1096, Outskirts of Bern
A lone figure wound his way through the slowly fading light of a late autumn afternoon, the first flakes of winter carrying on the air. He approached a lone church, where the monks could be heard praying and where a warm hearth and good food resided. He ignored that - he did not come out this far and into Imperial territory for something so simple and earthly as that.
No, instead he made his way to the rear of the church, where several graves were, with all but two made of wood. The two that are not were made of well crafted marble, each engraved with the names of their occupants - Lionel and Beatrix.
Gaetan brushed away the the snowflakes which had gathered upon the marble markers, first the girl's, then the boy's. Opening his cloak, Gaetan pulled out a beaded necklace and placed it upon the girl's marker with gentle care. Pulling his cloak tight about him, Gaetan dropped to his knees and breathed out a sigh, his breath condensing in the air.
"It is good to see you two again, I missed you dearly. I brought you something Beatrix - a necklace from Outremer, sold to me in Italy by a most "trustworthy" merchant. I suppose it is the thought that counts." Gaetan paused. "I bet you wonder why I was in Italy...I went too far again. I'm too used to wearing my feelings out upon my sleeves I suppose - I insulted the Dauphin, and suffered both the consequences, and paid for them later on...yet another harsh lesson I seem to refuse to learn. You always said I was too stubborn Beatrix, an-"
In a flash, Gaetan was upon his feet, his sword drawn and ready to fight. "Who goes there!"
A brief silence, and then a shadowy figure stepped out from behind the entrance to a mausoleum. Gaetan could not quite make out who it was in the moonlight. The figure paused, giving Gaetan a once-over, and then spoke in a neutral voice.
"Hold, Frenchman, for I am your kinsman. Be lucky that this is the case, for I hear that speaking this language in Imperial territory is not usually smiled upon." Gaetan cringed at being discovered for what he was, but said nothing immediately. Judging by the way the man spoke to him, he was clearly of the upper class back home, but his identity still remained a mystery.
Gaetan relaxed his stance, but did not sheath his sword. "Kinsman or not, you still have no answered my question. I am not exactly welcome back home, and one of my "Kinsmen" has already demonstrated that he was more then happy to do me harm. Why is a fellow such as yourself here, in Imperial territory, following someone such as me?"
"I am here to provide you with a means to return home," the figure said smoothly. "There is a task that needs completing, the type of task that usually smooths over all rough patches and forgives any past indiscretions." The figure paused, wondering if he had Gaetan on the hook yet and mulling over his next choice of words.
"But yet here you are chastising me for being in Imperial territory and following you," the figure said, without any trace of humor. "And here I am wondering why I did not have to venture farther to find you. I might ask you the same thing, Gaetan de Rethel, that you asked of me. Why are you here instead of with the Varangian Guard?"
Gaetan stiffened and bitterness creeped into his voice. "So Hermant sent you? Or did he openly tell everyone in the Royuame how he drugged me and tried to be rid of me?" Gaetan seemed to stand protectively in front of the markers, his face determined, his figure resolute. "I fight, that's what I do - I am but a soldier, a killer of men, and a good one at that. But I am not a mercenary - my wage is not paid in gold, but in gratitude. I spill blood not on command, not for someone's ambitions - I fight for them."
Gaetan gestured towards the markers. "Peasants, Serfs, Freemen, Merchants. Men, women, children. I fight for lost souls and the damned. Not nobles, not land, not a sack of gold. So go tell Hermant the next time he would send me off to serve someone's greed and political ambition, remember to not befriend me first." Gaetan pauses for a moment, clearly riled up, and waves at the stranger. "Leave me be, I have much to contemplate..."
Gaetan could make the figure turning around to depart. "Fine then," he said, already walking away. "But if you ever do wish to return home again, and in the way you describe, I only need to remind you that these opportunities do not come around often. Good evening, chevalier."
"Wait - you still have not answered my question. Why have you come out this after me? To what purpose do you risk your life? What opportunity do you speak of?"
