《Eternal Beloved》


 Chapter 1. Another

    Last light filtered through the greased parchment window. Seven wax candles flickered on tables around the bed. They smelled faintly of honey. On the hutch a basin of hot water pushed steam into the already humid room. Rachel Wade, the midwife, was in position at the edge of the bed. She glanced up at Lydia, who held her mother¡¯s hand and said, ¡°The baby is crowning.¡±


    Dread filled Lydia. She closed her eyes. She did not want to see another child enter the world.


    The midwife said, ¡°Tabitha push.¡±


    Lydia felt her mother¡¯s hand bite deep into her own. There was a short gasp and then her mother¡¯s hand relaxed in hers. Lydia waited.


    ¡°Almost Tabitha. The next one for sure.¡±


    Lydia¡¯s mother mumbled, "Please, Saint Margaret of Antioch.¡± At the mention of this saint¡¯s name anger shot through Lydia. She did not believe Saint Margaret had any power. Never in her thirteen years had she seen a dragon. Even if they did exist somewhere in Flanders, she doubted a dragon would swallow a woman whole and spit her out whole. She would be chewed up a bit at least and probably charred. Even if this saint had survived a dragon, Lydia knew she would not come to Moder''s aid. She had not in the past. Now would be no different. She felt it, knew it. Her mother¡¯s grip tightened again as a spasm shook her body.


    With a hint of fear in her voice, the midwife said, ¡°The baby is coming.¡±


    Lydia held her breath. Her body went rigid. She knew what came next and closed her eyes. There was a sloshing sound, like water swirling in a bucket. The stench of fresh blood filled her nostrils. The baby was in the world. She waited to hear the sound she must hear. The room was too still.


    The midwife cut the baby¡¯s cord. A sharp slap of flesh against flesh, but no cry followed. Another slap. Nothing. Again. Nothing. The midwife said, ¡°Stay with your moder.¡±


    With eyes still shut, Lydia nodded. She heard the bedroom door close.


    Her mother whispered, ¡°Are you praying?¡±


    Lydia nodded. It was a lie. She was not praying. She had nothing to say to a God who sent her mother another dead baby. God was as useless as Saint Margaret.


    Her mother pleaded, ¡°Lydia open your eyes. I need to see your eyes.¡±


    Reluctantly, Lydia opened her eyes and looked into her mother¡¯s. What she saw in them, hurt. She saw hope, foolish hope. A hope she wanted Lydia¡¯s eyes to reflect back to her.


    The door opened and the midwife entered. In her arms was a tiny blue baby. Lydia¡¯s mother looked at the child and screamed. The scream seemed to come from the depth of her. It was a horrific sound. It echoed on the walls and bounced around inside Lydia¡¯s head. All at once the screaming stopped. The next instant her mother''s hand went limp and slid out of Lydia¡¯s. Her eyes remained wide and staring but she was not, no, she was not breathing.


    The midwife thrust the dead baby into Lydia¡¯s arms. She leapt onto the bed and started pounding on her mother¡¯s chest. Through clenched teeth she said, ¡°Do not go dying on me, Tabitha. Live. I told you this would happen. I told you. Keep that broder of mine away, I said, but no, you would not listen. You would not let me close your womb. Breathe!¡± She slapped Lydia¡¯s mother across the face. When that did not work she put her mouth over hers and breathed into her. She listened to her chest. She did it again and again.


    Unable to move or take her eyes off her mother, Lydia stood clutching her dead sister. This must not, could not be happening. Though she had not prayed before she prayed now, "Please, please...have mercy."


    The midwife placed her head on Lydia''s mother''s chest one last time. She climbed off the bed and took Lydia in her arms. In that instant she transformed from Rachel the midwife, to Aunt Rachel. It was strange how she became another person when she was birthing a baby. Softly she said, "I''m sorry Love. She is gone."


    The door swung open, Lydia¡¯s father, Thomas Wade entered. His eyes were wild. His thick body slumped. He whispered, ¡°Is she-is she-" He could not say the word.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Aunt Rachel let go of Lydia. She spun around and shouted, ¡°Yes she is. I told you she was not up to another birth. Neither of you listened to me.¡±


    His eyes flashed with muted fire. "Dunna be blaming this on me. She begged."


    Bitterly Aunt Rachel said, "Did she now, and you always do what she begs dunna you?"


    Lydia''s eyes darted from the face of her father to the face of her aunt. They were tough and single minded. Often, they argued. Strong willed they both were. The Wade blood was thick and stubborn. Lydia waited for her father''s response and was surprised when his expression broke in a spasm of pain. For an moment it looked as if he might cry. He thrust back his shoulders and said, ¡°I will go fetch Father Peter.¡± Abruptly he left.


    Lydia looked down at the dead baby in her arms. It was a girl. They were always girls. To the child she whispered, "It is better to die at birth, than live, if one is born female.¡±


    Instantly Aunt Rachel rebuked her, ¡°No! Without females the world would have ended long ago.¡±


    Lydia jutted out her chin. ¡°Perhaps the world would be better off that way.¡±


    "Child that is enough." Aunt Rachel took the baby from her. For a moment she stared at the lifeless little face. "Why did you not breathe? Why?"


    There was no answer to that question. Aunt Rachel took the baby to the bed and wrapped her in swaddling clothes. When she had finished she put the baby in the crib. She turned to Lydia and said, ¡°Help me clean up your moder."


    After past births Lydia had helped clean up her living mother. There had always been silent tears, dripping, dripping and soft gasps as she sobbed. Not this time. It was very different to clean the dead. There was no breath or movement, only stillness, eternal stillness. While Aunt Rachel rocked the body onto its side, Lydia pulled the blood soiled bedclothes from beneath it. "Go put those into soak Lydia."


    Grateful that she would not have to watch Aunt Rachel bathe her mother''s body, Lydia rushed into the kitchen. A large tub of water was on the table. Lydia put the bed clothes in it. The blood swirled up...her mother''s blood. Her mother''s blood was on her apron too. She ripped it off and shoved it into the water. Beside the tub was a small bowl of Aunt Rachel''s flaked soap. Lydia dumped the entire bowl into the tub and washed the blood off her hands.


    A loud knock sounded on the back door. Lydia dried her hands on her dress and went to the door. It was Father Peter. He was alone. The priest said, ¡°I have come to pray for your moder.¡±


    With more bitterness than she intended, Lydia asked, ¡°What good do prayers do the dead?¡±


    ¡°I believe they hear us still." Lydia was not so sure. Reading her expression, he added, "Your moder would want me to pray. Do you not want me to pray?"


    The question hung in the air. Lydia just stared at him. He would not like her answer.


    Breaking the silence, Father Peter said, "I will go to your moder." He left the kitchen. Lydia did not follow him. Instead she stepped into the humid night. It was dark. On feet that did not feel the street beneath them, she ran. At the city gate one of the gatekeepers called to her, ¡°Is someone chasing you miss?¡±


    ¡°Nay.¡± Her breath came in tight gasps as she made her way to the dock. The River Test was liquid black. Gulls, clustered along the pier, were all silent and sleeping. A few boats were tethered to the dock. Bobbing alone mid river was a small merchant ship.


    On the pier two men stood close together. One said, ¡°King Edward is going to sink us all if he does not get passed this foolishness. How can you support his ridiculous Arthur fanaticism? Running off to Scotland to waste men¡¯s lives and fortunes-¡±


    ¡°Please, Geoffrey, let it be.¡±


    ¡°I will not let it be, you stupid--¡± abruptly he stopped when he saw Lydia. Even in the dark she could see his teeth flash into a smile. This was no good. She wanted to be alone. She veered away from the dock and headed toward the steps that led to the shore. The men resumed their argument.


    On the shore tiny pebbles and sand crunched beneath her shoes. She sucked in huge breaths of air longing to clear her nostrils and her mind of blood''s stench. A mist crawled from the east. With slow fingers it reached out to obliterate the river. Soon it would cover the bank and engulf Lydia too. She did not care. Let it take her. With careless feet she scrambled down to the water¡¯s edge. She took off her shoes and doused her feet in the icy liquid. Perhaps she would catch her death tonight. If she died she would be with Moder and all those bothersome little sisters who refused to breathe earth¡¯s air. If of course she went to heaven, she had her doubts about her final destination. There was also the problem that she never caught cold. It was as if God had breathed all health into her and not given even a stitch of it to her dead sisters.


    Water sloshed over her feet, soaking the hem of her skirt. Within her a wave of bitterness rose and fell. How could Moder leave her? How could she have another baby when Aunt Rachel told her not to? Aunt Rachel was the best midwife in Southampton and yet Moder had ignored her advice. How could she be so stupid and so selfish? What was so great about a baby anyway? Babies cried, they smelled bad and they were totally useless. Lydia never wanted a sister or a brother. All she ever wanted was for there to be no more babies¡­no more dead babies¡­there would not be any more dead babies now¡­


    In the distance near the pier something large splashed into the water. Lydia turned to the sound of it but could see nothing.

 Chapter 2. Dirt

    A damp wind was blowing. It had rained the night before. The air smelled of salt water mixed with fresh water. Another smell, the more predominate smell, Lydia refused to recognize. It was the smell of freshly turned earth. Before her was a hole, the hole where her mother lay shrouded. The desire to run was a strong temptation, but Aunt Rachel''s firm grip kept her rooted on this spot. Father Peter''s voice droned on and on with words Lydia did not hear, nor did she care to hear. Soon, all too soon, her mother would be beyond her sight and beyond her touch. She would be GONE.


    When Father Peter finally shut up, Thomas Wade crept to the edge of the hole. He held a fist full of dirt. The wind caught it as he released it. Lydia heard the dirt scattered across the surface of her mother¡¯s shroud. He stepped back. Now it was Lydia''s turn. She glanced at her father. He was slumped over with tears streaming from his eyes. He should cry. He had killed her mother. He had planted his seed in her and it had killed her. Lydia thought, He should be the one dead, not Moder. Not ever Moder. Her mother was good and kind. Fader was self centered and mercenary. Lydia began to tremble. Aunt Rachel squeezed her hand and whispered, ¡°You can do this.¡±


    Lydia wanted to scream, "No!" The dirt in her right hand was turning into a clump. She could not drop it on her mother''s body. She could not.


    An uncomfortable silence settled over the crowd that had come to see Tabitha Wade put to rest. Lydia could feel their eyes on her. They were waiting, they wanted to go home or back to work. Behind her she heard Jacob Higden sobbing. He should cry, he would miss Moder''s kindness. Who would tend the blows Fader dealt him? Jacob was her father¡¯s apprentice and he made a lot of mistakes. A voice broke into her thoughts. "Lydia, do your duty." It was Aunt Rachel. Anger surged through Lydia. Deep dark anger submerged her mind obliterating every other thought and feeling. Aunt Rachel could have prevented this. She should have closed her mother¡¯s womb on her own. She should not have asked. She just should have done it. If she had, Lydia would not be standing in this damned church yard holding dirt in her hand.


    A cry sounded in the sky above. Lydia looked up. A seagull swooped. How her mother had loved the gulls. It flew in a perfect circle over head then soared heavenward. Something inside Lydia broke. The anger washed away and grief filled her. Moder would not like me making a spectacle of myself. The crowd behind her was becoming impatient.


