The Knights of J'shua Book 1

Updated 11/16/24

Chapter 31

Jonathan

Jonathan slipped into the East Garden. With midday approaching, the gardeners would be away. He had no trouble getting in again. It was easy to blend in amongst the workers with the constant deliveries to feed those working and living inside High Keep.

Thank you, Lord J’shua.

Jonathan made his way to the center of the maze. As he was early, he lay on the sweet alyssum covering the ground, bathing in the honey-like fragrance of their childhood years. He was eager to know if Sagen had been successful. Closing his eyes, he prayed.

“…when managing people, judge them not by their words, but by their actions.”

The voice was not Sagen’s, but that of an older man. Jonathan slipped into a hiding place before the words became distinct.

“I’ll remember,” Sagen replied as they arrived at the center. “It appears Jonathan isn’t here yet. He’s sure Gaelib is preventing him from seeing me.”

“Be very wary of men that love riches.”

Realizing the voice belonged to King Edal, Jonathan stepped into view and went down on one knee. “Your Majesty, I am honored by your presence.”

“Jon, you made it!” Sagen’s face lit up.

The king’s eyes widened as he smiled. “Most cunning, Sir Jonathan. Arise, Knight of J’shua. Please, sit with us. I’m delighted you interceded for my people. I always knew you were of excellent character. Tell me more.”

“Your Majesty, soldiers are enforcing foreclosure of loans, demanding immediate payment in full. Most cannot pay. They—they take wives and children. Those who do not comply—some have disappeared, others had their farms burned—or worse.”

“You have proof of this?”

“They burned my farm. My wife and daughter are missing, and her parents are dead. Nor is this the only case I have encountered and investigated.” He reached within his tunic and produced a sheaf of papers. “Each is signed.”

King Edal frowned as he read. “These are disturbing. They confirm my decision.” He gestured to his son, who produced a leather pouch holding twelve scrolls. “I need the proclamation posted with the heralds in each jurisdiction. Will you do this for me?”

Sagen handed one to Jonathan.

His eyes teared up as he read. “I am honored to distribute them, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent. Go westward. I shall send another rider south and east.”

“May I speak, Sire?”

“Yes, right now, you’re my most faithful subject.”

“Sire, I have been to Mestelina. The Mestels are no threat. They love J’shua and are peaceful. So, why are we building an army?”

The king put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “The Earl of Lorness has his own intentions for the army, but I will use it for good. He doesn’t understand that a godly man acting out of love is more powerful than anything. If I put those upright men into my army, they’ll exert J’shua’s influence, overcome, and do right.”

Jonathan bowed. “Thank you, Sire, for reassuring me. I had no right to doubt you.”

King Edal laughed. “I oft doubt myself. God helps us to walk in the light, yes?”

“Yes, Sire, he does.”

“Is there anything you need from us to help with your task?”

“Perhaps a pass? In case I have a disagreement with any soldiers.”

“An excellent idea. Once the first proclamation posts, word will spread. It will displease many. Be careful, Jonathan. I want you in my court someday. You’ll have the pass within the hour. Wait here.” King Edal turned to his son. “Come, Jonathan must be away.”

“I’ll return with your pass,” Sagen said while extending the pouch. Then he followed his father out of the maze.

Jonathan grinned as he read the proclamation again.

This will benefit so many. Although it may not help me find Rebekah and Sarah, it will free people that may know of them.

***

The king’s proclamation gave Jonathan a sense of relief, but the thought of his family crushed it. He stared up at heaven, his eyes wet. Had Rebekah rescued Sarah? He had no way to know. It gnawed at him.

At least they will no longer be hunted.

From High Keep, he rode toward the setting sun. It took Jonathan only two days to reach Farr. As he traversed the town, a girl ran across the street in front of him, golden curls bouncing. His breath caught. Blond hair was uncommon in the north.

Sarah?

He dismounted and ran toward the girl. “Sarah!”

She turned. Her eyes, her cheeks, and her mouth were wrong. She smiled and ran toward a woman waiting for her in front of a shop.

With a heavy sigh, he lowered his head, and turned away, trudging back to his horse, shoulders slumped.

When he saw the leather package full of the precious scrolls, he set his jaw and briskly remounted. Sitting tall in the saddle, he urged the horse into a trot. As he neared the old stone herald station, the nickers and neighs of fresh horses tied, tacked, and ready to ride, declared the discipline of the king’s messengers.

The herald was an ancient man with a long gray beard and wise eyes, perhaps as old as the structure itself. He sat at a long oak desk, his nose only inches from the parchment he scribbled on.

