At the Edge of the World

  He became silent.

  In that silence, I said, “Bear, those stories you told Dudley, about those things you said you did when a soldier. You … were you making them up … weren’t you … to gain their trust?”

  Bear looked at me, eyes full of pain. He started to speak, stopped, took a deep breath and spoke most haltingly. “Crispin,” he said, “on Judgment Day … when …189when all shall kneel to be judged before our Blessed Lord, no man who has warred shall be unblemished.”

  Stunned by what he was saying, I was afraid to speak. My eyes filled with tears.

  Bear reached out, touched my cheek and whispered, “A child’s tear is the true holy water.”

  I could not speak.

  “Listen well,” said Bear, recovering some strength in his voice. “Both of you. Most of my days I lived for myself. I was free. I was a sinner, like these men, but, as God knows, not all I did was bad. But much was. Then you two came. Crispin first. Then Troth. In the full measure of my life, it’s not been for so very long. I can only pray that God will say it’s enough. To find such love as I have for both of you is to bind oneself to life, and living. And as my Lord Jesus knows and teaches—a new, and loving life cleanses the old.”

  “And you are kind!” I cried.

  “And good!” added Troth.

  “I pray that God may forgive me as generously as you two do!” said Bear. Impulsively, he reached out and hugged us to his chest. “It’s you,” he whispered, “who are my redemption. In children there is mercy.”

  “Bear—” I said.

  “Crispin, I am tired to my soul. More than tired.”

  “What do you mean?” I cried.

  “I must rest. To find some place and stay. I’ve wandered too much. My sins hold me back so that I can hardly move.”

  Then Troth, very softly, asked, “What will happen tomorrow?”

  “Richard Dudley means to attack the village of which he spoke. You heard him: he claims a fortune is to be found there. He insists that in you, Troth—being small and agile—he’s found a way to reach it. Exactly how, I don’t know. But I will make every effort to ensure you’re safe.”

  “We should run off now,” I said.

  Bear shook his head. “Crispin, by our Blessed Lady, we cannot. They are watching us. If we try to escape, we’ll be cut down. Or at least you and I. They mean to use Troth. We need to be here for her. We’ll know more tomorrow. Let’s hope all goes well.”

  I said, “You once told me a wise man has as many hopes as reasons. Is that all that’s left to you—hope?”

  He sighed. I studied Bear’s face. He had become old.

  He reached out and chucked me on the chin. “Yes, hope.”

  “Hope for what?” I cried.

  “That we do not,” he whispered, “fail each other.”

  34

  DAWN CAME with gray skies, the air sweet and soft, holding hints of more rain. The trees upon the hill where we camped, stirred in a gentle breeze. Birds flew high and in haste, as if—I thought—to escape. How I wished we had such wings! How I dreaded the coming day!

  The cook broke our fast with bowls of mashed wheat grain. We ate with our fingers. The soldiers, stiff and slow to rise, put themselves into battle garb. After their night of revelry, they were sober in mind and spirit again. Some, as before, went on their knees in prayer.

  What kind of men—I wondered—were these that killed by day, drank by night, but prayed each morning?

  Richard Dudley did not deign to speak to us. Instead, he urged his men to complete their preparations. Only when that was done, did he mount his horse and lead the way from the encampment. As before, we three were herded among the rest and made to march along. Bear limped and offered no talk. It caused me grief to see him so resigned. If ever there was a time, I told myself, now I must be a man. But even as I had the thought, I made a correction: no, I thought, be just yourself and find a way to free Bear and Troth.

  Toward midday, we worked our way just behind the forested crest of another hill. It was there, among some trees, partly hidden, that Dudley called a halt. He ordered his troops to stay back. No fire could be made lest it give off smoke.

  He came to us. “Follow me,” he commanded.

  We went to one side of the hill, standing among some trees from where we were able to gaze out upon a flat plain. Dudley drew Troth to him roughly and made her stand before him, putting his thick hands on her shoulders so she could not bolt. That he even touched her filled me with rage.

