The Knight of the Spring

Part II; Marc Avorstead

Many years passed before I saw another visitor. I was very disheartened that John never came again, but I understood he had a responsibility as a father. Yet, a looming fear came over me, thinking perhaps something bad had happened to John. Each time it came, I would rationalize it as John just being too busy to visit, but it was still there, ever-present.
I had all but given up hope for John's return. It felt selfish for me to want him to visit and neglect his duties as a father, but I wanted the reassurance that he was still alive and well. I wanted to see John and Marc, I wanted to see if his wish had come true. Perhaps it did not, and that was why he did not come back. Thinking of that made me feel as if I had failed to give that old knight the one thing I wanted.
After long years of waiting, I heard someone ascending those old stone stairs. To say I was elated would be a gross understatement. I took my usual form, and waited at the top of the stairs for John's return. Only, the man who greeted me was not John at all.
As he broke past the last stair, the young man stared at me with a bewildered expression, the same look John had given me the day we met. The man wore armor just as John did, with a sword of dried blood in his hand. It was a familiar looking sword, one I had been waiting to see all these years, but the owner was not who I had expected it to be.
I composed myself, asking him, "Hello, strange knight. Might I ask what you may be doing at my spring? I do not get many visitors." I felt as though I already knew the answer.
"I... am Marcus. I hail from... the Avorstead family." I could see his hand shaking as he gripped his weapon tighter. If I were human, perhaps I too would be shaking at the sight before me. Marcus continued, "I was told to cleanse my father's sword at this spring."
An Avorstead he was, yet with none of the confidence or pride as his father. Still, it heartened me to know that John's son was alive and well... but what of John himself? I could not stop myself from asking.
"Who was your father, brave knight? Is he unable to cleanse his blade by his own hands?"
Marcus lowered his head. With a sigh, and with shaking breath, he answered, "My father was John Avorstead, the bravest knight to ever live. He passed away just recently, and I was bestowed by his crest to inherit his sword, the Silver Prince."
I see. My dearest John had finally passed, and in his place, a cowering son, attempting to inherit his father's greatness, no doubt. I was reminded of exactly why I could not be John's lover, for I knew the day would come where he would leave, and I would be forced to stay at this spring.
"You seek to wash your father's blade in my blessed waters? So be it. Do not be afraid. I am the spirit of this spring. Please, allow me to fulfill your task."
With the least confident nod I had ever seen, Marcus walked forward. The sword in his hand was dull, with not a single hint of its prior radiance that I once knew. Perhaps this was a good thing, as John had never used it since he last came. Dipping the sword into the spring, Marcus watched with wonder as the water lifted blood and soot from his blade, restoring the beautiful blade to its intended form. Avorstead removed his sword from the waters, marveling at the wondrous reflection of the sun's light, the Silver Prince shining its familiar silver sheen.
"What now, Marcus? What will you do with your father's sword, now that it has been cleansed? Will you become a brave knight, just as him, or will you simply hold the sword close to you, like a blessed heirloom?"
Turning his head to me, Marcus spoke softly, "I... I do not know. I want to become a knight, someone my father would be proud of, but... I admit I am a coward. I always ran from a fight, never defending myself. I don't like fighting, much..."
This man was certainly different from his father. John would never hesitate to defend himself or others, that much is for sure. I felt stuck at a crossroads. Should I give this young man advice, and tell him of what his father wished for him, or allow him to walk his path alone, and discover himself?
After a moment, I addressed Marcus once more, "I am sure that no matter what you do, your father would be proud, knight or not. Your path and your destiny are yours alone, no one else's. If you would like, you may rest here awhile. My waters can soothe your spirit, and I wish to know more about your father."
I noticed that each time I mentioned his father, Marcus lit up like a beam. It was not difficult to tell that Marcus loved his father very much.
"Oh, I could talk about my father for hours... There was not a man who walked this land who was as brave and strong as he."
Intrigued, I responded, "Then please, join me. Remove your armor and let my spring heal whatever ails you. Tell me the tales of your father, until you are content."
Marcus smiled brightly at my offer. While he certainly did not have John's charismatic bravery, Marcus did have his smile, and his warmth. It was a warmth that I ached to see for so long.
"Perhaps I will stay awhile. I will tell you everything I know about my father."
I could not wait to hear Marc's words. Perhaps this would be the closure I needed after John's sudden disappearance. I wanted to hear all about how John raised Marcus with love and care, as I knew he would.