Jonathan bristled. The announcement wall displayed posters of criminals and fugitives. Seeing his wife’s, he tore it from the pockmarked surface.

The herald lifted a hand, opening his mouth to protest.

“I am Jonathan Otual, Knight of J’shua. The king sent me.” He passed the proclamation to the herald. Then he pointed to the wall of warrants, shaking his wife’s. “These are not to be hunted.”

The old man read, eyebrows rising. “This’ll cause an uproar. You should leave before I announce it. Many of the wealthy hereabouts have bought these tributes.”

“I go because I have more destinations. Do you acknowledge receipt of the decree?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll proclaim it at once.”

“The God of Truth bless you in J’shua’s name,” Jonathan shouted as he departed.

Then he mounted, looking to the horizon as a cold breeze tousled his hair and dark clouds formed above. He dragged his navy cloak tighter and prayed for success.

Chapter 32

Rebekah

Rebekah gazed at the stand of Quaking Aspen as the joyful leaves fluttered in the breeze, a few moments of respite from the burdens of government that had fallen upon her. She could hear the voices of men arguing and women corralling the young children from her secluded clearing. As she stirred the melting beeswax, she sighed. Their small community of fugitives was as fractious as any other group.

Rebekah watched as Teress Donitoro approached, her weathered face creased with concern. The two women sat on a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the clearing, where the noise from the settlement was muffled by the dense foliage of Frei Forest.

“You're thinking of her again, aren't you?” Teress asked, placing a gentle hand on Rebekah's shoulder.

Rebekah nodded; her throat tight. “I can't stop. Every moment I'm not actively doing something, my mind goes to Sarah. It's like a knife twisting in my gut, Teress. I need to find her.”

“But you know you can't leave,” Teress reminded her, though her voice was kind. “The bounty on our heads since escaping the debt collectors... it's too dangerous. Your trips to town to sell candles and reed baskets are risky enough.”

“I know,” Rebekah whispered. “Being captured would do Sarah no good. And now...” She gestured toward the settlement behind them. “There are so many depending on us.”

Teress nodded. “Twelve families. Forty-six children. J'shua has guided more to us than I ever expected.”

“We've all lost so much,” Rebekah said. “Our homes, our belongings. I remember when we first came here, how we'd share our sorrows. And now...”

“Now we share stories, songs, jokes,” Teress finished. “We've become family.”

Rebekah turned to face her friend, her eyes glistening. “I care for them all, Teress. I do. But none of them...” She swallowed hard. “None of them share this pain, my pain. My daughter is out there, somewhere, and I must seek her. Alone.”

Teress was quiet for a moment, looking out at their unusual settlement. “We live in fear of discovery,” she said. “The families with babies stay furthest from the river, where their cries won't carry. Even our laughter could betray us.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Rebekah admitted, “if Sarah's laughter would give us away, were she here. She always had such a bright laugh.”

Teress squeezed her hand. “We'll find her, Rebekah. Somehow, someday. But for now, we must keep everyone safe. Including you.”

They both stood. Teress grabbed her into a tight hug. “I don’t know where we’d be without you. Everyone feels that way. If there is anything I can do to help, please tell me.”

Over the din of the settlement, a rustling in the green underbrush drew her attention as a child burst through, chirping, “Mother Otual, Mother Otual, we’re ready.”

 “I see your laborers have arrived,” Teress said as she waved and turned toward the discordant noise deeper in the forest and disappeared.

The sight of the girl brought no joy, only stabbing memories of Sarah. Still, she smiled. It would be wrong to steal a child’s delight. All the others followed her, popping into view like tadpoles.

“I know you have all dipped candles before, but it is different to have so many hands helping,” Rebekah said, once all the children assembled. Today, the tallest children would help. “Make a line. To be safe, you’ll all obey my instructions, yes?”

“Yes, Mother Otual,” the children chorused.

“Put your hand on the shoulder of the one in front of you.”

Twelve hands shot out.

“Now, straighten your arms.”

The line lengthened.

“Very good. See how far apart you are? That’s the distance you must stay while dipping the candles. Otherwise, you might drip hot wax on your friend.”

One by one, she showed them how to lower the stick parallel to the ground to dip twelve wicks into the hot wax. After one dipped, they marched to the end of the line. By the time each returned to the front, the wax on the string had hardened enough to dip again.

Mister Frink, a thin, frail man with oily hair escaping from his cap, stormed up as she watched the children. “Rebekah, someone lost the hatchet.”

