“I know what I’m going to do,” replied Henri. He was from Chaval, a Kingdom approximately a day’s ride from Etienne’s. Henri’s appearance drew no comparison from either Etienne or Olivier. He was slight, almost languid, but his vainglorious demeanor had meant that his popularity had waned during their training. Etienne had grown fond of Henri despite of his conceit, as he was aware it was merely a façade disguising his fears. Etienne’s father and the King of Chaval had never seen eye to eye. Neither of the sons could understand why, and would not let it affect their relationship, but when either had questioned their father’s on this matter they would become dismissive at best, and sometimes even angry. Henri had not been as naturally gifted as Etienne or Olivier but what he lacked in talent he made up for with an effort an ambition unparalleled by the rest of their group. From the conversations Etienne had with Henri he could tell that he was frightened of his father. Etienne would try to explain that it was fear that was holding him back and that if he relaxed more he could be master of the sword rather than be its slave. He would try to explain to Henri that his father would be proud of him no matter what he achieved, but Henri would reply that nothing but absolute best would be good enough. He would say that he only had one master and that he must become whatever his master desired. Etienne found it hard to comprehend why Henri lived in such fear, but hoped that one day he would have the strength to stand up to his father and live his life for himself. Aside from his worrying and lack of self belief Henri was still good company and Etienne was grateful for their friendship, Olivier however didn’t share his feelings. “I am going to return to my Kingdom and lead my father’s army until such time that I take his place as king,” said Henri.
“And when do you think that might be?” replied Olivier as he rammed another piece of bread into his mouth.
“When the Kingdom is the most powerful in the land and my father’s work is complete.” Olivier and Etienne looked at one another and rolled their eyes as if to say ‘not this again’.
Etienne and Olivier had endured on many occasions Henri’s tales of how one day the King of Chaval will be so powerful that he would rule over all of France, but on this occasion neither Olivier nor Etienne would indulge Henri’s fantasies.
“What about you Etienne?” asked Olivier. “What are you going to do?” quickly taking the conversation away from Henri.
“In truth Olivier I am still unsure. I would like to spend some time with my father first. Learn more about what has been happening in the city since I left. I know my duty is to one-day lead my people but I want to get to know them first. I need to earn their respect.”
“Well I’m going to go back, have some time off, enjoy my beautiful city and all that it has to offer to a newly fledged knight,” said Olivier, too excited about returning home to really be interested in his friends apprehensions.
“Find your self a good woman,” interrupted Henri with a condescending sneer.
“Hopefully find many good women, my little friend, and wine, and eat like a king. Doesn’t sound too bad hey Et?” said Olivier, giving a wink to his friend, not willing to give any acknowledgment to Henri’s obvious disdain. “Anyway I think it’s time to go my friends.” The other eleven knights that made up the traveling party were beginning to pack up and mount their horses. “You’ll be fine my friend, I’ll always be beside you when you need me,” said Olivier, offering his hand to Etienne.
“And me you my brother,” replied Etienne, taking his hand allowing Olivier to pull him up.
The three friends mounted their horses and joined the rest of the group. The respite had left them refreshed and the horses watered and ready for the next leg of their journey, their destination the far side of the mountain by sunset. The climb was difficult but the knights were in good spirits. They had to lead their horses much of the way as the autumn rain had made the shale that lay on this area of the mountain slippery, but eventually they reached the summit just before sunset. They sat together at the peak of the mountain and watched the sun slowly disappear behind the horizon, it was breathtakingly spectacular, red and purple strips of cloud filling the sky with a fiery glow as if swept by an artists crimson brush. No one spoke, just sat and contemplated what the next day would bring, their homecoming. A fire was lit and the knights began telling stories of their plans and the parties that were awaiting them. One by one they fell asleep with heads full and dreams and hearts of adventure.
The sunrise was of equal splendour, but the men had no time to sit and admire, they wanted to get going, back to their loved ones. They were packed up and on their way before the sun had fully risen. The journey down the mountain was far more difficult as the horses scrambled to get a footing on shards of wet slate, but tentatively they reached the mountain’s foot where they could then remount and start to make good speed again.