    Aunt Rachel tugged her hand. Lydia stepped forward. She looked down one last time at her mother''s body. Though it was completely bound in fine white wool, she could still see her shape. The shape of her was like small snow covered hills blemished by the earth her father had dropped into the grave.


    Lydia crushed the clump in her hand and released the earth. It seemed to take forever to fall. It landed softly, another blotch on the white hills of her mother.


    Aunt Rachel said, ¡°Come child.¡±


    The crowd relaxed. This would be over soon.


    Dazed, Lydia stepped away from the grave. Old Kate, their housemaid, caught her up in her arms as she and Aunt Rachel passed her. Her wrinkled cheek pressed against Lydia''s. She whispered, "There Love. Go on home with your Aunt Rachel. Your fader will be in a fine drunk tonight. Perhaps I will murder him in his sleep."


    Though she knew the old woman would not do it, her words brought Lydia a strange kind of comfort. Old Kate hated Thomas Wade, a lot of people did. Maybe someone would murder him. If they did it would not be soon enough for Lydia. Old Kate released her.


    The strength of Aunt Rachel pulled her along. Beyond the church grounds a pregnant woman dressed in cheap brown wool hovered. Though Lydia had never seen this woman before, instinctively, she knew who she was. She was Hagar, her father''s mistress. She hissed, ¡°Indecent whore.¡±


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    Aunt Rachel muttered, ¡°Shush.¡±


    Lydia whispered, ¡°Do you think Fader will marry her soon?¡±


    Aunt Rachel shook her head. ¡°I said, shush. The wind will carry our voices to her.¡±


    Lydia did not care about the wind. ¡°Answer me.¡±


    Aunt Rachel dropped her voice. ¡°No.¡±


    Relieved Lydia said, ¡°Good.¡±


    Aunt Rachel stopped and stared at her. ¡°No child, it is not good.¡±


    Lydia frowned at her aunt.


    ¡°Do not be looking at me so.¡± Aunt Rachel pulled her passed Hagar. Several steps away she whispered, ¡°Hagar did not set out to become a mistress. It was forced upon her by her fader''s weakness for cock fighting.¡±


    Lydia had heard this story in gossip, but it had never been confirmed. ¡°The story is true then?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Hagar was the payment my broder received for debts owed him by her fader.¡±


    It sickened Lydia to know this. Such horrific business! She looked back at Hagar. Her head moved from side to side as she searched for Thomas Wade in the dispersing crowd. Why would she look for the man who had¡­Lydia didn¡¯t know what the right word was for such a transaction.


    As they walked away Aunt Rachel continued, ¡°I have helped Hagar birth four of your fader''s children. Not a one was an easy time and there¡¯s another inside her. You should pity her and remember, you do not wear the crown of illegitimacy your fader has bestowed upon his other children.¡±


    His other children. Lydia had heard about her father¡¯s other children, but she had never seen them. An unexpected curiosity took hold of her. For the first time, she wondered what her half siblings looked like, what their names and ages were. Lydia glanced back at Hagar. Their eyes met. Lydia read pain and fear in Hagar¡¯s clear blue eyes, eyes very much like Lydia¡¯s mother¡¯s eyes. Hagar was young, so very young. She did not look like the witch Lydia had imagined her to be. It had been easier to hate the phantom Hagar in her head, but this Hagar only stirred pity in her, a new found pity. How was this possible? She did not want to feel pity toward this woman. Anger and hatred were more appropriate, but still pity welled to the surface. Ashamed and confused, Lydia looked away.


    Aunt Rachel said, ¡°Her days are numbered. I doubt my broder''s  next wife will tolerate her.¡±


    ¡°Next wife? Already?¡±


    Aunt Rachel nodded. ¡°The Widow Calders will be hearing from him soon as its proper.¡±


    This was unbelievable. Lydia protested, ¡°But she is only three years older than I am.¡±


    ¡°She is wealthy and young. Your fader wants a legitimate son. Siring so many daughters has ruined his reputation. Poor Hagar, she will be crushed.¡±


    ¡°What will become of her?¡±


    Grim determination was in Aunt Rachel''s response, ¡°I will look after her.¡±


    ¡°Why would you do that?¡±


    ¡°Her babies have half my family¡¯s blood in them, same as you. I have no children of my own, and I will make hers mine too, if she will let me. I¡¯m thinking she will be desperate enough to do so. Her fader is a sot and her moder is dead. She will need me.¡±


    They passed through the western gate and headed down the path that lead to Aunt Rachel''s stone cottage. She did not share her house or her life with any man. Aunt Rachel lived alone. Behind her house was a garden that grew rosemary, thyme, mint, mugwort, lemon verbena and many other medicinal plants Lydia could not name. Not only did Aunt Rachel birth babies, she also doctored the poor. If Lydia had had any gift or even tolerance for such business she would become Aunt Rachel''s apprentice and live with her. But, she had no gift or tolerance. It was a horrible thing to usher an innocent babe into such a cruel world. Her gift was candle making, a gift she had inherited from her father.

 Chapter 3. The Curse

    It took Lydia a long time to go to sleep that night. When she finally did she slipped into a nightmare on the bank of the River Test. The sky was dark and starless. Male voices swirled around her. Two dark figures moved across the surface of the water. She heard large wings beating. A squawk tore through her. The squawk turned into a scream. A woman screaming. It sounded like her mother! She called out, ¡°Moder, where are you? I can help. Please tell me where you are!¡±


    All at once the screaming ceased and Bab appeared. The tiny old woman looked up at her. Before Aunt Rachel took over Bab''s practice, she had been the best midwife in Southampton. Her wrinkled brown face was framed by a black shawl. Her eyes shown like spits of fire. Lydia asked her, ¡°Do you know where Moder is?" The old woman pointed to the sky. "No!" Lydia protested, "I need her here! She needs to be here!"


    "Nay child, her pain was great, she could no longer bear it."


    "What about my pain?" Lydia asked.


    "It will lessen with time, but never go away. Now, be wary. Change is coming." Drawing the shawl over her face, Bab vanished.


    Lydia screamed, "Come back!"


    From the gloom, Aunt Rachel¡¯s voice called to her, "Wake up child it is only a bad dream."


    Was it? Lydia struggled to reach her aunt''s voice. She felt arms go around her. When she awoke her cheek was pressed against Aunt Rachel''s. Gently she asked, "What did you dream?¡±


    "It was dark and I was by the river. Bab was there."


    Aunt Rachel pulled away from her. ¡°Bab came to you? She comes to me sometimes too. I often wonder if she is among the living or the dead. What did she say?"


    Though it was hard to speak the words, Lydia told her.


    Aunt Rachel said, "I know that was hard for you to hear, but it is true. You will recover, but you will also always miss your moder." Aunt Rachel took her back in her arms and held. After awhile she said, ¡°Let us try to get what sleep is left to us this night.¡±


    Sleep did not return to Lydia, in fact she was afraid to go back to sleep. Silent tears slid from her eyes. Finally, along the edges of the shuttered window first light broke sliced through the dark.


    At the front door there was a timid knock. Aunt Rachel groaned, "Who could it be at this hour?" She got up, threw on her shawl and went into the front room. Lydia heard her unbolt the door. It creaked as it swung open. A frightened child''s voice exclaimed, ¡°Aunt Rachel.¡±


    The child had called Aunt Rachel, Aunt Rachel! Lydia crawled out of bed and peeked into the front room. A little girl of around seven stood outside the door. Her dress was made of rough brown wool. Her eyes turned to Lydia. They were the same startling blue as Lydia¡¯s mother¡¯s had been. Her thin nervous hands fluttered to her unkempt blonde hair. Her hands were like Lydia¡¯s, so was the snub of her nose. Was this child her half sister?


    Aunt Rachel asked, "Your moder? Are you sure? She is not due for at least another fortnight."


    The girl nodded. "I know. This one be early. Please come now.¡±


    ¡°I will. I just need to get dressed and get my bag."


    "I gotta get back." The little girl turned and ran.


    Aunt Rachel called out, "Quincy wait!"


    There was no response. Aunt Rachel sighed and turned to Lydia. "It is not safe for her to be running about alone. Hurry get dressed."


    "What? You are joking."


    "I am not.¡± Aunt Rachel crossed the room and went into the bedroom. "Be quick, dunna stand there staring."


    If that child was who Lydia thought she was, there was NO WAY she was going to that house. In desperation she asked, ¡°What if Fader shows up?¡±


    Aunt Rachel cocked her right eyebrow. Her look squashed every bit of Lydia¡¯s resolve. Her aunt said, ¡°Thomas only attends the births of his legitimate children. His bastards do not get his attention or his presence. Come on now, you will not have to help with the birthing. Quincy will do that. I think she has the makings of a midwife in her. I just need you to watch the other children.¡± She paused, ¡°And I think it is time you met your sisters.¡±


    ¡°I--¡±Lydia began to protest, but her aunt¡¯s eyes silenced her.


    *


    Aunt Rachel walked so fast! Lydia could barely keep up. They passed through the west gate into Southampton and turned. Aunt Rachel headed toward the lowers. Surely Thomas Wade would not keep his mistress in the lowers! When Lydia was a little girl the Jews had resided in the lowers. Now there was not a single Jew in all of King Edward''s realm. His men had killed some and sent the rest packing to where ever Jews could be abided. In Paris, King Philip was growing weary of them.


    The day the Jews left had been an awful day. Lydia recalled how the sunlight shattered on the surface of the River Test. She, her mother and Aunt Rachel stood on the shore. Out on the river, crowded into every available floating vessel were the Jewish people. They had only been allowed to take what they could carry. Their homes, their possessions were being confiscated by King Edward''s men. The mob at the river had spat on the Jews and cried curses at them. Lydia had never known people could be so hateful. On that long ago morning Bab had been among those Jews. Clutched in her arms was her birthing bag. She had helped birth many of those who called curses down on her and her people. Aunt Rachel had wept. It was the only time Lydia had ever seen her cry.


    From an open window the aroma of burning fish wafted. The smell of it jerked Lydia back to the present. A dirty child darted across the street. By the rags it wore, Lydia could not tell if it was male or female. Aunt Rachel tossed the child a hard roll. The child caught it with dirty hands. It took a bite like a starved animal. Lydia had to look away. She had never known such hunger.


    The street was filthy with slops and dirty water. A stench was beginning to rise. The stench would worsen with the day. Lydia tried holding her breath, but that did not work. How much further? At that moment Aunt Rachel made an abrupt stop in front of a dilapidated cottage. She knocked on the wooden door. It was riddled with woodworms. So this was the hovel where Thomas housed his mistress and bastards. Aunt Rachel called out, ¡°Ducks it me, Aunt Rachel.¡±


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    At once, the door swung open. A stout little girl with dark curls said, ¡°It is about time!¡± The child favored Aunt Rachel.


    "Rose, I came as soon as I could."


