The next week was a flurry of activity as packing was done. Not only would I be leaving, but my brothers would be returning from their temporary leave to active service. As all four of us packed and prepared to leave, my father made arrangements to hire a young man from town come and assist him on the farm. Because of the distance of our farm from the town, he would be moving into my old room and becoming a permanent resident of the farm. I admit, a renewned sense of hurt and anger sparked in me at hearing this news. It felt even more like my father was replacing me. I had to fight my own irrational thoughts and remind myself it was not true. I may not understand my father’s decision, but I never had any reason to question his love for me or my brothers. Honestly, I have never seen a man as devoted as he.

So, as I packed and moved out and he made plans to move in, I took time to enjoy the last few moments I would have with my father before I left. Even my brothers seemed more subdued and not another negative word was spoken about my new assignment. I could tell it was forced, but even my brothers sought to encourage me and speak affirmingly of my new role. Since they did not have much positive in their mind about a banner bearer, their words were few. But they tried. And their physical presence was a more ready companion that it had been during the previous month of their leave. At unexpected times and places, one or more of them would just “be” there. It felt more like our younger years when we would laugh at jokes, tell stories, and play the shenanigans that young boys and men often did.

Every once in a while, I would see our father watching us. His expression was one of joy and peace. The happiness at watching us boys, men now, enjoy the company of each other clearly brought great contentment to his heart. Part of me wondered if he was not soaking it all in as a means to fortify himself for the coming absence when we all left. Yet, despite the smile on his face and the contentment and joy I saw there, I also read a sadness. He never spoke anything but positivity and encouragement. If he was struggling over our departure, he never showed it. At least not in any conspicuous manner. But I knew my father and I could read between the lines. This decision, our departure, my departure as the youngest and last son, was a greater pain to him than his words and demeanor were revealing. Just in that one quick glance, I saw it. And I am ashamed to admit, I felt a sense of relief and satisfaction in the acknowledgment. I still struggled with why. Why was he sending me away? Why not let me stay? It was costing him the presence of his sons and the expense of hiring a tenant worker. I still failed to understand his reasoning or purpose behind all of this. Seeing his grief, even if it was ever so slightly, gave a sense of peace that he was grieved by this decision as well. In exposing his pain, I understood that it was not something father wanted to do but something he deemed necessary no matter the pain it brought. The reasons for this decision were still beyond my grasp and father had chosen to be closed lipped about those reasons so I was forced to accept and trust. But seeing his pain and sorrow acted, in a way, as a balm for my aching heart as I wrestled inwardly with these questions.

The remaining days sped by, and the day of departure arrived long before any of us were ready. We loaded our gear, minimal as it was, onto our horses. Embracing our father one last time, we bade him farewell and took our leave. We mounted up and headed down the lane away from our home. My brothers, having made this trip before, did not look back. I, on the other hand, glanced back. My stomach twisted in knots, apprehension growing in me for the unknown future. As I looked back, I saw my father standing still as a statue watching us go. It may have been a trick of the eye, but I felt sure I saw the sun glisten off tear drops streaking his face. He raised his hand to wave, and I echoed the gesture before turning forward once more and setting my heart and mind to the unknown future.

We four brothers would be traveling together, for a while at least. Each of my older brothers were assigned to different regiments. Jade and Aldus would be the first to break off and return to their assigned posts. Revel and I would travel the majority of the remaining trip together. However, his destination was the garrison at the last defensive city before arriving at the capital city which was home to the king’s castle. My post was in the capital city with the king’s guard stationed at the castle itself. I would have to finish the remaining journey alone, a prospect I was not looking forward to. I had never ventured any further than my father’s own farm and the city several miles away where we purchased supplies. The prospect of completing the journey alone unnerved and unsettled me more than I wanted to openly admit, risking the humiliation of cowardice. I already felt that I was being given a role within the king’s army that lacked one of bravery and honor, I did not want to validate that view through confessing my fear now. Revel, however, was far more intuitive than I gave him credit for. As we neared the point of taking leave of one another, Revel pulled up on the reins and came to a stop.

“It’s ok to be afraid, Valiant.” He said in a voice full of emotion. I come to a stop, pulling harder on the reins than necessary to do so. I spun my horse around to look at Revel who was now several paces behind me. His eyes were brimming with tears. He struggled to hold them back but even as I watched, a couple let loose and flowed down his face. I was taken aback by the show of emotion. Revel’s open laughter at father’s announcement seemed clear enough to me on what he felt about my assignment as the king’s banner bearer. Mirth and lighthearted merriment constituted much of the substance of men’s palaver surrounding the king’s banner bearers. Derision and scorn filled the rest. They were not viewed as warriors or respectable men. At least among my brothers, and I gathered from them, the position was viewed with no more respect than that of a court jester or hog herder. In fact, at least where I came from, hog herders were more respected. Admittedly, among the king’s court, it was viewed in high honor and no joking, or jesting would be acceptable in the presence of the royal court. But among the common folk and among the soldiers themselves, little respect or value was placed upon them. The case was not helped by the fact that many a banner barrier knew of the high value placed upon them by the royal court and often gathered airs about themselves and flaunted it, bearing themselves with a high and mighty tone. For men who literally bled and died, watching their friends and comrades die, the pompous airs that were put on by these men who bore the banner did little to nothing to endear them or their position to the common solider or towns folk.

Therefore, the tears now streaming down Revel’s face were both surprising and not surprising. Not surprising in that I knew he did not honor or respect the position and grieved over his own brother being enlisted in that position. This might account for such a response. It was surprising though because it varied so starkly from his first response of laughter and because Revel was not known to express his emotional or sentimental side much. He was guarded in that way. To see an open display of it now was surprising.

“Little brother,” he began, “do not heed the foolish ramblings of we, your stupid brothers.”

The look on my face must have said it all, for he continued.

“I know, I know. All you have ever heard from us is scorn and dismal ramblings about the role to which you now find yourself assigned. Perhaps that is only the arrogant, overconfident, fighter bravado in us. Perhaps it is the poor example of the men who have held the position prior to you.” At this he drew his horse near so that he was parallel to me. He reached out and gripped my forearm in his and clenched it tightly.

“Brother, you are different. The humility and grace with which you carry yourself has not always been understood. As fighters…. well, in our foolishness, sometimes it appears as weakness. But if I know anything to be true, our father is a wise and thoughtful man. His enlisting you to be the kings banner barrier is no accidental, no rash, no mistaken decision. Trust him. Look for the reason why. And show father, show the king, show the king’s army why he was right to do so. I believe in you. I believe you will be the greatest banner bearer the king has ever known.”

With that, his tears flowed freely now. The stream of tears and the impact of each word as they struck, broke open the dam of tears that I had long suppressed over the past week. Together we wept, embracing each other across horse back.

Gaining control once more, we broke the embrace and leaned back but continued to grip one another’s arm. Unspoken, we both sensed the hesitancy to let go, for when we did, we knew it might be the last time we embraced.

After what felt like forever, we did break. With a simple dip of our heads, we leaned forward placing our foreheads together for a moment. Before returning, with our heads still near, I whispered, “Thank you, brother.”

The deep emotion of the phrase spoke the rest. An unspoken, I love you. Revel knew. He raised his right hand and used it cup my face even as we broke and leaned back once more. Letting go of my arms, he spun his horse, and turning back, we resumed our march.

As we reached Revel’s departure point some 15 minutes later, we parted with little pomp and circumstance having said our goodbyes already. He set his horse in the direction of his garrison and as he turned, he glanced back give me a final wave and salute, before turning forward again and leaving me to finish my journey alone.