Keeper of the Grail Read Online Free Page B

last stall, which sat deepest inside the stable, had a small loft above it where we stored hay during the winter months. At its rear was a door with a rope and pulley used to lift the shocks of hay into the loft after harvest. I knew that my assailant would hear me as I kicked through it, but I quietly climbed up to it from the stall below.
    A few steps across the loft I found the far wall. I grasped the door handle and threw it open. Unhooking the rope, I swung myself out into the air. I heard retreating footsteps in the stable now and thought he would try to race around to the rear of the stable to catch me before I could reach the ground. I gave out another loud shout, hoping that someone would hear. Then I quickly let myself down the rope hand over hand.
    Reaching the ground, I was not sure which direction to run. Either way could lead directly to the arms of my enemy. Deciding to chance it, I turned left, yelling again as loudly as I could, and ran toward the corner of the stable. I thought for a moment that I heard footsteps behind me, and perhaps a muttered curse, but I was running as fast as my sore legs and ribs would allow and did not stop to listen.
    Turning past the corner of the stable, I could see the abbey ahead. It was almost time for vespers, and candlelight flickered through a few of the windows. I shouted again, but knew that if the hymns had begun, no one was likely to hear me.
    My only thought was to reach the abbey before I could be captured. But then another blow caught me across the shoulders, and I fell to the ground stunned, curling up in a ball, hoping that the agony would end soon.
    Then I heard a familiar humming, grunting noise. Looking up from the dirt I saw an oil lamp bobbing across the ground in my direction. Recognizing the sound instantly, with one last effort I lurched to my feet and ran toward the light. I heard a curse behind me and the sound of footsteps retreating. In a few seconds I reached the holder of the lamp. And fell unconscious into the arms of Brother Tuck.

5
    T he sensation of cold water on my forehead pulled me from my sleep. I was lying on the bed in my small attic room, high above the main floor of the abbey. Five years before, for my tenth birthday, the brothers had generously given me my own little space here in the rafters reached by climbing a small ladder from the main sleeping room the monks shared. It was lighted only by a small circular window at the peak of the roof, with barely enough room for me to stand. But it was my own space and I cherished it.
    Brother Tuck was bathing my head with a cold cloth. I was not fully awake, but I heard voices as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
    “This is unacceptable. I won’t allow him to leave unless I can be sure of his safety,” I thought I heard the abbot say in an angry voice.
    “I know. But we’ve discussed it already and you’ve agreed he will be safer with me,” said a voice I didn’t quite recognize. Then I fell asleep again, hoping that the next time I woke I wouldn’t be so sore.
    When I opened my eyes again, Brother Tuck smiled at me and I saw the abbot, speaking to Sir Thomas standing nearby. I tried to remember what I’d heard them talking about, but found I couldn’t.
    “After what that reprehensible Sir Hugh has done, I am not sure…”
    Sir Thomas raised his hand to interrupt. “Father, Sir Hugh is not the threat we need concern ourselves with. Leave Sir Hugh to me…” Then they noticed I was awake.
    “Tristan, how are you feeling?” the abbot asked.
    “I’m fine, Father,” I answered.
    “Can you tell us what happened?” Sir Thomas asked.
    I said nothing for a moment. It was odd to see all of these men crowded into my small space. I noticed that neither the abbot nor Sir Thomas could stand upright with the low ceiling, and for some reason—perhaps it was the pain—I found this very funny. I chuckled.
    “Tristan?” the abbot asked again.
    “I’m not certain. I was working in