LXV. The day on which Sir Frann of Velour—otherwise known as Master Hank—abandoned the fellowship became a dark turn in this story. Minstrels often sung of ‘the Treason of the Knight’ in their tales and though they were very keen to embellish it with a bewildering prose, there are some sources that give us an insight of Sir Frann’s own telling which came to outlive him.
According to these sources, the Traitor Knight was overcome by many thoughts of regret and anger as he came down his way from Elorio’s Tomb and he cursed the day on which he arrived in Ceor, saving some of his worst damnations for Edwald above all. In his mind all the mishaps they had come to face were Edwald’s fault and now he was to return to the capital having failed his king. As he reached the crossroad, where the fellowship had resolved to acquiesce to Sir Antuel’s bidding, he heard for the last time a whisper in the wind, this time it was almost like the sigh of a ghost from afar that could otherwise had been dismissed as a trick of the mind. This once, however he could discern whence it came.
Galloping his way were ten riders clad in black and grey, their steed were dark as well, their faces were ice-pale, their eyes convey death, and before them went an air of dread. And besides the neigh of the horse, only their whistles could be heard again, like a distant song that though it was tuned before him, seemed to come from beyond. Sir Frann had never seen or heard nothing of that sort before, and for a moment thought they were butchers or thieves that travelled the road preying on the weak and poor. He drew out his sword, though he knew a fight would be useless against such numerous a throng, and then he stood his ground by saying.
-“Who are you? State your purpose in the name of the King!” the knight said, cowering behind his sword. But then the foremost rider strode one step forth and spoke in a lower voice almost as faint as the wind blows.
-“We come on the behest of the Lord of Fyore,” the rider said, “We seek a young man who travels to the north. He is blond of hair and fares with a party of southern men from Keor. Have you seen any of the sort?”
Sir Frann knew at once they were after Lord Hadril’s heir, and if they were sent by the Black Griffin, surely he meant to dispose of him. He had no hatred for the young Sir Antuel and he did not wish to see him dead. ‘If anyone deserves a bitter end, it must be Elbracht’ he thought to himself, so in his spite for the Lord of Ceor, and deeming him a liar who masked his face behind a sword of truth, he took advantage of their vague account and, knowing that Elbracht was blond too, he deviced a lie to cause his doom.
-“Aye, I know the man you seek,” Sir Frann said, “But do not let your eyes deceive you. There are two men of golden hair in the party; one is small and slender, the other tall and strapping. Leave the small one be and take the taller one, he is the man you seek.”
-“Can I take your word?” the rider said almost as if daring Sir Frann to take back the lie. But his hateful heart blinded his judgement and reassured them that the man they were after was in Elorio’s Tomb.
And thus the riders took their leave and trusting Sir Frann the Turncloak, they made their way to the hill-top, and their trot thither up was like a murder of crows that crooned a deadly croak. The Traitor Knight gazing their gallop from afar, had no regret for the one he had sentenced to die.
LXVI. Whereas all this came to pass down bellow the hill, Asadue had at last finished the antidote for the old man. Two days were spent in that endeavour and still there was no certainty it would be enough to break the Winter Flu. Nonetheless they did not relent in their efforts to fight off the sickness. Asadue gave him the cure, Sir Hans watched and his liege, Sir Antuel, never ceased to pray for him and Edwald often talk to him even as he slept, so as to keep from the quiet of death.
They sit for hours by his bed and they would not leave the warden’s side until the remedy would do its effect. It was well past noon when the old man spoke again and it seemed that light and colour had come back to him, for as if rising from a troubled slumber, the old man suddenly stood again; his face was no longer pale and he felt like a youth who had outlived a journey of pain.
-“Long have I dreamt of death,” he said, “Yet I feel as if my nightmares have come to an end. Now, it seems that the fates have had some pity for this old man. For the Gods blessed me since the night you came to this shrine. Were it not for you, I might not have lived for much more time, but as if heaven-sent you have breathed into me the gift of life. Most men would have left me here to die, still you all stayed to see me hale and sound. How could I repay you for this gesture so kind?”
-“Be at peace, my goodman,” Edwald replied, “there is nothing to thank. It was only fair to repay the help you gave us with what little care we could offer.”
-“Nevertheless, I can’t help but wonder, how did you manage to cure the flu? Not even I could have come up with an antidote to fight off the sickness, inspite of my years of study and all.”
-“For that, we have Master Asadue here to thank.” Edwald said, “He might not look that old, yet he has some knowledge of his own that can match the arts even the brightest minds in healing’s lores.”
