Hugh of Emmaus

Part One: "Under the Stars"

Castle Emmaus, Emmaus

Kingdom of Jerusalem

April, 11th 1170

The Baron, Wimarc of Emmaus, stood across from his nephew and ward Hugh. At forty-two, Wimarc stood at six foot two and was a bear of man. With light brown hair tied back into a ponytail, long beard, and broad shoulders, he looked very much like the Norman he was. In contrast, Hugh, being only fifteen, was quite the opposite. He was only five foot ten, but of similar build. His hair was shorter, and had a darker brown tone too it. He had yet too grow a beard, but stubble was starting too grow on his chin. They both held swords, as they commenced with their daily practice duel, before retiring for dinner in the main hall.

"Hold the blade higher!" his uncle, Wimarc, ordered. Hugh raised his sword like his uncle said. He held it at level with his shoulders and slightly off too his right, in a defensive posture. "Good. Now Block!" His uncle brought his own blade around and snapped two quick hits aimed at Hugh's neck. He parried both, but only barely. He watched his uncle's hands as the larger man brought another blow down aimed at his head. Hugh quickly shot his own blade up at a horizontal angle to block. At the last moment his uncle pivoted too his right and swung the blade around Hugh's defenses and popped him on the hip with the flat edge of his blade.

"AGGHH!" Hugh cried as he was forced on his knees by the stinging blow. He struggled too stand up again.

"What'd you do wrong boy?" his uncle asked relaxing his stance.

Hugh felt exhausted, "I should have been watching your shoulders, not your hands. The pivot came from your shoulders."

His uncle clasped a hand on Hugh's shoulder. "You haven't made that mistake in years. What's on your mind? Why weren't you focusing?"

Hugh sighed, "Just something Father Gregory said at mass. I feel a little conflicted."

"What are you conflicted over?" Wimarc asked his ward and nephew.

"You have always taught me Christ is loving and merciful. And that we should seek too be like him." Hugh said.

"I believe all of that. Yes. What conflicts you? The nature of our Lord?" his uncle asked.

"No. What I question is how it is God's will too murder Moslems. Rome should be teaching these people a message of love and salvation. Yet all they send the followers of Mohammed is a sword." Hugh responded.

"Is Rome speaking for God, or for themselves? I wonder that too sometimes." Wimarc gave Hugh a reassuring pat on the back. "We'll speak more of this over dinner."

Hugh sat three chairs down from his uncle, who was seated at the head of the large oak table. Seated across from him was his uncles' castellan, Conrad, who smiled back at Hugh when they noticed each other. All around them were seated various knights, and their wives. The dinner consisted of assorted roasted birds and stews, the servants in the kitchen had worked up. The topics of conversation ranged from military thought too religious doctrines of the Eastern Church. Hugh was growing increasingly bored as the hour dragged on. Conrad sensed this and spoke up from across the table. "How's your stance and form progressing? Will you be riding with us too battle soon?"

Hugh sat up when he realized was the one being addressed."I...uh...feel my form is improving, but my mind wanders some during combat. I would rather be handling a lute than sword."

Conrad laughed, "You're a young lad. You should enjoy it while you can."

"What do you mean?" Hugh asked.

"When you get my age, you'll find yourself doing a lot of things, without thinking at all. Enjoy day-dreaming while you can." Conrad replied.

Theobauld, Wimarcs seneschal, cut in. "How old are you exactly Conrad?"

"Still young enough too whip you into shape, runt!" Conrad glared back.

Laughter erupted all around the table, Hugh included. Conrad looked like he was fuming, but Hugh got the feeling he was laughing inside as well.

Amid the laughter, a knight walked into the dinning hall and walked up to Wimarc and whispered in his ear. The baron listened intently too what was being said and raised his hand too quiet the chatter in the hall. He nodded to the young knight and returned his attention too the others. He stood and addressed all who were seated and assembled. "I have just been told that Raymond has returned from Nazareth, with the merchant he was too escorted. The merchant is a very wealthy and influential Armenian named Eznik. He is waiting outside with his young son and daughter. Tomorrow Raymond will take them the rest of the way too Jaffa. For now I have invited them too join us for the remainder of the meal. Keep the jokes too a minimum if you will all be so kind."

