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bushes, stumbled backwards, and fainted.
    “Demetrius, canst thou hear me?”  Countless minutes anon, Arucard’s voice came to Demetrius amid a haze of confusion.  “Wake up, as thou hast a date with destiny.”
    “Or the parson’s noose.”  Morgan snorted.  “Depends on his perspective.”
    “I think it safe to say he declared his opinion on the matter, by his actions.”  Geoffrey chortled.  “Believe me, we will not soon forget this ceremony, and neither will he, if I can help it.”
    To a chorus of laughter, Demetrius inhaled a deep breath, opened his eyes, and found himself surrounded by the Brethren, as he reclined on a bench in a small room.  After a moment of utter befuddlement, he blinked, cleared his fogged vision, and sat upright.  “What happened?”
    “Mayhap we should leave ye with Arucard.”  Snickering, Aristide elbowed Geoffrey.  “Let us join the wedding party and reassure the bride that her groom remains very much alive and eager as ever to take his vows.”
    “That will take some effort.”  Morgan winked and exited.
    “How did we come to this, brother?”  Pondering his predicament, Demetrius scratched his chin and frowned.
    “At the pointed end of a sword.”  Arucard chuckled, studied the tip of his boot, and then cleared his throat.  “And it is not so bad as thou mayest think, once thou dost accustom thyself to the idea.”
    “Thou dost say that now, but if memory serves, thou were none too pleased when faced with similar circumstances.”  With a groan, Demetrius gathered his wits, stood, and paced the floor.  How would he recover from the mess he made?  “Eternal damnation seems an awfully high price.  Surely it would have been preferable to die a warrior’s death.”
    “Well, let us not be too dramatic.”  Arucard smiled.  “It just requires a period of adjustment on thy part.”
    “Perchance this is punishment for Randulf.”  In a flash, Demetrius transported to another time and place, vivid images played a tragedy in his brain, and he shook his head.  “Never should I have left him in my wake.”
    “Wait a minute, brother.  Thou art no more or less to blame for his demise than any of us, and thither was naught we could do to save him.”  Arucard pointed for emphasis.  “As it is, we barely escaped with our lives, and only five of us remain.  Would thou rather none survived?”
    “I would have him hither.”  Demetrius gazed at the ceiling and sighed, as Randulf’s screams echoed in a haunting refrain.  “At the very least, I would trade places, as he was the better man.”
    “Now thither I must take exception, as such comparison is as blancmange to brewets.”  Leaning forward, Arucard propped his elbows on his knees.  “Neither thee nor Randulf could claim such distinction, as thou art two drastically different beasts.”
    “And yet I persist, and he is gone.”  Choking on a lethal mix of anger and frustration, Demetrius speared his fingers through his hair, and then he fisted his hands.  “So I am resolved to consider my situation a burden and my fate one of lifelong penance.”
    “My friend, thou art not thinking clearly, as thy judgment is clouded by misplaced guilt.”  Yet Demetrius had long suspected Arucard carried their comrade’s death as a stain on his conscience and invisible wounds that had not quite healed.
    Of their set, Randulf had been the youngest and most good-natured Templar.  Facing every day with a mischievous grin, a biting sense of humor, and a wild streak to match, Randulf was forever garnering additional weapons practice for himself and his brother knights for a wide variety of infractions.  Still, the lighthearted gadling was a favored son.  Acting as marshalsea-in-training, Randulf had been especially close to Demetrius, and the two were as siblings.
    “My guilt is well-founded, and I do not deserve happiness.  In my rush to stem the tide, I did not realize he had yet to cast off, and it was