Disclaimer: The characters, as they appear in the film and the film's plot belong to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan. Rachel, however, is my creation.

Author's Notes: This story is written from the perspective of different characters. If it seems choppy, it is because I am trying to reflect their thoughts. Please keep in mind also that this is my first Fanfic, so constructive criticism is appreciated.

And, without further ado, on with the story!

"Clear the road, if you will." I hate those words. Arrogance, hierarchy…everything I've ever hated. Everything I thought I would leave behind when I became a knight. I shake my head. I was young, naïve…even if I'm not that much older than I was at the time, I feel older.

I glance around to see if anyone else has reacted the same way to the squire's words. No. Not even Brother Paul, although I notice that he has lost his perpetually cheerful smile.

We pass a burial. A woman. At the crossroads…I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold. I silently pray for her, for I know what it feels…

I shake my head again, as though trying to clear it of these intrusive thoughts. I know that I am being foolish; no one can read my mind. And yet…

I owe Godfrey de Ibelin everything. Including my life. But if he knew of my deception, he could just as easily end it.

Is it still a lie if no words are spoken?

"That is the man; that is the man!" Balian reluctantly stepped forward from the shelter of his forge. His corrupt half-brother was the last person he wanted to face. Last night's conversation was still too clear in his mind.

"I wasn't present at the burial…"

"…without sin…"

"That is a sin!"

To his surprise, his brother was followed by six men; armored, on horses. What do they want? Hadn't he suffered enough, knowing that he had lost both his wife and child? Knowing that his wife would be turned away?

Would the child be held responsible for his mother's 'sin', and turned away as well at the gates to God's Kingdom?

"You're an armorer, yes?" It wasn't a question. "An artificer according to your lord and this…priest." The speaker wore black livery embellished with a white cross. "You have my sympathy and my blessing," he continued. "Your dead wife and stillborn child are today the subject of my prayers."

Balian ducked his head. Save your prayers, He will not hear them.

The man gestured to his companions. "We need all these horses shod. We need food, and we'll pay." Balian's eyes flickered towards one of the men; one who hadn't looked away from Balian's face since the rather one-sided conversation began.

Balian turned away and nodded to his apprentice. "Says yes." Balian stepped back to let the horses pass.

I stand a distance away from the others, my eyes fixed on the blacksmith. I remember the burial we passed on the road, and my heart fills with sorrow for the poor man.

"He has made great engines for sieges." The priest is speaking. I close my eyes. I cannot stand his voice. It seems…oily, and it reminds me of someone else. Someone whom I would gladly strangle with my bare hands. "He has made war machines that cast the largest stones." Please, shut up, I think. "He also works finely in silver." Why do we need to know this? "He will be one of the few on your journey worth more alive than dead." Ah.

Odo barely glances up. "Shut up," he says. I bite back a grin. I'm growing rather fond of this man, actually.

The priest mercifully complies.

The blacksmith - Balian?- scrapes a horse's hoof. I marvel at how calm the animal is. The man does have a gift.

"Have you been at war?" Odo asks.

Balian strokes the horse's neck. "On horse. And as an enginer also."

"Against who and for whom did you fight?"

"For one lord against another," Balian replies. "On a point which cannot be remembered."

"There's better game now - one god against another," Odo says. I cannot tell if he is serious or not. "The pay is proportionate."

"I've been telling him that." The priest. Again. Odo silences him with a look.

I turn away, seething quietly. Is that all they think about? Can they not countenance the fact that many innocent people are dying over a matter this vain?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Paul approach Lord Godfrey. I strain to hear them.

"…what you advised upon the road?" Godfrey asks.

Paul nods. "I do, my lord. But know that this man, Balian, mourns his wife." I shake my head. How could Godfrey not know that?

I hear Odo speak behind me again. "What does that say?"

What does what say? I cast my eyes over the forge until I see words carved into one of the beams.

"What man is a man who does not make the world better," Balian answers, fixing a horseshoe.

I smile. It's beautiful. Did he put it there? I open my mouth to ask, but I am interrupted.

"Leave me with this man." Godfrey. I back away. Some things are best left alone.

Balian barely cast a glance at the man speaking. He focused on the horseshoe, hammering it into the proper shape. He raised it to eye level. Still crooked. He landed a few more blows on it.

"God has made us man. We must suffer all." Balian looked up. "I also have lost." Balian had no reply to this. The man glanced at the ground awkwardly before continuing. "Some say Jerusalem is the very center of the world for asking forgiveness. For myself, I call it here. Now." He paused. Balian turned away; he had no time for this. He picked up a cooling horseshoe and laid it on the anvil.

"I knew you namesake," the man said suddenly. Balian froze. "I knew your mother." In his shock, Balian dropped the shoe and stared at the speaker wide-eyed.

"To be courteous, I should say that it was against her objections. But I was the lord's brother and she had no choice." Balian's throat constricted. "But, I did not force her. I have forgiveness to ask of you," his father said, bowing his head.

Heat rushed to Balian's face. Forgiveness. The very word pulsed through his veins like poison. If the Lord himself could not forgive his wife for her sin…Balian brushed past his father. He had work.

