Copyright Matthew Burden, 2001
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~46~
He was floating…It was a strange feeling, as if he
were not merely floating upon something, but as if he himself were suspended in a medium of nothingness. He was
blind, or at least he felt blind; everything was shaded in absolute
darkness. He swam, flew through the vast
void before him, and it uplifted him, held him, wrapped itself around him like
the comforting warmth of a cloak.
And then—there, in the distance—light? It was only the faintest trace, the smallest
hint of anything that did not fit in against the vast sea of darkness around
him. The more he stared at it, the
brighter the light grew, until it was unmistakable. It shot out towards him in one straight beam
and enveloped him. He
wasn’t certain how, but he gained the distinct impression that he was moving
toward the source of the light, but whether quickly or slowly, he couldn’t
judge.
He heard a voice above him, singing faintly, a
beautiful voice. Its harmony seemed to
intertwine with the light in a way that he could not explain, but it touched
him to the deepest part of his soul, and one thought filled his mind. I’m
going home.
The light grew steadily brighter and brighter until he
thought his eyes would burst from the intensity. And the song continued…He could almost see
what was beyond the light, but…too bright.
And the song continued.
~ ~ ~
His eyes snapped open, blinded by the sunlight
streaming in from the window above his bed.
His head throbbed with pain, as if someone was constantly
pounding at his temples with a pair of mallets. He closed his eyes again, the memories coming
back like a flood.
Rain was all
around him; thunder rumbling like the growl of a hungry beast, hungry for his
blood. If I die, I die for Christ. Michael, his face twisted into a grimace of
utter rage and contempt. Bright steel
flashing, biting deep into his side. Michael
above him, weeping, crying out, hurting.
Oh, that I could comfort him. But
I’m dying…I love you, Hannah…
He opened his eyes again, looking around the
room. The song—where was it coming
from? He could hear it, a beautiful
voice hovering like an angelic chorus above him. And there she was. Her face was turned away from him, but he
could tell it was her: the raven-black tresses, the voice. But what was she saying? He couldn’t understand. There were words, many of them, flowing
together in a beautiful web of melody that entranced him.
“I meant it, you know,” he rasped.
“Edward!” She was immediately at the bedside, her hand against his brow and a
worried look on her face. “Do you feel all right?”
He tried to laugh, but it hurt too much and came out
sounding more like a facetious groan.
“What a question! Of course
not! My head is about to implode, and I dare not draw any breath deeper than a small pant for fear I’ll
burst my lungs!”
“Well,” she smiled worriedly, “you’d better get some
more rest then.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, throwing himself
into a sitting position. A wave of pain
from his left side caused him to double over and slowly recline back onto the
bed. “Okay, I was wrong,” he gasped, his
voice thin. “Maybe I will lie here a
while longer.”
She fixed a motherly glare on him. “See that you do.” She paused, sitting down next to him on the
bed. “What did you mean?”
“What?”
“What did you mean—you said just know that you meant it. What were you talking about?”
“Oh,” he said, releasing a long, drawn-out
breath. “I meant—what I told you the
last time I saw you.” He caught her gaze
and held it, studying her eyes for a long moment. With the light shining down around her, she
truly did appear to be a angelic vision beside him. It was an instant that he longed to
hold onto forever, but like all moments do, it slipped through his fingers and
disappeared.
Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ve been thinking, Hannah. I
thought I was ready to die for Christ.
But then I wondered, have I really even been living for Him? This whole time, we’ve run into so many
people, all different from each other.
But—the whole way, what were we thinking of? Family, protecting ourselves, protecting each
other—these are all good things, but…what weren’t we doing?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t understand.”
He smiled gently, rubbing his temples. “I’m not so sure I do either—I’m still a
little muddled from it all. But I’ve
been wondering…if Christ had been traveling with us, what would He have
done? I think He would have done all
that we did, but He would have done more, too.
He would have stopped on the roadside, in the inns, everywhere, just to
talk to people. People were so important
to Him, because He knew that there is nothing on this earth worth anything near
as much as the price of one soul.