Rebekah recognized his voice and didn’t turn. “Ask everyone around the fire tonight if anyone’s seen it.”

Mister Bendol appeared, intruding before Frink could respond, “Rebekah, I provided the anvil; I should decide who uses it.”

“Why? Would you deny another in need?” she turned and glared.

He frowned as she returned to watch the children.

“Rebekah!” Mother Hinston ran up. Her screeching voice surprised the dipping girl, who turned abruptly and wailed.

The woman ignored the child and continued, “I’ve five children. I shouldn’t have watch duty again.”

Rebekah stilled her rage as she tended to the crying girl. “There, there, it’s just a few sprinkles. Nothing’s ruined.” She checked the child’s hands. Memories of a scar on Sarah’s hand caused by a burn, pushed her near to breaking, yet she spoke softly, “It will need washing, but that’s all.” She scraped the hardened wax from the child’s shift with her thumb. “Line up, children; let’s start again.”

Only once they’d recommenced did she round on Mother Hinston, hissing, “You could have caused that girl to be marred. You go explain it to her parents.”

Mother Hinston blanched.

“I didn’t ask to be your leader. I’ve problems of my own, or have you forgotten about my daughter?”

The men took a step backward.

“We—” Frink began.

“Solve your own petty squabbles.” Rebekah steadied her voice. “Once Vincent’s taught me to pass as a man, I’m leaving. Nothing is more important than finding Sarah.” Rebekah turned her back on them, fixing a pleasant smile on her face. She’d not upset the children.

***

Rebekah rode into Fairness Crossing wearing plain breeches and a rough woolen tunic. It had taken more than a moon’s practice to make her believable enough to talk to a stranger face-to-face, giving no hint of her gender. Today was the first half-moon of early summer. They’d been hiding in the Frei for almost two moons.

Vincent Donitoro had given her clothes and cut her hair to shoulder length. With a piece of lace she’d tatted to fit, the women fashioned a beard from her cut hair. It took weeks to knot the hairs into the fine lace and hand-curl them with a blade. Then trim it with care. She fastened it in place with glue, hiding her feminine jawline.

Taking a different name for her new persona, she posed as a down-on-his-luck farmer who scrounged a living selling candles, leather, and whatever else he could lay his hands on. This provided the Frei community with supplies and, even more important, with information every two or three weeks. Only the Donitoros and the Dugans knew she used the name Tommas Bekh. It was a secret to dear to share.

There was still no rumor about Sarah. Listening would not be enough. She needed to bring the topic up.

In town, she encountered Simon Hunt, the local herald’s assistant. He lumbered toward her, dressed in the blue tabard of the office, his brown wavy hair pulled tight into a tail.

“Tommas.” Simon beckoned Rebekah over. “I’ve been told you’re looking for work. There’s a stable in need of an extra hand for a few days. It includes a dry place to sleep.”

Looking down at her disheveled appearance, she mumbled, “Yeah—that would be good.”

“Why so glum? Surely, a few baden landing in your pocket is a good thing?”

Rebekah tried a new tactic. She bit her lip.

“Yeah—yeah—it’s—” she hesitated. “Someone took my daughter in a collection. She was supposed to be safe with my sister and her husband, but…”

“Them too?” The assistant shook his head. “This is happening too often. Contracts have been misplaced. Or ignored. When was your girl…?”

“A moon ago, but I only learned of it this week.”

“That’s rough. I overheard—there have been wagons of children taken to Commandant Greysun’s camp. The boys—uh, join—his trainees.” Simon looked down at his feet. “I’ve no word about the girls. But all the carts were empty when they left. So…”

Rebekah’s insides knotted. “Oh—” She already knew they went to Greysun first. Now she feared the worst. She couldn’t walk into a brothel, pretending to want that service.

“Look, go to the stables, tell them I sent you. Smile at the widow who owns it. She likes to take in strays. It might get you a hot meal. Maybe more than one.”

“Thanks—thanks, I’ll do that.”

She worked for the widow for two days and was paid well. When she left for the Frei the woman gave her a bundle of bread and cheese. Tears formed, she was moved by her generosity.

“J’shua bless you ma’am.”

Rebekah turned to leave when words sounded unbidden in her mind.

Find the weasel.

That was a task she could do.

Her thoughts returned to George Rosewud.

Chapter 33

Owakar

The light of the God of Truth bled through the third heavens to the Celestial Sea below warming all with his care. The burning orb the humans called the sun, was a candle compared to the father’s light. Three moons had passed since his son, J’shua, appointed him an apprentice watcher. He bit his lip; he was falling short. Today was the first half-moon of summer, the twenty-ninth year in the reign of King Edal according to the reckoning of time in the country he surveilled.