Olivier, as usual, was up front, goading the rest of the pack, seeing if they could keep up with him, wind blowing through his black mane of hair. The mood was boisterous. The group galloped together as a pack, they hadn’t realised how close they had become, how instinctive riding together was. They moved together knowing the way each other would move, like a flock of swallows circling a freshly harvested field. This was probably the last time the fourteen would be riding together and the moment had not gone unnoticed. They rode heads down at full tilt, riding free, unconstrained by the limits of their bodies or steeds, gliding on a cloud of expectation and excitement.
The horses eventually begun to tire although the men felt they could ride all day. Their final destinations were not far, but they slowed their horses and trotted to a nearby lake that was to mark their last meal together. The men dismounted and sat in a circle sharing bread and fruit. Wine that had been saved by one of the knights for this occasion was passed from one to another around the friends. As each received the bottle they stood up and made a toast. “To living life,” toasted Olivier.
“To divinity,” said Henri.
“To honour,” “To pride” the toasts continued. Etienne took the bottle, and although he had been thinking about it as the bottle was being passed, he didn’t know what to say, he paused, took breath and stood, “To fulfilling your destiny.” The knights looked at one another stood and repeated Etienne’s words, “To fulfilling your destiny.”
The bread and fruit was finished and the knights remounted their horses, the words still ringing in their ears, it seemed an apt way to end their final meal and their journey.
The first three knights who lived in the Kingdom of Allenay not far from where they had rested said farewell to the group and rode in the direction of their city. They were brothers, Jean-Michel, Nicolas and Paulo. Separated by a year in age, but they could easily be mistaken as triplets. All three tall with blonde curly hair giving a young almost angelic appearance. The eldest Jean-Michel had looked after his brothers throughout their training, protecting them in a way a wolf protects its young, obdurate and unfaltering. This had meant that the three had become slightly isolated from the rest of the group. They would prefer spending time together, practicing or talking rather than engaging with the group. Etienne understood the actions of Jean-Michel and presumed that he would act in a similar way put in the same situation; however some of the knights felt aggrieved by their actions and shunned any acts of friendship they might offer. Etienne had become particularly friendly with the youngest of the three brothers, Paulo. He was unlike the middle brother, Nicolas, who had become so reliant on his elder brother that he hadn’t developed a personality of his own, and Jean-Michele whose constant protection of his brothers made it impossible to forge any bond. Paulo had great energy and enthusiasm, and when possible Etienne would take the time to endeavour to brake down the barriers erected by Jean-Michele in order to spend time with him. Paulo would often ask Etienne why the group would not speak or sit with them, and Etienne would try to put his mind at rest, explaining that they didn’t know what it was like to have such a strong bond that he had with his brothers, and one day they would learn how to ride side-by-side with their fellow man. This was contradictory to Etienne’s own understanding of the situation as, to his regret, he had never had any siblings to rely on or protect. These three young men, whom they had grown up with, lived with for the past five years were now gone with a brief goodbye. Perhaps they would never see each other again. Etienne was unsettled by the ease of the departure and felt that such an important occasion required greater significance, however the remainder of the group seemed to prefer to move on as quick as possible, displaying emotions hadn’t been something in which they were trained; in fact it had been actively discouraged.
The next Kingdom was Etienne’s. He and three other boys from the city, Michel, Marcus and Luc, had left five years ago and were about to return to a hero’s welcome. Etienne felt they hadn’t earned this yet and he would prefer quietly slipping back into the city unnoticed, but he knew this wouldn’t be possible. The city needed to know that their future protectors had returned, and they would want to celebrate the fact. Olivier rode alongside him until the time came that Etienne and his three comrades had to separate from the group and head towards their city. Unhappy with a fleeting farewell Etienne pulled his horse to halt and dismounted. Olivier and Henri followed. Etienne first turned to Henri. “My friend, it has been an honour training with you. You have truly become worthy of ruling your people, your father should be very proud, and I hope that he realises this.” He shook Henri’s outstretched hand and put his arm round his shoulders.
“Thank you Etienne,” replied Henri quiet enough to ensure that Olivier could not hear what was being said. “You have shown me more and taught me more than any single person I have ever met. For this I am truly grateful and indebted to you.”
Etienne smiled at Henri and then turned to Olivier and paused. “My brother, I will always ride beside you,” Olivier threw his arms around Etienne neck.
