The hours that followed the alarm were a blur of activity and conferences. Immediately, the commander and his top officers, along with the four of us, returned to the command center. We were convinced of Markus’ involvement and demanded his immediate arrest; an act that Barrak decidedly refused to do. No proof existed to support it. Immediate investigation was made into the missing guards from our tent. They were found, throats slit, their bodies stuffed in the latrine pits below the bathhouse. Their death’s enraged the camp and set everyone’s nerves on edge. The defection once more hit home and left death and destruction in its wake.

The commander immediately demanded the on duty guard whose tower overlooked the open field report to the command center. He demanded to know how the spectacle could have been erected without the watchman’s knowledge. Being in an open field, the spectacle had to have been erected in full sight of the guard on duty. At the very least, he was guilty of incompetence. At the worst, he was exposed as being one of the defectors in the camp.

When the soldier was escorted into the command center, he arrived in a show of arrogance.

“The king deserves no loyalty from me. From us!” He spat when questioned. “He sends his pet,” he turns to glare with hatred at me, “to appease us when he all but abandoned us for months.” The anger and malice dripping from his voice and features hit us all like a shock wave. “All who remain loyal to the king should die the same death as the guards standing watch at your tent. It should have been their heads we removed and their bodies we used.”

The words hit with the punch he intended. The heat of anger rose in my own countenance and the commander visibly fought to control himself. One of officers standing nearby lost the battle. Drawing his sword, he stepped toward the man, sword already in motion. The strike would have killed the man had it not been for Damian’s sword. Metal sounded on metal and rang out in the room.

“You defend a traitor!” He spat at Damian as he glared at him.
Damian, calm but intense replied, “No. I honor my king. This man will face justice, but it is not ours to give.”

The officer spat, “Those guards were my friends! He deserves to die!”

I spoke then, an image of the king weeping over the graves of fallen soldiers in my mind. “Their deaths anger and grieve no one more than the king. This man,” I pointed at the solider, “will face justice. Trust our king to give it.”

For a tense moment, no one moved. Finally, the officer stepped back, sheathing his sword as he did so. Damian, also stepped back then, sheathing his sword.

“Get him out of my sight.” Barrak demanded.

As they drug him out of the room and took him to the holding cell, the commander turned away and walked to the back of the room where he stood for a few moments which his chin dipped towards his chest. When he turned and walked back to us, I could see the deep grief and heavy burden that rested upon him.

Seeing our faces, he said, “I will do my best to get names and information out of him, but I know that soldier. Getting him to give up information or names of his accomplices will be no easy task. The king arrives tomorrow. Right now, our task is to ensure he arrives safely and without incident. We have defectors among us, and we do not know who they are or what they have planned. We have defectors out there,” he waved with his arm towards the open country, “and we do not know their plans. And we still face the imminent danger of militia attacks without warning. With danger both inside and outside our camp, we need to hasten to make sure that the king arrives safely. You four,” he motioned to us, “need to prepare to ride out meet the king tomorrow. I will worry about dealing with these defectors and securing up the camp before the king’s arrival tomorrow. Thank you for your assistance and for the hope you have brought to this garrison since your arrival. Go, make your preparations. You will have to fend for yourselves, however. I no longer can spare men to stand guard for you. I need every able man to ready the camp.”

“We understand. We can manage on our own.” Benner saluted the commander and thanked him for his assistance, and we took our leave.

As we walked back toward our tent, our anger and emotions still raw, we could not miss the subdued tone of the camp. The death of the guards at our tent and the bloody display outside the walls of the garrison had left it’s intended affect.

We reached our tent and entered once more. For a moment, we only stood and stared at the destruction. Still taken aback by the act, it took us a few moments to gather ourselves. After a few moments, we set about the task of cleaning up the chaos and salvaging what we were able.

The day had taken a toll on me. The week had taken its toll on me, and I suddenly felt exhausted and weary. Days of sharing among the troops, trying to convince them of the king’s worth and value had left me exhausted. Physically, the week had been grueling. So much damage had been made by the defectors and so few hands were left to repair the damage and still fulfill the duties of soldiers at war.

Even more, the day exposed what we had suspected; there were some adverse to the truth of the king’s honor. There were still defectors among us. Either men left as spies and agents or men who had joined the cause since the initial defection. I was out of time. The king arrived tomorrow. We were to ride out at first light to meet him. The banner was destroyed. Nothing had been salvageable. What wasn’t torn was blood stained. What wasn’t blood stained was purposefully burnt. Whoever had planned and orchestrated this spectacle had made sure that none of the banner would be salvageable.