“And, Hannah,” Edward’s eyes met hers, and he nearly
began crying, “I know that I’ve tried to follow in the footsteps of my
Lord. I’ve gone out and left behind all
I have, I’ve tried to show love to others, I’ve given up my own life to help
them, but still—I don’t think I ever trusted the Lord the way He intended it to
be. I’ve only been working with half the
picture, thinking I could bring it to fruition in my own strength. And it’s a lie, Hannah.”
She nodded understandingly, but did not interrupt,
listening raptly to the confession.
“I look around me, and I see that I’ve surrounded
myself with friends, and they love me because I’ve been showing them earthly
love in the Lord’s name—providing for them and helping them. That’s good, but I need to be every moment
the way I was with you, and the way I was with Alfred—fighting for your
salvation. And when I thought about it
that way, a conviction gripped me that chilled me right to my bones. Hannah—I’ve only reached out with the gospel
of hope to those that I cared enough about, and it’s so wrong! God’s love is not limited to family or to
earthly love, and I have been denying the opportunities I’ve had to share it
with others, with people I normally wouldn’t approach. That’s what Christ did, isn’t it? He went out to the tax collectors and
prostitutes and showed them enough love not only to help them in this life but
to try to offer them salvation!” His
eyes were alight, his face bright.
“That’s what it’s all about, Hannah!
I can’t just go around making friends by doing good deeds! I have to trust God to give me strength as I
speak about His greatest love to even the lowliest of men!”
Hannah nodded. “I have thought of some of these things as
well. If there’s one thing that
we’ve seen on our journey, it is that our country needs to see Christ as He
truly was."
Edward smiled and nodded, tugging at the silk drapes
that hung down beside the window. “Look
at all this,” he said, pointing around the room. “All this wasted wealth! This is not how it was meant to be! Think how much this could do out among the
common people!”
Hannah nodded.
“Think how much two lives lived boldly for Christ can do out among the
common people!”
He grinned against the pain. “It’s an adventure, Hannah. It’s frightening, but exciting at the same
time. Sometimes I think I’ve had enough
excitement for one lifetime, but then I think about that life—a life lived out
for the love of the Savior. The greatest
adventure of all—do you think you’re up for it?”
She smiled broadly, and with that smile Edward felt as
if a chorus of anthems broke out in his head. “Not by myself,” she said. “If we’re in this, we’re in this together—and
with Christ.”
Edward could not help but laugh for joy. “Together,
then.”
Hannah smiled at him, leaning over to place a kiss on
his forehead. In response, he reached
up, trailing one finger down the soft curve of her cheek. It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke
more eloquently than any words between them could.
“I thought I was ready to be a martyr,” he said
softly. “To be at home with the Lord by
dying in His service—someday, perhaps. But
for now,” he smiled broadly at her, “I’m glad I’m still here.”
~ ~ ~
They had been there nearly a week, and Edward was
already up and walking, burning to be back on the road for home. He paced around the main hall like a
caged animal, suffering through the pleas by his friends that he go back and
rest. Malcolm would always be the first
to give up when they tried to persuade him to lie down; he knew how stubborn
his friend was. Finally, the group of
friends allowed Edward to push them into scheduling a departure, which brought sighs of relief to many of the household servants.
The main hall had been left in disarray by the men who
would gather there each and every day to discuss their former adventures or
what might be still to come. Swords and
bucklers had been left lying out on the table, along with more goblets than any
of the servants wanted to count. A fire
was kept continually burning, since the room was used by someone almost
continuously, even during the night. It
was often that Edward would sit up many long hours discussing with anyone who
cared to listen about a particular passage of Scripture he had been
pondering. Often, he would have a fair-sized crowd from both his own friends and
the noble’s household that would come to listen and discuss for hours on end.
Eventually the appointed morning came, and Edward rose
early to prepare. So early, in fact, that
no one else in the house was awake save a few of the servants who were
preparing a meal. He waited in the main
hall until Justin and the Count wandered in, their faces fixed as if they had
been pondering something for quite some time and were now finally ready to tell
someone else.
