Grace be with you, mercy, and peace from God the Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, in truth and love.
2 John 1:3
Hugh left Eleanor in the early morning light, mounted Barabbas, and headed to the stream. All the talk of dirt and goats had got him thinking a bath might be a good thing on the day he was to be wed. Though he would take Eleanor anyway she came, mayhap she would prefer him free of any unnecessary odors.
He found himself at the same place he had earlier met the old man. He stood along the babbling brook, quite alone. Stripping quickly, he entered the stream and shook at the coolness of the water. He inhaled deeply and dunked his head beneath the soft waves. His body adjusted to the chill and when he surfaced, he scrubbed his face, then his body. Afterwards, he began to take even strokes, cutting the water like a sharp blade. A glint of silver below the surface caused him to pause. Hugh’s gaze followed a thin rope to the edge of the river.
There stood the old man, holding a line in his hands. “Move out of the way. You are scaring the fish.”
Hugh began to tread water. “I was wondering if I would ever see you again.”
The man gave a tug on the line, then shook his head. “Missed that one. Do come out. I’ll not catch a thing with you thrashing about.”
No way did Hugh plan to leave the confines of the stream until he could dress. “Hold on. I must swim back to get my clothes.”
“They are right here.” The old man motioned to the ground.
There, in a neat pile lay Hugh’s clothing. Funny, but he wasn’t shocked at all. This man seemed to be capable of many things. Hugh exited the water and swiftly donned his tunic and breeches. He shook the water from his ears and went to stand next to the man.
“Shh. You know they can hear you. They love the chase as much as you and I. There...there.” With a jerk to the right, the old man raised his line; a large brown trout dangled from the thread and hook. “Ah, now we can break our fast.”
“Before morning prayers?” Hugh asked, helping to bring the fish to the shore.
The old man gently waved his hand near his face. “I’ll understand.”
Hugh cocked a brow as he reached for a knife sitting on a nearby rock. “You mean, He will understand.”
The old man sat down on another rock and watched Hugh gut the fish. “Certainly. That should be enough for the two of us.”
Hugh wasn’t too sure about that. Only two slim pieces of fish lay in his hand, but he nodded. Thinking of taking Eleanor as wife today had his insides all jumpy anyway.
“You can cook them there,” the man said.
On the shoreline, to Hugh’s right, sat a crackling fire with an iron plate next to it. This could not be, for he had swam from that direction and he had not noticed the fire. Nor had he smelled one, which his senses could not deny.
“Well, what are you waiting for? We must get you fed and in front of your son’s altar by noon.”
Hugh paused with fish in hand. “How do you know such things? Have you been watching me? Have you been to Thornwood?”
The man again waved to the fire. “Aye and nay. Now cook the fish.”
Hugh thought to object, but then his stomach rumbled and waiting a few moments more for answers did not seem a bad thing. He placed the trout into the pan and, shortly thereafter, the fish turned a golden brown. Returning to the man’s side, Hugh placed the pan between the two of them. The old man uttered a few words of thanks and then sprinkled a light powder over the trout.
The fish melted in Hugh’s mouth and tasted like nothing he had ever eaten before. He greedily looked down at the pan, expecting to find it empty as the old man ate too. But there again lay two pieces. Hugh took another and again the experience made Hugh believe he ate a piece of heaven. Two more times he reached and found another piece of trout. Finally full, the pan remained empty.
Hugh belched. “That has to be the best food I have ever eaten. How did you manage...”
The old man shrugged. “I dabble in a little cooking.”
A little. ’Twas a miracle and Hugh wondered just who he was eating with. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You are welcome to live at Thornwood, once it is rebuilt.”
“So I can teach Cook my methods?”
“A good idea, come to think of it.”
The old man smiled. “Your wife can instruct her.”
“She is a fair cook.” Hugh stretched out his long legs, sleepy after the satisfying meal and the long night.
“So what have you come to see, Hugh de Maury?”
That question shooed away any thoughts of rest. Hugh sat up. “I have seen that my son wishes to be a priest and serve God above all else. I have learned the past is just that and should be forgotten. I have come to see that the love of a good woman is a precious gift from God. Most of all, I have learned that man can plan, but God directs.”
