Deus Vult

Chapter 2

Dark storm clouds blanketed the sky, and thunder echoed through the valley. The flashes of lightning revealed the silhouette of a lone horseman who struggled down the winding path beneath the pouring rain.

The winds howled, and the darkness of night had descended upon the valley as the rains beat mercilessly down upon the perilous mountainside path. Muddy water flowed down the pass beneath the horse’s hooves, causing the beast to slip frequently, and threatened to send both horse and rider tumbling over the cliff and into the valley below.

The young knight dismounted and began leading the beast slowly down a narrow part of the pass that rounded a corner. The water rushing down the pass was now ankle high and cascaded over the cliff on his right like a waterfall. Lowering his head against the violent wind and stinging rain, he squinted and gritted his teeth as he doggedly moved forward in the middle of the raging tempest. A flash of lightning brought him backward in time for a brief moment to when he had lowered his head and knelt, receiving the touch of a sword on his shoulders, bestowing upon him the honor of knighthood. The crackling of thunder that followed brought back the concerned faces of loved ones bidding farewell as he had set out alone from his home in Castile, weeks ago. He knew he had come too far to turn back now or let anything stand in his way.

Amidst the thunder and pouring rain, an even louder noise from above caught his attention and thrust him back into the present. He turned to look up and was struck by a sudden deluge as water swept down the mountainside. His horse whinnied in terror as the force of the flood waters tore them from the path and dragged them both toward the edge of the cliff and the muddy darkness below.

He flailed his arms in a panic, frantically clawing at anything he could find to hold on to as he felt himself careening over the edge. His hands grasped the empty air, and he felt weightless for a moment before his back and head slammed against a steep slope. Pain shot through his body as he began to tumble end over end down the mountainside. Jagged rocks and small trees tore at his sides and limbs as he fell. He desperately tried to slow his descent, but to no avail against the force of the water rushing down the muddy slope.

He continued to tumble out of control down the mountainside until it felt as though he were about to lose consciousness, but at last, his body collided with a large tree, which finally broke his fall. His breath came slowly and in great heaves as he clung to the tree with water flowing all around him. When he was finally able to catch his breath, he opened his eyes, looked around, and realized he had reached the tree line at the bottom of the steep slope. A flash of lightning revealed his horse lying on its side, pinned against some trees not far away.

Battered and bruised, he felt his body and moved his limbs, looking for signs of broken bones, but there were none. He was covered in mud and his tunic was shredded, but his mail armor had saved his flesh from being torn to pieces by the sharp rocks and small trees during the fall. Slowly and cautiously, he stood up and, using the nearby trees to steady himself, he made his way to his horse, wading through the rushing water.

When he reached his horse, its head was under the muddy, flowing water, and there was no movement. Its body was still, twisted and broken. The young knight stood by the once proud steed and leaned over it, placing his hands upon its neck as he lowered his head. The rain fell from his forehead in a steady stream as he stood over the beast and closed his eyes, recalling the fearlessness it had shown when they had charged into battle one year ago. The victory that day had been great, and his actions had earned him the honor of being knighted.

“Thank you . . .” he said, bidding his final farewell beneath the thunder and pouring rain. He stood motionless for a time before lifting his hands and slowly began removing items from the saddle. He had lost his sword, his lance, and most of his belongings, but taking what was left, he packed the items into a saddlebag, which he slung over his shoulder before making his way downward into the forest.

Into the inky blackness, he blindly made his way forward through the forest. After he had staggered through the darkness for what seemed like an eternity, the slope of the forest floor began to level off, and the trees began to thin. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the angry sky was now calm and gray as dawn began to break. A light mist arose from the forest floor and curled about his body as he walked, and all was a heavy, dreamy, white silence as he wandered into a clearing.

The young knight’s legs felt as though they were about to collapse beneath him, so he sat down to rest upon a large, flat stone that jutted out from the misty forest floor. His head hung low, and his heart felt heavy as he pondered his difficult, near hopeless situation. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. It was the same feeling he’d had many years ago as a young boy, the old and faded memories echoing from his past. As a child he stood, shivering and alone with naught but the clothes on his back, when he was brought into the court of his uncle after his father was slain by raiding Saracen Moors. He recalled the men bringing in the lifeless body of his father while he stood by, helpless and alone. His uncle had graciously taken him in and raised him, and even though his uncle had always treated him like one of his own sons, deep inside he had always felt the need to prove himself worthy of the kindness his uncle had shown him and live up to his great name.

Months ago, news of the Pope’s proclamation and calls for a holy war had reached the Kingdom of León. He had listened with wide eyes to the incredible news. Eager to test himself and bring honor to his family’s name, he had set out alone from his home in hopes of joining the army of Count Raymond of Toulouse who was gathering forces to journey to the Holy Land. The count would be holding a great tournament in the coming days to allow knights and warriors to earn honor and distinguish themselves in combat.

He hung his head with the realization that the tournament was only days away, but with almost no provisions, no horse, and no idea where he was, there was little hope of competing in Count Raymond’s tournament. He heard a voice deep inside him as he recalled the words of his uncle: No matter what situation you find yourself in, be strong in your faith, never lose hope, and always give thanks to God. His fists loosened, and he opened his eyes and looked to the heavens with a sigh. Though his situation was bleak, he knew he could have easily suffered great injury or even death from the fall, but he had not.