The figure turned around once more, this time with a flourish, as if he were expecting nothing less than what Gaetan had just said. "I see no reason for answering these questions... for the moment," he said, much to Gaetan's chagrin. "I will grant you the information you desire, plus more information about your opportunity, but I must receive an answer first, Gaetan. You are making a decision based on very little information, and I understand that. However, there are some things in life that one must take on faith, such as hoping that your lord will provide for you or that your deity of choice is in fact the One True God. This is one of those times. You have already heard from me that this opportunity will provide what you desire: restoration, and in the proper way. All that is required from you now is your simple faith that I am leading you in the right direction." The figure paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.
"I either need a 'yes' or a 'no', chevalier," he resumed. "If it is 'no', then I will leave you to your ponderings in this holy graveyard and go back my own way. If it is 'yes', however, then I will consider your faith a binding commitment and expect your deliverance in return for my information. So, what shall the answer be?" he asked.
Gaetan stood postulating as the cold wind whipped around him, silence permeating the graveyard. He seemed ready to say no, when the necklace he had laid upon Beatrix's marker suddenly flew off towards the direction of the stranger. Gaetan panicked, reactively snatching at it, but he missed it at first, and only managed to catch it as it flipped through the gathering snow at the base of the stranger's feet.
Finding himself kneeling before the stranger, necklace in hand, Gaetan looked at the necklace, and back at Beatrix's grave. Closing his eyes, he made his decision. "Yes..."
"Rise, Gaetan," the figure said. "You are not my bondsman, you are my kinsman." Waiting for Gaetan to do so, he continued. "The heathen Moorish Empire stretches from Iberia to Egypt, eclipsing even the ancient Carthaginians in size and threat to the civilized world. A great many of their lands have been long lost to the loving embrace of Christianity, but Iberia... Iberia is a different case. In Iberia, the great Catholic factions share a land border with the heretics and do nothing. Their brothers cry out from the brutal repression of the Sultan, begging for a return to the light, for salvation. And yet, these factions do nothing, forever damning half the peninsula because of their own petty squabbles, or because they fear Moorish reprisal."
The wind continued to whirl around them as the conversation continued. "I think these factions forget that if you have the Lord on your side, then there is no threat of reprisal," the figure said. "These Catholic Iberian factions have lost their way, then, and I aim for them to rediscover it. I asked the Conseil for permission to do this once more, and was rebuffed - though barely. This time, I am doing it the right way. This time, I am gathering a base of support beforehand. And once we do get approval - for we shall, one way or the other - we will set out and purge the good people of Iberia of any Moorish influence whatsoever. We shall cleanse the Peninsula and save countless thousands of souls."
The figure finally stopped, regarding Gaetan with a look. "And now, you should have enough information to deduce who I am."
Gaetan's face tightened in strained disgust. "Raynaud de Xaintrailles...I should have known - yet another lackey, or should I say opportunist? Somehow I don't think you follow Prince Louis blindly." Gaetan breathed out, relaxing in the face of reality. "But my word is my bond, and I shall support you however begrudgingly. But I wish to know why you followed me into Imperial Territory to ask this of me, why you would disturb me in my place of solace."
"Think of me as you will," Raynaud said, once again delaying answering Gaetan's main question. "I seek no recognition or reward for my actions other than what lies ahead in the next life. I do wish that you would see my side of things, but I suppose that is too much to ask too soon. Perhaps farther down the road."
The wind finally died down, and, overhead, the moon poked through the clouds, finally illuminating Raynaud's visage for Gaetan to see. He sighed, finally providing a straight answer. "Think of me as you will," Raynaud said once more. "But do not dispute that this mission is incredibly important to me. I believe in the values that I profess - redemption, for some, justice, the True Faith - and I will go whatever length necessary to see this task through. This includes seeking you out, to provide you with the opportunity you need. As for your place of solace, it just so happens that this was also my place of solace, at least for tonight. I was asking the Lord for guidance on how best to approach you, and as I was leaving I spotted you in the graveyard. Did He provide me you? Perhaps. But I suppose that's all part of the journey, isn't it?"
As Raynuad turned and left, Gaetan remained a few moments longer in that cold, moonlight graveyard, slightly stunned, yet deep inside the fierce embers of his heart blazed again.
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