The squire’s dilemma

Soon-to-be Sir Edric Smith rode into a village with Brother Aelfric and the knight Sir Walter. As they rode into the village, Edric’s gaze wandered to the villagers, simple folk whose names would only be remembered by their kin. They bustled about, tending to their work, sparing curious glances at the armored men passing through.

Edric wondered if any of them feared being forgotten, as he did. Would they all fade away, their lives passing unnoticed by the world beyond this village? The thought made his chest tighten. Sir Walter ordered his squire, Edric, to stay here with the monk, to get supplies, and to wait for him and the arrival of their party. The Second Crusade was upon them, and there was little time for lingering.

"Brother Aelfric," Edric said, watching a stooped man stack firewood near the edge of the square, “the men here, they're not young, but they're not old either. Why don't they join us? They are Christians, after all."

"They are Christians," Aelfric replied, his voice patient but firm in his Words, "but they expected our arrival, stocked up food, water... They are preparing in their way. They serve God in their own manner."

"But why not fight? For Edessa and the Holy Land?” His voice carried the fervor of someone young enough to believe courage could conquer all, even fear.

Brother Aelfric paused,”You’re a squire, Edric, not a knight yet. And these men," he said, motioning to the villagers, “they’re not fighters. Nor will they ever be, it seems. They take care of their families and their land. That’s their duty, just as ours is to fight. Not everyone is called to the fight and die.”

Edric frowned, his youthful face betraying his frustration. Surely, they could wield a sword or a spear. Why would they not join the cause?

Aelfric met his gaze steadily, his voice calm but firm. "I’m here to serve God, Edric, as I’ve done for years. But I wonder about you. Do you seek glory, or do you ride for something greater? Do you fight for yourself, or for Him?"

Edric opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t,What could he say? He had always feared being forgotten—his name, his very existence, slipping away with the years. He longed to be remembered, to have his name spoken throughout history. But was that the right reason to fight?

He glanced over to Sir Walter, who had just arrived and was busy organizing the men of their party. The knight barked orders, his voice commanding and confident, as if no uncertainty had ever touched his soul. Edric wondered if Sir Walter had ever grappled with these questions or if he had always been so sure of his purpose.

"I don’t know," Edric finally admitted. "I don’t want to be forgotten. I want... I want people to remember that I was here, that I fought. That I made a difference."

Aelfric nodded, his expression softening. “Edric, glory is a fleeting thing. History does not remember the names of all those who fought. It remembers those who were part of a greater story, who sacrificed for something bigger than themselves. In truth, it is not for you to decide if you will be remembered. That is God's will, not yours."

"I understand," Edric said, his voice hesitant. “But have you ever wanted what I want? At some point in your life, do you never wonder if you will be forgotten, if your name will fade away?”

Aelfric smiled faintly, the lines on his face deepening. “There was a time, long ago, when I feared that very thing. I was once a squire, like you, following my knight into battle, hoping to be something more than just another footnote in the annals of history. But I realized something—when I fought my last battle, I met God in that moment, I was reborn in water and blood. That is why I serve Him now. Not for glory, not for memory, but to fulfill His will.

"In the heat of battle, I laid down my life for God. I left behind the desire for fame, for remembrance. And when I returned—when I was born again in Christ—I understood that true purpose is found not in what others think of us, but in how we serve Him.It’s not an easy thing to do,yes but I would not be a Christian otherwise.

Edric felt a strange weight settle over him.Could it really be that simple? He had always thought of glory, of the need to be remembered, but now Aelfric's words echoed in his mind, urging him to look beyond his own desire for recognition.

Before Edric could respond, the sound of hooves approached, signaling the arrival of Sir Walter and the rest of their party. The moment of contemplation passed, and the bustle of preparation resumed. Sir Walter called to him, motioning for him to join the others.

"I must go," Edric said, looking to Aelfric one last time. "Thank you... for your words."

Aelfric nodded. "Remember, Edric, there is only one name that matters. It is not your own, but His."

As Edric rode off to join the others, he felt a strange shift in his heart. The desire for glory was still there, but it no longer felt as urgent, as all-consuming. The battle ahead would still come, and the Holy Land awaited. But now, in the quiet of his thoughts, Edric wondered if perhaps the only legacy worth seeking was the one he could build in service to God.

The villagers watched them go, their faces a mixture of curiosity and relief. For them, the knights were a fleeting presence, a reminder of wars fought far away and battles that would not touch their soil. They would continue their lives, tending their fields, raising their children, and praying for peace.

And as history would record it, no one ever truly knew what happened to Sir Walter’s squire. Edric or Edward—the histories aren’t clear on that.