©
Matthew Burden, 2001
~27~
The little wagon
rolled up the trail toward the run-down house of David. In its prouder days it had been a manor that
oversaw a good deal of the fields surrounding Northampton, but now its importance
had dwindled to a few mere acres in the woods.
It was smaller than the manor that the Druids had occupied before its
destruction, with a wooden roof that appeared as though it might collapse from
rot at any moment.
The riders drew to a
halt, and Alfred jerked his head around to see what was happening. A tall, lean Saxon standing guard at the gates commanded them to halt.
Seeing Alfred bound in the cart, he raised his eyebrows involuntarily. Alfred nodded slowly to him, and he bowed to
the Druids. As he did so, several more
guards rushed out of the house, their swords in hand.
“Is this is the house of
Lord David?” Michael asked in a commanding voice.
The Saxon guard laughed,
then shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve
come too late for his funeral, gentlemen...but perhaps
not too late for your own.”
At this, the guards leapt
forward, dragging the riders from their mounts without giving them any chance
to react. One jumped up into the cart
and swiftly cut the bonds holding his master.
Alfred stood up in the cart, smiling grandly at his men. The five Druids regarded him darkly, but he didn't care. They could curse him with
all the curses they knew, and he still wouldn't care. England was his. With a relic at the head of an army, throngs
of Saxons would join behind him in a holy quest to rout the Normans from their land.
“Did you really believe I
had ever seen—what was his name—Justin?” he laughed, and the Druids dropped
their gazes. “A merchant of vellum
sheets!” he chuckled. “What sort of fool
would believe that? I will say this,
though. The robe actually is here—in Northampton, just as I said. At least,” he grinned broadly, “it is now,
thanks to your efforts.” He drew the
tattered purple garment from beneath his cloak, holding it high above the heads
of his men.
Like a victor standing
triumphant over the field of battle, he held it aloft for all to see, an
ancient, holy banner catching the evening breeze. As golden light showered down over him, he
shouted with all his might: “England!”
His men shouted after him,
until all the hills of Northampton were echoing
the cry of those Saxon hearts: “England!” Above that field waved the one prize they had
sought, and now the dream was theirs, and the hearts of their countrymen with
it.
~ ~ ~
“Listen to me,” Michael
protested, looking up from where he was shackled to the floor.
Alfred leered down at him with pleasure. “And why should I?” he
smirked. “I am merely repaying in full
the hospitality you showed me.”
Michael shook his head. “There is more, much more to all this. More than you can imagine.”
The huge man chuckled, still
amused with the irony of the situation.
“How so?”
“We are Druidae,” he said, ignoring a warning glance from one of the older men. “We are men of power and influence. If you truly wish to unite a Saxon England,
there is a better way. That robe represents everything foreign, Christian and Norman both. Neither are truly English. The way of the Druids is the old way, the way
of the mighty deeds of old. It was not just a religion; it was a way of life, a philosophy, a system of
government. Shall we not turn this
nation back to its roots, the very roots that the Saxon kings first embraced?”
Alfred smiled sardonically. He was enjoying the conversation. “The England
my fathers knew,” he replied slowly, “was Anglo-Saxon and Christian. The Druid way was the way of the first
people, a people too weak to hold the land.
It's no wonder the Saxons trampled them into the dust. You can lay down your Celtic conceit, Druid.
Your words mean nothing to me. I am
Saxon, and Saxons are Christians. It is
the way of things.”
Michael would not give
up. Frantic to be released, he continued
to plead, his dark eyes flashing violently.
“You would have greater power to accomplish your goal if you handed the
robe over to us. The spirits of the land
have demanded a sacrifice to return the nation to them. Burning it on their altars would be an act which places them back in control, and nothing would be able to stop the force
behind it. No Norman, nor anyone else, could stand against it, I swear!”
Even as he was speaking the
other four Druids let out a collective groan, but the youth paid them no
heed.
Alfred grinned
brightly. “Do all Druids think with
their tongues, boy?” he laughed loudly.
“I may not live a perfect life, but I believe in the power of the Christ
that my fathers believed in. And all of England
believes in it, too. All those poor
masses out there, leaning on every word of the priests, they believe with all
they are in the power of God. Your dream
is dead, boy. With this relic before me,
men will swarm from every corner of the earth to join my force. With this robe, my cause
will not be a hopeless fight against the past.
It will be a holy war, a crusade inspired by God himself! Do not think I am so foolish as to pass that
up!”
Michael lowered his eyes. “If you knew the power of
those you have captured…” he growled.
“Michael! Be silent!” the oldest Druid snapped quickly,
a look of annoyance on his face.
Alfred nodded his head. “Perhaps you should listen to your
counselors, boy,” he winked. “They may
yet save your neck from the sword.” Laughing,
he stepped out of the little cell and slammed the door back in its place.
~ ~ ~
Edward frowned, looking
at the branches they had gathered to make a fire. The dead boughs were slowly consumed by the
licking flames, until only charred skeletons remained where once verdant life
had flourished.
They had found no sign
of Malcolm, and Cedric was pressing them to move on toward Northampton.
Edward had spoken with him as the evening fell over the site of the
burned manor. Both knew by that time of
the theft of the robe, and Cedric considered it of utmost importance to
retrieve it. Edward could not resist his
logic, but something still cried out from within him not to desert his friend.
His eyes wandered back to
the blackened remains of the north wing.
Was that where Malcolm had fallen, in a fiery inferno, apart from all
his friends? He hung his head in
defeat. Malcolm had been a good friend,
and it was for Edward’s sake that he had come on this journey.
