Free Keeper of the Grail by Michael P. Spradlin Page B

you to your feet and Sir Basil is going to give you back your sword. You will take it and leave the field. If you ever raise it at Tristan again, you’d best next use it on yourself, for it will be the last act you perform on this earth. Do we have an understanding?”
    Sir Hugh said nothing, only nodded briefly again. Sir Thomas stood and as he did so, pulled Sir Hugh to his feet. He brushed past Sir Thomas, grabbed his sword from Sir Basil and stormed off the field.
    “Sergeanto, recommence with the training,” said Sir Thomas. The squires immediately turned and began practicing as if nothing had happened.
    “Tristan, are you hurt?” Sir Thomas asked.
    “Not seriously, sire,” I said. “I don’t think anything is broken. It hurts quite a bit though.”
    Sir Thomas ran his hand along my shoulder and I winced. “It doesn’t feel broken,” he said.
    “Tristan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do,” Quincy said. He looked at me with downcast eyes as if he might break into tears at any moment.
    “Not your fault, Quincy. You did nothing wrong. Don’t give it another moment’s thought,” I said. He smiled at me in gratitude.
    “That’s right, Quincy. You are not to blame here. That lies squarely on the shoulders of Sir Hugh,” Sir Basil said. He beamed at me. “Tristan, I saw what you did. Quick thinking.”
    “Sire, I am sorry to have caused any trouble…,” I said.
    “Nonsense!” Sir Thomas interrupted. “I am glad that you are not seriously hurt, but I will want the physician to examine you. Sir Basil? Would you and Quincy excuse us for a moment?” he said.
    Sir Basil nodded, and he and Quincy headed off the field.
    “Tristan, tell me exactly what happened. I saw only the end,” he said.
    As we left the field, I recounted for him how Sir Hugh had found fault with my technique and tried to goad me into doing something that would give him a reason to attack me. When we passed by them, Sergeanto LeMaire and the other squires paused in their training and began clapping. A few whistles and “Hail Tristans!” could be heard.
    “Good thing Sir Hugh wasn’t here to see that,” Sir Thomas said, laughing.
    Good thing indeed. Sir Thomas turned as if to make his way back to the Commandery.
    “Sire?”
    “Yes?”
    “What did Sir Hugh mean? When he said he knew who I was? And you said that I was now under your protection?”
    Sir Thomas turned to look at me, with the usual smile on his face. But his eyes said something else. I wasn’t sure what. They darted about, and for the first time since we had met, Sir Thomas didn’t hold my gaze when he spoke.
    “Tristan, Sir Hugh is a buffoon. I simply meant that as a knight I will defend and protect my squire from harm. Who knows what he thinks?”
    I nodded, still unsure, standing in the dusty field thinking over what I had just witnessed. Sir Thomas turned to depart again, then stopped once more.
    “Lad, though he is an arrogant fool, he’s a dangerous man and never to be trusted. Never. I order you to stay out of his way. Do not approach Sir Hugh, ever, under any circumstances but especially alone. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, sire,” I said.
    Sir Thomas left me then, and while I struggled to understand all that I had just witnessed, it was Sir Thomas’ eyes that I kept seeing in my mind.
    Eyes that told me much had been left unsaid.

O N THE S EA TO O UTREMER M AY 1191

12
    A fter the events on the practice field, Sir Thomas was suddenly less available, asking the sergeantos and even a few of the other knights to assist in my training. I suspected he was avoiding me, perhaps afraid that I would ask him more questions. And his manner when I did see and talk to him told me that the subject was closed. For the first few days, I thought of little else besides Sir Hugh’s revelation (if that’s what it was) but I finally realized that he was as Sir Thomas said: a fool. He probably knew nothing about me or my past and only wished to cruelly tempt me