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~ 4 ~
They awoke with the dawn, stirring to the quiet
sounds of Mary preparing breakfast for them.
After eating their share of the porridge and taking along several loaves
of waybread with them, Malcolm and Edward stepped outside, bathed in the light
of the morning sun. The air was sweet,
but had a slight nip to it, smelling heavily of dew and grass as they walked
toward the road and stopped for a moment, facing the abbey.
The brothers were undoubtedly already awake and
probably had begun their day’s labors, toiling away behind their walls. Malcolm turned and smiled to his friend as
they turned their way toward the center of the village, treading quietly,
wordlessly to the east. The orange globe
of the sun hung over the horizon, its rays melting away the morning mists.
They walked through the bustle of the village square,
where the market was already open and full of people eager to find the best
bargains before their friends arose.
Every so often, Malcolm would stop at the door of a house and knock,
then continue walking. Each time he did
this, one of his warriors would issue from the within and join them. By the time they came to the open fields
again, a dozen young men had fallen in rank behind him, their ruddy faces
glowing eagerly for the journey ahead.
Malcolm smiled fondly at them. All of those who had joined were his age or
younger, the devoted youths who had become close friends with both Edward and
their war-captain. Even the youngest
man, Alasdair, gazed back stalwartly, ready to serve his leader in any way required. Malcolm drew himself up, taking in a long
breath before speaking to them.
“Most of you know this,” he
said, looking down at them from his mount, “because of what Oswald has told
you. What we must do is see our friend
safely to the borders of the English Northumbria. As you all know, the roads have been more and
more dangerous as of late. Our beloved
Edward must go and meet his brother, so we will see to his safety at least that
far. And if he does not return within
two weeks, as he said, we will go and look for him. Are all agreed to this?”
A chorus of hearty affirmation
rang out as the men grinned at the young ex-monk, slapping him amiably on the
back.
“Malcolm,” said Edward, “you
needn’t come after me. If anything
unfortunate happens with my brother, then you will probably not be able to find
me. We must leave it in the Lord’s
hands.”
“Whatever you say, brother,”
Malcolm said to him, then turned to wink at his troops. “Let’s be on our way.”
Shouldering a sack of
provisions, he led the way with Edward at his side, tromping off down the
southeast road. Although he did not
believe an armed escort was necessary, Edward was pleased to have the
company. They bantered about foolish things,
enjoying themselves in the beauty of the day.
They followed the line of the river until sunset, when they camped out
along the banks, throwing up several canvas tents between the trees.
Oswald built a large
fire and the men huddled around it, watching the stars come out above
them. Eating from the rations of hard
biscuits and smoked meat in Malcolm’s sack, they talked for a good while into
the night. Before retiring, however,
they all listened attentively to some of Edward’s instruction and departed to
their slumbers with a prayer. It was a
good feeling, Edward reflected, to have such dear friends who cared enough to
make special efforts for his welfare.
The next few days would dawn bright and promising, with the hope of good
companionship and an adventure before him.
~ ~ ~
Weary in body and soul, Hannah turned her small mare
from the road toward the twinkling lights of a village to the east. She rode along what appeared to be some sort
of farm-trail—clearly not the main avenue into the village, but it seemed to be
leading her in the right direction. The
sky above her was free from any clouds, and the stars were beginning to show
their faces against the deepening blue of the dusk sky. Samuel had fallen asleep and was leaning
against her arm, his lips working as he dreamt.
She had replayed in her mind the past two days so much
that they became the only reality she had left, and she often found herself
daydreaming to escape it. By the time
she came into the main thoroughfare of the quiet hamlet, she was struggling to
keep her eyes open.
The village was a farming community and had little to
offer in the way of resources for travelers.
She had almost given up hope when at last she spied a small inn near the
end of the row of buildings. It was in
poor condition, its painted sign half-worn away from exposure to the wind and
rain. “Oh, Samuel, I don’t know,” she
muttered, eyeing the place suspiciously.
Looking in a window-slit that had been cut in the wooden wall, she saw
several men loitering around a table, each pulling down long draughts of drink.
She groaned inwardly.
Normally, she wouldn’t even have considered an establishment that looked
like that, but she was too tired to try to go any further that night. She shook her head and rode behind the
building, hoping to find some sort of stable behind the inn. There was a stable there, but in fact it was
little more than a run-down shack with hay strewn around haphazardly.
Sighing heavily, she dismounted and tethered the mare
within reach of the hay, careful not to awaken Samuel with the motion. She walked back to the front of the inn and
entered, steering wide around the table of drinkers, who followed her with
their eyes. She looked around for any
sign of the owner, but could find none.
