/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter Five

Sitting on his bed, Balian stared at his packed bags, ready to go yet unwilling to leave. Something was holding him back from just getting up and leaving. It couldn't be that difficult, could it?

Falling onto his back, Balian stared at the ceiling reproachfully. He loved Sibylla that was for a fact. But why did he feel so resentful about staying here, in this place where his father so lovingly cultivated for all those years? Balian didn't know, but to him the whole place felt like a prison; a place where he had to be forced to be like his father and live up to his honor and potential. If his father has wanted Balian to grow up to live for being the glorified and honored knight, then why didn't he stay and help raise Balian himself? Or better yet, take the boy with him to his travels to his land in Israel and teach Balian everything he knew?

Balian rolled over to his side to stare out the window at the daily business that the people were doing, not really seeing anything. His father would have encouraged him to marry Sibylla and take up the throne. But was that the right choice? Was there an alternative?

Someone at the door knocked, bringing Balian out of his reverie. He sat up wearily, wondering whom it possibly could be. Didn't they understand a man's urgency for rest and thought? At the rate they were going, surely not.

"Come in," Balian called out, not bothering trying to hide the weariness that escaped into his voice.

The door opened and to Balian's disgust, John came in and closed the door silently behind him. Striding over to the desk that was in the corner of the room, John pulled out the chair and sat down, crossing his legs and studied Balian's face.

"So," he said simply.

"So what?" Balian asked warily, not wanting to play games with the soldier.

"I heard about your little episode in the gardens, Balian. That was a smart move, lad, upsetting lady Sibylla," John said quietly, "I suggest you go see to her immediately and make apologies."

"I make apologies to no one," Balian growled. "What part about that is so hard to understand?"

"Oh, I don't believe that about you, Balian. I believe you want to apologize and forgive, but something terrible in your past has happened and you are unwilling to do either because the pain is so great," John said simply, "am I right?"

Balian instantly thought of his wife, dead and buried back in France. Thoughts of the stillborn child and her unwillingness to move on was so great that she killed herself was so great that Balian couldn't dwell on the subject without feeling a lump grow in his throat. He quickly pushed the memories to the back of his brain before grief could fully overtake him.

Balian shook his head in denial. "No, nothing of that sort. I have no such experiences."

"Don't lie to me, boy, I can see it in your face and it is etched in everything you do. Come, now, what is it that makes it so hard for you to move on?" John pressed.

Balian glanced at John from the corner of his eye. How could this man know Balian so well so that he could see what pained him so? Balian didn't know and really didn't care. But the thought that the man could sense Balian's thoughts and actions so accurately was disturbing. Maybe he should get a priest—but then he his faith was so small and dwindling that it would be a sin to bring a man of God to do the bidding of someone who didn't believe in God.

"I don't know where you're getting your information from, master John, but I can assure you that wherever you're getting it from is not accurate," Balian said coldly.

"Deny it as much as you will, Balian, but nothing you can do will change your past and you have to move on, to face the future like a man," John said. "I must go, I have duties to tend to."

Standing, John headed for the door. Just as he was about to open the door, Balian had a sudden urge to ask the older man's advice. He didn't know any other who would give him truer advice to follow.

"It's just that I don't know what to do. How can I do one thing but my heart says another? What should I do? What would you do in my place, John?" Balian called out suddenly.

John stopped and turned around to study Balian's face quietly. Balian shifted on his bed nervously, wondering what the man was thinking.

"I have no more idea of what you should do than yourself, Balian. What I would do in your place would be entirely different to what you would do yourself. Follow your heart and put your trust in God, Balian, and you will find your answer," John said quietly.

Before Balian could say anything more, John swept out the door and disappeared down the hall to who knows where. Balian cursed softly. Why did people have to speak in riddles? They were so hard to fathom out at times. And put his faith and trust in God? What has God done for him? Nothing but pain and hard times and that basically summed his life up.

Standing up, Balian headed for the door. There was only one way he could sort things out in his mind rightly and that was putting himself to the task of working. It always helped out in the end.

Heading for the door, Balian gave one last glance towards his small baggage. Hopefully he'll be able to sort things out before the day's end. If not, only time would tell when his decision would be made up. But he'd cross that bridge when he got there. Balian turned and left the room, disappearing slowly down the hall. Only time would tell.