Trail of Fate (20 page)

“Are you hurt?” Maryam shouted from the ledge above us.

“No,” I answered back.

“Yes!” shouted Robard. Our plunge had woken Angel, and she squirmed against my chest.

“He's not hurt,” I said. “He's just mad.”

“I just fell off a mountain!” he squealed. “Mad doesn't even begin to describe it! I told you this was a bad idea!”

“Tristan!” Maryam shouted.

“Yes?”

“I think we better do something quickly. There's no telling how long this bush will hold your weight!” She sounded nervous.

“Robard, I'm going to let you go,” I said gently.

“What? Oh no you aren't!” he demanded.

“I have to. I can't hold you much longer, and Maryam thinks the bush is going to give way. Don't worry, I'm still tied off, and if we hurry, we can get you the rest of the way down.”

“No!” he said.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

“We wait here until help comes,” he said.

“Robard, there is no help coming. Maryam is going to need us to get her down. If we hang on like this much longer, the bush
will
break and we'll both be dead. I want you to loop your rope around my waist and I'll lower you down the rest of the way.”

Robard didn't move at first, but then one of his hands released the iron grip he held on me and he threaded the rope around my waist.

“Are you ready?” I asked when he had tied his rope to me securely.

“Yes. No. Not really, but I am still going to kill you when we get off this rock,” he snarled.

Muttering under his breath, he pushed off with his legs. There was a tremendous feeling of relief at the temporary release of his weight, but when the rope caught again, I wasn't prepared for the strain. I let out an anguished yell as the rope dug into my body.

“What's wrong?” Maryam and Robard both shouted at once.

“Nothing. Keep going!” I said through clenched teeth.

Robard's feet scrabbled at the side of the cliff, but he reached a foothold and rested his weight on it, giving me some relief.

“Ready?” he asked the moment his feet hit the shelf. I was most definitely not. When had Robard become such an eager mountain climber?

“Yes. Go,” I said, taking a deep breath.

This time he dropped a few more feet. He was now ten feet below me, and I continually let out more rope. Fifteen feet. Now twenty. He found another resting place, and I nearly cried with joy as he took the weight off the line.

He finally reached the bottom of the cliff. When he stood on firm ground, he let out a whoop, and I pulled the rope from around my waist and hung my head.

A noise from above startled me. Looking up, I almost fell myself, for there was Maryam, her rope tied around her waist, climbing down the cliff. Her feet and hands instantly found every obvious foot- or handhold, and she methodically made her way down.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “What are you tied to?”

“Climbing down. The bush will hold my weight fine,” she answered. “I could tell you were in no shape to help me.”

Maryam pushed out from the cliff wall, and having twisted a length of the rope around one leg, she let herself down until she was almost even with me.

“Now what?” I asked. She was nearly at the end of her length of rope.

“You concentrate on getting down yourself. I can make it from here on my own.”

“But you'll run out of rope,” I said.

“No, I won't. We're almost down now. This is easy,” she replied.

“How did you learn to do this?” I asked.

Maryam looked at me and smiled. “Hashshashin have many mountain strongholds. There was no doubt I would make it. It was you two I was worried about,” she said as if it answered my question.

“Hey, you two! Hurry up,” Robard shouted up from below.

I pushed and clawed with my feet at the cliff face. I went slowly—too exhausted and worried my next mistake would be my last. But we had beaten the mountain. Before long, I reached the bottom with Robard and Maryam and collapsed to the ground, leaning my sore back against a convenient boulder. Every part of me ached. I untied the knots in Martine's cape and Angel broke free from her cloth prison. I pulled my tunic over my head. Maryam checked the scrapes and bruises on my back.

“You'll heal,” she said. When it came to injuries, Maryam was not overly sympathetic.

Robard's near brush with death had taken a little of the edge off his anger. After five minutes he stopped threatening to kill me “as soon as I was able to stand and face him like a man,” and then we all laughed.

“Why are we laughing?” Robard asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “It just feels good.”

The laughter petered out, and we sat there letting the late morning sun warm us in the face of the cool wind blowing everywhere on the mountain. After a few minutes of rest and some water from our skins, I staggered to my feet. If I sat much longer, I would never get up again, and I wanted to put as much distance between us and Sir Hugh as possible. He would have to go a long way around to reach us, but he was mounted and we were not. There was no time to waste.

The ground was steep here, but we could pick our way through the boulders and rocks lining the way. We were careful, because a fall would still mean a quick tumble down the sharp incline, but we no longer needed the ropes. Two hours later, we reached the valley floor and were once again surrounded by trees and the sounds of the forest.

I looked up at the sun and headed deeper into the woods. Maryam, Robard and Angel fell into step alongside me.

“Which way?” Maryam asked.

“North,” I replied. “We're going home.”

E
very day we hiked from first light until well after sundown. For the first three days, the travel was strenuous as we moved in and out of the mountain valleys. We skirted major farms and villages, and after Celia's supply of food ran out, we foraged for whatever we could find. Sir Hugh would expect us to turn south and head to the coast, so taking the more difficult route would at least cover our tracks for a time.

Robard and Maryam never complained. After a few days, Robard took to circling back to scout for us. Each morning he would take his leave while Maryam and I headed ever northward, and then at nightfall, as if by magic, he found us. Robard was at home in the forest, and although he talked incessantly of returning to Sherwood, he was more content than at any time since I'd met him.

One night Robard returned to our camp with a goose slung over his shoulder and carrying a bundle of birch saplings. He expertly butchered the goose while Maryam made a fire, and before long we had dinner cooking over the flames. Angel sat on her haunches very near the fire, whining and pawing at the dirt and staring hungrily at the meat.

While we rested, Robard inspected the birch saplings, holding them up to his eye as if to judge their straightness. Some he discarded, but in the end he had about a dozen he found suitable.

“What are you doing?” Maryam asked.

“Making arrows,” he replied. “We can't go into a town or city, and besides, I wouldn't trust a Frank fletcher anyway. So I've got to make my own. Luckily I found a goose. I've extra points, but no feathers.”

Robard pulled a small pouch from his wallet. Inside were arrowheads and a small roll of string. It was interesting to watch him work because he was so meticulous. With his small knife, he carved a notch at the head of the piece of birch until the arrowhead would fit in it precisely. Then he wound the string around the arrowhead, tying it off tightly.

Tying on the feathers was the most difficult and time-consuming part of the job. Robard carefully trimmed a goose feather in half, and when he had three pieces of relatively equal size, he used a bit of tree sap to hold them to the shaft temporarily. He then wound each feather carefully with string, moving it back and forth between the barbs until it was securely fastened.

“There!” he said, holding up the finished masterpiece proudly. “An arrow suitable for a King's Archer.” At the mention of the King, of course, Robard spat on the ground.

Each arrow took a few hours to complete. He worked on them for the next several nights while we kept moving north. I had no idea where we were going specifically, only a general sense of direction. All I knew was that England and the Channel lay north of us, so I intended to walk until I reached the sea. I would worry about crossing when I got there. One night, as if reading my mind, Maryam asked how we would reach England.

“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.