Chapter 12

"What do ye here, betrayer?" a soft voice tinted with a Scottish burr demanded.

"I was told Sir Ezra of Standish was in your camp." Buck spun around looking for the voice from no where.

"Your comeuppance is not until the morrow." A dark form stepped from the deeper shadow between tents.

"I have come to . . ." Wilmington's voice trailed off as Ezra and the Earl of Munster exited a nearby tent.

"Wilmington." Sir Sean's knuckles whitened upon the hilt of his sword.

As a bitter crowd gathered Wilmington began to speak. "Ezra, I'm . . . Sir Ezra of Standish, I stand before you and freely admit my disgrace. I behaved without honor inflicting grave injury to an innocent. For this I will beg God's forgiveness. I swear to do all within my power, offering any wealth which I might acquire in an attempt to right the wrong I inflicted on that . . . boy." Buck's voice broke on a sob.

Ezra's eyes widened at the public accounting and acknowledgment of wrong doing.

"More of a man than I e'er thought," Sir Sean admitted softly, his grip loosening on the blade.

"I yield to you the contest of honor, Sir Ezra, and would withdraw my challenge to arms," Wilmington offered.

A soft murmur of voices filled the air as the gathered Celtic warriors reacted.

"I freely allow you to withdraw the challenge," Ezra answered. Too little too late but why add another's blood to the debt.

"Thank you," Buck bowed and turned away. Taking a few steps he hesitated and turned. "I know I don't have the right to ask, yet is there any news of Tannah?"

"I have heard nothing of the bowman. Most likely he is dead," Sir Ezra answered gently.

Buck's shoulders slumped and he nodded and walked away. The crowd gave way allowing Wilmington to pass unimpeded from their camp.

"I would appreciate it if Sir Bucklin is escorted safely back to his pavilion. It would not do to add to the unrest by his death in the Celtic section," Ezra suggested.

"Aye." Sean of Munster waved to several of his men directing them to follow Sir Bucklin for safety's sake.

"There goes a man with a burden that will stay with him for all his days," Sir Donal of the MacLeods noted.

"Aye, and it is a burden he has well earned," Sir Sean growled and turned away entering his tent.

Ezra's troubled eyes lingered on the broken Wilmington.

"You canna forgive him Standish. Not until he is ready to forgive himself and yon man seems to have a stubborn way about him," the MacLeod noted.

"He is a good man, impetuous and thoughtless but he is a good man," Ezra whispered softly.

"Aye Lad, it is why his dishonor eats at his spirit," Sir Donal sighed and slipped into the darkness.

"It is the black wolf who broke faith," Sean growled angrily.

"Sir Christopher . . . ," Ezra began hesitantly.

"Is safe from our swords. His betrayal is the greatest. Someday he will need the Draig-en's strength only to find his back unguarded by his own actions. May I live to see the day," Sean growled bitterly before returning to the pavilion.

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Sir Pierce, Count of Monte Blanc sat in his pavilion, foregoing the chair he sat on a pile of pillows strewn on the floor. A style much more in character with the Crusaders enemies than the Crusaders. The lamp light flickered along the gleaming steel as Pierce sharpened his sword. The dark eyes looked ancient as the man considered his future.

I have stretched things as far as possible. Already comments are made on how young I appear. The children are old enough to do well now. Angelique has been gone these last few months. I had simply intended for Pierce of Monte Blanc to die on the battle field. Better then being burned at the stake. Not something I want to repeat. To have stumbled across this monster at this time and this place. I will simply delay my death until I put an end to him. Methos lifted the blade and studied the edge.

Cathay, I think some place that bathing is approved of. A new name for a new life . . . hmmm Adam? Yes, I think Adam. I really need to loose that pesky little watcher though. I never should have set that priest to recording the lives of the immortals but it is such a good way of keeping track of opponents. The watchers are getting so defensive about me . . . borrowing their journals though.

Standing up the immortal began a sword dance weaving the blade around himself in a beautiful and deadly fence of steel.