His silvery fingers trembled slightly as he recorded the day's observations in the luach, his troubled thoughts spilling forth. “How could this woman masquerading as a man facilitate anything good?” Owakar added her doings to the Book of Life. A passage appeared from the luach.

[And we know that all things work together for good…]

“Hmph. Their lives are so short—mere breaths in the eternal wind. Why must they be so fraught with suffering? Isn’t there a better way?”

The luach thrummed again, its many facets rustling with supernatural energy.

[Wisdom is better than weapons of war.]

“I know, I know,” Owakar muttered, pacing the celstial space. “And wisdom is only gained through suffering.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, even as he acknowledged their truth.

[For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.]

Owakar bowed his head, humbled. “Yes, J’shua, of course.”

[The upright shall not much remember the days of his life; because God answers him in the joy of his heart.]

“It is written,” he murmured, though questions still swirled in his mind like leaves in a whirlwind.

He wondered what his brother, Alocrin, would think of her. Maybe they could meet at the inn and discuss it. Owakar sent the message to his mentor and went to the inn. Travel for a watcher was only a thought away.

He became physical in the nearby woods, then entered the Lion and Tiger Inn dressed as a peasant, his garments of simple peasant's cloth, worn but clean.

Alocrin, already there, wore the garb and airs of a merchant and conversed with the innkeeper.

As their eyes met, Alocrin thanked the man and pushed away from the counter holding a jug and two cups. “Come, Owakar, I think you need some good ale. My friend, Daryl, will send bread.”

“We’re supposed to blend in,” Owakar whispered through clenched teeth, even as he followed his brother to a table in the corner.

Alocrin's eyes sparkled with amusement. “I do.” Alocrin raised his eyebrows and gestured toward the steady stream of merchants that poured through the door. “Notice how no one gives us a second glance? That's the art of true invisibility—hiding in plain sight.”

Owakar shook his head as he plopped down on the bench of a rough-hewn table, his fingers tracing the grooves worn smooth by countless patrons before him. “I haven’t been a watcher for very long,” he said, his voice heavy with self-doubt. “From what I’ve read, since the last earl died, it’s become worse and worse. The suffering, the intrigue, the darkness...”

Alocrin placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Peace, brother. You are doing well. I will continue to pray for you. Do not worry for them. They must learn. Just like we do.”

Owakar's sigh seemed to carry the weight of worlds. The tavern's warmth and his brother's presence began to ease some of his tension, though his concerns still lingered like morning mist.

“It is unfortunate,” Alocrin continued, his voice taking on a teacher's measured tone, “that they learn best by experiencing failures and pain. Sometimes we can warn them away from danger, but that often pushes the lesson farther down the road to a time in life when the consequences might be even more dire.” He paused as a serving girl placed a steaming loaf of bread and a dish of cinnamon honey sop before them, the sweet aroma rising between them.

“So, the God of Truth has ordained that each should learn their lessons as soon as they can. We can at times interrupt traps set by their adversary. But most of their mishaps are of their own devising.” A gentle smile crossed his face. “The infant that is always carried never learns to walk.”

Owakar nodded slowly, taking a contemplative sip of the sweet, earthy ale. The familiar taste grounded him in this earthly moment.

Alocrin leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “At least you have exciting things to observe and facilitate. Tell me of this woman that dresses like a man. She must be quite remarkable.”

A smile tugged at Owakar's lips despite his worries. “She has become quite convincing. The way she carries herself, the subtle adjustments in her speech and manner—it's rather impressive.”

Alocrin’s laugh was rich and genuine. “Do you think she’ll keep doing it?”

“I do.” Owakar's voice grew animated. “J’shua recommended I prompt her to find George Rosewud next time she leaves, to give her a focus. She's clever about it—asking casual questions in taverns, building a network of contacts. She’s accepted as a regular in some.” His lips quirked. “Or rather, Tomas has.”

“Excellent! How far has she ventured?” Alocrin asked, leaning in.

“Each time she leaves their community in Frei Forest, she ranges farther.” Owakar's voice lowered with concern.  “It is more dangerous with each journey—the earl’s soldiers has are everywhere. She went as far as Lorness her last trip.”

“I look forward to hearing more of her escapades, Owakar.”

After their meeting ended, Owakar returned to his post, his spirit lighter.

The sun set over Lorness while he closed his latest entry and watched Rebekah ride to River Town, her disguise as perfect as ever.

