Post of the Month

~ August 2007 ~

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Merries ~ Written by all writers.  Posted on the HoS Yahoo group June 2006.

The sun had disappeared by the time Nasir skirted the lake and followed the narrow path back towards the camp. The trees stood in stark silhouette against the darkening sky, the evening chorus of the birds muted except for the lone song of a robin calling his territory. The time spent beside the lake had calmed him, the rituals of the prayers had allowed him to step back from the memories that David had provoked. He felt calmer now; ready to rejoin the others.

He greeted Rhiannon on watch near the line of bushes that screened the camp from view. The tang of woodsmoke hung in the air and his stomach growled quietly turning his thoughts to food as he pushed his way through the thick tangle of undergrowth and entered the camp proper.

The horse was tethered nearby and he paused to stroke the velvety nose. Alan could not have been long returned from Elsdon as the horse wore his saddle, his coat still damp with sweat. The animal pushed his muzzle into Nasir's hand but did not nip at his sleeve in greeting the way he usually did, instead lowering his head exhaustedly as the Saracen moved away from him.

Robert had been playing idly with Ellie's grasping fingers to keep her amused. She had rolled over onto her back on the rug and waved her arms and kicked her legs, full of infant chatter in the silence of the men around the fireside, oblivious to their troubled thought. Suddenly in the background of her babble, he heard Rhiannon's soft and calm call to camp, notifying them of an arrival on his way, and he immediately jerked up his head to listen beyond the clearing. There came a slight rustle of the bushes across the clearing, a familiar soft tread, and Robert lifted his head higher to focus his ears upon the arriving presence, aware as he did so there was also a ripple of awareness around the rest of the men.

"It's Naz," he said quietly to the company assembled around the fire - and moments later the Saracen emerged from the screen of bushes to pause in the clearing by where the horse had been tethered.

John, where he sat watching Tuck rebind his wound, shot the friar a look that clearly said: _So where is Much?_ Tuck just shrugged and John gave a slight sigh and rubbed his hand exhaustedly across his face; he did not speak of it, but he was getting worried for the lad. It was gone dusk and even if Much had wandered off and become sidetracked, his stomach brought him back to camp before the light failed.

"Evenin', Naz," Will said, more in acknowledgement than greeting, without lifting his head from where he frowned in concentration over mending the broken strap on his scabbard. He too was having nagging feelings about Much, but did his best to appear unconcerned.

At the sound of Will's voice Nasir turned into the clearing and came towards the fire. Alan must have succeeded in the getting the hog's fennel, Nasir noted, for Tuck was making neat work of re-binding John's leg. Will was busy working on the strap of his scabbard. Robert sat on a rug next to Alan, his legs crossed, Ellie lying before him. His head was raised following Nasir's movements, his hands still caught in Ellie's fingers as the little one chattered happily away.

The silence that rested over the outlaws was not the usual companionable one. It felt tense, uneasy. The stew pot that he'd filled earlier that day and then abandoned to search for Much rested to one side of the fire and his stomach shifted again at the sight of it. He bent to take up a bowl and scoop some of the contents of the pot into it, then made his way around the hearth.

Alan scrambled to his feet as the Saracen joined them at the fireside, and gave him a clap on the shoulder in greeting. "Gisbourne's been at Elsdon this day," Alan said by way of imparting the news and explaining why the fireside company were sunk in pensive silence, and headed away across the clearing to unsaddle the horse, who had resorted to pulling at the grass.

"Gisbourne?" Nasir seated himself to Robert's left and glanced around at the others. That, he thought, explained the odd mood in the camp. The last time Gisbourne had concerned himself with the village of Elsdon it had almost meant the end for them. He placed the bowl between his feet and opened the pouch at his belt to pull out his eating spoon.

"Gisbourne," John muttered in confirmation, shooting a look at Will's head bent over the work of mending his scabbard strap. He appeared to be soley concentrating on the task, but John was sure Scarlet's ears were bent on the conversation.

"I heard the news from Jenet," Alan said from where he was across the clearing, removing the saddle from the tired horse. "The Elsdon villagers came across the bodies of the two soldiers Will and Rhiannon killed and notified Gisbourne. He came to Elsdon this morning, ordered a cart be readied, and took the bodies back to Nottingham." Alan gave the horse's flank an appreciative slap, and lugged a bucket of water across to it. It lowered its head and sucked in the water, occassionally blowing out through its nostrils. Alan stood by the tired steed's lowered neck, absently tangling the fingers of one hand in its ragged mane whilst he lost himself in his own thoughts.