Oswald sat silently, his muscles tense, his arms rigid as he gazed at
the night sky.
“It will be good weather
tomorrow, I think,” Edward mused, trying to divert the Scot’s thoughts from his
lost commander.
The knight nodded, but said
nothing. They sat in silence for
several long minutes before Hannah strolled up beside the fire and sat down
across from them. Oswald remained
transfixed, his eyes staring blankly into the void of the sky, but Edward
held his eyes toward Hannah. She
adjusted the folds of her dark cloak as she sat, her eyes glistening in the
light of the fire. Her gaze found and
captured Edward’s, the fire burning brightly between them.
He longed to speak to her,
to hear her voice and to know her thoughts.
But no words were necessary. Their eyes spoke deeper than anything they
could have said, and they both felt the pain of the other. Edward marveled at her as he sat there. She had gone through a terrible, traumatic
life filled with hatred and pain. Yet
still she was strong. There was a sense
of courage, an unbreakable spirit of life about her that he could not deny.
After what seemed like only
a few short, blissful seconds of looking into each other’s eyes, she broke the
gaze and turned her attention to the fire.
“Come walk with me, Edward,” she said at last, barely a whisper above
the crackle of the burning branches.
They rose in unison and made
their way around the edge of a rise until the fire was out of sight. Edward felt uncomfortable, uncertain of what
to do or say. All of the confidence, the sure calm that he
had built up was stripped away whenever they were alone, and he felt as if his defenses were down.
She seemed content with his
silence, though, and they walked together over the short grass, breathing deeply
of the cool night air. At last she
turned to him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the half-moon. She studied his face for a
moment, then smiled sympathetically.
“You look worried.”
He nodded, but could find
nothing to say in response.
“Cedric isn't worried,” she continued. “And he is perhaps in a worse
position than we are.”
Edward smiled. “I find Cedric a bit eccentric, to tell the
truth. And he doesn't know all that has
happened. It is a serious affair.”
“Far too many things in life
are."
He shook his head and
grinned. “Life is not always as simple
as we make it out to be, Hannah. You of
all people know that. We need something
to give us solace from the pain that attacks us.”
“And for you it is your
faith."
They continued walking for a
ways before sitting down near one of the farm-trails. “And where is it that you run for comfort in
life, Hannah?”
She sighed and turned
away so that he wouldn't see the tears that sprang into her eyes.
“Before, I would have said that my
family is what brings me solace. But that
has been taken from me, and my faith with it.
The search for answers to that one question, Why, brings me no relief.
Only, I suppose, the frail dream and hope of a better future.”
They sat quietly for quite a while, the absolute
stillness creating an aura of peace around them. It was a feeling they had seldom had since their
lives had both been turned upside-down, and one they relished, for they knew
that it would not last long.
“There have been times,” she
said at last, “when I have wished I could take my own life. But something always held me back. You can never know what it is like to go
through life hated and lusted after at the same time.” She drew a ragged breath. “I have felt worthless…unclean…for so
long. Too long, Edward. I can hear my soul crying out for something
more, searching for answers on this dark void of a world, but nothing is there
for me.”
She turned and looked at him. “This probably sounds very
foolish, doesn’t it?”
“No,” he whispered. “Go on.”
She shook her head,
looking up at the bright points of starlight.
“I've often wished that I could fly. To glide away and leave all these troubles
behind, and never return. To go and look
at the beauty of the world and forget the hate and strife of mankind.” She rose, and Edward looked up at her as she
spoke. “Love isn't the answer, is
it? Neither is peace. They are just tastes of things that man will
never be able to find on his own.”
He rose and placed his hands
on her shoulders, so that she could not help but look at him. “There is a way,” he said softly.
She watched his expression
carefully. “And you think that you have
the answers to life, Edward? To all the
complexities, all the pain and trials?”
“No,” he responded
gently. “But I know who does. And I have put all of my trust in Him. He is the only reason that I've been able
to fight my way through life.”
She narrowed her eyes, as if
trying to look through him, to see what was hidden behind his resolve. “There is something different about you,” she
said. “Something that I have seen only
in you, in Raymond, and in your friends.
And I have thought about it....I cannot imagine what you have sacrificed
for me. This is my search, Edward, not yours.”
“And yet I will be beside you
every step of the way. I am a friend
that will not leave you.”
She smiled. “I'm grateful for your
friendship. It's
the only thing that kept a glimpse of hope alive in me these past weeks. I would be lost without your guidance.”
He chuckled. “I look to One greater than myself for
guidance, Hannah. He is the well of
living water that never can run dry. I
know that as a Jew you have felt the weight of hatred bearing down on you,” he
paused, choosing his words carefully.
“But there is a Deliverer from the pain...an answer beyond our
comprehension.”
She smiled wistfully. “I will think about it, Edward.”
“That’s all I ask. And I shall pray about it—for you.”
“Thank you,”
she said softly.
The fire was dying out as
they rejoined Oswald, still holding his vigil of the night sky. Edward sat in silence beside him.
Hannah withdrew,
watching them for a time from a hollow near a tree before turning away. She looked up at the sky, and raised up her arms.
“God of my fathers,” she
whispered, “hear me tonight. Show me,
Lord; show me the way. I cannot find it
on my own.”
She stayed there for a long
while, eventually sitting down on the soft moss, before exhaustion overtook her body and she fell into a deep slumber. The stars
circled in their paths above her, following the joyful dance their Master had
set for them at the beginning of time.
Whatever changed in the world, some things would always be constant,
radiating out from an eternal heart of love.
And she was just beginning to understand.