Chapter 1
“Mother, Mother!” cried the excited boy, his blond hair falling over his piercing blue eyes. He was holding on to the reins of his pony as tightly as he could, laughing all the while. His companion was trotting alongside him, a protective hand at his back to ensure he would not fall off the small animal.
“Look Mother, I’m riding all by myself!”
“So you are Justin”, exclaimed his mother. “My, you will be a fine horseman one day”. The Lady Jennifer stood watching her young son and his life-long friend, a youth with dazzling good looks; tall, slim, with dark hair and hazel eyes.
Now an active five year old, Justin was eager to participate in everything. The world was an exciting place for the young boy and every day promised new adventures. During the next couple of years, Justin would learn how to swim in the lake, to fish in the river, to use a bow and arrow. He and his companion were inseparable, until one day the young Sir Brian had some sad news for Justin.
“Come over here,” said Brian. “There is something I must tell you”. The lad came to sit beside him by the river; their fishing lines still in the water. It was summer, the air was sweet with the scent of meadow flowers and swallows soared above them in the cloudless sky.
“Justin”, he said, “there is a place far away from here, where our armies are fighting great wars. I have been called upon to do my duty. I shall be leaving tomorrow and I do not know when I shall return”.
“Can I not come with you?” asked the lad. “No” smiled Brian, “this is men’s work. You are much too young. One day, when you become a man, you will have your duties also, but they are a long way off. Now come, it is time to return home”.
With a heavy heart, Justin rode with Brian back to St. James Castle near the city of Nottingham, where Justin’s parents greeted them in the courtyard.
Jumping down from his horse, Justin ran towards them and grasped his Father’s hand. “Father”, cried Justin. “Brian is leaving, please tell him not to go”. The lad was near to tears and fought to keep them back.
“I know”, said his Father, the Duke. “But Brian has a duty to do our King’s bidding. We must feel very proud of him, Justin”.
The Duke faced Brian. “God Speed, Sir,” he said and shook his hand. Brian looked at Justin and saw the tears start to fall from the young boy’s eyes. “Justin…” he said and held his arms out to him. But instead of going to him, Justin turned around and fled, not wanting to say goodbye.
The following day, Sir Brian left for the Crusades.
Ten years passed and the year was now 1192. The Holy wars were a hopeless cause and the crusading Knights of England were returning to their homeland.
But all was not well. With King Richard away in the Holy Land, his evil brother, Prince John, had attempted to seize the throne for himself and was ruling the people with an iron hand.
In their absence, many Knights had their possessions seized by the Prince, who had given their lands, castles, servants and riches to his co-conspirators.
Returning to Nottingham, the Earl of Huntingdon, discovered he no longer owned the land on which he had been born and raised. Whilst he’d not had a particularly close relationship with his Father, he had eventually expected to inherit lands and titles upon his death as was customary. But whilst he had been away serving his King, his Father had been cruelly murdered on the orders of the Sheriff of Nottingham, in order to curry favour with Prince John.
It had been announced there would be an archery competition in the grounds of Nottingham Castle, with a rich prize at stake. The Sheriff had many excellent archers in his service and was expecting one of his own men to win the prize. He was eager to show the village folk that he had a strong imposing army, as there had been rumours of an uprising amongst the common people.
Shrouded in a cloak, the Earl gained entry onto the grounds. He had returned home penniless, and with no inheritance to claim he desperately needed the prize money awarded to the champion archer.
The Sheriff had commanded that Master Justin accompany him to the tournament in order to present the prize. Now a comely young man of 17 years, with his good looks, and pleasing manner, he had attracted the attention of the Sheriff, but had so far rebuked his unwelcome advances.
The Sheriff had promised him lands, titles and riches beyond compare, if only he would come into his bed. Justin had so far rebuked him, but the Sheriff was becoming impatient.
Watching them from a safe distance, Brian saw how Justin shuddered as the Sheriff placed his arm around his shoulders and spoke into his ear. Brian felt the bile rise from his stomach at the sight of this vile man leering over the young man. With his Father the Duke called to do his service for the King, Justin and his family were now at the mercy of the Sheriff.
There were many excellent archers entered in the competition and now it was the Earl’s turn to come forward, the last to compete. Lowering the hood of his cloak, he removed an arrow from the quiver and placed it in the bow. He took aim. His arrow was straight and true. It hit the target directly at it’s the centre and with this one arrow, the prize was won.
Justin watched the hooded archer intently. There was a feeling of familiarity about this man and he felt an instant attraction towards him. ‘Who is this one so beautiful’, he thought, ‘with his dark hair, hazel eyes, strong body and dark, haunting looks?’
The stranger did not walk away. Instead, he drew another arrow and placed this one in the bow. He pulled back and released. This one also hit the target at the centre, splitting the first arrow in two.
There were gasps from the villagers who had gathered to watch the contest. The Sheriff was furious that none of his men were worthy of the competition. He did not like to look a fool and stormed back into the castle without the courtesy of congratulating the victor.
Collecting his prize, the Earl stood before the young man. For a few moments, they looked at each other intently and then he bowed deeply, but all the while looking at the younger man directly in his eyes. The bluest eyes he knew he had ever seen.
Justin handed him the purse of gold coins. “Congratulations, Sir" he said.
“Thank you, Master Justin” came the reply.
Justin was taken aback: “Sir?” he replied, “You have me at a disadvantage. It would seem you know my name, but I am afraid I do not know yours”.
“Oh but you do”, said Sir Brian. “Our families have been friends for many years. I even recall the day of your birth”.