“Now your eyes are truly open and our time together has ended.” The old man stood. “See, the fire has gone cold.”
Impossible, for he had just cooked the fish and it did not take long to eat. Nonetheless, the flames were indeed extinguished. Not a trace of smoke rose to the sky.
He turned back, but the old man had vanished. Like the first time they had met, Hugh wondered how a man of advanced years could manage to slip away so quickly without a sound.
However, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the line and makeshift hook the man had used to catch the trout. Hugh wound it up and stuck it inside his tunic. Perhaps someday the elderly man may return. In the meantime, Hugh planned to use the tool himself, for mayhap that was why the fish had tasted so good.
The sky grew lighter. Time to prepare himself for the glorious gift God was giving him this day. A wife, Eleanor.
Noon came quickly enough. Hugh had spent the last few hours in prayer and preparation. He donned a light gray tunic with gold piping, and black breeches and boots completed his outfit. He fluffed out his wavy black hair and headed for the keep. A blue cloudless sky shown overhead. The air was scented with a floral summer mix. A perfect day for a perfect union.
The marriage would take place in front of Simon’s altar in the middle of what was left of Thornwood’s bailey. When all were in place, King Richard entered, dressed in his purple cape and a gold tunic. His breeches a deep plum. His boots black and shiny. All bowed low as he took the primary seat, near the priest.
Hugh stood to the left of the altar and waited for his bride, who stepped through the gate entry and made her way to his side. A crown of fresh wildflowers circled her shiny chestnut hair. A spring green gown graced her lovely figure. Her cheeks, a pleasant pink, enhanced her large doe eyes. That day, no fairer maid could be found than Lady Eleanor.
The vows were given and the union sanctioned by God. The people of Thornwood erupted with cheers as Lord Thornwood presented his wife. Not to be outshone, little Isobel skipped up to the pair.
She grabbed both of their hands. “Now we are a family.”
Saint Bartholomew bleated and hobbled to Isobel’s side.
Hugh and Eleanor exchanged a look and he sighed. ’Twould seem he gained more than a wife. Someone began playing a lute and another banged a drum. The crowd sang and danced out of the bailey to the feast Sylvester and Cook had been preparing all night. Not a more joyous day could be had.
As the day waned and Eleanor left to prepare herself for her husband, Hugh ventured into the cooling eve with his brother, Guy, and Royce. They sat on the low hill, which used to overlook Hugh’s vibrant bean fields, now naught but ruts and dirt.
Julian slapped Hugh between the shoulder blades. “Well, Brother. You have joined the rest of us in peaceful wedded bliss.”
Guy ran a hand through his hair. “Speak for yourself, Julian. Since young Theo has come, there is no peace in my house.”
They all laughed. Then Hugh sobered. “’Tis a good name you have chosen.”
“How could I not. He takes my place on the French battlefield. It is the least I can do for the man who will let me watch my son grow up,” Guy said.
All nodded. Truly, Theo was a knight above all others. Hugh had told him Taine Manor was his when he returned, but Theo had just smiled and claimed he would not need it since he would surely gain a keep of his own in France. Though stated as a joke, both knew such a prize to be possible.
“And I suppose that leaves me to name my child Darrin,” Julian said.
“I suppose when you get Ariane with child,” Guy retorted.
“She is. She told me this morn.” All slapped Julian on the back and wished him well.
The stars twinkled brightly in the sky and Royce laid down with his hands behind his head. “God has blessed us all.”
“I almost lost my blessing had not an old man told me to come and see,” Hugh said.
Julian stared at Hugh. “Old man? What did he look like? For I, too, have had a visit from an old man, years ago, who helped me see past my own pride.”
“I met an old man also before I wed Grace. He opened my eyes. He was there and then he was not,” Guy injected.
Royce sat up. “I, too, had such a visit.”
The knights sat dumbstruck. For only God knew if they had been visited by the same man, and only God knew what the future would hold for all of them.
A star glided across the heavens and disappeared behind the rolling hills. Whatever His plan, the knights were grateful. For no greater blessings had they received than the love of their wives and their Savior, Jesus Christ.
The End
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