The Jester

Chapter 99

I STAGGERED to my feet, cradling the precious relic in my hands. Emilie rushed up first and threw her arms around my neck. The battle had ended and we had won. Georges, Odo, and Father Leo came ru

Other people approached, cheering, dancing with joy, but I could not take my eyes from the lance. “My staff…” I was barely able to speak. “All along, it was the holy lance.”

Everyone stopped, converged. A hush fell over the crowd.

“The holy lance…?” someone repeated. A ring formed around us. Murmurs of exclamation and joy. All eyes fell on the rusted blade, the tip slightly broken.

“Mother of God.” Georges stepped forward, his tunic splattered with blood. “Hugh has the holy lance.”

Finally everyone knelt, myself included.

Father Leo examined the lance without touching it, fixing on the old, hardened blood upon the blade. “God’s grace.” He shook his head with a look of wonderment in his eyes. He recited scripture from memory: “But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced His side, and forthwith came there out blood and water.”

“It’s a miracle,” someone shouted.

“It’s a sign,” I said.

[298] Odo spoke, his coarse voice on the verge of laughter: “Jesus, Hugh, were you trying to save this thing until we really needed it?”

I could not speak. People were shouting my name. Stephens henchmen were dead. I did not know whether it was our will or the lance that was responsible, but either way, we had beaten them back.

I looked at Emilie. What a knowing smile she had, as if to say, I knew, I knew. … I reached for her hand.

Everyone whooped and shouted. “Hugh. Lancea Dei.” Lance of God.

I had been saved. Not once but many times. Who could understand it? What had been entrusted to me? What did God want with an i

“The holy lance!” everyone shouted, and I finally threw my fist in the air.

But inside I was thinking, Good Lord, Hugh, what is next?

Chapter 100

WHAT WAS NEXT was bolder and more amazing than anything I could have imagined.

Our victory was complete, but it came at a great cost. Thirteen of Stephen’s mercenaries lay on the ground, but we had lost four of our own: Apples; Jacqui, the stout and cheery milk woman; a farmer, Henri; and Martin, the tailor. Many others, like Georges and Alphonse, nursed messy wounds.

When the smoke cleared, the body of the Tafur I had fought with the lance was nowhere to be found. He had not died after all.

In the ensuing days, we extinguished the fires and bade good-bye to our brave fallen friends. For the first time in anyone’s memory, bondmen had stood up to a noble. And to the fear that we could not defend ourselves simply because they were rightly born and we weren’t.

Word spread fast. Of the fight and the lance. People from neighboring towns came to see. No one could believe it at first. Farmers and tradesmen had stood up against a noble and his men.

Yet I did not join much in the celebration. I spent the next several days in a troubled state atop the hill. I couldn’t work on the i

And a deeper dread hung over me. What would happen next-when news of the battle reached Stephen’s ears? When he learned that we possessed the prize he so desperately coveted. Or when word reached Baldwin in Treille.

Had the poor tailor been right? Had I saved them from one slaughter only to lead them to another?

Emilie stayed with me the whole while. I looked at the lance and did not know what to do, but to her, the answer was clear. She understood what I resisted. “You have to lead them, Hugh.”

“Lead them? Lead them where?” I asked.

“I think you know where. When Stephen hears of this he will send more men. And Baldwin… your village is pledged to him. He will not permit such rebellion in his domain. The stone has been pushed, Hugh. You’ve sought a higher destiny. Here it is. It’s in your hands.”

“I’m just a lucky fool,” I said, “who picked up a silly antique, a souvenir. I’ll end up the biggest fool of all time.”

“I saw you in that costume many times, Hugh De Luc.” Emilie’s eyes shone brightly. “And never once thought you a fool. A while back, you left this town on a quest to make yourself free. Now, leave it again and free them all.”

I picked up the lance, weighed it like a measure in my hands.

Lead them against Baldwin? Would anyone follow? Emilie was right on one thing. We could not remain here. Baldwin would burst a vein when he heard the news. Stephen would send more troops, this time hundreds. Something had been started that could not be drawn back.

“You will be by me?” I took her hand, searched her eyes. “You will not change your mind when we are standing against Baldwin ’s army and it is just us two?”

“It will not just be us two,” she said, crouching beside me. “I think you know that, Hugh.”

Chapter 101

THAT DAY, I called the town together in the church. I stood at the front, in the same bloody rags I had worn in the fight, holding the lance. I took a sweeping look around the room. The place was full-the miller, Odo, even people who never went to church.

“Where have you been, Hugh?” Georges stood up in his place. “We’ve all been celebrating.”

“Yes, that lance must be holy.” Odo stood too. “Since it found you, it’s been hard to even buy you an ale.”

Everyone laughed.

“Don’t blame Hugh,” Father Leo put in. “If such a pretty maiden were visiting me, I wouldn’t waste my time drinking with you clowns, either.”

“If you had such a pretty maiden, we’d all be in church a lot more often,” Odo roared.

Everyone laughed again. Even Emilie smiled from the back.

“I do owe you an ale,” I said, acknowledging Odo. “I owe you all an ale, for your courage. We did a great thing the other day. But the ale must wait. We are not done.”

“Damn right we are not done.” Marie, the miller’s wife, stood up. “I have an i

[302] “And I’ll be happy to serve it to him.” I smiled at Marie. “But the i

Suddenly everyone noticed the look on my face. The laughter settled into a hush.

“I pray I have not drawn you in against your will, but we ca

“March?” Voices rang out, skeptical. “To where?”

“To Treille,” I answered. “ Baldwin will come at us with everything now. We must march against him.”

The church went silent. Then, one by one, people shouted up to the front.

“But this is our home,” Jean Dueux, a farmer, protested. “All we want is for things to go back to the way they were.”

“Things will never go back, Jean,” I said. “When Baldwin hears of this, he’ll send his henchmen to ride down upon us with the full fury of his will. He will raze the town.”

“You talk of marching against Treille,” Jocelyn, the ta

“No, you are not.” I shook my head. “You’re fighters now. And in every town there are others, who have farmed and toiled their entire lives only to hand over what their liege demands.”

“And they will join us?” Jocelyn sniffed. “These others? Or will they just cheer and cross themselves as we march by?”