Closing her eyes to gather her strength about her, she gritted her teeth
and turned back to the table of men.
“Is the innkeeper here?” she asked in a commanding
tone, her eyes flashing a warning to them.
There were four of them there, and they grinned
unashamedly back at her. One of them
stood up, chuckling slightly while he ran a calloused hand over his unkempt
beard. “You don’t need an innkeeper miss,”
he winked at her. “You could always come
home with me for the night.”
Hannah glared at him, shaking her head in
disgust. “Where is the innkeeper?” she
repeated firmly. “If there is none, I’ll
move on.”
“Ah, I think he’s in the back,” one of the younger men
volunteered.
“Thank you, sirs,” she said, inclining her head before
walking into the next chamber. She had
to pause for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust because the lighting was
considerably dimmer in the inner room. A
single candle was the only source of illumination, providing a small ring of
light around a short man who sat hunched over a parchment.
“Excuse me, sir,” she spoke quietly to gain his
attention.
“One moment, please,” he responded, adding a few last
touches to his writing. It surprised
Hannah to find a literate man in the small farming community, but it appeared
that this man was exceptionally so.
Scrolls and parchments lined the little room on shelves that ran as high
as the ceiling.
At last he looked up, regarding her coolly in the dim
light of the candle. He was an older man,
with wisps of graying hair still clinging stubbornly to his balding dome. “What can I do for you, miss?”
She began to ask for a room, but curiosity overcame
her. “Are you a scribe of some sort?”
He smiled, shaking his head slowly. “More of a student of history. Most people would see me as quite eccentric,
I fear. But this is my love,” he
gestured to the dusty stacks of documents around him. “I observe and listen, writing down the
happenings here at home and what we hear of the events abroad. Sometimes I delve into years gone by. I’ve just been documenting the first reports
of what we’ve been hearing from London.”
“Ah,” she nodded, sighing heavily. “I’ve just come from London.”
“Really?” he leaned forward with interest. “Splendid!
You can tell me all about it!”
She closed her eyes, mustering whatever strength
remained within her to fight off the barrage of violent memories. “I’d rather not, sir,” she responded, tears
welling up despite her efforts to restrain them.
“Oh,” he said, easily reading the pain in her
expression. “Then you were not only an
observer—a victim of some of these stories, perhaps?”
“Yes,” she said, shifting her position
uncomfortably. “I was wondering,
sir—I’ve been traveling some time, and my brother and I need someplace to sleep
for the night. Do you have some rooms
left?”
He nodded, his lips pursed in thought. “It’s generally not my practice to give
refuge to Jews, but in these circumstances I might be able to arrange
something. But my inn isn’t set up in
separate rooms—I have one large room upstairs with several beds. There are already two others there, but they
shouldn’t bother you.”
She drew in a deep breath. “All right.
How much will it cost?”
He shook his head.
“No charge, miss. But grant me
this one favor—don’t tell anyone here that you are Jewish. That would ruin my business reputation. It just isn’t acceptable.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, turning and walking into
the main room again, where she was able to find the rough wooden steps that
brought her up to the second floor of the building. In the dim light of two beeswax candles
arranged at separate ends of the room, she made out the forms of two young men
on the nearest beds, already snoring loudly as they slept. She made her way to the furthest bed and
stretched out there, carefully placing Samuel beside her, near her head. He was still asleep, his small hands curled
into tiny fists at his sides.
“Sleep well, brother,” she whispered before drifting off.
~ ~ ~
When she awoke in the morning, she saw that another
man had also come in from the highway for the night. He was already up, buckling a sword-belt
around a plain brown tunic. The noise of
his movements awakened her, so she lay still for several minutes, watching as
he prepared to leave.
He hefted a large sack over his shoulder and made to
leave, but as he turned, he caught Hannah’s gaze resting on him. “Good morning,” he grunted, and made an
attempt to straighten his ruffled hair.
“Good morning,” she responded, not daring to move. He was wearing a uniform of some sort, a
brown cloak with a white Latin cross stitched over his heart.
He bowed. “I
would stay to speak with you, my lady,” he said with a gracious smile, “but I
must be off. My soul compels me. Surely you’ve heard—the Lord is finally
wreaking out His just vengeance on that vile, blasphemous race of
Christ-killers.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ve heard.”
“And that is the glorious cause I go now to champion,”
he said proudly, bowing once again before making his departure down the stairs.
Hannah let out a long breath, trying to hold back the
sobs that began to well up from deep within her. But it was to no avail, and she began to cry
as she lay there, lonely and afraid.