But his father would not leave it at that. "I am Godfrey, the baron of Ibelin." Balian turned to face him. "I have one hundred men at arms in Jerusalem. If you will come with me, you will have a living --" Here, he paused. "And…you will have my thanks, there it is."

"Whoever you are, my lord," Balian said, "My place is here."

"What made it your place is now dead."

No…

"You will never see me again," Godfrey said. "If you want anything of me, take it now."

"I want nothing," Balian said quietly.

"I am sorry for you troubles. God protect you." God does not know me. Godfrey turned and strode out of the forge. Balian followed, gazing off into the distance as the horses trotted away. One turned and came back. Godfrey. Could this man not leave him alone?

"Jerusalem is easy to find. You come to where the men speak Italian, then continue until they speak something else. We go by Messina. Goodbye." He spurred his horse down the trail.

Balian stood in a stunned haze. After all these years, he had met his father. And he had been given the chance to leave France. He could have left it all behind. And yet…

He couldn't leave. He still felt rooted to this village. He was needed here. He had grown up here.

His wife's grave was here…

Through his stunned stupor, Balian thought he could see his brother glaring at him. But it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

Balian pumped the bellows to the fire. It was now night, and his apprentice had long since left. But Balian needed to be here. He needed to work, or he feared he would lose his mind to grief.

"The village does not want you." Balian turned slightly, seeing his hated brother. Go away. "When the old lord is dead, they will drive you out."

Balian ignored him, pushing the bellows instead.

"When the bishop is dead, it is certain!"

"And you take my property," Balian said curtly.

"The Church-"

"You."

His brother paused, regrouping. "They would have taken you to Jerusalem…away from…all this," his brother said, echoing Balian's earlier thoughts. "I arranged it." Balian did not reply, prompting the priest to step forward angrily. "I swear to you, you will have no peace so long as you stay here. No man ever needed a new world more. Imagine you sin and pain erased. All."

Balian stared down into the glowing coals until his eyes hurt. No matter their blood relation, the man standing before Balian had never been family. Why would he start now.

Balian pulled a half-finished sword from the fire and hammered it down on the anvil.

"If you take the Crusade, you may relieve your wife's position in Hell.

No…

"I put it delicately. She was a suicide. She is in Hell."

No…

"Though what she does there without a head…"

God, no…

Balian faced his brother, longing to remove that sickening smile from his face. In the firelight, something glinted around the man's throat. His wife's crucifix.

Something inside Balian boiled up. "You never fight back…" He couldn't think…or breathe. Why, God?

With an anguished yell, Balian plunged the sword into his brother's stomach, pushing him back onto the fire.

What had he done?

He could hear his brother yelling. And then…the crucifix! Balian grabbed at the small glint of silver, ignoring the searing heat. As his hand closed over it, the priest grabbed his arm. Balian pulled back, hauling him out of the fire.

Oh, God…

Balian pushed his brother's arm away from his. His brother ran blindly - a demon from Hell - before collapsing on the far side of the forge.

Balian opened his clenched hand, revealing a silver cross upon his burned palm.

Why…

He caressed the trinket softly before bolting outside.

I could hear hoof beats behind us. My hand immediately fell to my sword. "Wait here," Godfrey said, trotting back on the trail. I glance around, and inconspicuously nudge my horse into a trot, remaining a few steps behind my lord.

The mystery rider approached, and I squint, trying to make out his face. My lips part slightly with surprise. Balian?

"Have you come to kill me?" Godfrey says, his voice amused. "Even these days, it is not easy." Balian does not reply. "Well?'

Balian rode a few steps closer, averting Godfrey's eyes. "I have done…" he stops, struggling to find the right words. "Murder," he finally spits out. He finally meets Godfrey's eyes.

"Haven't we all?" Godfrey replies understanding in his voice.

"It it true…that in Jerusalem I can erase my sins…and those of my wife?" I lower my head, finally understanding how tortured this man's soul is. "Is it true?" he asks again, desperation in his voice.

"We can find out together," Godfrey replies. "Show me your hand," he adds.

Balian raises his right hand, the grey cloth tied around not quite concealing the burns. Godfrey gestures for Balian to follow.

I duck my head as he passes. The hoof beats stop…and my Lord of Ibelin looks down at me. I open my mouth to explain…if he suspects anything…my life hangs precariously enough as it is…

I don't have to say anything. Before he passes, I could almost swear that I saw a smile flicker over his lips.

I look up again, and start: Balian is level with me. My mind swirls again; what do I say? "I'm sorry," I finally blurt out. I could kick myself. Sorry for what? Sorry for your loss? Sorry for overhearing? Sorry for lying to your father? To you?

To my relief, he doesn't question me further. I nudge my horse in beside his, keeping pace.

"What is your name?" he finally asks.

I bite my lip. I've done it hundreds of times…so why is it so hard to lie to this particular man? Say it, I tell myself. Balian watches me, bemused by my silence. A few more seconds and he may figure it out.

I finally answer. "Robin," I say, and I immediately wish that I could take it back.

TBC…

Sorry for the slow chapter, but it needs to start somewhere! It will get better, I promise!