“Find the weasel.” He clapped his hands when she stopped and prayed. She’d heard him. Owakar glanced around for any signs of the Warrior or his henchmen. He had to keep her hidden from them.

He whispered comforting words to Rebekah, then sent two brawny guardians. They walked beside her, invisible to all who looked their way. They would shield her from the weasel’s evil spirits and help her see.

Then the luach hummed. Alocrin sent him a message. Jonathan Otual will soon be arriving in the domain of Lorness. Be ready.

Owakar tap-tapped through all the linked records.

He has an enemy.

Chapter 34

Sarah

Sarah skipped across the yard, toting the basket of food leavings to the scratching, clucking hens that came running. While they tore at the scraps, she picked the warm eggs out of their scraggly straw nests. It’s already hot, she thought as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

Shaun, her new da, left early in the morning to go to a meeting at the common house. She gnawed on her lip when he left. He told Ma that each man had to voice their thoughts on the keeping of the village. Otherwise, they were only slaves. Then he quoted a passage she recognized.

[Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.]

She thought about that. Her real da had said one night when they looked up at the stars, “The God of Truth watches to see what each of his children will do with the life he has given.”

She picked up the basket of eggs and walked to their hut. After she and Ma made honey cakes and the crackers for the week, she would meet her friend, Ned. She glanced at a trimmed knobby stick that leaned against the fence.

Sarah had watched her real da whenever he exercised. She stood out of his way and imitated his every move. When he practiced with his sword, she twisted, lunged, and pierced invisible foes with a stick. All the while he had observed her with an approving smile.

She warmed the stiff waxy cloths in her hands and folded them around the cakes and crackers and stacked the wrapped bundles in the food box. When she turned, Ma nodded. “Go on, Sarah. I know Ned is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Ma!” she said as she ran off, swinging her stick in the air with a roar. Along the road she struck every tree she passed and twirled around like each was an enemy soldier. Ned was waiting in the clearing with his stick as he always was. He didn’t have as many chores as she. His four older brothers and sisters did most of the work.

Sarah parried Ned’s thrust, knocking his stick away again. Taking a step back, she nodded toward the ground where it lay. He let out a sigh and picked it up. “You’ll get better, my first d—teacher knocked mine away a hundred times, until I got stronger and learned how to adapt my grip. I can still hear him, ‘Everything we learn takes failure,’ he said that over and over. I didn’t like it, but he was right.

She bit her lip hoping he didn’t ask questions. Ma told her that everyone was to think Sarah was her child, in case soldiers came. Only Mother Berenda knew Ma from before.

“So, I should count my failures to see when I might beat you?” He grinned.

“Maybe, I didn’t think of that. Or just don’t let them make you lose hope. Anyone who says they’ve never failed is lying.” She moved her stick in a figure eight before lunging at him again.

“Where did you meet your teacher?” Ned asked as he sidestepped.

“Oh, um. I was running through the woods and I saw a really old man with white hair, chopping wood with a small axe.” She parried Ned’s stab to her side.

“His big sword swung on his hip as he walked.” Sarah swiped her stick low and Ned jumped, with a laugh. Sarah grinned.

“I helped him carry some sticks of wood and asked him to teach me.” Sarah’s stick smacked into Ned’s overhead.

“Did he teach you using sticks?” Ned feigned to the right and attacked high left.

She parried his attempt again and slid her stick down his, to poke him in the chest.

“Gah!” Ned stomped his foot. “Again?”

“Yes!”

After they were both tired, she tossed her stick down. “Ned, I was wondering, do you think we could get real practice swords?”

“Where? The village doesn’t have any, not real ones either.”

Sarah scowled at the ground and tapped her foot. “Let’s ask Lyster. We could do chores for him and earn them. I am sure the Lockes have lots of swords. And the Locke’s hunting trip should be soon.”

***

Just as Lyster had told them, everyone in the village heard the commotion. A minstrel played and led songs about heroes and battles of old as the caravan of wagons and guards on horseback galloped toward the hunting lodge. One song about a woman and her fruit garden made no sense, but those on the wagons enjoyed it, while many of the villagers wore scowls.

Ned and Sarah waited beside the road as the colorful people passed by on horseback and in fancy carriages. The guards in front carried white banners each bearing a ravenous purple wolf, the Locke family crest, and the ones that followed behind the fancy coaches wore swords and bows.

When Lyster informed the village elders last moon, they had invited the duke and his hunting party to a reception to be held on the day they arrived. It was the customary feast the village held every moon, but there were several special dishes and Mother Berenda’s berry tarts graced the table, too. Sarah helped ma make several large batches of herbed crackers. All the women made sure that no one went hungry.

