Champion: Part XXVII

October 23rd, 1102
Camelot, England
16 years later

It had become a tradition over the years for Ian, Marcus, and Timmons to gather on the anniversary of the Battle of Sagrajas if they were able. It was a night for three old comrades to reminisce and raise a few toasts to comrades of their years in Spain. On this night, a fierce wind blew against the walls of the castle, and Ian stood to toss another log in the small fireplace in his office as he waited for the others to arrive.

As always, Ian was struck by one ironic fact: that it was he who had ended up in Camelot and not Diego. They'd had occasion to journey together here to England on a mission for Alfonso, and Diego had listened intensely to the tales of Arthur and of those who carried on his legacy.

"Let's make a promise." The four young men stood on the deck of a ship headed back to Spain and Diego gestured aft towards the receding English coastline." Some day, say, oh, ten years or so from now, we'll meet in the Hall of Camelot Castle and toast King Arthur's memory!"

Laughing, they all agreed, being young and sure of their own immortality. And so they sailed back to Spain, rode together to Castille, and there parted company. Over the years, they occasionally crossed paths with Diego, but their meetings were fewer and far between. They exchanged letters though, and when Ian left the mercenaries after the fall of Carcasonne, the memory of that lightly given promise led him to Camelot, and shortly after, the arrival of Marcus and Timmons as well. They all wrote to Diego, urging him to fulfill his own promise and meet them there.

Then one winter's night five years ago, a letter was delivered to Ian by courier. Recognizing the handwriting as being the work of Ibrahim, the half-elf eagerly tore open the seal and sat to read the news from Castille, and as he did, his face fell.

My friend,
It is never a pleasant duty to be the bearer of sad tidings, but it has fallen to me to give you sad news.
Yesterday, August 15th, Diego Diaz de Vivar was killed. He was with the King's army which was besieging the city of Consuegra and was taken by an arrow. Death, from what I could tell, must have been swift and I pray our friend passed to his Christian paradise without pain. King Alfonso mourned him as if he was his own son.
As for his real father, we have sent news of Diego's death to Don Rodrigo. One can only imagine how this tragic news will strike him.
We march again on the morrow, and I have more wounded to tend. I will write again when I have time. Take care of yourself, my ifrit friend, you, and those two rascals with you. As I write, I see you all in my mind's eye as you were in Toledo: young and eager for knowledge.
May God, by whatever name we each know Him, watch over you all, and grant Diego the peace he could never quite achieve in life.

By my hand
Ibrahim,
Royal Physician

It had taken four months for the letter to reach him.

*********

"Are we terribly late?"

Ian looked up from the fire and grinned at Timmons and Marcus. His two friends crowded the doorway, each bearing a bottle of some no doubt potent liquor in hand. "Not quite. Come in and sit." He pulled out a few chairs and waited for the pair to sit, fetching a cup for all of them, and one other item. He set the five-year-old letter on the table and waited.

Marcus set a clay pipe down beside it, one that Ferret had given years before. Beside that, Timmons added two more items. One was the button with the de Vivar arms engraved upon it they had found clenched in Harold's hand. The other was the lucky penny Harold had given him.

Twenty years since Harold's death, five since Diego's, and three since Ferret's murder. It seemed impossible. Ian sighed, then silently poured out a drink for each of them. When he finished, Timmons raised his cup.

"To the memory of gallant friends."
They drank the toast, and then before they could sit, Ian made another.
"And to the friends still here with us."
They all drank, then sat, and as the wind raged against the stone around them, they talked the night away.