Michael Spradlin - Trail of Fate

Robard landed hard on his back and lay stunned on the ground. Philippe pulled a small dagger from his belt.

Celia and I both shouted, but Philippe behaved as if he did not hear us. Robard had rolled to his hands and knees, but his back was to the Frenchman. Maryam started toward Robard’s side, shouting, but two of Celia’s men moved threateningly toward her and I put out my arm to stop her, not wanting this to get any worse than it already was.

Philippe was only a few feet from Robard when a golden streak whirled past me, headed directly toward the Frenchman, barking furiously. It was the dog.

Unafraid of Philippe’s great size, she ran full speed at him and leapt into the air, clamping down on his wrist with her jaws.

He shook his wrist, howling in pain, but she would not let go. He dropped the dagger and danced around the clearing shrieking, but could not free his arm. Robard finally rose and shouted a command, and she instantly released her grip. She didn’t retreat though, backing up a few steps and going low to the ground, growling, muscles coiled and teeth bared. The fight had finally gone out of both Robard and Philippe, who stood eyeing each other.

Seizing the moment, I moved between them, holding out my arms.

“Both of you, stop! Enough! There are no enemies here. Robard, I am very glad you are alive, but this has been a mistake. I am not a prisoner.”

Robard was still confused and dazed by his fight with Philippe. He was out of breath, but I wanted him to calm down. There was no need to make enemies when we were outnumbered and in a strange land.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked back to find Celia and her companions pointing at the mutt at my feet and laughing hysterically.

Celia, Martine and the others were laughing wildly now. Philippe and Robard looked at us, perplexed. Maryam stared at them in wonder, but lowered her daggers.

“Oh. Oh my goodness,” Celia said, wiping at her eyes, trying to control her laughter. “Philippe! You have been undone by a savage beast!” She chuckled again, and Martine and the rest of her group joined in.

“Celia? Philippe still looks ready to charge. Can you please ask him to relax?”

Celia tried but burst out laughing again. Although Philippe had temporarily stopped his advance on Robard, the dog sat on her haunches barking excitedly, then jumped up and down until I scooped her up in my arms. She licked my face, and this brought another round of laughter.

“Celia?” I asked.

Celia spoke to Philippe and he answered back sharply. She talked over him until, with one last glare at Robard, he stormed off toward the stream, washing his hands and face in the water, complaining loudly all the time.

“Friendly fellow,” Robard said, still trying to catch his breath.

Celia’s head snapped around to face Robard, and her eyes blazed. She had gone from laughter to anger in a heartbeat.

“We do not appreciate being shot at for no reason. Someone could have been killed,” Celia replied. There was steel in her voice, and given Robard’s temper, I knew this could start things up again.

Robard looked surprised she could understand him. To avoid her intense gaze he occupied himself with straightening his tunic and slapping the dust and dirt out of his breeches.

“Mademoiselle, I assure you: if I wanted someone dead, they’d be dead. It was a warning shot, a diversion to give Maryam a chance to act. It appeared you were holding my friend prisoner,” he said.

I interrupted, hoping to change the subject and defuse the situation.

“Robard, where did you come from? How did you survive the storm? How did you find me? Us? And where is your bow?”

Truth be told, I still didn’t know much about Celia and her group. They had yet to show me anything other than a sort of abrupt kindness, but they still made me wary. Considering we were outnumbered, I thought it best that Robard remain armed.

“We followed your tracks from the beach. The boat broke apart, but we managed to cling to a piece of the decking and were blown ashore. We found a set of footprints on the beach, thinking it might be someone from the ship, then discovered six riders had surrounded whoever made them. In the woods where the Frenchman knocked it out of my hand,” he replied dutifully.

“And with such paltry information you decided it was necessary to attack us?” Celia snorted. She was not easily pushed off point.

Robard looked at her and smiled.

“My mistake, mademoiselle. Please accept my apologies,” he said, bowing gallantly.

Maryam sheathed her daggers and gave me a hug so fierce I thought it might push all the breath from my lungs.

“Tristan, are you hurt?” she asked.

“I wasn’t,” I groaned at the intensity of her embrace, which had reawakened the aches and pains I’d suffered in the shipwreck. Finally her hands rested on my upper arms, and she looked me up and down. Celia studied Maryam intently. Forgetting her anger with Robard, her face clouded as she watched Maryam inspect me.

“No, Maryam. I’m just sore from being battered about by the waves. I’m fine. Really.”

“Praise Allah!” Maryam said.

It took a few minutes of explanations and questions back and forth until everyone was satisfied. Celia introduced everyone in her troop, but Philippe sulked off near the horses by himself. Once Celia had explained everything, they were willing to let bygones be bygones, all of them smiling and having another good laugh over the dog so ferociously attacking Philippe.

“ Mon dieu , that was funny,” Celia said. “Poor Philippe. Such a vicious little creature!” The dog jumped down from my arms and twirled at Celia’s feet, barking happily. Celia scooped her up and rubbed her ears and muzzle. Traitorous cur!

“How adorable,” she said. The dog licked her face. “What a sweet little angel. What is her name?”

“Her name? I. . uh. . Her name. . It’s. . her name. .”

“You don’t know the name of your own dog?” she asked.

“I haven’t had her very long. .,” I stammered.

“How long?” Celia demanded.

“Not. . since we left Tyre a few days ago. . really. . She just tagged along. . and. .”

“And you haven’t given her a name ?” She was incredulous. “Poor little thing.” She smiled and cooed, “Sweet little angel.”

“Of course she has a name! It’s. . um. . Angel. Her name is Angel!” I said.

Celia arched an eyebrow in disbelief. I held her gaze.

“It certainly fits,” she said, giggling as “Angel” resumed attempting to lick her to death.

“What happened to Captain Denby and the crew?” I asked Robard, wanting to change the subject from my poor stewardship of the newly christened Angel.

“Lost, I would expect.” He shrugged. “His sorry excuse for a ship came apart like parchment. There were no signs of other survivors on the shore except your tracks. We’re lucky the wind blew us all in the same direction. We completely lost sight of you when you went into the water.”

Robard’s words caused me to shudder at the memory. Once we located another ship and made it safely to England, ideally my sailing days would be over. If only there were a way for me to walk all the way home. What I wouldn’t have given for a bridge to England.

“I’m glad you are unhurt and we are all together again,” I said. And it was true. Finding Maryam and Robard here had done wonders for my spirits. My aches and pains even felt better.

The fire was restarted, and the bird was again cooking over the flames. One of the other Frenchmen, whom Celia had introduced as Jean-Luc, returned from the nearby woods with several bunches of wild grapes. He offered some to us and we devoured them in seconds. Having had nothing to eat since the storm started a day and half before, I was starving.