-“This outlander, you mean?” the old man was baffled to hear, “Gods be good! I hate to admit that I had my reservations about you at the start, though I did not show it. But how glad I am that I was wrong! Please, forgive me for having been so prone to misjudge.”
-“You needn’t worry, all is well,” Asadue said, “but now we must take our leave and depart to Myrlost.”
-“Master Asadue is right,” Edwald jumped in, “We have delayed our quest long enough. Nevertheless, we thank you for all you have done for us.”
-“And I thank you in return.” the old man said, “How I wish you could stay a little while so Master Asadue could teach me his ways on the arts of healings. But I wouldn’t dare to take more time from you. At the very least, allow me to give you some more supplies for your journey.”
Edwald tried to decline, for he knew the old man’s stores were not plentiful enough for him to give out so freely. Yet he insisted that his mind would not be at peace until he knew they were well provided for the journey ahead. So, Edwald gladly gave in to his wish.
Upon having readied their provisions, Edwald and his fellow men were led to the tomb of Elorio the first. The light of day was beginning to fade and darkness took hold of the skies from the west and there was a heavy brume in the air that filled the fane with shades of grey.
-“So, here we must bid farewell,” said the old man standing on his feet again, “I’ve heard that you travel to Myrlost. Are you sure you wish to go that way?”
-“Aye, that’s our aim,” answered Edwald, “Why the worry?”
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-“You should know that folk say that place is no longer a merry one,” the old man warned, “Some moons ago, Myrlost was a thriving town whither many folks were glad to fare. But a sad shadow lies upon that place of late; since the death of Lord Hadril, Lord Tyén has no longer been the same, and he trust ever less and less those who journey to his domain. I advice caution when they asked what your business is by those parts otherwise they might not let you inside.”
-“I will take note of your warning.” Edwald said, “For now we must bid our goodbyes.”
-“Yes, yes,” the old man said back, “May the Four Fathers guide you and the Four Mothers keep you.”
-“Hold your tongues!” Sir Hans said at once as if he had cought sight of something moving in the dark, “Do you hear that?”
-“Only the wind.” Edwald replied, but then he indeed discerned a whistle in the air almost as faint as a sigh and yet it could not be mistaken. “What is that sound?”
-“We’ve heard it before though we did not pay much mind to it the first time.” The King’s Knight said, “Then we heard it many times again as we came to this fane. I thought my ears betrayed me as I heard it the second and third time, but now it has become too frequent to take it for a breeze or gust.”
-“What is it then if neither of both?” Edwald asked.
-“Nothing good, I am afraid,” Sir Hans replied, “If they are afar, their whistle seems clear and loud. If they are nigh, their whistle sounds like a distant cry. Beware the whistles of the Night Ernes, the assassins in the dark; their steel is cold as are their hearts. ‘Tis a story, Greythmen tell their children before bed-time, still this myth is a true one, which terrifies even the bravest of knights.”
-“The Night Ernes?” said Sir Antuel affright, wishing his ears had misheard him, “That cannot be right. My brother swore he would never called upon their services, he had them outlawed and dissolved their order on the charge of their cruelty and ruthlessness. You are mistaking, my good sir.”
-“I wish I were not on the right, my liege,” Sir Hans replied, “But Lord Carathuel is not your brother. I am sure he would mingle even with the wickedest of men to have things his way. How he learnt of the nature of our quest and that you are alive and well, I do not know. But I dare say he had called upon this evil fiend to have you dead. We must leave at once, ere the reach this fane. Old man, is there no other way out of this hill, since we cannot go down the road whence we came, lest we be easy prey for them?”
-“There is another path behind my house that leads down the hill,” the old man replied, “I can lead you there if we still have some time, but you should now that it is a treacherous lane, far too steep and sheer for the whole of you to fare.”
As the old man finished saying, another whistle was heard coming their way, this time, it was almost like the breath of the a ghost that would otherwise go unnoticed, yet the fellowship was now on the alert and it seemed rather like the prelude of doom approaching. Soon, dark shades of black were seen moving amidst the fog mounted on horses, ashen-grey, that galloped with the speed of rushing winds in a winter day. The Night Ernes had come and as the cold gall of a storm they called out for Sir Antuel in a gusting voice.
-“Give us Lord Hadril’s heir and we shall be on our way” they demanded and then they set eyes upon Edwald, “You are the strapping blond man, that knight talked about before. Come with us, M’lord, and we will leave your fellow men unspoiled.”
Edwald was puzzled by what they had said; clearly they did not know he was not the man they meant. Though Edwald surely thought that confusion could work well to their favour, he knew it was still a lie, and it would not be long until Oakenjaw compelled him to correct the black-clad assassins. Yet as if spared by fate to go down that path, Sir Hans leapt forth between Edwald and his foes and met their steel with his own. To and fro he swung his sword and though the odds were not on his side, he stood his ground against them and gave his fellow men enough time to run off.