Nasir stirred the stew thoughtfully at Alan's news and took a mouthful. It tasted good and he noted the addition of shallots and herbs to the strong, dark meat he'd prepared. He gave Tuck an appreciative nod for the improvement to the flavour as he swallowed another mouthful.

Ellie had grown quiet, her little fingers had stopped clutching at Robert's hand. Robert traced his fingertips over her face and found her eyelids had shuttered. Her small chest was rising and falling with the peaceful steadiness of a sleeping infant; her hands had fallen back to rest curled up by her head.

Robert smiled, stroking her cheek, and then turned his head towards Nasir, listening to the man eat. He put out his hand to his left and found Nasir's shoulder, wanting to be sure he had the Saracen's full attention. "Naz, do you know anything of where Much went?" Robert asked quietly. "Were there signs of him having been here at camp when you arrived here before us? We know you laid the fire and started the meal. We wonder if he actually GOT to camp." There was a note of worry in Robert's voice.

Alert suddenly, Nasir put the empty bowl aside and placed a hand over Robert's. The news that the young man had not yet returned was alarming. "I was first to arrive here," he said "I saw no sign of Much. I made ready the meat and set it to cook, but wanted to check the area in case we'd passed each other along the way. My search widened until I came upon your father and the soldier."

Robert listened. "And no sign of him when you were escorting my father back to where you found him?"

Nasir thought back to the afternoon and his return to camp. "After I left the Earl I took care to cover our tracks to this place. There was no sign of Much then either. He has not been near the Darkmere track I am sure of that." In fact there had been no sign of any human passing in that area beyond the marks of the horses he had covered. The decision to move to this camp had been a good one. But Much's absence was both unexpected and worrying.

Robert lowered his head in thought, troubled.

Nasir could feel the tension in Robert from the contact between them. He gave a gentle pressure to Robert's fingers that lay beneath his own. "Much knows the forest. If he found trouble he knows many places to hide himself away until it passes."

Robert frowned, irritable, and drew his hand away from being under Nasir's squeezing one. The touch no doubt was meant to be reassuring, but the words came across as a touch patronising; as if they were words designed to be spoken to Marian or Rhiannon if they were worried. "I know that," Robert replied, "but it neither lessens the worry or ceases the speculation in the meantime." He sighed and propping his elbow on his knee, lowered his head to rub his face against his hand, tired and feeling out of sorts. The conversation with his father down by the lake still lingered in the back of his mind.

Nasir lowered his hand. Yes, he thought, and I worry too. But I will not fear the worst yet. Watching Robert's movements he was reminded of an evening long ago, sitting alone with Hassan on the flat roof of their house, some weeks before his banishment.

A small brazier had been lit and they had sat with their faces close to the smoke to keep away the biting insects. Talk had turned to the latest suitor to ask for Sayida's hand. Mahmoud had turned down many such offers - men often sweetened their dealings with him in the hopes that he would favour them with marriage to his only daughter and it suited him to keep that hope alive. This particular suitor had the favour of their overlord and the family knew that Mahmoud was tempted to send Sayida to him as a bride.

But the conversation had died away as though Hassan had no enthusiasm for idle chat and Nasir had wondered at his brother's pensive mood. Hassan had turned his face down and rubbed it against his hand as though his eyes were aching and Nasir touched his brother's arm gently to ask what was the matter. But Hassan had only leaned back against him and slipped his arm beneath Nasir's to draw him closer.

The next day, Nasir had been called before Mahmoud and told he would soon be sent to Tripoli to study with their overlord's son under a new tutor. Somehow, Nasir realised, Hassan had heard the news before him and he understood, then, his brother's mood. For Mahmoud had made no effort to find Hassan a wife and had kept him living with the women of the house to help them with their duties. The two people closest to Hassan would leave the household someday soon, yet Mahmoud would not contemplate a future for Hassan beyond the confines of Enfeh.

As Nasir watched Robert make the same, familiar gesture, he wondered if there was more on Robert's mind than Much's disappearance. He reached across the gap between them and placed a hand on Robert's shoulder rubbing gently with his fingers. At the touch, Robert immediately lifted his face from his hand and instead moved his hand up to his shoulder to cover Nasir's hand with his own.

He fingered thoughtfully over the Saracens' knuckles in idle exploration; Nasir's hand was calm and cool and his touch said a multitude of things. Robert stroked his thumb across Nasir's knuckles in silent apology for having been terse, and nothing needed to be said. His irritability subsided and some amount of peace slid into him at the connection.

Robert turned his head to listen to the contemplative silence of the fireside company around him, and paused in thought. "If Much does not return this night....some of us on the morrow should look for him," Robert said quietly at last.