    Rose cocked her eyebrow just like Aunt Racheldid. This was peculiar. Lydia felt the sudden grip of Aunt Rachel''s hand around her wrist. She propelled her inside. It was not a filthy house, but it was old and smelled of mice and mildew. On the stone floor was a baby with a dimple in her cheek like Fader''s. Beside the baby sat a little girl with brown eyes who looked to be around four. Aunt Rachel did not waste any time introducing these children. A low moan from the second room, sent her swiftly through the door. Lydia heard her say, ¡°Good job Quincy, you already have the water and the knife ready. You are such a smart girl.¡±


    An odd stab of jealousy pricked Lydia. Aunt Rachel had always seemed to be her sole possession, and now she realized she was not.


    Rose asked, ¡°Who are you?¡±


    How much did this child know about her parentage? Maybe nothing. She said, ¡°I am Lydia.¡±


    It was enough for the girl. ¡°I am Rose and these is my sisters. The baby is Annie and the other is Bea. I think Annie is dirty, she smells funny, but I canna reach the baby napkins.¡± She pointed to a high shelf near the hearth. ¡°Could you fetch me the lot? Annie is nothin¡¯ but a fountain of piss. Changin¡¯ nappies all day is what I do.¡±


    Lydia surveyed the shelf. It was well stocked with pots of various sizes. Dried apples were stacked beside several loaves of coarse bread. There was also a bowl of brown eggs. At least her father made sure his bastards did not starve. She grabbed the napkins from the shelf. Rose took one from her, gathered up Annie and hoisted her onto the table. With expert hands she lifted the baby¡¯s gown, pulled the soiled napkin off, wiped the baby down with something that smelled sweet, and then applied the fresh napkin. Lydia had never changed a baby before. Dead babies did not need to be changed.


    The day passed slowly. Out side of a few moans, all Lydia heard from the second room was her aunt¡¯s voice and from time to time Quincy would speak.


    Rose bustled around the cottage, like a little mother. She was very adroit. Without being told, she swept and cleaned the room, washed the baby clothes and fed Annie and Bea. The eggs she scrambled were delicious and so was the toast she roasted on the fire. Lydia told her, ¡°You are a good house keeper.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± said Rose. ¡°I got to be, Quincy always off thinkin¡¯ about things tryin¡¯ to figure out the what and which. Not fittin¡¯ for a girl ¡®specially when she is a bastard. Me, I dunna forget me place. I hope to keep house for a proper man some day. My time is comin¡¯. I am six and in seven years Fader Wade has promised me a good husband.¡±


    For a long moment Lydia stared at this sister of hers. When she was seven a husband was not even a thought in her head. Though it had always been a thought in her father''s. Which was a problem she did not have time to worry about now. Rose picked up the baby and began to rock her in her strong arms.


    That evening a gray mist crept over the town. Soon it would be dark. Lydia sat down in a chair by the closed the shutters. Bea shyly climbed into her lap. She asked, ¡°Do you know any stories like Fader Wade?¡±


    Her father told these children stories? He had never told her a single tale, at least not that she could remember.Yes he taught her how to make perfect candles both wax and tallow, but he never took time to amuse her. Jealousy pricked her. ¡°I do know a few stories, my moder told me about when she was a little girl growing up in Paris.¡±


    ¡°What is Paris?¡± asked Bea.


    Though she had never been there, Lydia said, ¡°It is a beautiful place where the River Seine flows around Notre Dame.¡±


    ¡°Notre Dame? Is that the great lady?¡±


    Though a bastard, the child was not completely un-churched. ¡°You have heard of the blessed mother?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Baby Jesus¡¯ Moder. I like that story, tell me that story. Fader Wade makes all the animal noises when the baby is born in the barn. Moder does not have our babies in the barn. I think we might get us a boy baby if she did.¡±


    At the hearth Rose said, ¡°No that will never happen.¡±


    Bea protested, "Could to!"


    Like an old woman, Rose shook her head. "Bea are you forgettin'' the curse."


    In Lydia''s arms, Bea shuddered. "I forgot."


    So even these children knew God refused to give Thomas Wade a son.


    At that moment the sharp cry of a baby sounded beyond the closed door. The baby raged. Lydia had never heard such hearty cries before. Rose shook her head and sighed. "Another screecher, ah, this ''un will be the death of me."


    The second room door opened and Aunt Rachel called over the baby''s roars, ¡°Girls, come see your new sister.¡±


    As Bea slid off Lydia¡¯s lap, she grabbed her hand and pulled her to the second room. It was a small tight space filled with three cots. On one of them Hagar rested. In her arms was the babe. Rose was the first one to the baby. Without hesitation she plucked the baby from her mother''s arms. With her deft hands she unwound the baby''s swaddling. Her sharp eyes examined every bit of her. All the while the baby roared. She was so pink, wiggly and alive!


    Aunt Rachel said, ¡°Rose, she is all there. Now wrap her up and give her to Lydia.¡± Rose wrapped the baby. With apprehensive eyes she handed her over to Lydia.


    In her arms the baby quieted. Her tiny lashes fluttered open and Lydia looked into dark blue eyes. Within those eyes she saw her own reflection and felt an instant connection to the tiny bit of humanity.

 Chapter 4. The Banns

    The cry of a living baby woke Lydia from sleep. The warm bodies of her three younger sisters were pressed against her on the pallet by the hearth. Quincy and Aunt Rachel were with Hagar and the baby, the sweet living baby. This was how the morning after a birth was supposed to be. In the dim light, she studied the sleeping faces of her sisters. Grief tore through her. Only once had Moder known the blessed miracle of a living babe. Only once. Now, Moder was gone, gone. Fresh tears came to Lydia¡¯s eyes.


    Rose popped up. ¡°What you be crying for? You got a ache?¡±


    Lydia did, but there was no way to explain it to this child.


    ¡°There, there, dunna be crying so. Has you got a baby in your belly? Moder cries when she does.¡± She patted Lydia gently on the shoulder. ¡°Well, dry your tears and get up. We got mouths to feed.¡±


    After breakfast, Aunt Rachel said, "We best be going. I am sure word has spread about the babe''s arrival. Lydia, kiss your sisters good bye." Though she was not ready to leave, Lydia understood her aunt''s meaning. Her father might want a peek at his latest contribution to the human race. An encounter with him would not serve any of them well. Quincy, Rose, Bea and Annie were all dutifully and affectionately kissed. The baby and Hagar were both sleeping in the next room. Aunt Rachel said to Rose, "If anything seems amiss, send Quincy for me."


    "Aye, I will." Aunt Rachel stooped down and hugged the little girl. So much rested on Rose''s tiny shoulders and yet she seemed to bear her burdens well.


    When the door closed behind them, Lydia felt like she was going to cry again. Would she see her sisters again? Would Aunt Rachel take her?


    Lydia followed her aunt up the littered street. Instead of going back to her house, Aunt Rachel turned toward the market. Lydia wondered, What does she need at the market? When they neared Saint Joseph¡¯s chapel, Father Peter was on the steps reciting the banns. Much to her dismay Lydia saw her father and Jacob standing near the steps. Old Kate was there too and she did not look happy.


    Father Peter saw Lydia. With eyes upon her, he proclaimed, ¡°Lydia Wade will wed Jacob Higden on April seventh in the year of our Lord 1299.¡± A sick feeling twisted in Lydia¡¯s stomach. There was apology in the priest¡¯s eyes. April seventh was in a fortnight! Her mother was barely cold in her grave and her father was marrying her off to Jacob! JACOB! This was unavoidable. Truth was she was late into her thirteenth year. Most girls had already been bedded by the time they reached thirteen. She looked at her Aunt Rachel. Her mouth was set in hard straight line. She had known about this! She had deliberately come this way so Lydia could hear the banns.


    The sound of a horse galloping caused the entire crowd to turn, including Lydia. A man on horseback reigned in his horse and shouted, ¡°Lord Bolton has been found.¡±


    Lydia did not know Lord Bolton had been missing.


    A man asked, ¡°Is he all right?¡±


    ¡°Nay, he is dead. Drowned in the River Test. His body--"¡±


    Aunt Rachel jerked Lydia¡¯s arm and pulled her away from the crowd. She hissed, "There is no need to listen to the details." Swiftly they walked away from the crowd, but they were not swift enough. Stout though he was, Thomas Wade could move like a cat. He was instantly upon them. He grabbed his sister''s shoulder and asked, ¡°Where do you think you are takin¡¯ my daughter?¡±


    Aunt Rachel jerked her shoulder free from his grip.


    ¡°Home.¡±


    ¡°Then you are headed in the wrong direction.¡±


    Lydia saw her father jut out his chin. Aunt Rachel responded with the same gesture. She waited for a battle. None came. Aunt Rachel said, ¡°Lydia, go to Old Kate. I will come visit you tomorrow¡¯s eve." Incredulous that her aunt was handing her over without a fight Lydia just stared at her. "Go on now. I said I would come tomorrow and I will. Be quick."


    *The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The fire in the hearth heated the large lard kettle. The smell of simmering beef fat filled the kitchen. Lydia, kept an eye on the kettle. Tallow could turn so easily. It had to be the perfect clarity to make the kind of candles Thomas Wade was famous for. Since her mother¡¯s death, her father had not been around much, but he was here this afternoon. He and Jacob were at the table cutting strings and tying the poles.


    Old Kate had gone to market for more raisins.


    As soon as his strings were all tied, Thomas Wade said, ¡°I have an errand to run. You two mind the shop.¡±


    She stared at her father¡¯s back as he left the room. Angrily she thought, Goin¡¯ off for a nip or two probably, or off to buy another damned rooster. Her mind caught on the next thought. Had he gone to see the baby, Hagar and the rest? Jealousy flared inside of her mixed with longing. She felt Jacob¡¯s eyes upon her. Uneasiness swept through her. She had never been alone with Jacob ever. Moder or Old Kate we¡¯re always around. Warily, she glanced in his direction. His eager eyes met hers. In the past he had kept his distance, but now, delighted with their pending marriage, he seemed about to pop out of his pock marked skin.


    While Lydia tended the tallow, Jacob kept looking at her sideways. She growled, ¡°You are not paying attention Jacob. The strings are too long. Father will not like the waste.¡± Jacob colored and smiled at her. Lydia did not return his smile.


    When the fat had reached perfection, Lydia said, ¡°It is time.¡± Jacob came to her side. He was close, too close. He took the pouring pot, scooped out the liquid and slowly poured the tallow into the basin on the table. He reached for the strings, but Lydia said, ¡°No, I will do that.¡± Even though Jacob had been a Master Chandler for a year, she dipped better than he did. With adept motion, Lydia dunked the strings. It always fascinated her how the strings would grow and grow as more as more tallow clung to them. String by itself burned quickly. String surrounded by tallow gave light and lasted so much longer. When the candles were the proper width and length, she hung them on the cooling rack. The next instant, Jacob took her into his arms. Lydia hissed, ¡°Let go of me!¡±


    His lips touched her cheek and he said, ¡°You are mine now.¡±


    Lydia pushed against him, but he would not let go. ¡°I am not yours yet.¡± Jacob¡¯s eyes narrowed as darkness filled them. His grasp grew tighter. She had never realized how strong he was. Frightened she said, ¡°You are hurting me.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s lips came down hard on hers. Wild fear hammered inside her. His hand slid down her back as he pulled her even closer. She could not breathe or move. An acrid smell filled the room. Lydia jerked her mouth free of his and sputtered, ¡°Ja-jacob, you forgot to put out the tallow.¡±


    Instantly Jacob let go of her. Lydia¡¯s father hated waste and his fists often communicated this hatred. Jacob picked up the ladle and pushed it into the pot. He shook his head. ¡°It is ruined.¡±


    Lydia said, ¡°You get to tell Father what happened.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s face turned red. ¡°If you had not distracted me this would not have happened.¡±


    Hot, sharp, anger filled Lydia. She said, ¡°It was not my fault. You were distracted by your own lust. I have done nothing to tempt you.¡±


    A sinister gleam came into Jacob¡¯s eyes.He said, ¡°Just your presence tempts me. Woman was created to tempt man, to test his faithfulness to God. I am not very faithful I fear.¡± He took a step towards her.