-“Flee now, m’lord” he yelled at them, “I will not be able to hold them on for long!”
Edwald drew out his blade and for a moment it seemed he would join Sir Hans in the fight, but the old man pulled him from his arm and bid him and his fellow men to follow him back to the house.
-“Not that way, son” he said, “You will never survive them.”
-“Let me go, I have to fight,” Edwald insisted, “We’ve been through too much; I cannot leave me behind now!” But then Sir Hans cried out to him again.
-“Flee this place at once, M’lord!” He yelled, his sword still blowing against his foes. “Go to Myrlost and deliver what you have sworn!”
And that was the last thing he ever heard Sir Hans saying, for Asadue pulled his pupil off the tomb leaving the knight to fight alone.
Once inside the house, the old man lit a torch and had door forced open which led to small yard hewn out of the hill’s rock and a path was seen that went down from that fane, it was a narrow road on the brink of the slope and there was only place for one at the time. The Old man went first, Sir Antuel second, and Edwald third, Asadue was last and he made sure that his pupil went before him, for he knew that if he did not stand in his way, Edwald would surely turn back and rush to help the King’s Knight.
This he attempted thrice and in the third try, they all heard a cry of death followed by the sound of steel thrust into flesh. Then he knew his fears were true and Sir Hans Woodmot, the greates swordsman of the Realm, had died fighting for what he knew was right. Thereupon, a sadness fell upon the fellowship that shrunk the heart to a tearful weep at the passing of such brave a man. However painful the news was, it served Edwald as proof that it was now too late to turn back, so dreading the same thing would happened to them they went on with the current path though every step became heavier than the last, with the thought that they had left Sir Hans to perish behind.
For hours thereafter, there were whistles in the air, like whispers caught in the wind that turned louder clearer and snow began to carpet the road the further down they went. The night had grown dark when they came to the lower hill’s base; where the path met an end near a humble stable to the left. Though the barn was large, there only two horses were stalled, and they seemed old and lazy as if it had been long since they last made their trot.
-“I can’t believe we made it out alive,” Edwald said catching his breath again, “But what a bittersweet taste it is to live when it comes at the cost of death of a brave man! We could have stayed and helped Sir Hans, had you not pulled me out of his last fight.”
-“There were far too many for us to overcome in arms,” Asadue replied, “Were it not for his sacrifice, all would have been lost and also we could have perished.”
-“Still I would gladly have given up my life if it meant he would no die alone, forsaken by his brothers in arms.” Edwald said with a heavy heart, “At any rate, how did they find us? We were careful not to leave any trail behind?”
-“They mentioned a Knight,” Master Asadue, “Could it be they meant Sir Frann?”
-“That bragging swine!” Edwald said with growing wrath, “I have mistaken him for a honourable man. Had I known he would turn against his fellow men, I would’ve killed him with my own hands!”
-“Don’t dwell too long in spite,” the old man said, “For now there are more pressing matters at hand. It won’t be long until those ominous slayers realise any of you are longer in the shrine. So you must ride whither you may be safe ere they resume their task. Take my horses, sirs. They might not be much, but they might look worn out but they are of noble stock. These steeds were raised in Arthalyon. They are said there is no fastest breed in the Realm, so I trust they’ll serve you well.”
-“Are you not coming with us?” asked Edwald, distraught; “Surely, you don’t mean to stay. The Night Ernes might still linger in the tomb, and if they catch sight of you, chances are better than not that they will put you to their swords. Besides, what remains for you up there? You said it yourself, no body come to the fane anymore.”
-“I know what I said before,” the old man replied, “Nevertheless, I cannot abandon my post. Aye, it might be true that the young have forgot to mind for old temples and the past, but the same I thought as you came to the shrine. Therefore, if I left my post now, who is to say that others would not do as you have? Nay, I will stay here and care for the tomb and next time farers come by these parts, I will mind to welcome them with an open heart. As for those villains, you needn’t worry for my life. I will hide somewhere in my house until they depart. So carry on with your quest, knowing that you have restored this old man’s faith that better days are ahead and the young find it themselves to come back again and pay their respects to those who came before them. Godspeed, noble sirs, may the Gods always favour your fates.”
And so Edwald and his men took their leave and on horseback once again, after months of tiring their feet, they fixed their aim northwards to the ancient city of Myrlost. Little did they know, however, that another man walked that same road, whose reencounter would only bitter their hearts.