As a thank you the duke invited all the men to his lodge, and the duchess met with the women. Sarah snuck through an arched entryway into a large room with soft rugs and knotty pine walls, pulling Ned with starts and stops. They hid in a shadowy corner.

Inside the grand hall, Berenda led Ma toward Duchess Ellyth Locke. The atmosphere was warm, and joy permeated the air. The duchess looked up as Berenda approached.

“Your Grace, may I introduce Kennah Decker, our beloved midwife, a pillar of our community.”

Duchess Ellyth smiled warmly, offering her hand. “Midwife Decker. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Berenda speaks with high regard of your dedication to the village.”

Ma held her hand and curtsied. “Your Grace, the pleasure is mine. I’ve heard much about the kindness of the Locke family.”

Duchess Ellyth chuckled. “Kindness is a virtue we hold dear. My midwife, Matilda, has served the Locke women for many years. She’s a treasure.”

Ma’s face lit up. “Matilda Caleta?”

“You know of her?” Duchess Ellyth’s smile grew.

“Yes, indeed. She was my mentor, guiding me in the art. A remarkable midwife, I owe my life to her wisdom and experience. She shaped me into the person I am today.”

Berenda added, “Kennah has just arrived in our village, Your Grace, but in our previous town in Lorness, she attended almost all the births of these women.” She placed her hand on Ma’s shoulder while her arm swept the room. “Each mother aided by her gentle touch and reassuring words.”

Duchess Ellyth raised her brows. “It warms my heart to hear it. Matilda is getting on in years so it pleases me that her students will preserve her wisdom and skills.

Ma nodded. “Matilda’s teachings are a gift, Your Grace. And I’m honored to teach new mothers and welcome their babes. It is a joy. I’m grateful to be a part of it.”

The duchess, Berenda, and Ma continued sharing stories, laughing.

Sarah marveled that their interaction carried no sense of distance between a noble and commoners. Her real da had taught her to keep a space between herself and any noble that spoke to her, to not look them in the eye. That wasn’t what she saw here.

Chapter 35

 Jonathan

Approaching Fairness Crossing after three weeks of hard riding, Jonathan felt a tightness in his gut. The hairs on his neck stood up, and his heart raced. He slowed, but seeing no threat, he dismissed his worries as foolish, continuing to the herald station, which was next to the commandant’s office.

Entering, he looked for the king’s proclamation on the wall of announcements. Not seeing it, he presented the parchment and his pass from the king.

“This is wonderful news!” The herald’s face rose and blossomed like a sunflower seeking the sun.

His expression caught Jonathan by surprise. “Have you not already received this? The king dispatched me three weeks ago. Another should have delivered this already. The other rider bearing the proclamation should have reached you before I. It would have taken far less time to him to travel due south rather than circuitous route that I took.”

“It didn’t arrive. I shall announce this with haste.” The herald turned away, searching for his official tabard.

Jonathan frowned, thinking of the other courier as he walked back to his waiting steed.

He had expected to finish and return to Lorness. But if the king’s affirmation of the contract laws had not reached Fairness Crossing, how likely was it to have reached River Town or Gaelib’s seat of power in Lorness?

“Stop that man!” a voice bellowed.

As Jonathan mounted, he turned to see the commandant pointing at him. A dozen soldiers in burgundy leather charged, scattering chickens and peasants, drawing their swords. “You! Get down!” The voice belonged to an old adversary, the giant commandant at Fairness Crossing. Greysun. He was still here after all these years.

Jonathan ignored the order, replying, “Commandant, if you wish to converse, I am happy to oblige. Or are you interested in another sermon?”

Greysun glowered, and the ringing of his sword brought a snakelike grin to his face. “I’ll give you a sermon son of a hundin,” His blade sliced the air with a flourish and pointed toward Jonathan’s face. “I told you that day, you would pay.”

Backing his horse away, Jonathan threw back his cloak, revealing his sword. He watched the armed men, keeping the distance open.

Soldiers wearing only gambesons, shifted from foot to foot, exchanging furtive glances. Jonathan’s horse snorted, remaining still.  

The soldiers formed a loose cordon around him, looking at each other and their commandant. Subduing any man on horseback was difficult. The Knights were well known to be masters of the sword. None of the men seemed eager to come within his reach.

A breeze blew leaves across the ground.

“Pull him down! Bind him!” Greysun gestured at the knight.

The soldiers inched closer.