    Old Kate pushed open the kitchen door. In her hand was a small bag. She wrinkled her nose at the stench and narrowed her eyes when she saw Jacob¡¯s proximity. ¡°Has the Master gone missin¡¯ again?¡±


    Silently, Lydia nodded.


    The shop door bell rang. All three turned to the sound. Lydia left the kitchen and passed through the door that lead to the shop. James, Dame Paston¡¯s man, stood in the room. A trace of gray flecked his dark hair. He was a very kind man with warm brown eyes. Lydia had known her entire life. He said, ¡°Miss Wade, the Dame would like a dozen of your finest wax tapers.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± She went behind the counter and pulled the wax taper box from beneath the counter. These were their best candles, made from the wax of Aunt Rachel¡¯s hives. The tapers were beautiful, shiny and smelled of honey. It was a rare treat to make these candles and it pained her every time they sold even one. Carefully she counted out the candles and wrapped them in cloth before placing them in another wooden box. She handed them to James. He smiled at her. She took the money he placed on the counter.


    He said, ¡°I hear congratulations are in order. May you and Mr. Higden be very happy together.¡±


    Was he serious? His eyes held concern, that he did not voice. It took all Lydia had to respond, ¡°Thank you, Sir.¡± James tipped his head to her and went out into the street. Lydia sunk down onto the stool behind the counter. As she struggled to push back her tears, her father entered the shop.


    He sniffed the air. The smell of scorched tallow hovered. ¡°Did Jacob burn another batch?¡±


    Lydia nodded. She waited for her father¡¯s wrath. It surprised her when it did not come. Wearily he shook his head. "Jacob dunna have a good head on him. You do, pity you was born a girl."


    Lydia had to literally bite her tongue.


    Slowly Thomas Wade looked around his shop. The shelves were filled with his excellent candles in shades of yellow, cream and gold. A look of satisfaction filled his eyes. He came behind the counter and laid a gentle hand on his daughter''s shoulder. With more tenderness than Lydia had ever heard in his voice he said, ¡°You are a fine candlemaker, my girl and good with numbers. This shop would not be what is without you.¡±


    Deeply touched by his rare compliments, Lydia stuttered, "Th-thank you."

 Chapter 5. To Choose

    Out in the yard the evening sun cast strange shadows across the cock cages. Most of the cages were empty. Jacob had loaded the birds into the fighting bins and gone off with Fader. Thomas Wade¡¯s cocks, like his candles, had the mark of excellence. He made more money in cock wagers than he ever did in candle sales, at least that was what Old Kate said.


    Beside Lydia, a battered cock let out a strangling crow. Through the bars of his tiny cage, Lydia studied his torn comb, the long gash across his breast and his crumpled yellow foot. Though he had won his match, he was now maimed for life. The only reason the cock had not become stew was because he had the lineage of a top fighter. Her father hoped to get another fighter out of the bird. Lydia''s eyes strayed to the hen coop where tiny yellow chicks nestled around their mothers. Among those balls of fluff were future fighters, future killers. She shuddered. Why men gambled and watched the beautiful, stupid birds shred themselves to death was beyond her. The only positive in the nasty business was that it had taken Jacob elsewhere.


    Since he had kissed her, every moment Lydia spent making candles with him, she felt his eyes upon her. Old Kate was careful to ALWAYS be near, but she had her own work to do and could not watch him every minute. In secret, Jacob leered at Lydia. He got too close, if he could he touched her. Every time he touched her, she wanted to punch him. She knew his mind was on one thing, bedding her. She did not exactly know what bedding entailed, but even the thought of it filled her with panic. In the chicken yard, she had seen the violence of the cocks with the hens. Surely that was not how humans behaved, how Jacob would behave. In a few days, she would know. If only she did not ever have to know.


    The gate rattled. Aunt Rachel swung it open and entered the yard. With a look that throughly assessed Lydia''s person, she asked, ¡°Have you been sleepin''?¡±


    ¡°Nay, not not much.¡±


    ¡°I have some Valerian root, Chamomile and Lavender, with a little lemon balm mixed in.¡± She handed Lydia a small brown jug. ¡°Heat it a bit, not to a boil, just enough to release the essence.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Lydia popped the cork off. The mixture was potent, but not unpleasant. She asked, ¡°Will this chase away nightmares too?¡±


    ¡°Aye it will.¡± She leaned forward and kissed Lydia¡¯s forehead.


    Old Kate opened the back door and announced, ¡°The victuals is ready if you be hungry.¡±


    Lydia was not. Aunt Rachel took her free hand and they went into the kitchen. The meal on the table was simple, brown bread, rooster stew and goat¡¯s milk. None of it appealed to Lydia. Aunt Rachel took her seat. Dutifully, Lydia sat down across from her. When Old Kate started to ladle stew into a bowl for Lydia, she shook her head. ¡°Just bread and milk please.¡±


    In protest, Old Kate clucked her tongue, but did not force the stew on her. To Aunt Rachel she said, ¡°Best bring her some appetite remedies, she dunna be eatin¡¯ much.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± said Aunt Rachel.


    Old Kate took her seat beside Lydia. She said, ¡°I was talkin¡¯ to James in the market today.¡± A look passed between Aunt Rachel and Old Kate. ¡°I says to him, I dunna want Miss Wade married off to Jacob. The lad is a brute and a menace. And, James agreed."Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Aunt Rachel said, "He did, did he."


    It hurt Lydia to hear out loud that James, Dame Paston¡¯s man, was more concerned about the safety of her union than her own father. Still, it did not surprise her. James was a good man. Her father was not.


    Aunt Rachel asked her, "If there was a way out of the marriage or at least a way of postponin'' it would you take it."


    ¡°Of course I would!¡±


    The next question Aunt Rachel asked, sent Lydia reeling. "What if it required givin'' up candlemaking."


    "I can not live without making candles."


    "Can you live with Jacob, marry him?"


    There was no way in heaven or hell she would marry Jacob. She said, ¡°No!"


    Aunt Rachel asked, "Why?"


    Anger rushed through Lydia. There were so many reasons! Bitterly, she said, "I dunna want to wait on him, and make him feel proud and smart when he is stupid and mean. I dunna want to worry that when he is out, he is with some concubine or worse. I dunna want to be grabbed and poked by him in bed.¡± Her voice faltered before she said, ¡°I dunna want any dead babies or to die birthing them.¡±


    Softly Old Kate said, ¡°So, you dunna want your moder¡¯s life?¡±


    The tears came. Lydia shook her head and felt their warmth splatter on her cheeks. Old Kate''s hand closed over hers.


    Aunt Rachel¡¯s voice grew serious, ¡°I went to see Father Peter today¡ª¡°


    Old Kate exclaimed, What!¡±


    Ignoring her, Aunt Rachel continued, ¡°He suggested you go to Romsey Abbey. He knows the Abbess there. She will take good care of you.¡±


    Old Kate sputtered, ¡°Lydia become a nun? Aye that is what her moder wanted to be. Believed God had called her. But her fader and Thomas Wade, they had other ideas.¡±


    This was news to Lydia. Her mother had not wanted to be a mother or a wife and yet she had to become both, and was dead now as a result. Lydia had never considered being a nun. Not even once. She said, ¡°But I have no calling from God. I barely say my prayers.¡±


    A weary smile tugged at Aunt Rachel''s lips. She asked, ¡°Do you think all nuns have callings? A few perhaps. It is a haven for most. You need a haven child. You would have been married already but your moder begged your fader to wait until after the baby came. Now your time is up. Romsey or Jacob. Which will it be? Mind you, Your fader will go looking for you and you may have to marry Jacob after all, but until he finds you, you will not be married or pregnant. You may like the monastic life. At Romsey¡¯s you will be taught to read and write.¡±


    This was no comfort to Lydia. She could add and subtract. She could count money and measure. Reading was of little use to a candlemaker. ¡°I do not want to read or be a nun. I will be a candlemaker, just a candlemaker.¡±


    Impatience crept into Aunt Rachel''s voice, ¡°You know that is impossible. As a woman you will never be allowed to take your Master Piece. Without it and Guild approval, no one will buy your candles. You know a woman does not begin most trades singularly. Usually a husband or fader must die to leave her the business. You my child have a living fader and a husband in waiting''."


    Lydia protested, ¡°I could murder them both.¡±


    Old Kate laughed.


    This was not funny! Lydia jutted out her chin and said, ¡°I want to make candles.¡±


    Softly, Aunt Rachel said, ¡°Marry Jacob and you can.¡±


    ¡°NO! I want to be a virgin candlemaker!¡±


    Old Kate squeezed her hand and said, ¡°Perhaps at Romsey God will make it so.¡±


    Lydia did not have any faith in God¡¯s intervention. Still, she said, ¡°Perhaps.¡± Turning to her aunt, she asked, "When would I leave?"


    In a voice just above a whisper Aunt Rachel said, "Tomorrow morning after Mass."


    "Tomorrow morning!"


    "Unforunately, yes. You can not take anything but the clothes on your back."


    Anger and fear surged through Lydia. She spat out, "So, I am being exiled?"


    "Those who are exiled dunna have a choice. You do."


    "Do I?"


    Aunt Rachel nodded. "You can stay here or go. What will it be?"


    If she left she would lose her home and her trade. If she stayed she would be forced into a life she did not want. Moder had wanted to be a nun. Moder had wanted to serve God, but she had been denied. Deep down she knew Moder would want her in Romsey. Softly, she said, "All right I will go."


    Relief and sadness filled Aunt Rachel''s eyes. Old Kate burst into tears.

 Chapter 6. On the Way to Romsey

    The narrow deep set windows emitted a pale and fluid light. The granite of the church was as familiar to Lydia as her own home, it was home, the home of her spirit. It had been at the core of her mother. Here, in this pew, she felt the presence of her mother. Beside Lydia, Old Kate dozed.


    Behind the lectern, Father Peter was reading from the pamphlet of Genesis. The church did not have an entire Bible because they were too expensive. Father Peter had pamphlets of John''s Gospel, Psalms and Genesis. Everything Lydia knew about God came from those three pamphlets. Father Peter was one of the few who knew how to read. His Latin words from Genesis rolled over her, "dixitque Deus fiat lux et facta est lux."* Lux, Light. God created light. The word light echoed deep inside of Lydia. Behind Father Peter, the altar candles flickered. Her mother had made those candles. Thomas Wade was stingy and did not tithe, but he had allowed his wife to make candles for the church. Who would make the candles now?


