. “My God! Tristan, please, please forgive me! I had no…I never thought…Please. I did not mean…” His eyes were wild and full of fear. He looked at the arrow, protruding as it did from my chest, and tears fell down his cheeks.

I sat up.

Robard gasped. “How? What?” He stared at me in wonderment.

I looked down at my chest and saw a miracle. Strong words, I know, and the brothers would take me to task for assigning such heavenly status to my own mere survival. But to me, it was a miracle, for I knew I should be dead, or at least gravely injured, and I was neither.

Then I saw the source of my miracle and almost wished I were dead instead. There could be only one explanation.

As I had leapt toward Robard from where I crouched beside the Assassin, the satchel that hung around my shoulder had swung upward with my forward momentum. As it did, it had moved to a spot in front of my chest, and Robard’s arrow had found not flesh, but the tough leather of the case. I was glad to be alive, but that feeling changed as soon as I noticed that the arrow had punctured the satchel where the Grail lay hidden in the false bottom.

When Robard realized I was alive and unharmed, he began to laugh hysterically, pounding me on the shoulders.

“Oh dear God,” he said. Nervous at the thought of what he had nearly done, his questions came rapidly. “Are you all right? Lucky for you that satchel stayed my arrow. Why did you do that? What were you thinking? Are you sure you are not hurt?”

“I’m fine, really. No harm.” In truth, I felt sick and wished very much to crawl into the bushes and empty my stomach of my last meal. But I sat there trying to steady my breathing and quiet the rushing sound in my ears.

“Then, Tristan, why? What were you thinking?” he asked.

I faced Robard, seeing a look of genuine curiosity on his face mixed with concern and anguish at what he had nearly done.

“Templars do not kill a defenseless enemy. Such an act is forbidden by our laws. I realize you are not bound by them, but I can’t allow you to harm the Assassin while he is injured. It isn’t right.”

Robard said nothing. He looked away for a moment, then stood and paced a few steps away. “I don’t believe in ‘rules of warfare,’” he said. “Nothing but foolishness. There are no rules except kill or be killed. Do you forget that he came to murder us in our sleep? To slit our throats while we lay dreaming?”

I finally felt steady enough to rise to my feet. “I don’t forget that at all, Robard. And in battle, I would strike him down and not think twice. As to murder, well, you have a point. But they did not murder us. We fought them hand to hand. Therefore, once the fight is over and he is helpless, then his life belongs to us. There is no honor in