Justin’s heart missed a beat. “Indeed?” he said. “How do they call you?”
“My name is Brian Loxley, Earl of Huntingdon”, Brian replied.
Justin gasped. Could this indeed be the man who, when he was five years old, had taught him how to ride, whose strong arms had lifted him into the saddle? The same friend who had taught him how to swim and to fish and at age seven had taught him to use a bow and arrow? Justin had remembered these times often and wondered if he would ever see his friend again.
Oh, but how he had changed. Gone was the innocent youth that had once been Brian. Now, standing before him, Justin could not help but notice the weariness in the older man's eyes. Eyes tinged with sadness and pain.
Justin wanted to continue their conversation, but they were interrupted by a servant who, on the instructions of the Sheriff, had come to escort Justin back inside the castle walls. Justin looked pleadingly at Brian for him to intercede, but the man before him dropped his gaze, unable to look him in the eye, and Justin did as he was bid and slowly walked back to the castle gates.
Brian watched as the young man walked away. His heart heavy that he was unable to respond to Justin’s unspoken request for help and felt weary beyond his years.
Knowing he must pay his respects to his Father's memory, Brian returned to the castle of his birth. It had been badly destroyed and his Father buried within the grounds. As he was kneeling at the graveside, he heard a movement behind him. Standing, he drew his sword and turned around to be confronted by the tallest man he had ever seen.
“John!” Brian exclaimed. “My Lord", said John, "it is you! I was watching the archery competition and I was sure that it was. You have returned to England at sad times, Sir. Your Father tried to stand up to the Sheriff and paid for it with his life".
"Yes", said Brian, “he is an evil man".
"Sir", said John. "There is but a small group of us, but we are loyal and steadfast. With you in command, we will defeat his army".
Sir Brian shook his head. "Thank you", he said, "but I am not sure I am up to the task. I have seen much bloodshed and suffering these long years. I am weary, I fear I do not have the heart for yet another fight".
"But Sir, there is still much at stake. With the Duke of St. James still absent, we fear his family will be the next to fall to the Sheriff’s treachery", explained John.
Sir Brian was dismayed. He remembered the look on young Justin’s face, the look of helplessness at the very mention of the Sheriff’s name. But Brian feared the courage he once had, would no longer sustain him. The experiences in those far away lands had left many scars, and those that could not be seen, were the deepest of all.
"No John," he said. "You think too highly of me, I am afraid. I am not the man to lead you. I can only look for revenge for my family and myself, and that will be difficult enough. I cannot take responsibility for others".
John was saddened. This was not the man he remembered from all those years ago. Though little more than a youth when he had gone to war, John could remember many a time when the young Sir Brian had stood firmly for what he believed in, standing up to his Father often when he had witnessed some injustice. It was hard to believe that he would refuse to help them.
"I must leave you", said Sir Brian. "The hour draws late and I must find a place to rest for the night".
"Please, Sir Brian", said John. "You have come far and we have made camp in Sherwood Forest. At least allow us to offer you a meal and shelter there".
Brian hesitated, and then said, "Thank you. That would be most welcome. I have indeed travelled a long distance these passed weeks".
John took Sir Brian deep into the forest, where a rag-tag group of men ran to greet them. Many had been servants to his family and well remembered the kindness of their master and were eager to hear of his adventures, hoping that here at last was someone strong who could lead them in their struggle for freedom.
"John has kindly offered me a place to rest for the night before I must leave you," said Brian, politely refusing to discuss the events of passed years. They all sat together around the fire, eating the remains of a wild boar one of the men had killed the day before. Brian could see how disappointed the men were that he obviously had no wish to lead them, but he did not have the stomach for another battle, another hopeless cause. At this point he did not even know himself how he would proceed in claiming back his rightful inheritance and the truth was, he wasn't even sure that he wanted to.
Shortly before midnight, Brian excused himself and John showed him to the shelter they had prepared. Bidding goodnight to the huge man, Brian retired, thankful to sink into the straw mattress, pulling the sheepskin covers tightly around him.
But sleep did not come easily to Brian and had not for many a long year. Every time he closed his eyes, the faces of many men swam in front of him and he could hear their screams of terror resounding in his ears, and it was some while before he eventually drifted into a fitful slumber.
John, out of loyalty and his need to protect this man who had once been his master had made his bed just outside the door of the shelter. Suddenly, he was woken by the noise of faint whimpering and then by a cry of such anguish, that he jumped immediately to his feet and went to the aid of Brian who, still asleep, was tossing and turning in his bed.
"Sir, Sir, are you alright?" whispered John who did not want to alert the camp to Brian's distress, shaking him gently by the shoulder.
Sweating and breathing rapidly, Brian awoke and sat up and John saw the flicker of fear in his eyes before he recognised the man standing over him.
"Thank you. It was just a nightmare - it was nothing. Please go back to your bed, I will be fine" replied Brian.
John withdrew: much concerned over what he had just witnessed, but knew the man had no intention of discussing it with him further.
Brian lay back down on the bed. No more sleep would come to him tonight. All he could think about was the suffering, the torture and death he had witnessed during his years at war, and of the many good friends he had lost during that time. He thought also of the men he himself had killed in the name of duty – deaths that haunted him still.
And then he remembered the young boy, Justin. Hanging on his every word; following him where ever he went, copying his every move and realised he could not leave him to his fate.
In that moment, Brian knew he must indeed do his duty and become Justin’s protector. After all, isn’t that what he had promised the young Lord's Father on his deathbed.
To be continued……..
10th March 04