    Up front in Lord Bolton''s pew, sat the recently widowed Lady Bolton. Her back was straight and she was dressed in black. Her blonde hair crept out from beneath her black cap. Her hair was a beautiful shade of gold, like honey. Beside her sat her son, the heir to the Bolton fortune. He was a robust child of three or four with hair the same shade as his mother''s. There was another little boy at home. Lady Bolton had done well, she had delivered an heir and a spare. All women should be so lucky.


    When Father Peter blessed the Eucharist, Old Kate woke up, rubbed her eyes and sighed. As usual she had not heard a word. People began to rise to receive the Host. Lydia followed Old Kate into the center aisle. Slowly they progressed forward. Lady Bolton knelt, was blessed and took the Host. As she rose, she turned her head to the side. Lydia was struck by her beautiful profile. Her skin seemed to glow. Her eyes were large and dark, so dark, dark as the River Test on a moonless night. Their eyes met. The power of Lady Bolton''s gaze struck Lydia like a blow. She had expected to see sadness, but she saw a power she had only encountered in her father''s eyes. Quickly she looked down. Lady Bolton was only five years older than she was, and yet...how had she achieved such confidence? Though Lydia did not look up, she was aware of Lady Bolton''s movements as she returned to her pew.


    Finally, Old Kate was blessed and it was Lydia''s turn. She knelt down and opened her mouth. Father Peter placed the Host on her tongue. It was dry this morning.


    After church, Father Peter lead them to his tiny cottage behind the church. It was a crooked heap of poorly stacked stones with a thatch roof. Aunt Rachel was waiting for them at the door. She did not attend church¡ªever. Aunt Rachel asked, "Run on a bit did we now?"


    Father Peter smiled but did not answer.


    Irritated Aunt Rachel asked, ¡°Where is Crofter Gimble?"


    "He is coming Rachel." Father Peter opened the front door. The tiny house was a single room with a fireplace, hooks on the wall for pots and clothes, a wash basin, a table and a narrow cot. The priest closed the door behind them and said,¡°Lydia, I pray you find some comfort at the Abbey. You are a bright girl and a swift learner, I think you will do well there.¡± He paused, looked directly at Aunt Rachel and added, "It is my hope that you will discover God is a loving presence not just another masculine force to be tolerated.¡±


    Aunt Rachel shook her head.  "Dunna you tell Crofter Gimble be here after Mass?"


    Gently, Father Peter said, ¡°He will come, just be patient Rachel.¡±


    Patience was a virtue the Wade¡¯s lacked. Aunt Rachel said, ¡°I dunna have time to be sitting here waitin¡¯. Eleanor Ghent is expecting twins. She was feeling the first pangs last night. I need to get back to her.¡±


    Lydia shivered, birthing twins invited death to one or all.


    The old priest went to his cot and stooped down. From beneath his bed, he pulled a bag and a narrow box. Lydia immediately recognized the box. It contained the tithe candles her mother had made. The priest handed her the box. ¡°Give these to Mother Therese''. They will smooth the way for you.¡±


    Lydia managed to say, ¡°Thank you, I will,¡± but she had no intention of giving these candles to any one.


    Father Peter smiled. ¡°You are welcome.¡± He gave her the bag. Lydia placed the box of candles on the table and opened the bag. It contained clothes, boys clothes. Puzzled, Lydia asked, "What are these for?"This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Aunt Rachel responded, ¡°For you. A girl canna travel alone, but a boy can. Where is the hat Father? She must hide her hair.¡±


    Father Peter pulled a tattered hat from beneath his bed and handed it to Lydia.


    For a long moment Lydia stared at the hat. A priest consorting in a falsehood, surely this was wrong. The old priest seemed to read her mind, he said, ¡°Protecting the innocent is never wrong. Now hurry child and get dressed. Your mount will be here soon.¡± Father Peter and Aunt Rachel went outside to wait for the horse. Old Kate stayed inside to help her untie her dress. Though Lydia had her back to Old Kate, she knew she knew she was crying. Lydia slipped off her dress and pulled on the britches and tunic. They fit well.


    Old Kate placed the hat on Lydia''s head and sobbed, "Aye, you look just like her. James would see the likeness.¡±


    ¡°Like who?"


    Old Kate clamped her hand over her mouth. "Nothin'' it be nothin''. Now, get your bag. You got to be leavin''. Your fader will be wondering what has become of us soon."


    For the first time in her life Lydia walked in britches. Her legs were unencumbered by long skirts. Was this how a man felt when he walked the earth? No wonder he ruled. He had nothing to hamper his physical progress.


    Old Kate folded Lydia''s dress and put it in the bag with the candles. She said, "There be some victuals in here too for when you get hungry. Eggs, coarse bread, some dried apples and wine." From the bag she plucked a sprig of yew and tucked it in Lydia''s pocket. She said, "Twill give you protection and comfort when you be needin'' it."


    "Thank you." Old Kate hugged her hard. She would miss Old Kate so very much. A horse snorted outside.  Old Kate let go and said, "That will be Agnes."


    ¡°Agnes! Not Agnes. I can walk faster than she can trot.¡±


    ¡°A lone girl dunna need to be walkin¡¯ the road, even if she be dressed like a boy.¡±


    Lydia had heard stories of what happened to women alone on the road. She did not protest further. She slung the bag over her shoulder and they went outside. It was time, time to go. It was happening too fast. In the yard she asked, "Will I ever see any of you again?"


    Gently Father Peter said, ¡°In God¡¯s time.¡±


    Lydia bit her lip to choke down a sharp retort. God had no sense of time.


    Aunt Rachel engulfed her in a warm hug, she said, ¡°Peace my child. Remember there are worse places than the Abbey.¡± She turned to Father Peter. ¡°Did you write her letter of recommendation?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is in the candle box.¡±


    With a boost from Aunt Rachel, Lydia climbed onto the ancient sway back piebald. Agnes swung her head toward Lydia and rolled her cloudy brown eyes. Without instruction the horse took off for the West Gate. As they passed beneath the thick archway the horse whinnied and tossed her old mane. Unlike Lydia, she seemed delighted to be headed out of town.


    Agnes kept a steady pace until a rabbit darted across the road. The old girl shied and bucked. Lydia jerked the reigns but the rope broke. Aware that her head was no longer restrained, Agnes burst into a run and headed for an open field. Lydia¡¯s hands flew to the horse''s mane. She grasped it tightly and yanked. Old Agnes did not care. As the horse crossed the field her hooves became clotted with mud. She stumbled pitching Lydia forward. Lydia lost her grip. She felt herself falling forward fast. Her body hit the ground with a hard thwack and her head struck a fieldstone.


    *


    When Lydia awoke, it was almost dark. Her bag was still hooked around her, but her ride was long gone. Anxiously she opened the bag and checked the candles. The note, in Father Peter¡¯s handwriting got caught in the breeze. It swirled away from her. Carefully Lydia examined the candles, not one had been broken. She slid the box closed and offered God a very rare prayer of thanksgiving. Across the field Father Peter¡¯s recommendation continued to take sporadic flight. It finally caught in a clump of gorse.


    As Lydia made her way to the note, the wind tossed the sound of male voices into her ears. She looked around her. In the last light of evening a huge oak stood. Beneath it, were three men. One was on horseback and the other two were on the ground. A voice Lydia had heard somewhere, but could not recall said, ¡°No worry, lad. You know what a sot he is. It is all taken care of.¡± The man slapped the horse on the rump. It leapt forward, but its rider did not. A noose tethered the rider to the tree. The body snapped. The neck twisted. It writhed for several moments then went completely limp.


    Lydia dropped to the ground. She scrunched herself into the brush. She must not be seen. Inside her chest her heart thundered. She had just witnessed a man die. Who was the man and why had they killed him?


    The two men did not speak. Lydia heard them walk across the pasture and head for the road. They did not see her, but she saw them. One was a peasant and the other was a noble. They reached the spot where Lydia had fallen. Too late Lydia saw her hat. The nobleman saw it too. He turned and looked back behind him. For one horrible moment their eyes met. Like a hare, Lydia leapt from the brush. Encumbered by skirts her entire life she had no idea how swift she was. She darted up the incline toward the tree then veered to the left. Behind her she heard the footfalls of the two men. One shouted, ¡°Stop! Stop!¡± Lydia did not. She ran and ran. Behind her their footsteps grew fainter. She was outdistancing them. The sky darkened. Ahead were hay stacks. Lydia dove into one of them and pulled hay all around herself. She could hear the men coming. They were close.


    The Noble asked, ¡°Where did he go?¡±


    ¡°Aye Sir, I canna tell. It is like he vanished.¡±


    ¡°This is no good.¡± The noble shouted, "I will find you boy! I swear I will, and when I do, another breath you shall not breathe."


    Lydia heard them walk away, but she did not move. She did not dare move.

 Chapter 7. Of Truth and Dreams

    At some point during the very long night, Lydia fell asleep. A cock crow woke her. Amazed she was still alive, she burrowed out of the haystack. Morning¡¯s first light colored the sky. Her stomach rumbled. She had not eaten since yesterday morning. After checking her candles, she ate bread and sipped wine. It was like Eucharist without Father Peter. Feeling some what revived, she surveyed her situation. There was no way of knowing where those men were. None. Her best recourse was make her way toward the road without being seen. The dew was heavy and the dirt damp. She would be filthy by the time she reached the road.


    Placing her bag on her back she set off, sliding across the ground like a serpent. It was tough going. The serpent in Eden must have missed his legs terribly, after God took them away.Caught in a clump of grass, a bit of parchment fluttered. Surely it could not be? Had the wind tossed it back into her path? She scooted toward it. Wet though it was, the words had not run or faded on her letter of recommendation. This was a miracle! She offered a word of thanks to the clear blue sky, folded her letter and put it in her candle box.By the time she reached the road she was indeed chilled and filthy. She tucked her braid into her tunic and hoped for the best. Now, how far to Romsey? It depended upon her speed. After her slow crawl she felt like running, but she knew it was unwise to rush. As she made her way down the road, her eyes darted in all directions. Her heart did not beat at its usual rate. Every bird that sang, every fly that buzzed startled her. Under the big morning sky, she felt so alone, exposed and vulnerable. A few nobles on horseback passed. A couple of farmers and their wives in carts did too. No one gave Lydia any notice. She was just another tramp on the road.


    It was afternoon when she reached Romsey. The first thing she saw was the Abbey Church. It rose above all else. It was an impressive stone structure and quite beautiful in its lines. A strange sense of awe over took her. The daughters of kings and noblemen were educated here. Soon she would see some of the bluest blooded females ever born.


    At the Abbey gate she stopped. If she proceeded with her candles they would be taken away from her. They were her last tie to her mother. She would not give them up. She must hide them, but where? Near the wall she saw a gardener''s hut. Its door was open. Would her candles be safe there?Keeping hidden in the shadow of the wall she crept to the hut. At the door she listened. It did not sound like anyone was inside. Slowly and carefully she eased through the open door. The hut was empty. Tools and seeds were neatly arranged on shelves. Where to put her candles? As she turned around searching her foot made a peculiar sound on one of the paving stones. She knelt down and tapped it. It sounded hollow. With grubby fingers she pried the stone up. A small hollow was beneath the stone. It was just the right sized for her box. Had God provided? Perhaps.