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Buck ducked under the tent flap and entered the pavilion. Chris studied the careworn man for a moment.

"It is done. I admitted my fault and Ezra allowed me to withdraw my challenge," Buck sighed as he plopped down onto his bedding. "A dozen challenges will come out of this. The young peacocks will be wanting to pull me down." Buck groaned and stretched out on the blankets.

Chris nodded faintly and bit his lip. My fault. If I had simply protected Tannah none of this would have happened.

"Ezra has heard nothing of the boy since he was taken away," Buck's voice shook. "How could I have done something like that?" Wilmington stared at his hands, opening and closing his fists. "I miss that scruffy little bowman."

Me too. Like a part of me is missing. Chris sat silently examining his weapons.

"You think this Sir Pierce is telling the truth. That this child killer has been around that long and came out of Christian lands?" Buck spoke much later, breaking the silence of the tent.

"Yes, I saw his eyes. He intends to kill that abomination," Chris admitted.

"Thought so myself," Buck muttered turning over. "Chris?"

"Yes, Buck," Larabee smiled faintly. Buck is always Buck.

"How much do you think a slave like Tannah would cost?" Wilmington asked.

"Too much," Chris growled. Leave it alone Buck. There is nothing to be done.

"I thought so," Buck sighed.

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The man lay within his pavilion sleepily staring at the roof, sated and content to replay the events of the night within his mind. The child's pitiful struggle and muffled screams as the boy was raped. Licking his lips the killer remembered the sweetness and how tender his flesh had been. There was no remorse, no troubled conscious simply the anticipation of another hunt and kill that the man dreamed of so sweetly as sleep claimed him.

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In the darkness a mother sat rocking the body of her slain child. Her grief finally taking the form of prayer asking that God strike down the demon before another mother's heart broke as her own.

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The healer smiled widely as he safely delivered the babe. Gently he cleaned the boy and wrapped him snuggly before offering the child to his father. "He is a fine boy," Nathan said.

"It is only these poor hands I have to defend you," the new father cuddled his son close. "A foul beast walks the camp eating our children and the Huntsman is lost to us."

Nathan scowled and slipped from the tent unnoticed by the new parents. It's not my fault Tannah is gone. Long legs made short work of the walk as the healer stalked the Crusaders' camp. You can taste the fear in the air. Nathan stopped to study the far too silent camp. Tannah . . . why did I do nothing. He saved my life. His eyes . . . will haunt me the rest of my life. Nathan admitted to himself. The broad shoulders slumped as he continued back to Larabee's pavilion. Who will Larabee throw to the mob next?

"Josiah?" Nathan hurried toward the big warrior. Something about Sir Josiah's posture indicated great pain.

"Ah it is you, Nathan," Josiah hissed as he straightened, holding on to a post. A cut off yelp greeted the healer's touch.

"What have you done?" Nathan exclaimed, his worried eyes darted from the blood slicking his fingers to the dark stains across the back of Josiah's shirt.

"Penance, brother, penance. I swore an oath to protect the innocent and I stood by and did nothing," Josiah hissed as he straightened.

"You let those . . . holy brothers beat you bloody again, didn't you?" Nathan fumed as he slid a supporting hand under the wavering Josiah's elbow. "Tannah didn't approve of this you know and would not welcome you doing so in his name."

""The pain is too great. I needed to cleanse myself of innocent blood." Josiah growled.

"By adding to the suffering? Did not Jesus already pay for your sin?" Nathan snapped angrily.

"Yes . . . did you know another child was murdered tonight? I am only a warrior of God, I know nothing of tracking and hunting. Tannah would have hunted this demon down and killed it. It was for the child I did penance," Josiah answered bitterly.

"Another one?" Nathan hissed in horror.

"You had not heard?" Josiah asked.

"I was at a lying-in," Nathan replied. "He was innocent."

"Did you truly believe him guilty?" Josiah demanded, only for Nathan's eyes to drop in shame.