Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court (11 page)

“Tell them a story” Meg said as she and Nia joined the small crowd.

Bentley thought for a moment. “How about I tell you a story that no one here has ever heard before, and yet it is as true as I am standing before you.”

The children danced with excitement, and by now their number had grown simply because there was a gathering.

“Sit down, children, and listen to a tale as grand as you will ever hear, for the waves of the Great Sea itself will hush to silence for such a story.”

More than thirty children and as many adults gathered and sat quietly, waiting for Bentley to begin his story.

“Not long ago, the mighty King of Arrethtrae looked out across the Great Sea and saw the plight of His people. He heard of their poverty.” Bentley lifted the tattered corner of his tunic. “He heard of their sickness.” He motioned toward Anya's mother. “He heard of their persecution.” He motioned toward the great castle that stood just a stone's throw away. “And he was grieved to the heart, for His archenemy, the Dark Knight, had caused it all.”

Bentley's eyes narrowed and his face became serious as he bent down to look at the children face to face. Their eyes became big, and they scooted away from him as he drew on Demus's teaching to tell the story. From the corner of his eye, he saw a few of the parents conferring nervously.

“Now, the Dark Knight is a fearsome warrior that is powerful and cunning, with eyes like dark steel and a sword as swift as the land has ever seen. All who see him tremble, for he is merciless and wants to destroy all that the King calls good.

“The King knew that this mighty warrior was too powerful for any knight in Arrethtrae to overcome. He was even more powerful than the
King's own mighty force, the Silent Warriors. The King knew that there was only One who could overcome the powerful Dark Knight and save the people from him and his evil Shadow Warriors. It was…”

Bentley paused, and everyone became still as he whispered the answer.

“The Prince, the King's only Son.”

“What's He like, Bentley?” Nia asked.

Bentley smiled and nodded as if to think, his mind racing to remember Demus's teachings. “His hair is like strands of gold, and his eyes burn like fire. His brow is noble, and His arms are as strong as iron. The power of His sword is like the force of a thousand horses, and when He speaks, the birds of the air hush to listen and the mountains tremble at His voice.

“He is a Knight of knights, children. And though He is as grand as all of this, He cares deeply for the humblest of His subjects.”

At this, Bentley reached over and stroked Anya's cheek. She smiled up at him as he continued.

“And so, with heaviness of heart, the King sent His Son to Arrethtrae. But you would not have recognized Him when He came.”

“Why not?” a little boy asked.

“Because He did not come as a Prince but as a pauper, just like you and me.”

The children tilted their heads.

“The Prince clothed himself in rags and lived with the commoners, calling them to follow Him and train for battle against the Dark Knight. The Prince trained many to become knights. And when the training was complete…”

“He fought and defeated the Dark Knight?” one little boy shouted.

“No,” Bentley said, and his thoughts turned back to that day when he was but a lad. This was where the stories of years past caught up to his own life, and he no longer became just a narrator but a character in his own tale. “An army of mighty knights came to capture the Prince because they did not believe He was the King's Son. They surrounded
His men, and though He could have fought and survived the battle, He gave himself freely so that His men would not be killed. It was a dark day for the Followers of the Prince, for these powerful but foolish knights killed the mighty Prince.”

The children shook their heads. “No!” they exclaimed in a commotion. Tears were running down little Anya's face.

“But wait.” Bentley held up his hand. “That is not the end of the story.”

The children hushed again.

“The King reached across the Great Sea with His great love for His Son and for His subjects and used the power of the Life Spice to bring Him back to life. This may sound preposterous, little ones, but let me tell you that I know men who have seen the risen Prince with their own eyes and will breathe their very last breath swearing to the truth of it all.”

Bentley paused and looked at the children and then to the parents gathered around. The crowd had swelled even larger now.

“Those who choose to follow the Prince and believe Him can become gallant Knights of the Prince.” He looked at Anya's huge, questioning eyes. “Yes, even little ones. His Knights know who the Dark Knight is and that he is trying to destroy Arrethtrae and the King's people. They train, they battle, they journey, they live, and they die because of the greatness of the Prince. If you look closely, you will see the heart of the Prince within them. And one day, the great Prince will come back to Arrethtrae with an army to utterly destroy the Dark Knight and his evil warriors.”

Bentley put his hand to his ear. “Listen!” he said, and the children hushed once more to silence. “When you hear the sound often thousand horses and feel the rumble beneath your feet, know that the Prince is coming and the day of the Dark Knight will end!”

The children's eyes were wide with excitement. They began to clap and cheer, and Bentley bowed to them all. Before long the parents gathered them up and journeyed on their way.

When all the children had left, Anya came to Bentley. He knelt down, and she put her left hand on his shoulder. She looked deeply into his eyes, and his heart melted.

“Bentley,” she whispered, “are you the Prince?”