Alan, having tended to the horse and slipped a rope halter over its head instead of the bridle, gave the steed a slap on the neck and wandered back over to the fire, whereupon he sat on Robert's right once more. "Perhaps check some of the villages," he suggested. "Would Much have gone to any of them for some reason?"

Robert frowned to himself in thought. "Maybury is the nearest, and after that, Sedgeley....but he knows it's best to stay away from the villages for the moment."

"Thought we'd drummed that into him," growled Will.

Nasir reached for one of the throwing knives at his belt and drew it from its cover. He listened to the others as he turned the blade thoughtfully, running his forefinger over a nick in one side of the blade. "I will return to the old camp," he said at last. "Perhaps I can follow his tracks from there and learn where he turned from his way."

Silence descended for a while.

"Fire's getting low," Robert observed at last, listening to the feeble crackle.

"Aye, it'll not last the night." John stretched uncomfortably where he sat on the ground with his back against the log. "Who's first on watch?"

"I'll take first watch." Robert found the shoulder of Alan beside him, and running his hand down Alan's arm, took his wrist and moved his hand to touch Alan's fingers to the sleeping form of Ellie on the rug before him. "Look to her," Robert told Alan, and rose from the fireside.

He moved to the end of the log where the wood for the fire was always kept when they were at this camp. He crouched on his heels and reached out his hand to feel. He touched a pile of branches stacked by the log and travelled his fingers over the area in exploration. "Well, that's not going to last the night," he observed, and glad of something to do, straightened up and taking up his stick, moved past the fireside, and headed across the clearing to the sheer rock face which protected their backs and contained the small cave. His stick hit the rock face, he merely turned left and walked along it, running his hand along the rock until suddenly his hand fell into empty space and the cave had appeared to him.

Extra wood was stored inside the cave; a good supply kept there in case of bad weather; one of the reasons why this camp was always good to retreat to in times of emergency or bad weather - it had a cave which could hold various stores, extra weapons, and at a pinch, provide very cramped shelter. Robert ducked his head under the entrance, and trailing the back of his hand lightly along the inside of the cave wall, felt his way into it, and came to the wood; a stack of snapped off branches with splintered ends propped upright against the cave wall, and a few thicker, sawn off bits lying at his feet; perfect to keep a small fire going throughout the night.

Robert sat on his heels and thoughtfully felt over the larger chunks of wood, then turned his head to listen as dull footsteps sounded at the entrance of the cave behind him; Nasir's footsteps. "We'll need to keep this store of wood topped up," Robert said as the Saracen's quiet presence moved up behind him. "The weather's fearsome hot and thunderstorms are bound to follow; the air is pressing down on my head." He rubbed a hand over his face and remained where he sat on his heels for a moment longer, in thought, his fingers idly tracing over the assorted shapes of several thick lumps of wood before him. "Something we should do tomorrow whilst the weather still holds," he said at last. "John won't be able to walk far with that leg, so we'll keep him near camp. Some of us can gather wood....the rest of us can look for Much. If he doesn't turn up overnight." He rested his chin on his hand and fell to further thought.

Nasir blinked slowly a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust from the firelight to the dimness within the cave. He followed the sound of Robert's voice and crouched near him, putting one knee against the dry floor to steady himself. Robert was right, this hot spell of weather must break soon, for even within the cave the air was close and heavy. Nearby, level with his own head, he could hear the sound of skin rubbing over skin and a soft sigh came from the other man. As Robert's voice trailed into silence he wondered again at his friend's preoccupation.

He felt over the wood and found the bundles of weapons tied in sackcloth. They had been placed on some of the larger logs to keep them away from any dampness in the ground or walls and so prevent rust from marking them. Heaving over the first bundle he loosed the edges to feel inside, pulling out a smaller, sackcloth package. He fiddled with the knots a moment to loosen them, then drew back the cloth. Running his fingers over the contents he found, as he'd expected, three throwing knives lying carefully oiled within. Picking them up one at a time, he hefted the handle of each in his palm, then selected the one with the best balance. He ran a thumb along the blade and frowned to himself to find that the edge had lost some of its sharpness. Carefully he rewrapped the other two knives then felt over the other weapons within the larger bundle with a cautious hand. "There is work here for John tomorrow," he said softly into the silence."Some of these blades are dulled."

Robert had heard Nasir reach past him, the clink of weapon against weapon, the soft unwrap of sacking. Nasir was to his right, curiously he reached out his hand and found the Saracens arm, then lightly followed its line down to where Nasir's own hand was cautiously testing the blade of a knife. "Well, we'll give him plenty to do," Robert answered wryly, "take his mind off his leg. Be as well to get these honed." He traced a fingertip along the hilt of the knife Nasir was holding. "Took most of these off the soldiers we've killed, didn't we," Robert observed, and fell to silence for a moment, still feeling over the hilt. Finally he said quietly: "Did that Captain of the Guard my father was with give you any trouble as you took them back to Darkmere?"

