Chapter Five
Anger reddened Nicholai’s face as he glared at Thomas. “By all that is holy, your brother’s death was an accident!”
“One that could have been avoided,” Thomas growled, damning himself over again. If he could recall the day, turn back the hands of time until that moment of his foolish arrogance, he would. “Celebrating my becoming a squire, having a bit of fun and shamefully full of myself, I taunted Léod before our peers. To save face, he agreed to my dare. Had I left him alone and focused on my achievement, my younger brother would be alive.”
“Your teasing wasna out of malice,” the monk said, his voice softening. “’Twas naught more than boys do, those who strive to become knights, lads who one day grow into fine men, and warriors who protect those whom they love.”
Far from swayed by his friend’s logic, Thomas dragged his gaze to the cross hanging on the wall. His younger brother’s death had left his family devastated. The soul-tearing sobs of his mother as she’d wept at the news of a son lost, and the grief in his father’s eyes, haunted him still. Nor could he forget the shock and fury of his older brothers and sister when they’d learned of the tragedy.
Regardless if a time came where any within his family could forgive him, never could he forgive himself.
Nicholai grunted. “I see you are as stubborn as ever.”
On a deep exhale, Thomas straightened in his bed. “If ’twas so simple.”
“Indeed.” With a weary sigh, Nicholai settled into a chair at his side, the wisps of grey sprinkled within his brown hair a potent reminder of the passage of time. “’Tis good to see you again. I have missed our talks.”
“As have I.” Thomas shifted to a more comfortable position, winced at the shot of pain.
A frown creased the monk’s brow. “You must take care, you are far from healed.”
Given the dire circumstances, a choice he couldna make. By now he and Alesone should have reached the western coast. With almost a sennight having passed since they’d departed the Bruce’s camp, he wasna sure where Comyn’s men were, or where they had positioned themselves to keep watch for their passage.
However much he wished to ride toward Avalon Castle, ’twas wisest to continue detouring south. After a day, mayhap two, and as long as he saw nay sign of danger, they would head northwest.
“Once I am able to ride,” Thomas said, “Alesone and I will depart.”
Nicholai refilled a goblet with water. “You have had a fever for several days.” He handed Thomas the cup. “I caution you to allow your body to heal before you depart.”
He took a drink, the cool slide soothing his parched throat. Thomas nodded toward the chessboard in the corner. “It wasna here earlier.”
“Delivered while you slept. I thought you might enjoy a match or two. For old times.”
“Old times?” he said, relaxing a degree, thankful his friend hadna pushed further. Exhausted, and with his body aching, the last thing he wanted to do was argue. “Methinks you are determined to beat me. As I recall, ’twas a feat you rarely achieved.”
A smiled touched his mouth. “There is that.”
“Little doubt you have honed your skills since I left.”
“I may have played a game or two since our last challenge.” The smile fell away. “Many years have gone by since you studied here.”
They had, time he’d hoped would lessen the painful memories of his youth. He set the goblet aside. “After you advised me to consider becoming a Knight Templar, I was torn as to what decision I should make.”
Nicholai nodded. “Had you arrived at the monastery with God in your heart and sincerity in wanting to serve Him, I would have encouraged you to remain. Except your reason was due to guilt, and your each day in service here driven by a need for penance.”
Regret balled in Thomas’s throat. He released a shaky breath. “You were right. I needed to leave.”
“And now?”
“The Brotherhood gave me purpose, an outlet for my anger, and I found immense pride in helping others.” But never peace—nor did he expect to find such, a fact he’d accepted long ago.
Satisfaction filled the monk’s eyes. “The travel and experiences have given you a broader understanding of people. Taught you that regardless of where you go, at the core of every culture is the need to belong, to care for those who matter, and however much one would try to ignore the draw, a need for family.”
He swallowed hard. Nay, one didna forget family.
The monk arched a brow. “Does your father know you are here?”
Thomas heard the hope in his voice, the belief that the heartbreak between him and his family could be mended. “Nay. Nor will I tell him.”