Gathering up my supplies to see what had survived the ransacking of our tent, I confirmed that, though they had been scattered, none of my supplies were missing. The extra fabric that I kept in the event the banner needed some slight repair, was all present and accounted for. Some of it was dirty and crumpled. But doing a quick survey, my heart quickened. A plan began to form.

“Yes! YES, YES, YES!!” I exclaimed loudly.

All three of my companions looked at me in surprise and confusion.

“I can fix it!”

When they looked at me in disbelief, I clarified. “Well, more like I can make a new one! I have most of what I need here. Though, I am short some fabric and will need some other things.”

Their faces lit up and Damian offered, “What can we do to help?”

I explained what supplies I still needed and asked if they could go and gather them while I began to work. Benner and Cormac immediately left to gather the materials I requested. Damian, refusing to leave me unguarded, remained behind.

Even as I arranged my supplies, I could hear Benner and Cormac calling out amongst the camp. They sought the needed fabric from among the soldiers of the camp. I heard the calls even as I set up on a table outside my tent. Steeling myself for the task ahead, I marveled at my excitement and anticipation of a task that had been so tedious and mundane when I first was instructed in it. The passion that I now had as I anticipated my greatest challenge both surprised and pleased me. I was looking forward to this with a sense of passion and devotion. This king, this man whom I had been selected to serve was worthy of the greatest honor I could bestow. For me, the one simple way I had to honor him and declare that honor was by ensuring his banner was well kept and presented when I rode with it. I knew it was just fabric, but this was about more. The king’s honor had been desecrated and his name profaned. I had done my best to speak of his worth and to declare his glory to the men of this camp. My last task before departing, was to rebuild his banner and to ride out, undefeated and undeterred to meet him at first light. I now understood that the mundane task of caring for the fabric of this banner was about far more than the mere fabric itself. That realization set itself as a fire in my heart that filled me a desire and fervency that had previously not been present when I engaged in this work.

The reconstruction the banner now presented was the greatest task I had ever faced. No longer was it about small repair here, a cleaning of a spot there. It was a complete reconstruction of the banner, from memory. It promised to be a long night. Despite the weariness I felt, strength surged into me, and I readied myself for the night to come. I set up lights on every side of my workstation to ensure that no matter how long it took, I would be able to see well enough to complete the task.

Benner and Cormac soon returned. They had huge smiles on their faces as they dumped their gathered supplies on the table. Behind them trailed a posey of soldiers. I gaped at them in wonder. Everything I needed was there, plus enough to build ten more banners should I need it. At my expression, they merely said, “The men are behind the king. They wanted to help.”

Pride and joy at the response to my call for aid filled me and I dipped my head in grateful acknowledgment and set to work immediately.

As I worked, I was overcome with thankfulness that when they ransacked my tent, they did not destroy or dispose of my supplies. I realized that they either did not know what these things were for or did not consider that I would be able to or would use them to undo their destruction.

My fingers meticulously did their work. So focused was I in my work that I was only vaguely aware of the others around me. I measured, cut, stitched, and worked with care for hours. My back grew stiff, and my neck began to ache, but still I worked ignoring the discomfort I felt. Never did my light fail nor did I have to stop to kindle it. It was only later that I would realize that my companions had stood watch and kept the lights lit for me so that my work could continue uninterrupted.

As I worked, I was vaguely aware of the crowd of observers growing around me. I was only vaguely aware when weapons were drawn and held poised for action. I paid it all little mind. I remained focused and worked with the greatest diligence I could.

As the first hint of light began to show in the sky, I leaned back and stretched to ease the aches in my back and neck. After a moment of stretching, I returned my gaze back to the table and considered the final product of the night’s labors. What lay before me left me in wonder. A perfect replica of the king’s banner lay before me. Perhaps, in some ways, better than the original. Pride and joy for the king swelled in my heart and I ached for everyone to know and delight in him as I did. Grief over the anger, rejection, and betrayal that others treated him with combined now with my own joy and delight for the king. For several moments, these emotions swirled within me before settling on the simple joy and delight I knew from being a servant and subject of the king.

I carefully folded the banner, stowed it in my pack and slung it over my shoulder. Never again would I leave it in such a vulnerable state. From now on, any desecration of the banner would be done over my dead body.

Only then, when my task complete and the banner stowed, did I look up. I was shocked to realize that during the night, the small band of men that had accompanied Benner and Cormac had grown into a small crowd. Glimpses of recollection came to me then of the defensive posture my friends had taken. A crowd of about 40 soldiers, stood, squatted, and sat about my workstation. They had intently observed the work I had engaged in. The men who I had noticed at the start of my work were still there at the front of their crowd. I realized that they had been there all night long. Their faces were set in a gaze of wonder and awe, of respect and admiration. I suddenly felt embarrassed and uneasy under their gaze.

