Chapter 25
“I think it would,” Cunnel agreed, but the dark man had turned to the hunter.
“Do you know where the fisherman’s boat is?” Valdigard asked. He received only a silent look. Stepping forward, Valdigard pressed the question. Again, only silence.
The Exthereon was in no mood for resistance.
“You are an honest man,” he told Michael. “and at times, a clever one. If you refuse to answer me, my logical conclusion is that you do know where it is. And that you hid it.”
“Oh, he stole it for sure,” the fisherman interjected. Valdigard gave him a stern look.
“I was not talking to you,” he snapped at the fisherman. Cunnel sulked away, muttering.
“Where is the boat?” Valdigard asked, looking back at Michael. The hunter said nothing.
“I’m a very patient man,” the foreigner boasted. “But you’re taking me to my limits.” This received no response.
"Say something!” The dark man grit his teeth angrily. The huntsman continued to simply look him in the eye, without the least sign of intimidation or fear. Valdigard’s pride was enraged. His prisoners were never deaf to his demands!
“Tell me where you hid the boat or I’ll let Cunnel here have his way with you,” Valdigard threatened. At this, the fisherman’s face perked up and Michael finally spoke.
“And if I did what you wanted,” the hunter answered, “I would be a dead man when I reached your lands.”
This simple and unexpected rebutal left the foreigner speechless with no response. Cunnel, on the other hand, stepped forward eagerly.
“Very well then, Hawkson, you’ve made your choice.” He grabbed the huntsman’s collar. “Now you must die.” Valdigard made no effort to stop him.
“You’re a fool, Hawkson!” The dark prince said bitterly. “You could still have a part in this.” The offer came sincerely and held an invisible hand on Cunnel’s dagger.
“Why resist?” Valdigard asked the hunter.
Michael slowly turned from the knife to the hooded prince. He silently returned the dark man’s stare. A moment passed and Valdigard, despite himself, turned away and looked down at the floor. Something in those calm, clear eyes disturbed him. Summoning what he thought was courage, Valdigard proudly met the simple man’s gaze.
“I can save you!” the dark man whispered. “What have you got to loose?”
“My soul,” was the quiet response.
“Why? You cannot be expected to die for a futile cause. The young prince is gone, and their kingdom is lost. All of your efforts were in vain. It is over. But it does not have to be so for you. There’s still a chance.”
“How would you judge a soldier," Michael said calmly, "who betrayed his lord at the slightest sign of trouble? Or a man who joined the enemy, merely for his own gain? God expects nothing less than absolute fidelity to Justice, Truth .... and Him - even, and especially, in the face of death and defeat.”
Valdigard sneered at the brave man's words. “And which god demands such absurdity?”
“The true and only One,” answered the huntsman. Valdigard paused a moment, confusion on his face. One god? Who was he talking about… ? And then it dawned on him. Disgust filled the foreigner’s heart. This man was a Catholic.
“It is not too surprising,” Valdigard spoke in derisive tones, “that one who follows a Crucified Lord would imitate His folly unto death.”
Michael answered with a smile. “I am surprised. Not at His calling. But rather, at my response to His challenge.”
These subtleties were lost on the pagan, who now had abandoned all hope of winning over this hunter. Anyone stupid enough to be a Catholic, much less trust in such a God, deserved to die. The fisherman added his repugnance to his companion’s.
“Of course you are a Catholic,” he sneered. “That was a rosary in your hat.” Michael looked at the fisherman with some interest.
“Is that where I left it?” The question was sincere. Cunnel spit in disgust.
“Yes,” he answered. “I haven’t seen one of those in years, but I recognized it. Women’s superstitious foolishness is all that is.”
“Where is it?” Michael asked.
“Where it belongs,” scoffed the fisherman. “Out in the mud. I threw it after you, when you’d gone.” There was a mild concern in the hunter’s eyes, much to Cunnel’s enjoyment. Valdigard however, resumed his impatient urgency.
“Very well then, Cunnel.” The cloaked man made to leave. “I’ll take the prince over in the first trip. I’ll send Harkeyl back to get you. When you’ve finished with the prisoner, go to the river. Make sure you bring the body.”
Cunnel's smile fell. Stay behind while Valdigard sailed off with the prince? Would there really be a second trip if it was only for the fisherman and a corpse? Cunnel was searching for a way to safely disagree, but Valdigard was already leaving. As his anxiety grew, the fisherman became less aware of Michael, who was closely observing his captor. Leaning forward and speaking abruptly, Michael whispered Cunnel’s name. Taken by surprise, the fisherman drew closer to hear the huntsman’s confession.
“Your boat is in the hedge,” Michael breathed in his ear.
As the fisherman gaped in momentary shock at what he heard, he suddenly felt himself thrown to the floor by a harsh blow to his head. Hearing the commotion, Valdigard paused his quick steps and, having turned around, received the hunter’s fist squarely in the face. The foreign prince clutched at the table to break his fall and Michael snatched up a chair and broke it over the man’s head. Thudding to the ground, Valdigard rolled beneath the table. The hunter quickly stooped down and pried Philip's medallion from the unconscious man’s fingers.
The royal family’s coat of arms was clearly etched into the front. Stirred by curiosity, the man turned the medal over. A faint smile came to his lips when the hunter recognized his Angelic Patron on the back. Encircling the image of the Holy Archangel Michael were the words “Protect and lead us, first Knight of God.” As he read, a thought suddenly struck him. It was no small coincidence that the Heavenly Patron, under whom the young prince had unknowingly placed himself, had shown his protection through his own namesake - the hunter.
The kneeling man suddenly stiffened. The dim light with which he studied the medal slowly disappeared. Before he could recognize Cunnel’s shadow, Michael instinctively threw himself to the ground and rolled aside. His enemy's dagger came slashing after him. Barely missing its mark, though, it was impaled into the table instead. The hunter twisted around and struck his adversary from behind. The fisherman fell forward on the table and Michael turned to escape. He had to reach the prince quickly before -
Michael firmly shook the thoughts from his head. He refused to be overwhelmed by the danger they were in. Instead of succumbing to fear, Michael fortified himself with a quick but fervent prayer as he headed for the door.
