Maggie
ignored Ruther’s insult and appealed to Henry. “He took the gold. I know it.
I’ve never trusted him, Henry, you know that.”
Henry
dropped his voice low enough that Ruther would not hear. “He told us how much
gold he’s taken. Why would he lie about the rest?”
Maggie
stared at Henry with an intense ferocity. “One reason for every piece of gold.”
Henry
shook his head. “I believe him.”
Maggie
slapped Henry so fast that it shocked more than hurt him. Her eyes were full of
tears again. “You’re a fool. I’ve tolerated your bad decisions and imprudent
trust, but I won’t be led around by a fool any longer.” She turned her back to
him and went to James. “He knows where the money is. He wants to convince us
it’s not him so we turn on each other.”
James
nodded as he watched Ruther try to apologize to a still-tearful Isabelle. He
retrieved his sword from the dirt and stood again in front of Ruther. In his
other hand he held one of his small throwing knives. Henry had never
appreciated until now how sharp James kept them. “Tell me where my mother’s
gold is, Ruther, or you’re going to lose toes. Then fingers.”
Ruther
looked as though he wanted to make a joke, something to lighten the mood. He
sputtered something but Henry could not understand it.
In
response, Henry drew his own sword. “You will not harm Ruther.”
“That
gold was not yours—”
“It
wasn’t yours, either, James,” Isabelle said. “Mother left it for me.”
“If
you’re going to do nothing to reclaim it, then I will. I love you, Isabelle. You
know that, but you are hopelessly naïve. Between Henry’s lack of spine and your
naiveté, you’ve put yourselves and the rest of us into bad situations that
could have been avoided.”
Henry
steeled himself. “I will fight you, James. Will you harm me in order to harm
Ruther?”
“What
would you do, Henry?” James asked in a dangerously calm voice. “Would you let
him go?”
“Yes.”
“That’s
what he wants. That gold weighs too much to carry very far. It’s here
somewhere. Let him go, and when we’re gone he’ll come back here for the gold.”
“Then
so be it. Think of your father, James. This is something he would do. That’s
why Isabelle and I had to leave Richterton and why we’re here right now!”
“No,”
Maggie said, “Ruther is not going to deceive you again, Henry. I want you to
see him for what he is!”
Henry’s
face turned red. Isabelle addressed Maggie for him. “How can you be so
depraved? What is it about Ruther that you hate so much? He’s been with me
every step of the way, putting himself in danger as much as the rest of us. And
he’s complained no more or less than you, Maggie!”
Before
Maggie could say anything, James broke in. “Henry, I respect you and have
followed you for over twelve weeks, but that money is no longer yours and
Isabelle’s to speak for. All of us have invested blood and suffering in that
money—in yours and Isabelle’s happiness. I will not come all this way to see
someone rob you or my sister of that, even if you would step aside and let it
go.”
“This
is too far,” Henry said, gesturing to James’ knife.
“It’s
not your decision alone. We will put it to a vote.”
The Vote
“No,”
Isabelle said.
Her face mirrored Henry’s own repulsion at the suggestion.
“I won’t vote. Not on something like this.”
“Yes,
you will,” James said.
“It
doesn’t matter what you vote,” Henry told James. “I’ll stop you.”
“You’ll
lose,” James said. “You know that. And when I render you unconscious, I’ll
escort my sister and yours away, then Brandol and I will find the gold one way
or another.”
Henry
went to Maggie. “Please, you can’t support this.”
Maggie
would not look back at him. “My vote is for James.”
Henry
shook his head. His voice was thick as water. “You are not my sister.”
“You
are not my brother when you allow someone to betray you and still offer him a
hand of friendship time and time again. Mother would be disgusted with you.”
“I
am not offering him friendship, but I won’t submit him to James’ methods.”
James
and Maggie and Isabelle stared now at Brandol, who had his head between his
legs and his hands over his head. Henry felt fresh shame that his journeyman
had been compelled to join them, and now had to witness this brutal display of
humanity.
“What
is your vote, Brandol?” James asked.
Ruther
began to shake, his face covered by his hands. Henry knew why. Brandol had
disliked Ruther ever since being forced to play the part of the soldier in
A
Soldier and His Lady
. Brandol had been humiliated in front of all those
soldiers when his pants fell down to his ankles, but Ruther had made it worse
by teasing him about it for days.
Henry
spoke with great tenderness. “You don’t have to say anything, Brandol. Please
don’t let them do this.” Even as he spoke, he prepared himself to rush on
James.
Everyone
but Ruther had their eyes on Brandol, whose sniffling was the only sound in the
camp besides the fire’s sparse crackling. Brandol was watching a small beetle
burrow into the dirt, and finally looked up. His eyes were red and swollen. He
looked at James first, then at Henry, and finally at Ruther. Ruther kept his
eyes on the ground, but Henry saw one of his hands closing around a handful of
loose soil.