“Edward,” Justin said, his hands clasped behind
his back. “Since we are all leaving this
place soon, we thought it would be prudent to consider what was to be done with
the robe.”
He nodded with a slight smile, reaching down into the
hidden pocket in the inner lining of his cloak.
Within the space of a few moments, the garment was out in the
light, and all three men were gazing at it in open wonderment.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Edward mused as he rubbed
the fabric between his fingers. “That
one piece of clothing could cause so much trouble when it is a reminder of the
best thing that ever happened to us.”
The Count reached forward and gently took the robe
from Edward’s hand. He held it up to the
light, his arms trembling with holy fear.
“It helps us remember, though,” he whispered reverently. “Whenever we see it, we cannot help reflect
on that one ultimate sacrifice, on our Lord, broken for our forgiveness. I made a pledge to
the Lord that on the day I was able to
hold this in my hands, I would follow Him wherever He led me…even if it meant
renouncing my vows to the Temple.”
Edward watched him for a long moment, a beam of light
falling directly on him from a window-slit cut high in the wall. “And where is He leading you?”
The Templar shrugged, breaking into a broad grin. “I’m still not certain, but I’ve reasoned
this much out: if the Lord wants me to do something, He won’t hide it in
mysteries. If He calls me somewhere,
I’ll know it. But for now, I think I will
remain with the Templars. I may be able
to use my high position to begin to shift the tide. Perhaps one day the Knights Templar will be
the kind of men they claim to be.”
“And you?” Edward directed the question at Justin.
The knight shrugged.
“To most of my old acquaintances I am dead or lost, and I see no reason
to change that impression. I think…” he
halted, glancing at the Count. “…I mean,
if Hannah agrees, since she has recovered her uncle…”
Edward nodded, looking at the robe. “I think it is yours by right. It was your blood and sweat that brought it
this far from the Holy Land, and it has only
brought trouble on us. Do you think you
can find a safe-house for it?”
Justin nodded.
“I think so. The monastery at Iona would certainly be willing to conceal it, at least
for a time. If not, I will simply
continue the work I have begun.”
The Count nodded.
“And I hope to be able to slow down the Templars’ pursuit from the
inside. Whether it is the true robe or
not, we have decided that it cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of the
Templars—not until we know for certain that their allegiances are true. At the same time, we must continue to protect
it from those who would use it for their own gain.”
Edward nodded somberly. “It’s dangerous, I’ll admit, but if anyone
can be able to protect it, I’m certain you two can. So if I have a vote, I’ll cast it towards
your plan. But I think Hannah should be
the one to decide.”
Justin nodded.
“I agree. This entire escapade
has all been done for her, and by my agreement with her father, the robe is
hers.”
Hannah suddenly stepped out of the shadows of the
doorway, where she had overheard the dialogue.
The light fell on her hair, a glistening cascade of midnight black. “I agree,” she said quietly. “But—let me hold it once more before you
leave.”
The Count carefully laid it across her outstretched
arms, and she lifted it up against the light, a smile on her lips.
“When I first saw this robe, I
joked with my father that in ages past, it might have been the royal garment of
the greatest king. And now I can see how
correct that statement was.”
She smiled again, and handed the robe back to Justin with a nod.
The two men bid their hasty good-byes and proceeded out to the courtyard.
Justin bowed to Edward and Hannah as they stood on the portico, watching them in the dappled sunlight of early morning.
“Wherever you go, my friends,” Edward’s voice broke,
“remember that you are the King’s ambassadors.
Never let a day pass when you do not testify to the One who has saved
you.”
Justin nodded.
“We will remember, dear friends.
We ride out today under His banner, and none other. Into the darkness, my dear Count!” he cried as he wheeled his mount. “May
the Lamb accept the tribute of our suffering!”
“Unto the King!” the Count let out an exultant
shout. “We ride!”
With that, the two horses charged away from
the manor and towards the west, their figures blazing in the flaming light
of the rising sun at their backs. As
they faded from sight, the wind brought back whispers of laughter and song. The adventure was only beginning.