Chapter 4:
Few men should have slept as well as Anthanasius did through the warm afternoon. After sleeping very little for the past weeks, always restlessly, with one hand on the hilt of his sword, and often in the open on a bed of twigs and leaves; not worrying about protecting the lives in his care and falling into white linen sheets seemed surreal.
Anthanasius clutched his bed sheets as he woke. He looked around wildly and sat up. A feeling of dread hung over him and his heart beat rapidly with adrenaline. He concentrated on the floor in front of him for a few seconds to calm down and then on the beam of sun coming through the casement. The feast would begin in an hour and he needed to prepare to sit with Lord Marillac. He tried to restrain the memories of his dream from fading but failed as waking brought waves of quiet forgetfulness.
Forgetfulness, yes, yet Anthanasius couldn’t help but wonder what he dreamt. He knew from his fast beating heart that remembering the dream might do more harm than good. With resignation he swung his legs to the side and landed his feet on the hard wooden floor. Much refreshed from sleeping in a real bed for the first time in weeks, he walked over to the casement and leaned far enough out on the ledge to see the horizon.
The afternoon advanced much while he slept and the sky began to show the first signs of the summer gloaming. Farmers were returning to their homes across the golden harvested pastures or along a winding dirt road. Shepherd boys drove their flocks expertly home to the safety of the town and closed them in the wattle fences for the night before becoming entirely different children, running and jumping with joy at seeing their friends and heading home to join their family in the cozy firelight.
Anthanasius watched one farmer all the way from his field from the moment he set down his hoe, walking along a road talking and joking with friends, and part from the others with a happy wave. He walked farther down several streets and past many houses but when he came near one the door opened and three young children ran out to welcome him home. He picked up the first one to reach him under the arms and spun around, laughing. When he finished spinning, he set the girl down, held her and another of his children’s hands, and walked to the door of their home where his wife waited for a kiss and a long hug before they turned together through the door and closed it.
Anthanasius smiled and watched another man walk through the streets for a while until he decided to prepare himself for the approaching feast. He thought about Lord Marillac’s suggestion to visit his wounded, and considered it while he changed.
He changed from his long undershirt into striped hose and a shirt. Atop this he donned a brown leather vest and wrapped a thick belt about his middle. Enough yet not too much.
He stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the main corridor. “Hold up,” he said to the steward, not liking his task, but stepping in his way as the man hurried down the corridor with a large stack of linens under each arm. “Where do I find the infirmary?”
The steward handed him the linens from his right hand and bade Anthanasius to follow him. He took off again in the same direction with Anthanasius’ heavy footsteps contrasting the steward’s short light steps.
Anthanasius began to wonder if the steward even heard where he needed to go when they arrived at the busy banquet hall, but without having to remind him, they handed most of the linens to another housekeeper. The steward took a deep breath as he looked around at the preparations for that night’s feast then turned to Anthanasius, “Thank you, not much farther now.” They started rapidly off again through a door on the opposite side of the hall. A few more turns led them to a door outside of which the steward stopped to catch his breath. He smiled, knocked, let himself in, and announced quietly to Anthanasius, “The Oblates of the Holy Cloth.”
He laid down his remaining linens and left, quietly closing the door behind him. Anthanasius always felt uncomfortable in infirmaries. He faced battles with little fear yet recoiled from visiting the wounded after. He silently cursed his forgotten dream for waking him early enough to have time before the feast started
Anthanasius’ men occupied nine beds facing each other along the walls and the rest remained happily empty. A small Rohian symbol hung on the wall above each bed. One of the nine leaned back against the wall while having his bandage changed and smiled as Anthanasius walked up to check on him.
“Hello, Belen, it appears they are taking good care of you.”
“Joseph’s getting me patched up good as new.” Belen said, then gasped and recoiled in a grimace. He grit his teeth and calmed himself, looking down at the large cut on his arm as the monk in a dark brown robe wound a fresh white bandage across the wound, diligently trying to ease the pain.
Oblate Joseph straightened up after tying the bandage off and joked to Anthanasius, “It’s an honor to take care of the wounded, sir, but not so many next time.” Smiling broadly, he walked off to prepare for taking care of his next patient. Anthanasius sat down beside Belen and asked him about Aelred. He looked around half-surprised not to see him.
“I’m not sure, sir. He was here.” They talked a few more minutes before Anthanasius excused himself to let Belen rest. He walked over to where he saw Joseph go and soon found him after walking past several others.
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“Joseph, do you know where Aelred went?” he asked.
“I’ve not yet learned everyone’s names, sir, could you describe him to me?”
The monk’s face fell as Anthanasius’ description grew more detailed.
“Yes, we have him in another room. His mind seems in anguish from the stress of battle.”