    She took her letter of recommendation from her candle box, breathed in the honey scent of her candles and then carefully closed the box. After she stripped out of the boy clothes, she put on her dress, wrapped the box in the boys clothes, and placed them in the hollow. She put the stone back in its place and gently tapped it down. At the door, she peeked out. All was still. The sweet perfume of the garden herbs filled the air. She stepped onto the path that lead to the Abbey.


    Two nuns carrying a baskets filled with eggs entered the Abbey gate. They were dressed in gray wool gowns. Their bodies and hair were modestly covered, only their faces and hands showed. Suddenly Lydia became aware of how confining such a costume would be. Her own dress hindered her as she walked toward them. Last night it would have gotten her killed. Those men who chased her, where were they now, and who were they? Fear pressed in on her. Suddenly very afraid, she called out to the nuns, "Can you tell me where to find Mother Therese?"


    Like one being the nuns turned toward her. They nodded and motioned for her to follow them. They took her across the lawn to the South Abbess door of the church. Above the door the body of Christ was carved. Deep shadows were cast upon his face by the sun. His arms were outstretched. Lydia shivered. One of the nuns knocked on the door. A voice said, "Come in."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Lydia entered. The woman who rose from her knees was very thin, too thin. This was a woman devoted to too much fasting. Why did God want the faithful to starve themselves?


    Mother Therese dismissed the two nuns. Silently they closed the door behind them. The instant they were gone Mother Therese¡¯s eyes took hold of Lydia. They had deep hollows beneath them. In a single sweep over her person they seemed to estimate Lydia''s character and the depth of her soul. Uncomfortable and unsure of what was expected of her, Lydia thrust the letter forward. Mother Therese took it and slowly read it. When she finished she asked, ¡°So you have experienced the calling of God?¡±


    A lie was the most expedient response, it was the one she knew Father Peter and her aunt expected. It would keep her from Jacob. It also might keep her safe from those men who had chased her last night. In a wavering voice she said, ¡°Aye.¡±


    Mother Therese looked at her coldly. ¡°Truth? Are you with child or escaping an unwanted match?"


    Unable to answer Lydia stood mute and stared. She felt sweat forming in her palms. This woman was terrifying.


    Mother Therese shook her head. "Not pregnant. A bad match? A life of faith is not easier or harder than a life as a married woman, it is just different. Are you sure you want this?¡±


    Lydia doubted a nun could understand the full weight of a married woman¡¯s burden. "Aye."


    "All right then. Now, tell me about this bad match and why you are here."


    Instinctively Lydia knew the story of Jacob Higden would not impress this woman. So, in a rush of words she told the story of the hanging. When she finished Mother Therese bit her lip for several seconds before she spoke. ¡°I think it would be wise not to share this with anyone else. It is a matter between men. Your word would not stand up against any man¡¯s, especially a noble¡¯s. The laws of men are tipped in man¡¯s favor and man''s destruction.¡±


    ¡°But what if they find me here?¡±


    ¡°Dressed as a novice you will not be easily recognized. The rest we must leave to God.¡± Mother Therese eyes returned to the letter of recommendation. ¡°Father Peter seems to think you are quite intelligent. I can tell by the way that you speak, you have a good command of language and a sharpness of perception. We shall see.¡±


    *


    In the novice quarters, mice skittered around the floor and ran up the walls. Lydia hated mice. A girl named, Susanna slept on the cot beside her. Her presence was some comfort to her, as were the four walls that kept the bad men out. Still the night pressed in on her. She felt miserably homesick. She wanted her own bed, her own place. She wanted her mother. More than anything in the whole world she wanted her mother. Her throat ached with restrained sobs. If only she could go home. Home had died with her mother. It did not exist anymore.


    She rubbed her hand over her cropped hair. Her hair had been pretty, now it too was gone. It seemed God intended to take everything from her. Silent tears slipped from her eyes until the heavy hand of sleep began to pull her under. She was drifting, drifting¡­


    An open field spread before her. The sun was setting. Two large bonfires burned. There were lots of people. Fat cows and skinny cows with fear filled eyes stood in a long line passing between the bonfires. The crowd was drunk and loud. Lydia did not like it. She rushed to the outer edge of the field. A cold wind began to blow. Lydia looked up and saw Bab flying across the sky. Her face was puffed up and from her cracked lips an icy wind blew. It chilled Lydia to her core.


    From the forest came the sound of singing. Lydia recognized the voice, it was her mother¡¯s. She was singing a lullaby. Lydia followed the sound of the voice. It lead her deeper and deeper into the woods. Above her, stars began to dot the sky. Ahead of her she saw a pale blue light. The sound of singing grew stronger. Quickly she ran for the light. In a small clearing her mother sat. She was glowing blue in the darkness. Around her were seven blue lit girls, all soundly sleeping. In her mother''s arms was a child emitting golden light. Though afraid, Lydia crept closer. Her mother smiled at her and held out the child.


    Lydia took the little girl in her arms. Her skin was so soft, her face round and large. She squirmed in her sleep and then she opened her eyes. Her brown eyes were the same shape and color as someone¡¯s. Whose...she could not remember whose, but this baby was HERS! What did this mean? Her mother must not take her baby to heaven. She must get away! Without another thought, she turned and ran. She ran as hard and fast as she could, but she could not escape the sound of her mother¡¯s voice singing. Her mother would catch her. Her mother would make her baby dead too.


    Suddenly Lydia felt herself falling and falling. The baby disappeared from her arms, but the warmth of the child remained in her soul. She awoke with a start. Day had come again.

 Chapter 8. Words

    Outside the morning bells began to ring. Lydia slipped out of her nightgown and into the linen shift. Over the shift she pulled her novice dress. It was dark grey wool, soft and light. Grateful for the kerchief that covered her shorn head, she followed Susanna to church. Not a single word did they speak as they hurried. Speech was not allowed until after breakfast. At home Moder had observed this same custom and it was not one that Lydia liked. She was hungry and her stomach was making quite a fuss. Inside the church, Susanna picked a pew near the wall. The nuns filed in, they moved as a single body, so fluid and purposeful.


    Behind the nuns came the nobles. Susanna grasped Lydia¡¯s arm and whispered, ¡°Just look out the corner of your eye. Look at them pearls!¡±


    Lydia did as she was told. In her imagination all nobles were as beautiful as Lady Bolton. These girls were not. Money had bought them fine clothes, pearls for their ears and gold chains for their throats, but it could not buy them looks. Their heads were covered, their eyes down cast, and yet Lydia felt they were watching her as she was watching them. Next came the light bearers and last of all the priest. He was a scrawny man with a stern face. Lydia watched the light bearers touch their flaming torches to the candle wicks of the altar candles. The flames were beautiful. Who had dipped these candles?


    The priest began Mass. His Mass sounded nothing like Father Peter''s Mass. He recited it as if he was reciting a grocery list. Over his bored words, the earnest voice of Father Peter rose in Lydia''s mind. Father Peter gave life to the sacred words while this abbey priest killed the words.


    After Mass, after breakfast, finally allowed to speak, Susanna said, ¡°We go to Sister Timothy now. She directs our Novitiate. I am so glad you are here. Sitting with that old, pudding of nun by myself has been life stranglin''.¡±


    Shocked by Susanna¡¯s disrespect, Lydia¡¯s mouth dropped open.


    A wicked grin of delight crinkled Susanna¡¯s lips. ¡°Close your mouth little bird and come on.¡±


    The pudding of a nun was in fact a slightly plump older woman with gentle and intelligent eyes. She said, ¡°Good morning Lydia, I trust you slept well.¡±


    It would be best not to lie to a nun. ¡°Nay Sister, I did not.¡±


    ¡°Was it the mice?''


    In part it had been the mice, so perhaps a partial truth was better than nothing. Lydia responded, "Aye."


    Sister Timothy smiled and said, ¡°They too are creatures of God¡¯s design.¡±


    ¡°They are vermin,¡± contradicted Susanna.


    ¡°That is enough Susanna. Girls go take your seats.¡±


    When Lydia turned to take her seat she was not prepared for what she saw. Painted on the wall, was the most exquisite portrait of Christ she had ever seen. His dark hair hung to his shoulders. His face was handsome. His eyes held her with a look of compassion that was...familiar. The eyes were the exact color and shape as James'' eyes. James who always treated her with respect and kindness when he came to buy Dame Paston''s candles. How had this Christ come to have the eyes of James?


    *


    One day followed another and became a week, then a month and then another month. As time passed Lydia became increasingly aware that at home, Moder had ordered their days as if they were nuns. Each day they had began with Mass and ended with Compline just as the nuns did at Romsey Abbey. In memory, as she recited the prayers of the day, Lydia would hear her mother¡¯s voice praying with her. At night when the nuns sang Simeon¡¯s praise song she heard her mother¡¯s voice sing:


    Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum verbum tuum in pace:


    Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum


    Quod parasti ante faciem omnium populorum:


    Lumen ad revelationem gentium, et gloriam plebis tuae Israel. *


    Each night at home after Simeon''s, Moder lapsed into complete silence, unless Fader was home. If he was home, which was seldom, the peace was destroyed.


    One night after they were tucked in their beds, Susanna whispered, "I hate this place. I hate the lessons, I hate the prayers, I hate the stupid boring clothes we wear."


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Lydia asked, "Why are you even here?"


    Susanna hissed, "Me brother sent me here. Paid a good price too. Mother Therese did not want me, but William, he offered her a tempting sum and she gave in to the temptation. My brother dunna want me around. He has a new wife and a concubine on the side. My tongue flaps too much he said and I was a risk he would not take. So, here I am, but I dunna aim to stay."


    "Where will you go?"


    "Me granny always said, ''A way will find you if you go lookin'' for it.'' So, I be lookin''. We got nearly two years before we take our vows. I got time to snag me a different future than my brother has planned. Once I learn to write good, I got a letter in mind to send his pretty wife."


    "Can his wife read?"


    "Damnation Lydia, I never thought of that. Not smart like you. But, I bet that if I send her a letter, she will find someone to read it to her."


    There was a sharp rap on the wall. One of the nuns had heard them talking. Susanna giggled and covered her mouth.


    *


    On the morning of Midsummer''s eve Lydia did not want to study her letters even though she was making good progress and she knew it. This morning she wanted home, she wanted the past. When she was a child, Bab would take her to an old oak tree near the River Test and tell her stories about the pixies and the other wee folk. If one was very lucky, one might see them when they came out on Midsummer''s eve. Bab swore she had seen them many a time, dressed in their finest, jeweled in dew drops. The pixies and wee folk danced in faerie rings to call forth the magic of their kind every Midsummer''s eve. Bab had promised to take Lydia to see the dance, and Bab always kept her promises. Unfortunately, King Edward''s exile of the Jews had forced Bab to break her promise. If Bab still lived, would she be watching the pixies and wee folk dance this night?


