“I want to hit him again,” she thought, surprised how effortless it had been. She bit back a smile. The value of violence took on a life of its own. “I want to do it again. Hurt him. Really hurt him.”
Midonia Whitehall had just done the unacceptable, the nearly unforgivable, at the end of the last chapter, striking her husband. It was more of a slap down the face than an actual punch, but it pissed Francis off, and he raised his hand to her. He would have struck had it not been for his honor. In this age, Midonia would have no other recourse had he beat her. Francis didn’t have to stop himself.
Midonia, however, feeling empowered by his self-control, thinks him weak and wonders if she can abuse him, take advantage of his piety.
“He’s so tamed by his chivalry and faith. His threats are empty. He’d never strike me. He just proved it. I could steal his power. Snatch it and never give it back.”
This is the biggest problem with the Whitehall marriage. Francis is operating from a place of love and concern while Midonia is operating from a place of power and authority. In her eyes, she’s being held down and demeaned and every conflict only serves to pull them further apart.
“I never wanted children! And I hate this fucking tent! I hate our marriage bed! I hate everything about this life!”
Midonia has her issues, but Francis isn’t deaf to her grievances either. He doesn’t like living this way. He doesn’t want this constant struggle with no end in sight. He wants things to be better, and his faith is in patience, and waiting on the Lord.
“To hell with patience! It is possible!” Midonia forgot the child again and started swinging her around. “Recant! Recant! Get down on your knees and recant! I am your wife. You owe me.”
Two things are happening here.
First, we get a glimpse into Midonia’s idea of parenting. She didn’t want to have a child. And now that she has a daughter, she’s not exactly motherly with her.
Second, Midonia knows this nomadic life could end if Francis would forsake the Wolfe and recant. He could go and find a new lord to serve.
She doesn’t understand Francis’ stubbornness in this matter. She doesn’t understand why he won’t recant and do something to save his family from this life.
“Go play your bloody war games. And this time, let the other bastard win. Lower your lance. Relax your shield. Let him strike you and send you to your Maker.”
Midonia is so desperate to get out of this marriage, she thinks if Francis dies, her life will get better. Of course, this is untrue.
“Marriage is an honorable estate. God has yoked us together and the yoke is eternal. If we dare to break it, we both lose.”
This is Francis’ view on marriage. He sees every problem they face as a conflict they must learn to solve together while Midonia blames Francis for their problems and thinks he is the one dividing them and pulling them apart.
Historically, if you place two steers in a yoke, the steers should be nearly equal in strength, size, determination and direction or the stronger will break the neck of the weaker.
“If I die, the wieght of the yoke is yours to bear alone. You have no idea how heavy that yoke is. No one wins without the other. That is how God designed it. That is marriage.”
Francis is still trying to find a peaceful resolution and all he has to go on is his faith in God, in marriage, in his family. He doesn’t know how to operate on any other level than faith.
“”Well, if that be the telling of it, then I pray the devil comes and incinerates it. Burn this marriage and burn this tent. Burn it all.”
Midonia is extremely depressed and hopeless. She is also irreligious and nothing Francis is saying about faith and God is making any sense to her. She even tells Francis about a time she nearly burned the tent down on purpose just so he’d come home to ruin.
Midonia had unintentionally rocked Anne back to sleep. Francis removed Anne from her mother’s clutches and placed her back in the crib. Midonia hardly noticed him doing it. She saw herself in another time, cremating their little world.
Anne will spend her formative years navigating this division between her parents, one who thinks corporal, and one who thinks spiritual.
Midonia accuses Francis of loving this nomadic life, but Francis assures her, he doesn’t. He doesn’t like living like this.
“I’m not pleased with the way things are, but I don’t hate it. Hate leads to sin, and I don’t want to sin.”
Francis has opened another window into his soul and Midonia can’t help but attack through it. She doesn’t respect Francis’ faith or kindnesses.
“Why? No one cares if you sin. I don’t care. Sin! Go ahead and sin! Sin against me! Sin against someone!”
Midonia tried to strike Francis again, but he wasn’t going to be caught off guard. He caught her hand before she could get started which only made her angrier. She stomped around the tent kicking over tables and knocking over bins.
Francis was genuinely concerned for his wife’s mental health at this point but at a total loss on how to reach her, how to help her.
Francis then considers that Midonia might be possessed by a demon. He has some experiencing wrestling with demons. And much of that wrestling is the reason he won’t recant.
William Whitehall served King Baldwin III in Jerusalem. He often entertained young Francis with retellings of their glorious ride into the orchards of Damascus.
Francis’ father, William, was once a respected and successful knight in Palestine, who returned to England, wed Constance, bought a farm and settled down to raise a family. Life would have been good for the Whitehall family had not William been haunted by demons. William’s time in the Outremer haunted him. He could not outrun the demons of his past, the evil things he saw and did when he was a knight.
“The hate,” he would whisper. “The hate has made us all sick.”
And then one morning, for reasons no one could explain or understand, mad William got out of bed. He put on his armor which had been collecting dust for years and entered town with his sword drawn.
He murdered innocent people until he was subdued.
Francis was only seven.
William was tried and sentenced to hang.
Francis was there beneath the gallows looking up at his mad father, understanding none of it.
In a brief moment of clarity, William peered deeply into his son’s soul and mouthed, “Don’t hate me, son. You are holy. You are blessed.” And then the demon roared back to life. Willaim convulsed as the terrifying voice of a banshee tore out of his throat. The shaken clergyman read the final words and the neck was snapped.
To make matters worse for Francis and his mother, the exchequer confiscated all their belongings including the farm. They were broke and homeless.
The Whitehall name was ruined.
Having no family to help her because of the disgrace her husband brought on them, Constance turned to an old family friend, Lord Geoffrey Clayton Wolfe, a chaste Templar known for his charitable works in the community. The Wolfe took them in and he raised Francis, taught him how to be a knight and a man of honor. Francis looked at the Wolfe like a father. The Wolfe helped him and his mother when the world had abandoned them.
Francis could never forsake the Wolfe. Not for any reason.
They were connected. Two hearts beating as one. No matter how many times the cock crowed, the Griffin would remain loyal.
And that’s all I got for you today.
Until next time, stay inspired and keep reading!
Author Allen M Werner 
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