  Bear and I stood to either side—as close as we dared.

  What we saw was a sweet, green valley, tilled fields, occasional trees, a pond or two, plus a serpentine river that ran through all. People were at work in the fields. Near the center of this unruffled world stood a circle of a village with some fifty structures set about a tree-filled center. No wall around it. Instead, the river flowed toward it, and then went completely around it—thus serving as a wide moat that provided protection.

  A drawbridge crossed the water. At the point where this bridge crossed, a castle stood within. Built of dark gray stone, it was some four levels high, longer than wide, with a crenellated rampart. At the end nearest the river moat, a round keep had been built. It had a fair number of arrow slits from which archers could shoot down to defend the bridge. Here and there, a corbel had been built for the same purpose. The keep’s top rampart was also crenellated. From it hung a flag.

  “That,” said Richard Dudley, “is Bources. And there is our treasure.” He swung about, and pointed to a large church built of the same gray stone as the castle. But the church stood outside the moat.

  At first glance, the church looked no different from other churches I had seen. Longer than it was wide, it had extensions to either side to give it the shape of a cross. The main entry—large double wooden doors—was at the side rather than at the front of the church. A cross stood above it.

  But here, one end of the church abutted the river. At the other end was a tower—part of the church, but not a spire. The high cross was elsewhere. This tower was a tall, square structure with a pointed roof. From what I could see, its entryway must have been within the church. Moreover, the upper part of this tower had slits from which one might shoot arrows down. In short, it was something I had never seen before: a fortified church. In so being, it also guarded the drawbridge that crossed the river.

  “King Edward,” said Dudley with a grin, “decreed that the church, not the garrison, should protect the treasure. Which is to say, he trusted his priests more than his officers.”

  “How do you intend to get at it?” asked Bear.

  “A deception,” said Dudley. “Most of the soldiers are in that castle,” he said. “The flag proclaims as much. My men and I shall act as if we intend to attack it, that we are laying on a siege. That will keep all forces within the castle, as well as draw those who are stationed in the church. That will leave the church unguarded—save a few. Of course it will be closed. But happily, there is a opening at the base of the tower. Can you see it?”

  We looked. I could see a small hole near the base of the fortified tower.

  “Why is it there?” asked Dudley. “Well now, do you see how the church is set up against the river moat? At times the river rises and floods. That water floods the church. But those holes—and at the other end—allow the water to flow out.

  “The river-end hole sits beneath the waterline. And the land-side hole is too small for any grown man. But it’s not,” he said, slapping his hands hard down on Troth’s shoulders, “too small for this unhappy girl.

  “Very well then, my ugly one,” he went on. “You shall go through the opening, slip inside, thereby gaining access to the church. Once within, you’ll open the doors. We shall be waiting and watching. The moment we see the doors swing out, my troops and I shall wheel about, enter the church, and pluck up the treasure.”

  “How are the doors kept closed?” Bear asked.

  “A wooden crossbeam. On the inside
. Is she strong?” Dudley asked.

  “Strong enough,” said Bear. Then he asked, “Will there not be soldiers inside the church?”

  Dudley shrugged. “At most, the few who barred the door from within. It shall be the girl’s task to get by them.”

  “And if she cannot?”

  “We’ll try again. With your boy. With two chances, we should succeed.”

  Bear struggled for words. “Whose soldiers are in the castle?”

  “The flag tells us it’s an English garrison.”

  “Then you’re attacking your own people,” said Bear.

  “They would as soon slay me.”

  “Is it not King Edward’s wealth?”

  “You said he died. Well, then, I proclaim it forfeit.”

  We stared silently at the view before us. “When do you intend to do this?”

  “Right now. Before we’re discovered. Very well: I have instructed the girl what to do. Have I been clear? Answer me!

  “Yes,” said Troth.

  “What did she say?” demanded Dudley. “I can’t understand her.”

  “She said yes,” said Bear.

  “Then she spoke well! Now then,” he said to Bear, “you will be with me while we attack the castle—even as she enters the church.”

