Michael Spradlin - Trail of Fate

“Once we arrive at this channel of yours, how do you intend to get us across it?” she asked.

“By ship,” I said, with confidence.

“I know by ship . But what kind of ship? Where do we find one?”

Robard chuckled under his breath as he worked at completing another arrow.

“Still to be determined,” I said.

“In other words, you have no idea, as usual,” Maryam said.

“No, I have an idea . It will definitely be a boat or ship of some kind,” I said resolutely.

Maryam rolled her eyes. “I hate ships,” she said, remembering her experience in the storm.

“Me too,” I told her. “But we can’t walk to England.”

In a few days, Robard had managed to replenish his supply of arrows. His wallet was nearly full, but he kept a constant lookout for suitable shafts. Without him I don’t know if we would have survived. Each evening he returned from scouting with some type of game so we didn’t go hungry. The nights were cool, and sleeping on the ground made us stiff and sore. But after a few days, when it looked as if Sir Hugh might have lost our trail, I felt happier than I had in a long time.

I still thought constantly of Celia. But I enjoyed walking along with Maryam each day, with Angel trotting happily along beside us until she smelled something in the woods and darted after it, barking lustily. Each night, when Robard arrived and told us he had seen no sign of Sir Hugh or anyone else who might be following us, it buoyed my spirits even more.

I hadn’t grown careless or forgotten that Sir Hugh would still be coming. But because I had finally unburdened myself to Maryam and Robard, my steps were lighter. The Grail was no longer a millstone around my neck, because I had friends who stood beside me and helped me lift up what had so weighed down my spirits.

Still, we were cautious. Robard watched our backs, and Angel became adept at alerting us if strangers were nearby. She would stop with her head pointed in front of her and sniff the air, then let out a low growl of warning. Maryam and I learned to recognize this pose and what it meant, and when she took it, we would scamper off the trail or find a thicket or stand of trees to hide in. Angel would follow us and stand ready but silent until the danger had passed.

We saw no soldiers or Templars, but many peasants and farmers. Invisibility was the key to our safety, for if no one saw us, then no one could tell Sir Hugh which way we traveled.

After we had been gone from Montsegur for nearly three weeks, Robard returned to camp one night with a worried look on his face.

“What is it?” I asked as he strode into the light of our small fire.

“I’m not certain,” he said, kneeling to warm his hands by the flames. “I’ve not seen a soul, but I circled back toward the village we passed last night,” he said. “North of there I found signs of a large group of horses headed this way. But I lost their tracks at the river. They must have ridden a ways in the shallows. I couldn’t find where they came out on either side. It bothers me how they headed this way first, but then vanished.”

“Do you think it might be Sir Hugh?” I wondered.

“I’m not sure. But it was a large group, so it had to be either soldiers or knights. It may be the local baron’s fyrd, but I don’t like how their tracks disappeared. It means they’re trying to conceal themselves. Why would the local fyrd act so?”

Neither Maryam nor I had an answer. At nightfall we agreed to take turns standing watch. Robard was still full of energy from his scout, so he volunteered to go first. Maryam would stand second, then wake me for the final hours until morning. Despite the tension and worry, I lay down near the fire, Angel settling in next to me, and fell asleep instantly.

Maryam shook me awake after her watch. I was groggy and out of sorts, having never been a person who wakes easily from sleep. Angel rolled over as Maryam took my spot on the ground, then settled next to her and was quickly back to sleep.

I squatted by the fire to warm myself, then stood, trying to ease the soreness out of my legs. The woods were quiet, and I guessed we had about three hours till sunrise. Robard lay on the other side of the fire, opposite Maryam, snoring quietly. His bow and wallet leaned against a tree next to him. I had slept with the short sword and battle sword close by, and I shrugged my way into them, still trying to come fully awake.

For a few minutes I paced around the edge of camp, stopping to listen to the sounds of the night. I heard nothing out of the ordinary. After half an hour I grew bored. Robard’s news had me on edge. I leaned with my back against the trunk of a tall tree and looked up at the sky. It was an overcast evening, and only the small flicker of flame provided any light.

Perhaps I could gather some more wood and build the fire up a bit. But before I could move, an arm came from behind the tree and a hand clamped over my mouth. I tried to shout out a warning, but only a slight grunt escaped.

Then it seemed as if the darkness exploded into movement. Maryam screamed and several man-sized shapes converged on the fire. Maryam rolled to her feet and ran out of the small circle of light, disappearing into the blackness. Robard shouted curses, and Angel became a symphony of barks and snarls.

My hand tried desperately to pull my short sword, but another arm clamped mine in place. I was helpless in the strong grip of my assailant. I twisted my head back and forth, and when I felt one of the fingers tear at my cheek, I bit down hard. A yelp sounded from behind me and I was momentarily released.

I pushed off the tree and darted toward the fire. Robard was being dragged away, and I raised my sword and shouted “Beauseant!” at the top of my lungs. Something hit me hard in the back and I went down. Try as I might, I couldn’t throw the weight off me. I tried to push myself up on my hands and knees, but was clubbed in the back of the head and down I went, losing my sword. The campfire was only a few inches away. I bucked up with all my might and felt my attacker fall to the side.

Grabbing a burning log from the campfire, I stood and swung where I thought the man should be, but he wasn’t. Confused, I turned around and had only a second with the light from the flaming log to see him standing in front of me. He held the hilt of his sword tight in his hand, and before it connected with the side of my head and everything faded to blackness, I recognized his uniform.

These were not Templars.

They were King’s Guards.

As I swam up toward consciousness, I sensed we were being carried up and down over rough ground. There were voices quietly murmuring around me. It sounded like Maryam and Robard, but I couldn’t be sure. Finally, I managed to open my eyes and looked up to see the sun peeking down at me through the bars of a cage.

A ripple of dizziness overtook me as I tried to sit up. “Easy, Tristan,” I heard Maryam say. Her hands probed the side of my head. The attack in the woods came flashing back to me, along with the last thing I remembered-turning to see the King’s Guard seconds before he punched me in the head.

“Where are we?” I mumbled.

“We don’t know,” Maryam said. “We’re locked inside a cage on the back of a wagon. We’ve been traveling for several hours now.”

My head was resting in Maryam’s lap. I finally opened my eyes and willed myself to stay focused. The dizziness passed, and I gingerly pulled myself into a sitting position. I touched the side of my face and winced.

“Careful,” Maryam said. “You’ve got a nasty knot there.”

When I could finally focus, I squinted up at the sun. We were still heading north.