Sorrow's Song

Sanctuary

Leon stirred in his meditation, shifting weight from his right knee to the left. The stone floor of the Sanctuary was bitter cold, and the sun had set hours ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. They were jumbled and erratic, unnerving him. He opened his eyes.


              With a sigh, he let them wander, eventually coming to rest on the images of the seven. The Guardian weighed him with lifeless eyes. Leon felt it judging him, assessing him as worthy or unworthy. His mind drifted to the next morning, and he bowed his head and continued to whisper his psalms.


              There was to be a tournament tomorrow, a celebration in honor of him and his twin brother’s completion of their training. Starting in their eighth year, it was now Leon’s twentieth. They, along with all those they had trained with over the last twelve years, would be knighted. Immediately afterward, the games would begin.


              Leon felt confident in his abilities, especially with those concerning the long bow. But archery was for the craven and the gutless. Not the son of a duke, the warden of the north. Swordplay and jousting were the name of the game, and Leon thought of his brother Rueben, older by only two minutes. His love of close quarters combat was matched only by his proficiency in it.


              They had spent the evening in prayer, whispering silent psalms to the gods for protection and strength. Rueben had left long ago, a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips. It was the same look he had when he had tried to convince Leon to come with him to town, to visit Lady Jane’s.


              Were life to be so fair. His brother’s love of flesh and wine contrasted sharply with his own life of steadfast duty. As the younger brother, if only by mere minutes, he had been taught since a babe that his loyalty was bound to Rueben, free only till one of them died. Life would be spent as his bannerman, his right hand.


              With stiff knees Leon stood, pushing himself up off the pew before him. The vaulted ceilings of the Sanctuary rose high above, its massive granite pillars so wide it took three men stretched hand to hand to wrap around one of them. His glance followed them up to the great arches, and he thought about how long its construction had taken as he made his way toward the giant double doors.


              Leon stepped outside, and the warm air of the summer night caressed his face, waking him. He breathed deeply, knowing it would soon end.


              “Praying for luck, little brother?”


              Rueben’s voice caught Leon off guard, and he turned to find his brother leaning against the wall of the Sanctuary, a bright red apple in hand.


              “Little by two minutes,” said Leon, folding his arms across his chest. “And for your luck, because the gods know you’ll need it.”


              Rueben laughed and bit into his apple, the juices from it squirting out from the corners of his mouth. He wore a black tunic and black boots that reached up to his knees, with a blood red sash tied about his waist; the family colors. They were of a size with one another, but his brother’s hair was black and wavy; Leon’s brown and curly. They had both inherited their fathers pointed chin and mother’s blue eyes.


              “Bugger the gods,” said Rueben. “You spend enough time with them for the both of us. I trust you put in a good word for me?” He reached inside his surcoat and pulled out a second apple, this one sour green. With a wink, he tossed it to Leon.


              They began the trek back to the castle, the summer moon favoring the two brothers with ample light in the warm night. Leon avoided stepping in the gapping ruts and holes left by wagons and horses over the course of the day. Silver fir trees and berry bushes sprawled about underneath, spilling out into the King’s Wood beyond the castle.


              The two men sauntered on, letting the sounds of the night fill in the silence for them. Leon bit into his apple, the sour juices biting at his tongue. Somewhere nearby an owl called out to the forest, waking from its slumber to begin the hunt. The wind rustled through the leaves, and a fox darted across the road in hot pursuit.


              Rueben finished off his apple and tossed the core into the bushes, a snack for a hungry squirrel. “Which of the ladies are you hoping to seduce tomorrow?” he asked between chews.


              Leon’s thoughts immediately went to Ruby, and he was glad for the darkness of the night. “Mayhap you’ll find out tomorrow, when I win.”


              “Such boastful talk,” said Rueben, grinning. “If that’s the case, then perhaps I’ll have to take all of them into my bed.”


              Leon laughed despite himself. He knew this wasn’t far from the truth; his brother’s exploits were far and wide. The castle loomed in the distance, and the path curved, throwing the moon behind its high towers and stone walls. They walked in silence for a few moments before Rueben broke it again.


              “You have improved tremendously in the last year.” He paused, glancing about at the trees and the dark as though someone were eavesdropping on their conversation. “I’m honestly a little worried by it.”


              Leon hid his smile and tried not to let his brother see how his compliment affected him. He watched as the castle grew larger with each step they took toward it. “Everybody knows you’re the best swordsman in the kingdom. Save Isa, maybe.”


              Isadora was their father’s captain of the guard, and it was rumored he had never been defeated in one on one combat. He had bested both Rueben and Leon multiple times, with apparent ease.


              Rueben snorted. “I was going easy on that old man. He’s lucky he’s not competing tomorrow, or I’d have to embarrass him in front of the whole of the north.”


              “I’m not so certain he would be the one embarrassed,” said Leon. He smiled. “Perhaps the gods heard my prayer after all.”


              Rueben cocked an eyebrow at him as they continued their march. “Then I would suggest you run back there and ask for a swordsman’s hand in exchange for your archer’s eye.”