    Sister Timothy''s voice called her back to the present. Lydia looked up at the nun. In one hand she held the usual clay tablet. It was a a shallow box that contained a thin slab of clay. On this clay Lydia used a pointed stick to practice drawing her Latin letters. She got better with each practice. In Sistrer Timothy''s other hand was a different kind of tablet. It was made of wax! The instant Sister Timothy placed it before Lydia, her fingers shot to it. It had been months since she had touched wax. Sister Timothy said, "I showed Mother Therese your letter work on the clay tablets. She thinks you might have a gift for illuminating."


    "Really?"


    Sister Timothy smiled. "Aye. This is what the nuns use who illuminate the scriptures. They draw out their fancy work on wax then copy it onto parchment." The thought of working with wax filled Lydia with a sense of joy she had not felt since before her mother died. With gentle fingers she caressed the wax. The faint smell of honey filled her nostrils and her heart.


    "Here," said Sister Timothy, "is your stylus." Lydia took the bone instrument. It felt strange in her hand. In truth she did not want to injure the flat tablet of wax with it. The wax was so beautiful in and of itself. Seeming to read her thoughts Sister Timothy said, "You can not ruin it child. You know can always be melted down."


    Lydia did indeed know this. What she wanted most was to melt this wax down and make a candle from it. It had been so very long since she had practiced the trade of making vessels of light.


    Sister Timothy continued, "Now here is the scripture I want you to copy." The nun placed a slip of parchment beside the tablet.


    With great concentration Lydia copied the first letter onto the tablet. Slowly, letter by letter she wrote what was written on the parchment. When she was finished, Sister Timothy said, "Sound the letters out Lydia."


    "D-dixi-ti-que Deus: F-i-at lux. Et fact-a est lux."


    Sister Timothy asked, "Do you know what it says?"


    It sounded familiar.


    "Read them again Lydia."


    She read, "Dixitique Deus: Fiat lux. Et facta est lux." In that instant she knew what the words said! They said, "And God said, ¡®Let there be light,¡¯ and there was light.¡± In her mind she saw a vast darkness and heard a booming voice. Spontaneous light exploded filling the heavens and her mind. Words were powerful tools.


    _________________________________________________________________________________


    Translation : *Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O Lord, according to thy word in peace; Because my eyes have seen thy salvation, Which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples: A light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.

 Chapter 9. Cobb

    The wax tablet was magic beneath Lydia¡¯s stylus. Letters on clay tablets were slow, inelegant things that smelled of muck, but wax, wax was clean and pure. Each Latin letter set itself beautifully in wax. She asked Sister Timothy, ¡°Who pours the wax for these tablets?¡±


    ¡°Cobb makes them.¡±


    Cobb was the elderly Abbey gardener. Lydia knew he kept a few hives, but she had not known he did a bit of wax work!


    From the back of the room, Susanna asked, ¡°How much longer Sister, my hand is gettin¡¯ tired.¡±


    Sister Timothy coaxed, ¡°Come on Susanna, one more letter. Just one.¡±


    With a groan, Susanna finished her work. As she walked passed Lydia with her tablet, she looked down at Lydia¡¯s and said, ¡°You are really good.¡±


    The compliment made Lydia turn pink. She lifted her eyes to Susanna¡¯s. There was kinship in those eyes. It warmed Lydia. Growing up Moder had not let her play with other children lest she catch the latest disease. It had been lonely. ¡°Thank you Susanna.¡±


    ¡°You are welcome.¡± Susanna took her tablet up to Sister Timothy. While they went over Susanna¡¯s work. Lydia continued copying the scripture she had been given. She honestly could only read a few words on the tablet. One day, she hoped to be able to read everything she copied. It was hard to believe that not so long ago she had not wanted to read at all. Too soon, she finished the scripture. Her tablet was completely full.


    When it was her turn to have her work scrutinized, Sister Timothy was amazed. ¡°Lydia, you made nary a mistake.¡± For some reason Sister Timothy¡¯s eyes drifted tp the portrait of Christ on the wall. Lydia sensed the nun had just gone back in time. Sister Timothy turned her eyes to Lydia''s tablet and shook her head. ¡°I have not seen work like this since she was here.¡±


    Confused, Lydia asked, ¡°Who?¡±


    In a voice hollow with pain, Sister Timothy said, ¡°The young woman who painted that portrait.¡±


    Lydia''s mouth dropped open. A woman could paint like that! All her life she had been taught only men could paint. Why was this revelation so strange to her? Was she not a better candlemaker than Jacob? She was! A strange warmth stole through her. She did not know where it came from, or even what it was, but it was there and hope fluttered inside of her. She looked from the portrait to Sister Timothy. Tears stood in the old woman¡¯s eyes. She asked, ¡°Why are you crying Sister?¡±


    The nun dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. ¡°My tears are for her. Our world does not embrace gifted women. In fact it casts them out. Her art forced her into a secret life. No one can reach her where she is now.¡±


    ¡°Is she dead?¡±


    ¡°It would be a blessing if she were. If she is still bound to earth, it is a bitter binding.¡±


    Could it be bitter for this woman if she still painted, still practiced her art? If she still had that, did she not have everything?


    Sister Timothy laid down the tablet in her hands and said, ¡°You are dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Sister.¡± On swift feet Lydia went straight to the garden. Cobb might say no, but she had to ask him if he would let her make and melt tablets with him. Tablets were not candles but they were likely as close as she would get to making a candle at the Abbey.


    In the garden bees dipped their striped bodies into blossoms and birds sang in a frenzy. The air was fragrant with Midsummer. The garden spoke to her of Aunt Rachel and Bab. She suspected Cobb, like Bab, believed in pixies. Had he ever seen them? She had heard him speak to the bees. Bees with transparent wings hummed sweet love songs to their queen and Cobb hummed with them. She found him weeding the section of the garden where he grew the nine mystic herbs: rosemary, hellebore, lavender, comfrey, wormwood, vervain, rue, sage and marjoram.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He growled when he heard her footsteps. ¡°I not be givin¡¯ out no bags of sage and I dunna know where no pixies¡¯ well is. I canna help ye find true love. So go away.¡±


    ¡°I want none of those things.¡±


    Cobb turned at the sound of her voice and smiled. ¡°Aye, ye be a wise damsel. Can I help ye?¡±


    ¡°Sister Timothy told me you make the wax tablets for the Abbey. I am a good with wax, I could help."


    He studied her a moment and scratched his chin. ¡°So be ye the body that hid candles in me shed?¡±


    Fear roared inside of Lydia. He had found her candles! The candles Moder had made! Her throat constricted when she whispered, ¡°Aye.¡± What had he done with her candles?


    ¡°There now girl, dunna be lookin¡¯ so scared. Dunna blame ye for hidin¡¯ them. They be fine indeed. I dunna abide the nun¡¯s way of givin¡¯ up all earthly belongin¡¯s. The candles be safe in me room. If ye ever have need of um just tell me.¡± He gave her a crooked smile.


    Impulsively, Lydia hugged him. ¡°Thank you Cobb, thank you so much.¡± She let go of him and told him, ¡°My Moder made those candles, they are all I have left of her.¡± This was the first time she had spoken of Moder, since she left Southampton.


    A gentleness came to Cobb''s old eyes. ¡°Yer Moder were a fine candlemaker. Ye can help me with the wax if ye get permission. Dunna be askin'' Mother Therese, asked Sister Timothy.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    They both knew Sister Timothy would say yes.


    *


    Through the small window dark began to give way to faint light. Today, June 26, was Lydia¡¯s birthday. In the year 1299 most people did not know their own birthdays. Most people could not read or write. Since so many babies did not survive their first year it seemed a waste of time to to go to the trouble of recording the date of their birth. Aunt Rachel always recorded the birthdates of the babes she helped birth. Father Peter always baptized the babes that lived regardless of the happenstance of their lineage or legitimacy. Did Aunt Rachel and Father Peter remember today was the day of her birth? Did Fader?


    Quietly, Lydia got out of bed and dressed. Susanna rolled over but did not wake up. On silent feet Lydia crept out of the room and down the hall to the side entrance. The door groaned on its hinge when she pushed it opened. She glanced back, no one was behind her. No one was in the yard. Swiftly, she headed to the convent gate. According to the faint sky light, she should be able get to the River Test and back before Morning Mass. On the road she made quick progress to the path to the river. Once on the path, she hitched up her skirts and took off at a run. If only she had britches on, she could run so much faster. This thought brought to mind the hanging. Was that Noble still looking for her? Would he kill her if he found her? Why had he hanged that man? Fear thrummed inside Lydia. Going off alone was dangerous and stupid. She was about to turn back when she heard the sound of water flowing.


    The waters of the River Test traveled to Southampton. The river''s soft voice whispered to her, calling her to its side. Obediently, she heeded its call and knelt down on the bank. The river was gentle here, and small. Pale morning light reflected off the river''s surface. Two swans swam in slow circles beneath the lacy branches of a willow tree. With eyes focused on the swans Lydia let her mind drift back to the times she and her mother had spent by the river. The music of the water brought Moder close. Lydia whispered, ¡°I miss you.¡±


    A stone skidded behind her. Terror struck. Was it the Noble? She leapt to her feet and spun around. It was only Cobb. He had his truffle bag slung over his shoulder. Beside him, his pig, Hortense, stared up at Lydia with liquid black eyes. How had she not heard Hortense¡¯s approach? The beat of her heart began to slow. Cobb¡¯s bushy brows raised a bit. "Ye need to be more wary, Miss."


    "Aye." It was true she did. She waited for him to scold her.


    He turned his gaze toward the river, in a low voice he said,¡°It is peaceful and soul soothin¡¯ here. I understand why ye come, but it be unwise. Ye dunna want to be caned or kicked out of the abbey."


    She did not want either of those things.


    Hortense grunted loudly. The two swans hissed, slapped the water with their huge white wings and took flight. Lydia and Cobb stood completely mesmerized by their strength and beauty. Up, up they flew. Too soon they were out of sight.


    Cobb let out a sigh and said, "Mornin'' Mass will be startin'' soon. Now off with ye."


    Lydia obeyed. Though sweaty and panting, she managed to get inside the convent without being seen. When she entered the room she shared with Susanna, Susanna was pulling on her stockings. Though they were not supposed to speak before Mass, Susanna asked, ¡°Where have you been and why dunna you take me with you?¡±


    Lydia shrugged.


    Light flashed in Susanna''s eyes. ¡°You were with a man!"


    ¡°Nay!"


    The bells began to ring. Susanna shoved her feet into her shoes. ¡°Come on or we will be late and it will be all your fault!¡±


    As they made their way to the church, Cobb and Hortense were just entering the gate. He tipped his hat to the nuns and novices as they passed. Lydia gave him a small smile. In the afternoon they would be melting wax.

 Chapter 10. Samhuinn

    Summer came and went leaving Lydia with a new magic. New purpose had come to her. The power of words was a new country. Words strung to words formed sentences and ideas. She was reading the Bible, not just hearing it. Deus was God, and God was no longer invisible but a word recorded over and over in Scripture. He did things, He said things, He felt things.