Jonathan placed a hand on his hilt and reached into his shirt for the pass.

“Commandant Greysun!” another voice roared.

Greysun turned, his eyes shooting daggers at the voice.

The herald stood on the porch, straightening his royal tabard. “This knight has a pass from the king. You may not interfere with his duty. Do so, and I’ll see you arrested for treason.”

The soldiers withdrew, sheathing their swords, muttering about J’shua’s intervention.

Greysun glowered but said nothing, holding his ground.

The herald read the proclamation aloud, “Whereas we are a Nation of Laws, these laws having been given to us over the last hundred and forty-four years by our wise ancestors, we must be slow to change them….”

The crowd grew and grew.

“Whereas, the Fruitfulness of my people and their Happiness is of my utmost concern…”

Jonathan smiled as more plain-clothed commoners filled the road. He knew well what the proclamation said.

“Whereas, great Frauds and Abuses have been committed in these debt collections …”

A chorus rang out. “Hurrah!”

“Be it known that: first, every dependent that was taken in debt collection while the principal was already in a legal contract must be returned.” The herald’s reading was punctuated by many more shouts.

“Praise the God of Truth!” someone yelled.

“… if this is abused after this proclamation has been posted, all parties involved in the theft will be prosecuted.”

“My children will be returned!”

“My family will come back!”

The entire crowd chanted, “Hail King Edal! Hail King Edal!”

Remaining mounted, Jonathan waited while the herald finished. The people’s joy lifted his spirits. He bowed to the commandant and then watched the furious Greysun retreat into his office.

Jonathan’s crooked smile grew when the door slammed.

As he rode away, he recalled when he’d first met Greyson. That was also when he met his wife and that memory stabbed him to his core.

***

Jonathan and two other new knights, Jean LaVoie and Harold Grammott, had walked into town on a summery day. They sought provisions for their first mission, their eyes searching for shops that might offer what they needed.

“Why don’t we ask the man with the full wagon?” Jonathan pointed as his eyes fell upon the most beautiful maiden he’d ever seen. She was shapely and had long, wavy, golden hair.

She was arguing with a merchant. Her gestures punctuated her complaint. “Do you have another buyer for it? Otherwise, we’ll buy one in Lexandria or River Town.”

The man hesitated and then hung his head and accepted coins from her. She turned, hands on her hips, and met Jon’s gaze. Her smile struck him as sure as an arrow, stopping him in his tracks.

Jean nudged him, noticing the object of his attention. “Well now, not a day out of training, and already your head is turned. Tsk, tsk, Jonny-boy.”

“I suppose you’ll be too busy to teach.” Harold poked him. “Or perhaps this will lead to some private instruction, eh?”

“Shut it, both of you. You make too much of a glance.” Jonathan smiled. “There is nothing wrong with admiring the flowers of the garden.”

In unison, they mimicked Jonathan and finished his oft-repeated adage, “Only do not pluck them if the garden is not yours.” Both burst out laughing.

“It is too bad you did not apply yourselves so well to your studies.” A sly grin spread across Jonathan’s face.

“Always the fast one. There’s no keeping up with you.” Harold shook his head.

As the three friends laughed, Jonathan thought to approach the young beauty, but a loud crash caught their attention. Six soldiers, clad in the vermillion of the king, guffawed on the far side of the market. At their feet, a farmer sprawled in a pile of crushed tomatoes.

Surging to his feet, the man glared at his tormentors. “My daughter won’t be the butt of jokes nor lewd comments by the likes of you. That’ll be five baden for the tomatoes and an apology to my Marsha.” He nodded toward the maid. “Do that, and I’ll not report you to the commandant.”

The soldiers laughed harder. Their leader, a bearded giant, sneered. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m the new commandant.”

The farmer’s eyes widened.

Clutching the man’s throat, the giant raised him to eye level. Then, with a vicious smile, dumped him back into the tomatoes.

The maiden ran to help her father, but the commandant grabbed her by the shoulders and growled, “Let’s see if you’re as tender as you look.”

She struggled as her face was smothered by his large beard. Kicking and scratching, she pushed him away. “You pig!” she spat, her defiance echoing through the tension-filled air, even as terror flickered in her eyes.

“Fire! That’s what we like in a woman,” the commandant said, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t we, men?”

They all laughed again.

Her father, the farmer, staggered back to his feet, breathing hard. He stepped forward, his footing unsteady, tottering and almost collapsing again, but he gave a determined kick to the officer’s side.

Groaning, the commandant recoiled in pain. Momentarily distracted from his perverse intentions, he released the frightened maid, who sprinted away. Her father stood his ground as the other soldiers drew their swords.