  “And the boy?”

  “He will remain behind—with the cook. If the girl fails, we’ll use him to do the job. What say you, boy?”

  “Bear’s not strong enough,” I said. “Let me go in his place.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Bear quickly.

  “But—”

  “Crispin!” cried Bear. “Do as he says.”

  I stared at him, hardly knowing what to think or feel: furious about what was happening, angry that he was still trying to protect me, afraid that I was being left alone, frustrated that I would not be able to do anything.

  Dudley, however, only smiled. “So be it,” he said.

  “Now, tell me … what will happen to me?” said Bear. He was struggling to contain his anger.

  “As I said, you shall stay by my side,” said Dudley. “With a halter round your neck. To keep you from escap-ing.

  “A halter!” I cried.

  “Shhh!” said Bear. “Will I be armed?”

  “I think not,” said Dudley with something of a smile. “You might attack me. No, you shall be held hostage until the girl—or boy—achieves what I desire. So then, girl, boy, hear me well: if you do not succeed in the task I’ve set you, I’ll slay your father. Is that understood? The treasure in the church is his ransom. Which is to say, it’s on you whether he lives or dies. Help me get the treasure, and you shall all be freed. Fail, and his life—and yours—are forfeit. Is that clearly understood?”

  Troth could only nod. I suppose I did too.

  Dudley turned to Bear. “Now, get yourself some armor.”

  35

  THE THREE of us walked slowly back to the oxcart. Right behind came an armed guard.

  “Bear—” I began.

  “Let me think!” he barked, cutting me off.

  “Troth can’t do such a thing,” I persisted.

  “Crispin,” said Troth, “I’ll do what he asked. Then he’ll set us free.”

  “I don’t think he will,” I cried to her. “And what if Bear is hurt or killed in the attack? Didn’t you hear? He’ll have a halter tied round his neck! He won’t even be armed.”

  Troth said nothing to that.

  “Do you trust Dudley to set us free, if he gets his treasure?” I demanded of Bear.

  “By Saint Jerome, I don’t know,” was Bear’s reply. We had reached the oxcart. Under the watchful eye of both the guard and the cook, Bear leaned into the oxcart and searched about for a piece of armor that might fit him.

  He fetched up a chain mail shirt. It was corroded, and had some holes. Nonetheless, he pulled it over his head so that it covered half his arms, his neck, and most of his chest.

  Troth and I looked on glumly.

  Next, Bear rummaged around the oxcart for a breastplate. When he found one, he held it to his body for a fitting, knocking it with his knuckles to see if it was sound.

  “Crispin,” he said. “Help me with the straps.”

  I had watched his dressing with mounting despair. “Bear, we can get away and—”

  “Crispin,” he barked, “remember: the man who thinks his enemy is a fool, is the greater fool. Now do as I say!”

  Troth watched, wide-eyed as I, fumbling, buckled the leather straps behind Bear’s back so the plate was held to his chest. It fit poorly.

  Bear next took up a helmet—examined it indifferently—and set it on his head.

  He turned to the guard. “There are swords in there,” he said, with a nod to the cart. “Can I arm myself?”

  “No,” said the man. “You heard the captain.”

  Bear shrugged.

  I looked at Bear. Though he did not have his old bulk, he was still a large man, but the ill-fitting plate and helmet served to make him ungainly and vulnerable in appearance.

  “Now, come,” said Bear, “we have just a little time.” He put his arm about my shoulder, did as much with Troth, and began to draw us away.

  The cook called, “The boy is to stay here!” He held up a sword of his own to show his strength.

  “In good faith, I’ll have him for just a moment,” Bear called back. “You may watch us! I wish to make sure they know what to do.”

  The cook lowered his sword. “Be quick,” he said.

  With us at his side, Bear set his steps toward where Dudley waited with his troops. Halfway there, Bear stopped. No one was around us. “Listen well,” he said, his voice hushed but urgent. “We have this last moment.”

  “Bear …” I began.