From near the front, I watched one soldier rise. Markus. I noted then, that Damian’s sword was drawn, and had been. It hung loosely at this side but as Markus stood and took a step closer, Damian raised his sword and held it in a defensive position. Markus took a second step and slowly approached, keeping a wary eye on Damian. He held both hands in the air as he approached. His face did not hold the customary anger and malice I was used to seeing.

I felt apprehension at his approach. What was he doing here? Why had he come? I feared an altercation. I was suddenly worried about this crowd around us. If they all were with him, and if he had malicious intent, we would be outnumbered and overcome very quickly.

Markus seemed to think twice and stepped back four steps. He drew his sword slowly out of his scabbard. He held it loosely as if to indicate this was not an aggressive gesture. He then slowly laid it on the ground. Stepping over it, he approached once more.

As he came near, it was the expression on his face that put my apprehension at ease. It was not a deriding, scorning look; the one he had contained the last I saw him. Damian stepped to intercept and cut him off from reaching me.

Something about his face, his expression. I stepped forward and placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Damian paused, glanced at me, and I gave him a slight nod to indicate it was ok. He paused, clearly wrestling briefly before conceding and permitting Markus to approach.

As he reached me, Markus surprised me by crouching upon one knee in front of me. Looking intently upon me, he spoke in a voice of awe and wonder.

“Never have I seen the depth and intensity of care for anything or anyone that I just witnessed you put into that banner. I was sure that the destruction of the banner would put an end to your foolish rantings about the king. I thought……well, I thought it would defeat you and get you to leave. I watched you from the shadows and could not believe my eyes when I saw you setting up, in sight of all, to craft a new one heedless of the risk. Your stories enraged me. Your talk seemed fake. No king, no person can be as good as the one you describe. But this,” he gestured with his hand toward the empty table where I had spent the night working, “…this…well, it was something different. This was not the act of a man bound by duty. This was not the act of a man going through the motions. This was an act of devotion, of love. This king means something to you. I know what conviction and resolve looks like. Your loyalty became more than words to me this night. I have been wrong. I have done wrong. Surely, a king who inspires such meticulous care is a king worthy my fullest devotion.”

With that, he bowed his head. TO ME. Reaching out, he gripped my hand in both of his and bowed his forehead to touch the back of my hand. He remained there for a moment, before drawing back, his face wet with tears. He rose, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

I stood, speechless. Before I could even begin to process what happened, another soldier stood before me, hand outstretched. I reached out, took his hand, and permitted him to shake it with a strength of respect that I had never felt from any man. Without a word, he turned and left. As I watched him go, I caught the eye of many solider. A look of respect and admiration upon their faces. Many merely nodded, a quick dip of the chin, before turning and wandering away in the growing light. When all but one was gone, I turned back toward my tent, intending to finish preparations to ride and meet the king. I was startled when I heard the voice for, I had thought that all had gone.

“You honor the king well, banner bearer.” As he spoke, I turned back to face him. I recognized him as Markus’ companion, never seen far from him. “Markus and I intended to end your work. We were dumbfounded when we saw you were making a new one. We felt sure it would so defeat you that you would cease your efforts and leave us be. We realized that more extreme measures had to be taken. We were coming, not only to take the flag, but you as well. We were going to burn both and be done with you for good. Our hope and confidence in the king were so poisoned by our pain and sorrow. However, something in your manner stopped us. Stopped him. We watched the whole thing. We started out in the shadows but during the night, we were drawn out into the open to watch. I have never seen Markus so broken, so changed. Your love and care of that banner spoke louder than any words you could utter about the character and nature of this king that you have not stopped talking about since your arrival. We are ready to stand by you, to serve under a man so great as to merit the devotion we just witnessed.” With that, he dipped his head, turned, and stepped away from us.

Pausing, he turned back. “For the record, it was not Markus, or I, who killed the guards on your tent. We are not sure who among the other defectors it was, but it was not us. Markus is headed to the commander now to confess. I am going to join him. We will share the names of those we know. We will accept full responsibility for our actions and ensure that others do as well.”

With that, he turned once more and disappeared among the tents.

As I stood watching him go, I became overcome with emotion, I felt Damian’s hand upon my shoulder. We stood wordlessly, without looking at one another for several moments. Benner and Cormac approached and together, we stood. Brothers. Comrades. Servants of the king. Each of us deeply affected by the events of the night, unable to put words to any of it. And frankly, words would have ruined it. And so, we stood, together.

It was Damian who first broke the silence and moment.

“We must ride soon. We should prepare.”

We all dipped our heads in acknowledge and retreated to the tent to make preparations to depart.