No matter what situation you find yourself in, be strong in your faith, never lose hope, and always give thanks to God.He got up from the rock he was sitting on and knelt on the cold, hard ground. He put his elbows on the rock and folded his hands in prayer as he bowed his head and closed his eyes. Lord God, thank you for sparing my life and keeping me safe from injury. But I am lost, oh Lord, and need your help. If it is your will that I am to take part in Count Raymond’s tournament and join his forces as they journey to the Holy Land, please help me find my way.

Lord God, thank you for sparing my life and keeping me safe from injury. But I am lost, oh Lord, and need your help. If it is your will that I am to take part in Count Raymond’s tournament and join his forces as they journey to the Holy Land, please help me find my way.Rising from the ground, he looked around the clearing. He knew that he was at the bottom of a deep ravine with the high cliffs rising up just beyond the forest he had wandered through. He decided to follow along the base of the cliff with the hope of finding a path that would lead him back to the road he had been on before being swept into the ravine.

He walked through the forest along the base of the cliff for a long time, until the trees began to thin again and he came to another clearing. He stopped and stared for a moment, unsure that he could believe what he was seeing. Rising out of the mist like a mythical palace, he beheld a series of buildings in the distance that seemed as though they were carved from the solid stone cliff itself. The magnificent buildings had intricately carved steps that led up to terraces, and some of the buildings had two or three levels. Flowering gardens could be seen on the terraces, and well-manicured trees and bushes lined the front of the buildings. All the structures were so perfectly recessed into the base of the cliff that they were nearly camouflaged from sight. Had he not walked into the clearing, he would have missed them entirely.

He rubbed his eyes, staring in near disbelief. Is what I am seeing real? Why would there be such a place in the middle of nowhere?

Is what I am seeing real? Why would there be such a place in the middle of nowhere?He continued to walk farther into the clearing, and ahead of him he could make out a path that led to the main building. On the outside of the building, above the large wooden doors at the front, he could see the shape of a cross. It appeared to be a church or possibly a monastery. He followed the path until he came to the double doors at the entrance of the building. He grasped the large iron ring attached the door, then lifted it and let it fall with a thud as he stood and waited. A few moments passed, and he could hear movement from inside. Then one of the large wooden doors creaked open to reveal a young woman who peered at him from inside.

She was dressed in the black robes of a nun and wore a wooden cross about her neck. She had answered the door with a smile, but her smile began to fade and her brow began to crease as her eyes moved up and down, studying him. “What happened to you?” she asked. “Were you robbed and beaten?”

“No,” he answered, looking down and picking at a shred of fabric from his torn tunic. “I was on my way to Toulouse when I became caught in the storm and my horse and I were swept over the mountain pass. My horse was killed, and I wandered for a long time before I found this place. Can you help me?” He looked back up at the young woman. “I have some coin, but most of my belongings were lost. I can pay you a little . . .”

The young woman hesitated for a moment, then moved back as she opened the door and motioned for him to enter. Her smile returned. “Please, come in. What is your name, sir?” she asked as he entered.

“My name is Sir Rodrigo Santos. I am a knight from Castile,” he answered, looking around. The inside of the building was clean and spacious, but humble. There were no stained-glass windows, ornamentation, or tapestries adorning the plain stone walls. There were only wooden benches, a pulpit, and some wooden tables near the front of the sanctuary. Strange, he thought. This humble interior belies the extraordinary exterior of these buildings. “What is this place?”

Strange, This humble interior belies the extraordinary exterior of these buildings“This is the monastery of San Juan de la Peña, and I am Sister Mary, one of its caretakers,” she replied.

Rodrigo saw a cross hanging on a wall at the back of the sanctuary and bowed his head in silence for a moment. Thank you, Lord, for hearing my prayers and bringing me to this place. He reached into his saddlebag and withdrew a small bag of coins, which he extended to Sister Mary. “Here. It is all I have.”

Thank you, Lord, for hearing my prayers and bringing me to this place. “Please, sir,” she gently replied, “there is no need for you to pay. This monastery welcomes all who come here, and no one in need is turned away. There are some rooms here where you may stay and rest a while. There is not much there, but it is quiet and comfortable. Toulouse is only a few days’ journey by horse, but several by foot, I am afraid. I must go, but when I come back, I will bring you some food. There is a bucket of water there to clean yourself and a straw mat to sleep on. You look like you could use some rest.”

Rodrigo returned her kind smile and nodded. His eyelids felt heavy, and his limbs ached with every movement. “Thank you, Sister,” he said as he followed her to the back of the monastery and entered a room. It was simple, and in the middle of the room was a wooden chair and a table with some drinking water. On the wall there was a cross. A straw mat lay in the corner with a blanket, and next to it was a large bucket of water and a small cloth.

Rodrigo removed his tattered tunic, armor, and boots and washed the mud from his face and body. He splashed some water over his head and placed the cloth against his face as trails of brown water cascaded down his neck and chest. If I leave on foot tomorrow, I will not be able to compete in the tournament, but, God willing, I may still be able to join Count Raymond’s army. I cannot return to my family and uncle a failure. I must find a way to answer the Pope’s call to liberate Jerusalem and the Holy Land from the Turks. He gripped the cloth tightly and twisted it with all his strength, wringing every last drop of water back into the bucket. When he finished cleaning himself, he looked around the room. His clothes were still damp, but there was a monk’s robe folded on one of the tables. Donning the robe, he lay down on the straw mat and almost instantly drifted into a deep slumber.

If I leave on foot tomorrow, I will not be able to compete in the tournament, but, God willing, I may still be able to join Count Raymond’s army. I cannot return to my family and uncle a failure. I must find a way to answer the Pope’s call to liberate Jerusalem and the Holy Land from the Turks.