Nasir thought for a moment, remembering the soldier's tense wariness as they had sat close together on the horse they'd shared. He had chaffed at his blindfold, staying his hand several times from reaching up to draw it away from his eyes, but his one complaint had met with a curt response from the Earl. The man had been wise not to press again for the removal of the cloth. "He gave no trouble," he answered.

Robert was silent for a moment longer, acknowledging the answer. Then he turned to Nasir, and running his hand up the Saracen's arm and shoulder, found Nasir's chin with his fingers and discovered that Nasir's face was turned towards him. He paused his fingers on Nasir's chin for a moment, then lightly circled Nasir's face with his fingertips, curious, wanting to pick up every tremor of expression. He lightly touched Nasir's eyes and found they were open and blinking; Nasir must be looking at him. Robert smiled briefly in response to what he found; having ascertained the Saracen's attention was focused on him, he felt more sure of broaching his next, far more uncertain question.

"My father....how did he seem when you took him back to Darkmere? Did he say anything on me, on..." Robert's voice trailed off; he knew Nasir knew what he meant, and instead just kept his fingertips tracing gently over the contours of Nasir's face, eager to pick up every nuance of expression it might have during Nasir's reply.

Nasir kept his face turned toward Robert. He knew that Robert wanted to feel the movements of his expressions across his face, but the Earl's visit had stirred so many memories of his own family and he wondered what Robert read from him. He gave a slight smile as Robert's fingers passed the corners of his mouth to acknowledge his touch then thought back to the Earl's cold silence as he'd led him along the Darkmere track.

"He spoke little," he said, "but he seemed...he was angry. He said that you were..." Nasir hesitated, searching for the unfamiliar word that David had used on his return from the lake, "..addled." Under Robert's exploratory fingers Nasir felt his own jaw twitch in anger. His own father had been unable to accept Hassan's blindness. It had been a slur on Mahmoud's manhood to have produced such a child. Hassan had escaped the usual fate of a blind baby - to be left to die of exposure on the plains of Enfeh, at the mercy of wild animals. Would Robert have faced a similar fate if the Powers of Light and Darkness had not given him sight at the moment of his birth, he wondered? He felt the uncertainty in his friend and ached for him, wondering what David had said to him in disbelief and bitterness down by the lake.

Robert frowned a little as he felt Nasir's jaw tighten...anger, tension? He ran his fingers along the tense jawline and frowned again, half in puzzlement. He found his own jaw tightened in some instinctive copy of what he felt on Nasir's face.

"Addled," he repeated Nasir softly, and David's accusative words came crashing back into his mind: _"Christ's teeth, what is this MADNESS, this DELUSION that has taken you over, Robert?"_

"Aye," Robert said quietly in thought, half to himself. "Addled....deluded." He moved his hand up from Nasir's tense jaw to lightly touch his brow and somewhat bewildered found it was not frowning as he expected, did not match Nasir's tense jaw and taut mouth. He moved his hand down to touch Nasir's jaw again, still bewildered, to reconfirm to himself the difference, and wondered at it. Then Nasir's story of his background, told to him in private more than a year ago, came back into his mind, and he sensed the tense jaw had more to do with that than with what David had said.

"Fathers," Robert said softly. "They expect us to be copies of all they are." He sighed, and leaned his forehead affectionately against Nasir's for a moment in half-understanding, felt the brief touch of Nasir's fingers against his own face and for a moment there was nothing but silence hanging in the oppressive air of the cave. Then he rose and gathered up a bundle of firewood.

Nasir remained kneeling for a moment, reaching out to cover the weapons he had pulled out, drawing the ends of the sacking closed about them. Standing he lifted the bundle back into place on the back of the wood pile. He closed his eyes a moment in the darkness, gripping the hilt of the new knife tightly in his hand...had his father ever learned to accept Hassan's blindness? So many years since he had last seen them, so much could have happened, but he doubted things had changed. Mahmoud had never been a man to unbend once his way was set. And what of David? He had raised a sighted child to manhood and no doubt taken pride in a fine son to carry on the name of Huntingdon - would he ever bend, learn to accept Robert as a blind man?

Nasir sighed and followed Robert who was now feeling his way back along the wall. They passed the bend in it and the firelight illuminated Robert's dark shape moving ahead. There were more immediate worries to think on and David was not one of them. The whereabouts of Much was their first concern and if he did not return soon Nasir wanted to sleep so that he might set off before first light and head back to the old camp to try and pick up Much's trail.