The Somme River slipped by silently as a morning mist rose from its surface. Three men and a woman stood near the banks of the river, watching the dirt trail that led to the north. A rude dock stood at the end of the trail about fifty metres distant. A single flat-bottomed boat was tied to a weathered post planted in the mud next to the dock. The trail wasn’t one that was often used except for in late summer and early autumn when farmers to the north would take their crops across the river into town. It was still early summer, and the mosquitoes, as well as other insects, filled the otherwise silent scene with their sounds.

The woman wore a simple robe that reached almost to the ground. In her hands she held a bow with a quiver of arrows on her back. She stood beside the tallest man in the group who was armed with only a long staff. He stood taller than the others, a man dressed in dull brown. Though both the man and the woman wore colours that would make them appear as insignificant, they were easy to forget. A closer look betrayed a barely perceptible glow that radiated from their exposed faces.

The other two men wore more distinctive clothing, which left any observer knowing that they were nobility. Both men had sheathed swords that were simple, swords meant for killing. There was nothing otherwise, other than the way they held their bodies that would allow anyone to know who they were.

“So, where is this man you want us to meet, Laurent?” demanded one of the men who had dark hair. His voice resonated with an authority that left no doubt that he was a man one would not dare to cross. “We’ve been waiting too long as it is. I must get back to the Chateau soon as I’m expected there for a meeting.”

“Sir Alain, he will be here any moment, be patient,” Laurent, the tall man with the staff counselled.

Just moments later, a man emerged from the edge of the forest. He was dressed in simple clothing that suggested he was more of a peasant than someone of importance. Alain was struck dumb as he watched the man come to a stop and took a stance beside Laurent and the woman. He had seen this face before. As both he and his companion stared at the man, Alain couldn’t believe his eyes, this man’s face was framed on the wall in the hall of the Chateau in Longpré. It was the face of his great-grandfather, Guillaume.

“Who are you?” Alain asked, the surprise at the man’s appearance etched on his face. Alain’s partner, his squire Fernand, was also surprised upon seeing the man who stood in front of them.

The stranger looked carefully, if not a bit nervously, at Alain, a man with whom he shared some familial resemblance. “Sir Alain, my name is Guillaume, Guillaume de Longpré. According to my mother. Apparently, I am your half-brother.”

Alain turned to Laurent, “Is this true, Laurent? How is this even possible?”

Laurent laughed as if he had just been told a joke. “How is it possible? Sir Alain, I hope I don’t have to explain to you how a man sires a son. And yes, it is true.”

“But I mean, my father Aléaume was a pious man. You know that. He never would have dishonoured my mother with an affair.” Turning to the man claiming to be his half-brother Guillaume, Alain spoke with anger, “Who is your mother? And where are you from? How is it I have not seen you before here in our family’s lands?”

It was Laurent who answered in Guillaume’s stead, “He is your half-brother, Sir Alain. Your older half-brother to be precise. Your father had been on an expedition to the north, a campaign to secure more lands for your father’s cousin Maurice de Saint Ghislain near Mons. It was before your parents had even married.”

“Older brother? How do I know that this is the truth,” Alain demanded, turning to face Guillaume.

“Perhaps your mother didn’t tell you the truth about your paternity. Is this some ploy to extort some money from me?”

Again, it was Laurent who responded, “Sir Alain, it is the truth. His mother is my sister. I was there when your father met my sister. I was there each time he visited our camp in the forest in the years that followed. Your father acknowledged the fact of his son. He returned often during the first half of Guillaume’s life. You, yourself know that your father was often gone to see Sir Maurice de Saint Ghislain. On those trips he always stopped to see my sister and his son by her.”

“But if this is true, then Guillaume is a pagan as well as a bastard. Why in God’s good name would you bring him here, Laurent? You know how the Church is campaigning to cleanse the earth of pagans, the old folk of the dark forests such as yourself and Jeanne,” indicating the woman who stood next to Laurent.

Guillaume approached Alain to stand in front of him. Guillaume was slightly taller and broader in the chest. “I am not a bastard, brother. My father married my mother following the rites of the Belgae. As for being a pagan, that is only a word used by your church. Our father is a descendant of these same Belgae. You are as much at risk as I am when it comes to your Christian church.”

Alain looked at his brother. There was no mistaking the truth of what had been said. “So why are you here, Guillaume?” Alain spoke with barely a barely suffused mixture of anger and confusion. “Are you here to claim your place as our father’s heir? Is this why you have come?”

Again, it was Laurent who spoke up, “No, Sir Alain, Guillaume didn’t come here to claim anything. He has been ordered to be here for your protection. You will soon receive news of your father’s death. And with that news, your father’s gift to the Church of the relics he recovered in Constantinople will draw too much attention to your family. Your father had hoped the gift of relics to the church in Longpré would be enough to pacify the church leaders. But the truth is, the gift will only make life worse for our people here, your people. You are well aware of our relationship with the Templars. Already there are rumblings of discontent in the Church because of the growing power and wealth of our brotherhood.”

Laurent continued, “You will soon become the Seigneur de Long, de Longpré, and de Fontaines. It will be your responsibility to protect your people, many of whom still hold to the old ways. You will need help, and Guillaume is charged with providing that help. He will be your direct link to the brotherhood as well.”

Alain looked at his brother Guillaume who appeared as surprised as Alain about the news that he was to soon become the Lord of the lands of Long, Longpré, and of Fontaines. Then Alain turned back to face Laurent. “My father is dead?”

Laurent took some time to tell both Alain and Guillaume about the news of their father who had died in Constantinople, an unpleasant death by the Plague. As bad as that news was, the fact of the placing of the relics in the church at Longpré had caught the attention of the Pope who saw this gift of relics as a means of raising the profile of the Church in the northwest of France, especially in Picardy which had been very slow to give up its old religion, its old gods.

Alain arranged to have Guillaume find a place to stay in Étoile, a village on the north side of the river about two kilometres north-east of the town of Longpré, and about six kilometres from the Chateau de Long where the family held court. It was far enough from the Chateau and those who would recognise Guillaume from the portrait that hung in the hall.

For the citizens of Étoile, Guillaume was just another soldier in the Seigneur de Longpré’s employ. With a room to call his own in the village, Guillaume wasted little time in studying the village, learning as many of its secrets as he could. It wasn’t long before he found who he was looking for, the contact with the old Celtic tribe that had gone underground because of the persecution by the church.