“I’m not sure what happened early this morning,” Anthanasius said, “but he says the Shalmen took his friend captive and we fled immediately.” He remembered his own guilt that nearly held him in the forest and a vague recollection of his dream.
“One of us will remain by his side until he recovers. Please don’t be anxious.”
Anthanasius bowed slightly and said to the young monk, “If any of you are able, Lord Marillac is holding a feast tonight in the Great Hall and I would be delighted if some of you would join us.” Then, turning to leave, he again noticed the great care and deep cleanliness the oblates kept, and, turning back to Joseph as the latter walked to a wooden door with a basket of linens, he said, “Thank you for taking such good care of my men.”
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Chapter 5:
The shutters remained unfastened and the evening sun clung tightly to the last fragments of the day, as a small child who suddenly finds important amusements in the last few moments before bed and hurries through them, as they simply cannot wait.
In the forest the upper branches filtered the initial riotous colors, but a few moments more, and it shone brightly among the trunks. Golden light fell across everything, broken by mile-long shadows, and enhanced by the yellowing fall leaves.
Another few moments, and this halycon scene gave way to the evening gloaming, equal in beauty, but of another sort. The sky blazed red at the horizon and continued its intensity as the horizontal bars of orange streaked upwards and dimmed as they went, disappearing slowly and then suddenly into a darkening blue-gray sky.
The heavy heat of the day already rapidly abated and gave way steadily to the cool refreshing aroma of a summer night. The insects settled high in the trees continued their centuries-old melody for any weary listener.
Inside, the high table of the great hall presented a beautiful sight with fine dishes and crystal cups. Lord Marillac already occupied his place and motioned Anthanasius to join him on the raised platform at the far end when he arrived.
Anthanasius walked carelessly along the outer edge of the great hall and initially greeted everyone he met. Walking along, though, he thought of all his missing men, but most especially of Agar. He stopped suddenly at the thought of Agar and felt extremely nauseous with another vague remembrance of his recent dream. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself until the feeling eased. Looking around, he noted no one seemed to take notice, and continued on to the raised table ahead of him with some relief, but still a great deal affected.
Anthanasius sat down between Lord Marillac and another of his friends, Boniface, an adviser to the king on a visit to Echo Slope.
“Well, Anthanasius, I'm glad to see you again.” Lord Marillac said after he sat down from greeting his guests and commencing the feast in a loud voice. “Boniface came here on pretext of relaxation time,” he continued merrily, “but asked if I knew news of your company’s situation before he even greeted me.”
The steward and sewer next served the crystal cups with beautiful smelling wine. Lord Marillac and Anthanasius grabbed their cups as quickly as manners allowed, but Boniface said, “I worried for a reason—we heard nothing of you for a month.”
He then also took up his glass and diplomatically sipped at the contents. Lord Marillac spoke next, addressing Boniface, though beginning with more seriousness in his tone than previously, “In truth, my heart grew heavy when you told me your fears.”
He then turned to Anathanaius with a tone containing as much liveliness as his previous lacked it, “but now you and your men are safe, look at them out there feasting! What gnaws at you, my boy? Didn’t sleep much I suppose?”
“Haloa, steward, more wine for us.” He called, then laughed and slapped Anthanasius good naturedly on the back. “Come now, what’s on your mind?”
“Not all my men are out there feasting,” he answered wistfully. He then shook his head suddenly and sat up straighter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m often this way right when I return home.”
“Feeling guilt as one of the survivors, eh? It always hits the commander the hardest.”
“I know, I’ll be better soon.” He reached again for his cup.
“I led men in former days and won’t tell you to not think about it. I still remember some dark homecomings. I questioned everything I did and didn’t do. There’s always one more decision you thought of too late,” he paused, “but my lady’s bright eyes soon made everything better.” He looked over to Lady Marillac a few seats down. She talked lively with her ladies in waiting and a few of her special guests who arrived on such a short notice. “As they still do,” he finished.
He turned back to Anthanasius. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you with a lady.”
“No, not yet anyway.”
“Well, I’m holding a tournament the middle of next month; a captain of the king should consider it his duty to enter and fight for the honor of a beautiful woman.”
“I have to report to King Nigel,” he replied evasively.
“Yes but then you come back here and live as my guest. The war isn’t really all-consuming, is it? We’d have heard more about it by now if it was.” Boniface looked significantly at Anthanasius. Lord Marillac continued without a pause. “You’re going to work yourself to death if you don’t slow down.”
“Maybe not, here’s the food,” Anthanasius said.
Lord Marillac sighed and turned to receive the silver platters with roasted geese and smaller dishes with individual pork pot pies. The servers brought similar fare to the lower tables; Lord Marillac liked his reputation as a generous man even in unstable times.
Lord Marillac glanced over to Anthanasius. He sat with his head down and the struggle inside him visible on his face.