The giant straightened, snarling, “Fool! You’ve forfeited your life!” In a dark rage, the commandant struck the farmer, sending him sprawling to the ground in a gasping heap.

Jonathan tensed and dropped his pack.

Jean placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Easy, Jon. These are the king’s soldiers.”

Harold leaned in. “It could be the farmer’s fault.”

“I will not stand by and watch such evil,” Jonathan strode forth with a primal roar, “You! Coward!”

The giant ignored him and unsheathed his sword, advancing on the still-prone farmer.

With swift precision, Jonathan saw his opportunity, dropped low and spun, sweeping the commandant’s legs. The giant landed on his back with a crash, his sword skittering away, while Jonathan drew his blade and pricked the officer’s neck.

“Commandant, why don’t we resolve this? Let us each walk away unscathed. What say you?”

The commandant scowled, fury plain on his face.

Jonathan glanced at the five militet, who kept their distance.

“Your vows won’t shield you, knight,” the commandant growled, his wrath palpable. “You threaten a soldier of the king. My men will deal with you,” he said. “Kill me or not.”

“He is not alone, foul dog,” came the voice of Harold as he and Jean stood behind the other soldiers, swords drawn, reinforcing Jonathan’s position.

Jonathan’s voice resonated, piercing through the chaos, “Your job is to serve and protect our country. Not to act as you have here. No law protects you when you break it yourself.”

“Enough preaching. Let me up. We’ll be gone.”

“Pay for the farmer’s goods.”

“Here’s five baden.” The officer grasped a pouch at his belt.

“Ten.” Jonathan pressed the point harder into his throat.

“Ten.” The commandant begrudgingly tossed the coins to the farmer.

Jonathan withdrew a step.

The commandant rolled to his knees, moaning. As he pushed up, he hurled a handful of dirt at Jonathan, momentarily blinding him. Seizing the opportunity, the officer lunged for his sword.

Jonathan twirled to retreat, pulling up his cloak, blocking most of the dust. He blinked, holding his eyes shut to wash the dust away, knowing the enemy blade was coming at him. “J’shua!”

The officer leaped, thrusting his sword deep.

A powerful, scraping, clash of steel rang out as Jonathan’s blade slid down the other’s edge.

Whether by training or an angel’s help, Jonathan praised God, and held the blade poised at the giant’s throat once more. Even as he shook inside, Jonathan spoke with quiet authority, “Enough.”

The commandant dropped his sword. “You’ll regret this, knight. I’m Commandant Greysun. None cross a soldier of the king without penalty.”

“I wish you were wrong, Commandant,” Jonathan said as he and his friends backed away. “These are dark days when the king’s soldiers fail to uphold his laws, and nobles abuse the people.”

“Careful, boy. You can best me with a sword, but the Earl of Lorness doesn’t take lightly those who speak unfavorably of him.”

Jonathan’s eyes flashed. “Would you pass on my greetings to him? And his son, Gaelib.”

“Fool!” the giant snarled as he picked up his sword, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You’d do better to pick a fight with the Serpent himself rather than provoke a Melazera. His dungeons are a sorry place for any mother to pick up the bones of her son.” He motioned for his militet to follow him. “We’ll meet there one day.”

Jonathan’s friends withdrew. “Perhaps. But, in the name of J’shua Ha Mashiach, the son of the God of Truth, I bid you a good day.” He bowed to the commandant.

The soldiers mounted and rode off as townspeople jeered.

“You will pay!” Greysun yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared.

The farmer thanked them again and again. People in the market cheered and clapped them on their backs. Then the three young men walked back to their packs, but they were missing.

“If that doesn’t cast one down,” Harold said, clenching his fists. “Help someone, and what happens? Our belongings stolen.”

“Calm, Harold. We will see soon enough what happened,” Jonathan said as he glimpsed the same young woman he’d admired earlier marching toward them, smiling. Her eyes were as blue as the sky.

“That was some display, valiant knights. I placed your bags on our wagon. You’ll be spending the night with my family. My father insists.” She glanced toward an older man on a wagon who was securing bags of grain. He peered at them and waved.

“My name is Rebekah.” She pulled her finger across Jonathan’s cheek, leaving a light streak on his skin. “It appears you gentlemen are dusty after all this. Perhaps you’d like a bath as well.”

Jonathan stood mute, mouth agape, stunned.

She chuckled, turned, and strode back toward her father.

Jean gave Jonathan a push and whispered, “Friend, you are doomed.”