Epilogue

Updated 3/15/24

Rebekah

After leaving the mountain, Rebekah traveled to Lexandria where she met her Licht Gegen contact, reporting what Crispus said. She acquired two young assistants, orphans interested in becoming knights, and they traveled to Caswell continuing her usual circuit.

Her cover for intelligence-gathering and message-passing was too successful to manage alone. She was growing wealthy. Yet, she still needed to move about as inconspicuously as possible.

Licht Gegen decided early on, regarding saving orphans, that the families would do the best they could for them. This included teaching them all to read and, wherever possible, arranging apprenticeships for them. They also taught the brightest youngsters to write, an uncommon skill except amongst the nobility, the rich, and the Order of the Black Robe. Raising children who could be scribes was yet another way to counter that organization’s influence.

She and her two lads rode south from Caswell on a warm day, where they made an average number of sales. She picked a spot to rest and make a stew. There’d been no excitement, nothing interesting to chase down, nor any special news. As with most days, it was endlessly collecting bits of information that she passed on, as boring as breathing but just as necessary. Someone else would piece the bits together.

Her two lads were collecting kindling when another voice spoke. “Sir?”

Rebekah looked up to see countless boys of all ages stepping out of the woods. Hers were not amongst them. Their leader, a tall, beardless lad, had addressed her. He was confident and kept his weight balanced, ready for any potential action.

“Hallo.” She stood and smiled.

“Hallo, I am James of the Wood. Don’t worry; we’ve done nothing to your young traveling companions. They’re very noisy, we simply skirted around them. They’ll return shortly.”

“Glad to hear it. My compliments, I didn’t hear your approach.” She glanced at her bow several steps away and resisted the urge to pull her dagger.

Oh, J’shua. They’ve done nothing threatening. But I’m severely outmatched.

James of the Wood continued nonchalantly. “We’ve seen you pass through our woods many times. We seek information.”

“How can I help?” Rebekah asked, using a smile to mask her anxiety. Despite their numbers, they seemed peaceful. Something was familiar about them that reassured her. Yet, it wouldn’t come to mind, nor was there time to ponder it. The situation could change without warning…and this James of the Wood was already responding.

“We seek news of our parents. They were arrested from circles in Lorness and Fairness Crossing. We’re afraid to ask officials. They’re conscripting too many our age into the army. But since you come through here every few weeks, we hoped you might have news or might provide it next time.”

She furrowed her brows, moved by their situation. “Let’s do this properly. I was about to make stew. Join us for dinner.”

“It’ll be good to eat someone else’s cooking,” James said with a laugh. “We lack patience and tend to burn everything. Call your lads back. We’ve everything you need.”

“Douglas, Padraig! Come back, lads. I’ll need you to jot down some names.”

“They can write?” one boy exclaimed, eyes wide.

“It’s a skill like any other. All it takes is nimble fingers…and much practice,” she chuckled. “Let’s eat and talk. Then tell me your families’ names. I’ll find out what I can.”

Her lads clomped back through the bush like clumsy giants. Rebekah and her new friends laughed.

A young boy of no more than eight carried a stout short bow. In his makeshift quiver were several arrows. They, too, struck Rebekah as familiar. “Son, may I see one of those?” she pointed.

“Yes, sir.” He handed it over proudly.

She squatted beside the boy. “This is fine work. Did you fletch this?” A feather had a twist, like Jon’s arrows.

“Yes, sir.” He smiled. “Our helper taught us. Then we teach all the new boys.”

“You have a helper? Where is he?”

Her heart fluttered.

“He only stayed with us for two moons. He’s on a mission.”

Bekh glanced at James of the Wood, smiling. “Could his name be Jonathan Otual?”

Eyes wide with surprise, the young man grinned. “Yes, you know of him?”

She smiled. “Everyone’s heard of Sir Jonathan Otual.”