The
journeyman’s voice was barely audible, but the silence made him sound like a
magistrate pronouncing a sentence. “I vote for Master Henry.”
Ruther
sobbed into one clean and one dirty hand. James dropped his sword. Maggie’s
face was stone. Isabelle rushed to Brandol and hugged him. Henry gave Ruther
his hand, but Ruther shook his head and continued to sob. Henry gripped his
friend’s arm and pulled him up into a long embrace. Ruther’s hot breath warmed
Henry’s shoulder in rapid puffs of air.
“I
forgive you, Ruther,” Henry whispered, “but you have to go now.”
Ruther
nodded and croaked an apology. Henry let go of all of the accusations and
suspicions he had held. The man he held in his arms was once again his boyhood
friend, and the man who had saved his life three times. Once from a farmer’s
bull chasing them through a field, the second time in an inn where an Emperor
had tried to kidnap Isabelle, and last, with James at his side, when Henry had
been blinded and cornered by the armies of the King.
Henry
slipped the coins that had been discarded on the ground back into Ruther’s
pocket. Ruther made no sign that he’d noticed it. “I love you, brother,” Henry
told him. “Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t have made it this far without
you.”
Ruther
nodded again and let go. He hugged Isabelle briefly and nodded to Brandol who
reacted by fixing his eyes on the digging beetle once more. After a glance at
Maggie, Ruther grabbed his pack from the carriage. Henry noticed Ruther did not
take his second pack, nor did he collect his costumes. Ruther never looked back
after mounting Ghost, and after a few short minutes, even the rhythmic pounding
of his horse’s hooves could not be heard.
No
one spoke. No one needed to. The band of friends, now one person too small,
stood around not knowing exactly what to do. Henry sensed that his little group
was now broken, but perhaps not shattered. As difficult as Ruther had been at
times, over the last twelve weeks he’d become as important as anyone else.
“It’s
time to go,” Isabelle said to no one in particular.
Still
not speaking, they packed their belongings and mounted horses. The gold had
mysteriously disappeared as abruptly as it had arrived. Henry saw no point in
searching for it. He wouldn’t know where to begin. His situation had turned
precarious: emigrating to a new country with no money and no contacts.
It
didn’t matter, he told himself. All he cared about was Isabelle’s safety. If
Maggie, James, or Brandol wanted to be safe with them, so be it. If not, he
would wish them well, too.
The
wind, which had chilled them for days, died down to a breeze. Henry wished it
hadn’t. He wished the wind would roar loudly enough to fill his ears because
the silence of his peers was unbearable. Even the biting cold would be fine
because his body was already numb. The only comfort he found was when the Iron
Forest appeared on the farthest horizon above the tops of the hills to the
east.
Maggie
drove the carriage with only Brandol inside. James, Henry, and Isabelle led on
their horses, and though they rode side by side, no one conversed. Henry sensed
an invisible barrier between himself and James. After their last three months
together, he thought he knew James, but now he realized he had no idea who the
man riding with him truly was. The same concerns applied to Ruther. Had he
really known his friend of over ten years?
He
remembered the time James had shown him the horrid scar on his scalp and told
Henry to trust no one. It troubled Henry that he might be so naïve and not know
it, always assuming that a person’s best qualities defined him. The words
Maggie and James had thrown at Henry and Isabelle cut deep. Had
all
these troubles been caused by his own foolishness? He thought of the hatred in
Maggie’s voice, and James’ willingness to do whatever it took to make certain
Ruther told them the truth. He never wanted to become like them, but what if
they were right?
They
rode on after sundown, and Henry’s thoughts ran in circles. He looked back
often, telling himself he was only checking for signs of someone following
them, perhaps even the thieves who had stolen their gold, but he really wanted
to see his friend’s face. Once when he looked back, he saw Maggie also facing
in the opposite direction. At some point in the night they stopped and set up
camp. They spoke little, only when necessary. Isabelle came and took Henry’s
hand, leading him away from camp. At first Henry thought she wanted to get away
from the others, but something told him she needed his comfort, so he waited
until they walked far enough away that no one could see them. Then he wrapped
her in his arms and let her cry. It was all the speaking they needed.
The
next day went the same except the wind blew harder through the valley again.
Henry looked back to the horizon less often, but he still wondered about his
friend. The pass waited for them ahead, but no one mentioned it. Henry thought
many times about asking James what he planned to do when they reached it, but every
time he thought about asking, he remembered that James’ answer changed nothing.
“Look,”
James said, pointing to the apex of the hill to their north.