A hush fell over the hall as Raymond, one of Wimarcs favorite knights, walked in. He was tall man with a flaming red beard and shoulder length hair. Behind him was an olive skinned man of average build and height, with black hair and mustache, wearing Arabic garb. On either side of him were children dressed very similar. On his right was a boy who couldn't be any older then eight. And on his left was a young girl who looked maybe thirteen or fourteen.

Seeing the girl made Hugh perk up a bit and sit-up straighter. He couldn't see her face because she was wearing a veil across. She had lovely eyes as far as he could tell. She was definitely thin, with a developing figure, and beautiful black hair tied in a long braid. As she approached the center of the hall she turned and looked at Hugh as well and her facial feature changed for a moment. 'Did she just smile at me?' Hugh thought, and hoped, to himself.

"My lord, Wimarc. May I introduce, Eznik of Nazareth? A rather successful cloth and silk trader. And with him are, his son Sahak, and his daughter Lucine." Raymond stated matter of factly. He bowed ever so slightly, and stepped too the side and let Eznik step forward.

Wimarc stepped forward a grasped Eznik's hand warmly. He introduced each knight as he went around the table, along with their wives. He finally got around the table too Hugh. "This is my nephew, and ward Hugh." He stood briskly and bowed his head slightly. As he sat back down, he thought he saw Lucine smile at him again from under her veil, but he couldn't be certain. 'Damn! I wish she weren't wearing that thing.' he thought to himself.

The meal progressed for another hour, with idle small talk and chit-chat. After finishing the last of his meal, Hugh stood up and addressed his uncle. "If I may be excused my lord, I have a few private matters too attend too." He made sure too keep all of the formality, since they had company present. 'And her present.' he confessed to himself. He waited until his uncle gave him an approving nod. Then excused himself.

Hugh left the hall and walked across the main courtyard, too the keep, where his quarters were. he entered is room and grabbed the lute sitting on the top of his bed. He left through the same door and walked across the hallway and towards the stairs leading too the castles eastern parapet. When he reached the top and saw all of the stars hanging above he finally let out a sigh of relief. He sat down against the stone wall propped his leg up and balanced the instrument. He began playing a few chords slowly. Not hearing the tone the way he was hoping for, he changed the position of his index finger and thumb, and tried again. "There it is." he said and began again. He tried too remember the song of his home, he learned before leaving.

"Life is a song we must sing with our days

A poem with meaning more than words can say

A painting with colors no rainbow can tell

A lyric that rhymes either heaven or hell.

We are living letters that doubt desecrates

We're the notes of the song of the chorus of faith

God shapes every second of our little lives

And minds every minute as the universe waits by.

So look in the mirror and pray for the grace

To tear off the mask, see the art of your face

Open your ear lids to hear the sweet song

Of each moment that passes and pray to prolong.

Your time in the ball of the dance of your days

Your canvas of colors of moments ablaze

With all that is holy, with the joy and the strife

With the rhythm and rhyme of the poem of your life."

Suddenly Hugh was surprised by someone behind him lightly clapping. He turned and saw Lucine standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs. She had removed the veil, and was prettier than even Hugh had imagined. Her smile was even brighter than he had envisioned through the veil. "Your good on that 'Hugh of Emmaus'. Though I wonder are you a son of knights or minstrels?"

Hugh stood up and bowed his head in respect. "My lady. I'm sorry I didn't know you were listening."

"'My lady'?" she repeated his greeting. "I didn't know I was 'your' lady."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by-"he started to say.

She cut him off by putting a finger gently on his lips. "It's alright. I was only playing with you. You're genuinely a sweet person Hugh. Your not polite because you have too be, but because you sincerely choose too be."

"Thank you. You flatter me. "he thought a moment. "Would you like to join me under the stars? "he asked as he pointed up too the night sky.

She smiled and they walked over and sat down side by side. "Sing me a song you might sing for a pretty French girl, on a pretty French night."

"I've never seen a pretty French girl. Nor have I ever sat in France on a pretty night. "He thought again for a second. "But I have seen a beautiful eastern girl, on gorgeous eastern night."

She smiled again and kissed him on the cheek, and he sang too her for the rest of the night, under the stars.

END CHAPTER ONE.