              They both laughed for a few moments, and then lapsed back into an easy silence. Leon thought about the next day’s events. Life was about to change dramatically for the both of them. He hoped that all his training had prepared him for this life. Skirmishes had begun to explode in the south, little duels between lords and shepherds. There was a chance he and his brother would be called upon to assist the noblemen. Leon dreamed about it at night, excited and dreading.


              “Do you suppose it’s likely we’ll be sent south?” he asked, voicing his thoughts.


              Rueben stared out into the darkness briefly before answering him, his mind appearing to be elsewhere. He turned abruptly to look at Leon.


              “Yes,” he finally said. “I think it likely.” He stopped speaking for a moment, weighing his brother. “And if we are, I want you by my side.”


              Leon’s years of training kicked in and he said, “My loyalties are bound to you. I will serve as your bannerman, if you will have me.”


              Rueben halted mid-step and rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Leon felt it grip him, and looked into his brother’s searching eyes.


              “I don’t want any of the legalities and musts between us,” he said, his voice even. “If you want to serve as my bannerman, I’d consider it the greatest honor anyone could bestow on me. If you’d rather split father’s land in two, I would be willing.”


              Leon stared at his brother, the immensity of his suggestion weighing him down with possibilities. His mind flashed forward, and he saw himself as his own man, not his brother’s. His face flushed as he considered the dream. Everything he had been taught would be a farce, and he wondered how truthfuly his brother had spoken. With a shudder, he chased the thought away and knew what had to be done.


              Presently, he spoke with a voice that was calm and controlled. “I’m your man.”


              Rueben smiled and slapped Leon’s arm. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew I could count on you.” They started back again toward the castle, and Rueben said, “Race you the rest of the way?”


              “First to the gate,” said Leon, sprinting to get a head start on his brother. Leon knew he would win. Rueben was muscular and agile where Leon was sinewy and thin. He ran along the path, deftly dodging the rut holes and animal droppings. Leon heard his brother huffing behind him, dogging on his heels.


              They were nearing the gate now, and Leon shot a look behind him to see that Rueben was a good ten yards behind. He looked ahead to see a shadowy figure standing in front of him, and before he could do anything, collided with the man. They both went sprawling into the ground, Leon rolling gracefully to shield himself, the other falling flat on his face.


              Leon whipped a dagger out of his boot and pointed it at the man. He had a dark hood up to conceal his face, and dark robes were wrapped around his body.


              Rueben came puffing up behind him, sword in hand. He leveled it at the stranger.


              “Show yourself,” he commanded, his voice raspy from the run.


              The stranger hesitated, one of his arms inside his cloak. Rueben took a step closer, the point of his sword coming dangerously close to the man.


              “I do not repeat myself to beggars.”


              “No, but you’ll threaten them soon enough.” The voice cracked, and he pulled back his hood to reveal an older man with a grey beard, flecked with white.


              “Who are you?” asked Leon, who had lowered his dagger slightly after seeing the man’s face. There was something about it he found kind.


              The old man looked from Rueben to Leon, ignoring the blade that had been thrust in his face. “A beggar ‘n no more, as yer’ friend here so plainly said.”


              “Why are you in the White Wood?” demanded Rueben, who still held his sword level at the man’s chest. “Hunting in this wood is a flogging at the least.”


              “My family is starving,” the man began.


              Rueben cut him off with a sneer. “Spare me the tale of woe. You will be charged with hunting in the White Wood. Probably ten lashes. And another ten for potentially harming my noble brother.”


              Leon weighed the man in his head. He glanced to his brother, who still held the sword at his chest, like an extension of his arm. They were standing just near the entrance gate, and Leon felt a sudden pang of pity.


              He slid his dagger back into his boot and said to the man, “What have you taken?”


              The man opened his cloak to show that it was empty. “I haven’t taken anything,” he said.


              Leon turned to his brother. “Let me handle this. You go to the castle.”


              Rueben stared at the man, sword still in hand, and glanced at his brother. Reluctantly, he nodded and sheathed his blade. Leon watched as he passed under the gate and made his way into the courtyard.


              When his brother was a safe distance away, Leon turned to the man. “The punishment for trespassing in the Wood is five lashes. But I take it we won’t be seeing you in this part of the forest again?”


              “No, m’lord,” said the man, bowing his head.


              “Then be off,” said Leon. “No use in flogging a man who committed a crime no worse than taking a stroll in the wrong part of the forest.”


              The man stared at him, and for a moment Leon was reminded of the way the guardian had stared at him back in the Sanctuary. His respite was broken when the man spoke.


              “You are merciful, my lord,” he said, his voice clear. “You’ll find that in time, it’s something you can never have enough of. Keep it safe, it’s worth protecting with your very life.”


              With that, the man stepped back into the bushes and the trees and was gone. Leon watched him go, seeming to vanish into the darkness. He mulled over his words as he began his walk to the gate, where his brother awaited him.


              “Did you take care of that lickspittle?” he asked when Leon came close. They stood on the threshold of the outer courtyard, and the torches on the walls threw their shadows across the expanse of it.


              “Yes, I took care of him,” said Leon, glancing back down the dirt road to where the man had faded into the wood.


              Rueben flashed him a magnificent smile. “Little brother,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder, “you and I are going to rule this world someday.”