“And I with you,” he replied almost crushing Etienne. “Now go and see your people.”
Olivier jumped back on his horses, and gave a loud "Yah," as he kicked his horse back into a gallop, and the group departed. The four men who stood alone now remounted and turned in the direction of their city. As they rounded the edge of the forest, they could see perched on top a hill in the distance their city. The men formed two rows, the ride of procession their teacher would call it. Backs were perfectly straight, the heads of their horses high and proud. Their nervousness had subsided and they couldn’t wait to enter the city walls. As they approached they kept a slow meaningful pace. It wasn’t the time to rush; their hearts pounded inside their tunics and the hairs on their arms stood to attention.
The huge gates that marked the entrance to the fortified city slowly creaked open as news of their arrival spread within. They passed through the gates, under the huge stone cloisters at which point they could see for the first time the streets lined with people. The tumult of clapping and cheering was deafening. Etienne had told himself to make sure he committed to memory everything he was seeing, the feelings he was experiencing, moments like this are infrequent in a lifetime, and the noises, the smell, and the sites should all be savoured and stored like a secret diary. A friend had said to him that butterflies are rare creatures, when you can feel them in your body embrace them, as it may be some time until they return. Children were running out of the crowds to touch the horses and greet their new heroes. The city’s men were cheering and women were throwing flowers and handing small posies to the knights. Feeling slightly embarrassed by the city’s display of emotion; Etienne graciously smiled and waved, not equip to deal with such a situation. With Etienne leading followed by the other three knights they turned on to the main street to the castle, when suddenly Etienne’s eyes were drawn.
She stood in the doorway of a small house, their eyes met, and she smiled. He was transfixed. The world stood still. Noise disappeared. She had hair the colour of a cornfield and eyes as turquoise as the sea. A beauty so strong that your mind felt betrayed if your eyes left her. He thought he could hear her voice in his head, like a siren calling to him. What was she saying? Who was she? Their eyes didn’t stray from one another’s. He wanted to stop, get off his horse to find out who she was, where she was from, but the crowd had moved behind the horses and were ushering them in the direction of the castle. He strained to turn around, he wanted to shout something out but the words evaded him, she would soon be out of site. There was nothing he could do, the horses wouldn’t stop walking, before she finally disappeared out of view behind the crowd she gave Etienne one final smile, and then she was gone.
The procession carried on up the main street but Etienne’s mind was with her. He wanted to turn back, find out whom she was, what had just happened. He’d just experienced something he never had before. His friend tapping him on the shoulder brought him from his lucid reverie. “Your father’s at the balcony,” said Michael pointing up at the balcony. Etienne looked up to see his father was looking down at him. The king waved and nodded, regal and un-emotive, as Etienne had become accustomed from his father, but he could tell that his father was proud of him. Etienne thought that his father looked like he had aged a lot since the last time he had seen, far more than the few years should have allowed. A frail form had replaced the imposing figure that he once possessed. The knights continued to the end of the street and entered into the castle under the portcullis. The towns people respectfully stopped following the procession at the castle walls and left their new heroes to be reunited with their loved ones.
Families, aides to the royal house, and all trusted vassals and bondsmen had lined up across the forecourt in front of the large castle doors. The king had descended from the balcony and stood in the middle of the line. Four young pages ran from the greeting party to the knights to take their horses. Etienne was trying to concentrate on the occasion. Adrenalin had engulfed his body but he wasn’t sure if it was their arrival in the city, seeing his father, or what he had just felt in the main street. He dismounted and walked toward his father thankful that his legs had responded to brain’s commands. The row of dignitaries and friends began clapping, some were crying with the joy of their son’s return. Etienne’s father walked forward and took his son in his arms. They held each other until eventually his father leant back in order that he could look into his eyes. “Son, today you have made your mother and me very proud.”
Etienne could feel tears forming; they pulled each other together again, his father pulling harder than he ever had before. It was the first time that Etienne could remember his father showing such a display of affection in public. The king stood back again and with the loud imposing voice, that used to send shivers of fear through Etienne as a child, he addressed the crowd. “My friends,” the welcoming party fell silent and turned to look at the king, “our loved ones have returned. Now let’s celebrate.” The crowd cheered, the king put his arm around his sons shoulder and led him into the castle.