  He touched my mouth to keep me still, then placed a large hand on each our shoulders and bent close so that our three heads were touching. “Know the love I have for you both,” he began. “As God is holy, you must escape, and find your way to freedom. You’ll most likely have to do so without me.”

  Seething with frustration, I wanted to speak but could not.

  He went on: “Know there is nothing in this that you have done. You are both without sin.”

  I felt like screaming at him, hitting him with my rage that he was not letting me do anything, but insisting—as he did of old—to tell me what to do, refusing to allow me to act as I might. “Bear—”

  “Crispin,” he hissed, “don’t argue! Now, I will go along with Captain Dudley, and see what God has in store. Troth, start off as he bid you. Crispin, you must free yourself from the one who guards you. Join Troth. It’s your only hope. As soon as you meet, run off. The two of you need each other.”

  “But what of you?” I cried.

  “By my Blessed Lady, I have no desire to leave off living,” he said. “But if you two can free yourselves, my prayers will be answered. Perhaps God has some means for us to stay together. If He does, I don’t know it.”

  “Bear,” I pleaded, “you must let me—”

  “Crispin, honor me and my love by living free. Troth, do the same. Cling to one another. Find some place to be. Let it be as it may be! Pray for my soul, but never neglect your own. Do you understand me, Crispin? Free yourself and get to Troth. Do what you must do. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Bear, breathing heavily, would not stop, would not let me say one thing. “Troth,” he went on, “trust yourself first, then Crispin. Always honor Aude. Find a way to live that lets you be yourself. No God—yours or mine—can ask for more.”

  That said, he reached round and pulled us toward him in an embrace.

  I could not—would not—believe it would be our last.

  Bear turned sharply away from me. Guiding Troth with a large hand at her back, they went where Dudley waited with his soldiers. Bear was followed by the guard.

  My heart a burning stone in my chest, I remained behind, watching them go. Twice Bear looked back at me over his should
er. So did Troth. She made a quick hand sign: come. I would have bolted that instant, if I had not felt a sharp poke upon my back. I turned. It was the little cook. His sword was in his hand.

  “You’re to come with me,” he commanded.

  Which was greater, my despair or my rage, I can hardly say. I only know that I was trembling, my vision blurry. I had to struggle to find breath.

  I allowed myself one last look at Bear and Troth, and then let myself be guided back to the cart. As we went, I strained to find some degree of self-possession, knowing I must think clearly, grasping that my task was to get free quickly. I had little doubt I would have but one chance—if that.

  Once at the oxcart, the cook pulled up a coil of rope, one end of which had already been tied to the spoke of the cartwheel. The cook fastened the other end round one of my arms, pulling the knot taut.

  “By Saint Peter,” he said as he tethered me, “small as I am, Captain Dudley had marked me to be the one to go into that tower. But God answered my prayers when you came along with that wretched girl. A good captain, if a hard man. For your own sake, you’d best pray she’ll succeed. For now, lad, rest easy. There’s nothing you can do.” That said, he busied himself among his iron pots, content to let me be his prisoner.

  I stood there, trying to shape my fury, using it to make a plan. From where I was, I could see the troops, plus Dudley and two others on horseback. Bear, large as he was, stood out from the others. I watched, horrified, as a soldier slung a rope round his neck, and pulled it tight like a hanging noose. Even as I had been tied to the oxcart, Bear was tied to the pommel of Dudley’s saddle.

  I could no longer see Troth. But as sure as I knew anything, I had no doubt she would not run away as Bear bade her. To try and save him, she would do as Dudley had commanded.

  The soldiers were forming up, receiving final instructions from Dudley.

  “Will the captain keep his word?” I called to the cook.

  He looked up from his pot, into which he was cutting onions with his dagger. “It depends on what happens,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Captain Dudley has talked of that treasure for many a month. God willing, he’ll have it. And I beg your forgiveness in advance, but I’ve been ordered to slay you”—he nodded to his sword which lay close to his hand—“if you act ill. Pay heed: my life is forfeit if I disobey the captain.