At
the hill’s peak, a large buck grazed nervously at stubbles of grass. The deer
looked up abruptly as if he sensed Henry’s stare, then continued chewing while
watching them, probably trying to decide if the strange creatures in the valley
posed a threat.
“I’d
kill it for the meat if . . . . ” James did not finish the sentence, and Henry
knew why. Ruther had taken his bow and arrows.
The
long periods of quiet nearly drove Henry mad. While Maggie and Brandol prepared
another cold dinner, he took Isabelle by the hand and led her up a shallow hill
where they could sit and watch the stars appear.
“Are
we doing the right thing with Brandol?” Isabelle asked before he knew what he
wanted to say.
“I
don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“He’s
terrified, Henry. I think he fears what lies ahead as much as what could be
behind. What does he have to look forward to?”
“We
won’t be impoverished,” Henry answered, “I promise you. Once we’re established,
I’ll help him get his own feet set somewhere. I won’t leave him with nothing.”
“I
know, but he has no family while everyone else does. I’m certain he feels
lonely.”
“He’ll
meet people,” Henry explained, “even a woman if he starts talking more.
Besides, I’ve known him for almost two years now, it’s not as though we’re
strangers.”
“Will
James come with us?”
“I
don’t know. Sometimes I think he will, but—”
“Why
would he go back? It’s madness—it’s as if he doesn’t care that he could be
killed.”
“He
must have some idea or he wouldn’t—” Henry’s words ended abruptly as he
remembered the jagged scar on James’ scalp that he had promised not to mention.
“What?”
Isabelle asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell
me.”
“Maybe
James doesn’t really intend to clear his name. Maybe he has other plans.”
“Such
as?” Isabelle turned to Henry to ask.
“I
don’t know. Who could know what he’s thinking?” Henry said this, but felt
almost certain that James’ reason must have something to do with that scar. He
kissed Isabelle’s forehead to make the thoughts of James and his scar go away.
It was easier with her scent fresh in his lungs and her warm breath on his
neck. Isabelle sighed happily and stroked Henry’s hair and face.
“I
want to tell you something else,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss. “I am so
proud of you for standing up for Ruther.”
“Thank
you,” Henry said with a surge of emotion that forced him to swallow.
“That’s
why I want to marry you. You’re a real hero.”
He
chuckled at her comment, but it was hollow. “A real hero? I don’t feel even
like a man, especially after what happened in Bookerton. I couldn’t defend
myself, and I wouldn’t be able to defend you, either. It’s shameful.”
“No,”
she insisted. “You are a hero. You forgave Ruther for doing something terrible
because you love him. Most people would feel only hate. You’re better than
that. You let your friendship guide your actions, and I approve, Henry. I love
you.”
“So
much love around here,” Henry said, getting a small laugh from Isabelle, but
not cheering himself. He suddenly missed his friend so much he ached from it.
Then another question came to his mind, and he asked it before thinking. “Why
do you think Brandol chose to let Ruther go?”
Isabelle
pulled her head away from Henry’s chest so she could look at him. “I feel like
I know Brandol as well as anyone can. He’s quiet, and when he talks it’s always
about something important to him.”
“He
doesn’t like Ruther,” Henry stated even though Isabelle already knew this.
“I
know, but that doesn’t mean he wants to see Ruther treated that way. I wouldn’t
want even my father to go through something like that.”
“Not
even a finger?” Henry asked, nudging her.
“Maybe
a toe,” Isabelle responded in the same tone, but then she retracted it. “No,
not even that. Brandol is a good person, but he’s very, very timid. I think—I
think his parents made him that way.”
“Why?”
“When
I asked him about his mother and father, he told me he didn’t want to speak
about them. He said they didn’t like him.”
They
heard James’ whistle call them to dinner. Henry smiled as they walked back to
camp. Maggie greeted him with a small smile of her own when he arrived. It was
the first time they had looked at each other since Ruther left.
Emotions
ran high that night as they prepared for sleep. Tomorrow, barring any incident,
they would reach the pass late in the afternoon. Henry was nervous and
relieved, excited and sad, triumphant and even slightly defeated. Traveling
from Richterton to the Iron Pass was an arduous task for anyone, but for Henry
and his friends, it had been a tremendous feat.
It
was Isabelle’s turn to watch over the camp. Henry kept her company for a while
before he retired. They chatted about their future, about getting married in
Pappalon, and about setting up a new woodshop. When he awoke in the morning,
she smiled at him sleepily, kissed him, and went into the carriage to rest.
No
one wanted breakfast, not with the border so near, but they forced themselves
to do so because they needed their energy. James and Henry struck camp with an
excited Brandol helping. Henry had never seen his journeyman so giddy. He and
James rode in front with Brandol riding the spare horse alongside the carriage.