Bentley's eyes teared up in an unexpected wave of emotion. He knew he fell so wholly and completely short of who and what the Prince was. And yet he realized that it was the Prince in him that Anya saw, and he was humbled. This trek of discovery was nothing like he had imagined… and yet so much more.

“No, Anya,” he whispered back. “I am not the Prince. But I want to be like Him.”

Anya thought for a moment and then leaned over to give Bentley a kiss on his cheek. “I can tell I'm going to like Him too.”

Bentley said good-bye as Anya's mother took her hand and guided her home. He stood slowly and gazed at the castle.

“That's quite a tale ye spin, Ben,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

Bentley turned around. “I do my best.”

“An’ what's this I hear 'bout your escapades with the Mercy Maiden?” Walsch said with a broad grin.

Bentley grinned back. “I helped her deliver some food, that's all.”

“Ya must be hard up, Ben—or is it that she reminds ye of the damsels back home?”

Bentley laughed out loud as a pretty red-headed young woman came to stand next to Walsch. She cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned, and delight filled his eyes.

“Ben.” He took her hand. “I'd like ye t’ meet my Luanne.”

Bentley bowed. “I am pleased to meet you.”

“I've just asked Luanne's father for her hand in marriage,” Walsch said.

Luanne's joy was obvious, and the two exchanged a glance so intimate that it made Bentley momentarily uncomfortable.

“Then a congratulations is in order,” Bentley said quickly and bowed to the couple.

They talked for a time and ended with a promise to meet more frequently than before. Bentley rejoined Creighton and his family and they returned to the farm. As he lay on his straw bed that night, he smiled as he thought of the children and the story he had told them. Their wonder and excitement encouraged him.

If only the rest of the kingdom would have ears as eager as theirs
, he thought as he fell peacefully asleep.

A SENTENCE
OF DEATH

Bentley stayed with Creighton and Anwen until Creighton's leg was fully healed. He continued to work with them as they needed, but he also looked for opportunities to help many of the families that he and Eirwyn had visited on her last Mercy Maiden trip. He avoided contact with Kingsley's guards and knights as much as possible, for they would not take kindly to his efforts among the people—or to the stories he told the children.

Late one afternoon, Bentley was helping a family patch a roof when he saw the familiar forms of the Mercy Maiden, Parson, and their wagon pass by. He promptly followed after and had no small effort in catching up with them, for the horse seemed to be traveling extra fast today.

“Eirwyn!” he called, out of breath as he ran beside the wagon.

She looked at him sternly. “Don't call me that!”

“Please forgive me. It's been so long. May I help you today?”

“No.” She tried not to look at him. “I don't think so.”

“Anya's mother is much worse,” he said, still trying to keep up with the pace she had set for the horse.

At that, Eirwyn stopped the horse and looked solemnly at Bentley.
She motioned to the back of the wagon for Bentley to jump on, but he jumped up beside her instead.

Eirwyn smirked. “How can ya stand it? I stink like my hogs!” She gave him a crooked smile that wasn't really a smile at all, but it revealed her blackened teeth again.

“I don't mind,” Bentley replied. “Too much,” he added and grimaced a smile.

She huffed and set the horses in motion again.

Wouldn't Mother be proud?
Bentley thought as he imagined introducing Eirwyn to his parents. A big smile crossed his lips, and he had to turn away so Eirwyn wouldn't see it.

“Best git to Anya's cottage first,” she said.

They arrived at the cottage, and Bentley began to fear the worst, for as they came to the rickety door, they heard soft crying within.

“Hatty!” Eirwyn called as she knocked on the door. “Anya?”

“Come in,” the voice of the doctor called out.

They opened the door to the smell of death in the room. Anya sat on the bed next to her mother, leaning close to hear her words. With one hand she held her mother's hand, and with the other she clutched the cloth doll Eirwyn had given her. The doctor looked at Bentley and Eirwyn from the opposite side of the bed and shook his head.

Eirwyn pursed her lips and sat next to Anya, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. The doctor came and talked quietly to Bentley.

“She'll not make it through the day. There's nothing more I can do. I'll arrange for the burial, but I don't know what's going to become of the little girl.”

“Surely there must be some family here who will take her in,” Bentley whispered.

The doctor shrugged. He finished gathering his items, placed them in a bag, and then looked at Bentley.

“No one here can afford to feed another child,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “especially one who will never be able to produce.”

“I'm sorry,” the doctor said, seeing the anger on Bentley's face, “but that is simply the truth.”

Bentley went to the bed and knelt down opposite of Eirwyn and Anya. Hatty was struggling to find the strength to speak her last words.

“Anya, you have been the joy of my life.” Hatty reached up and touched Anya's cheek. “You have given me courage to go on. Be strong, my precious, and do not let this place steal away the brightness of your heart.” Her hand slowly fell to the bed, and she struggled for one last breath.