    After Summer break the Nobles returned. Each had their own new bobbles, dresses and shoes. Susanna heard nary a thing during Masses. Her eyes were locked on these privileged females. Her eyes and heart coveted what she would never have.


    One night after Evensong, Susanna whispered, ¡°I wish I had me some fine clothes. I bet I could snag me a to do husband if I did."


    Lydia remained silent.


    Susanna continued, "I heard today that our King Edward Longshanks has taken a new bride.¡±


    The only way Susanna could have heard this is if she had been eve''s dropping again. Lydia was not in the mood for gossip. ¡°Shh, you will get us in trouble.¡±


    Susanna did not heed the warning. ¡°Guess how old King Edward is?¡±


    ¡°I do not know or care. Now, hush. We are not supposed to talk.¡±


    Refusing to be shushed, Susanna continued, ¡°They say he is still handsome for a man of his age. Sixty he is with both feet in the grave. Guess how old his bride is?¡±


    Lydia would not answer.


    Undeterred, Susanna said, ¡°His bride Princess Marguerite, the gorgeous King Philip the Fair¡¯s sister, is only seventeen.¡±


    Lydia did not comment. Poor Princess Marguerite, married off to a man so much older than she was, ousted from her home in Paris, all because Pope Boniface VIII had decided a marriage could heal the rift between the realms of King Edward and King Philip. If the new queen was lucky, King Edward would make her widow sooner rather than later.


    The next day talk of the Royal marriage was on everyone¡¯s tongue. All hoped that the truce between King Edward and King Philip would hold and peace would finally reign between the two kings. Gossip and hopes were forgotten when the pox broke out. It swept through London and the countryside. Many of the noble''s daughters left the Abbey school and returned to their homes. The Abbey became like a tomb, as all waited to see who the pox might claim.


    *


    One evening at the end of October, Susanna was sitting on the edge of her bed when Lydia entered their room. She asked, ¡°Do you want to come with me to Samhuinn?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. The pox is still about. Only a fool would go to Samhuinn this year."


    Susanna swung her legs back and forth. This was something she did when she was thinking hard, which was not often. "If we see a single scab, or rash we will come right back."


    "No."


    Susanna said, ¡°Dunna you want to see Cailleache Bheare*?"


    "Risk catching the pox to see a bear. No."


    A look of amazement came over Susanna''s face. "Lydia you have never heard of Cailleache Bheare? She is not a bear bear she is a powerful crone. She blows her cold breath upon the earth bringing winter. I heard one of the nobles say, they saw her last year. Dunna you want to see her?¡±


    There was something very familiar about this crone. What was it?


    Susanna''s voice dropped low, ¡°Dunna you want to see the moment when the dead and the yet to be born walk side by side."


    A chill went through Lydia. In memory she saw Bab flying overhead. Every detail thar terrible strange dream she surged to recollection. Bab was not a crone. She was a sweet old Jewish woman, a midwife not some powerful witch. Her mother was not a blue light, trailed by the spirits of Lydia''s dead sisters. They were in heaven safe from this world. And what of the glowing gold baby she thought belonged to her...it was just a dream. She was to be a nun and would never birth a baby living or dead.


    Susanna whispered, ¡°I have heard stories of people seeing their dead relatives and their future children dancing in the fields and forest together.¡±


    Lydia snapped, ¡°But we are novices. We will not have children.¡±


    "Oh Lydia, please. I hear the food is wonderful, and the music. So much music. It is magical celebration. Brewer Lecot will be giving away free beer. I adore beer. I must get out of this damned convent. If you dunna go with me, I will go alone."


    Susanna was Lydia''s first real friend. She was also careless girl sure to get into trouble, sure to get them both in trouble if Lydia went with her, sure to get in worse trouble if she went alone. For several long moments Lydia considered what to do. "All right, I will go with you if you promise we will be back before Compline."


    Susanna leapt from her bed and hugged Lydia hard. "I promise."


    No one had hugged her like this since she left home. Susanna gave her a big smack on the cheek, grabbed her hands and said, "You are the best friend ever!"


    Doubt filled Lydia as Susanna turned away from her. Was she being a good friend or a fool?


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Wrapped in their heaviest shawls they snuck out of the Abbey gate. Lydia had not been out the convent gate since her birthday. The smoky light of dusk beckoned them to the outskirts of town. All around freshly harvested fields were stubble. She could hear the sound of water running. It was the River Test, the river that flowed to her home. Viol music drifted in the air. It was sweet but unfamiliar. Lydia felt drawn to it.


    "Come on you turtle!" Susanna grabbed her hand and propelled her toward the beer booth. To the left of the booth two bonfires were being built. A shudder vibrated in Lydia''s body. There had been two bonfires in her dream.


    At the beer booth, Brewer Lecot eyed Susanna and smiled a peculiar smile. He handed her a clay cut of beer. In a single gulp Susanna finished it off. She smacked her pink lips and said, "Be better than my brother''s."


    "Would you and your friend like another?"


    "No thank you," said Lydia. She had to keep her wits.


    Susanna had two more cups then said, "I will be back for more." Brewer Lecot tipped his hat to the girls.


    Physically stronger than Lydia, Susanna literally drug her from booth to booth. They saw beads of wood and glass, strange trinkets, plates and bowls. At the herb booth Lydia stopped and fingered a branch of rosemary. Aunt Rachel, how she suddenly missed Aunt Rachel. Had her aunt and her sisters survived the pox? She prayed so.


    As they moved to the next booth Lydia suddenly became aware that male eyes were following them, many male eyes, both young and old. It had been ages since she had caught the eye of a man. It made her feel funny inside. It made her want to run back to Romsey Abby.


    Darkness fell all at once. A cold wind began to blow. The stars pricked through the darkness, tiny points of distant light. Lydia pulled her shawl closer. A long line of cattle were being lead to the bonfires. Their eyes were wide and white with terror. Several bawled in the most piteous way. Susanna covered her ears and shouted, "Such a racket!"


    Lydia asked, "What are they going to do with the cows?"


    "Oh, you are a dummy Lydia. They drive the cows between the bonfires. The ones that looked too thin or too poorly will be slaughtered for winter. The rest will live to have more babies in the spring."


    A man with an oozing scab on his cheek passed within inches of them. Instinctively Lydia held her breath and pointed.


    Susanna shrugged.


    Heavy coats and shawls could hide the pox! What a fool she was! Lydia had left all she knew lest she die birthing Jacob''s babies. Here she was risking her life for what, trinketsand free beer! Firmly she said,"We need to go back now."


    All the kindness drained from Susanna''s face. "I am stayin''. You can go if you like."


    Torn Lydia stared at her and then looked at the sky. It was almost time for Compline. "Please come."


    Susanna shook her head. "Go on, good little novice."


    The words stung. She would not fight Susanna or cause a scene. Angry and hurt Lydia turned and walked away. Near the edge of the field, she heard again the music that had first caught her ear. In the noise and confusion of her arrival, Lydia had not seen the young man with a halo of light brown hair. His booth contained musical instruments, recorders, flutes, viols and drums. He held a recorder to his lips and played a tune Moder had learned as a child in Paris. Her mother''s voice filled her mind:


    Kar vasselage par sens nen est folie,


    Mielz valt mesure que ne fait estultie.


    The translation echoed inside of Lydia:


    For courage mixed with prudence is not foolish,


    And moderation betters recklessness.*


    Guilt seized Lydia. She had not been courageous or prudent. She must get back to the Abbey. She took off down the road. Through the trees she sawa blue glow. It shimmered. The single glow separated into individual shapes, individual female shapes of tiny stature. The tallest light held an orb of gold! Lydia could not breathe. The wind shrieked and she looked up at the sky. A small shadow hovered overhead. Bab? Could it be Bab? A cold blast of wind hit her full in the face. Terrified she pulled her hem up as high as she dared and raced back to the Abbey. What mischief had she loosed this night? A terrible foreboding filled her. She and Susanna should have stayed safe. They should have stayed in their room.


    When she reached the Abbey gate it was latched! In fear and frustration Lydia yanked on it begging it to open.


    Cobb appeared out of garden shed and saw her. With lantern in hand, he came and unlatched the gate. He shook his head at her. His disappointment was obvious. "Be you alone?"


    Lydia shook her head.


    "I figured as much. I will go fetch the other Miss. Ye keep yer mouth shut about sneakin'' out. No good will come of it." He shook his gnarled finger in her face and said, "Dunna ever do it again."


    "I will never do it again."


    Irritated, Cobb spat out, "I will hold ye to yer word. Now get!"


    Lydia obeyed. When she reached her room, she sank to her knees beside her bed and buried her face in her hands. A prayer of repentance flew from her lips and her heart. Oh that God might forgive her for her trespass and bring Susanna safely home. The bells began to ring. It was time for Compline.


    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    *Cailleache Bheare see author''s note.


    *Song of Roland see author''s note.

 Chapter 11. Taking Flight

    During Compline, the priest lead them in the All Saints'' Eve Vigil. It was a time to recall those who had departed to heaven. The image of blue lights flickered through Lydia''s mind as she tried to concentrate on the words of the priest. Had she seen her mother and sisters? Why would her mother haunt her? She felt sick to her stomach and her head had began to ache. Was she coming down with hysteria or the pox? Please God no! When the service was over she went to her room.  Susanna was not there. Surely, Cobb had found her by now. Was Susanna isolated somewhere as punishment? Had she been caned or worse? So many questions swirled around inside her head and sleep did not come.  After an eternity, the light of All Saints'' Day began to push away the night. She got up and dressed for morning Mass.


    When the bells began to ring, she went into the hall and followed the nuns to the church. Today was the day to honor the dead. Without Susanna beside her, Lydia felt very alone. Her eyes traveled to the few remaining nobles who still attended classes. They could not return home anymore than she could.


    After Mass, Lydia snuck out to the garden to see Cobb. In the frost bitten garden Cobb was   assessing damage. She went up to him and asked, "Did you find her?"


    "Aye."


    "Is she here?"


    Cobb shook his head and gave her a look that demanded she asked no more questions.


    Not heeding the look Lydia asked, "Where is she?"


    ''"No more. She be alive, that be all ye need to know." He clamped his jaws with such force, Lydia knew he would not tell her a word more. His expression also revealed how very diappointed he was in her.


    She dropped her eyes to the frosted ground. "I know I was bad Cobb. I should have stayed put and I should have made sure Susanna did too."


    Cobb put a clumsy hand on her shoulder and said, "That Miss has a wild streak. I reckon she put you up to it.  Be times the only answer is no. Remember that.  Now go on, it be too cold to be out here." With a wave of his hand he dismissed her.


    *


    Susanna did not return to Romsey Abbey. What had happened to her no one would say. Had she been sent home? Lydia did not know. No one spoke her name, not even Sister Timothy. The loss of Susanna, and the erasure of her name and presence hurt. Lydia had lost her friend as surely as if she had died.


    After Christmas,  Sister Timothy taught Lydia how to make an ink pen out of a reed and how to make ink from walnut hulls.  Ink on parchment scraps was not as forgiving as wax was. Her pen spat ink and made ugly spots. The ugly spots would not go away. The ink stained her skin. Her smudged letters covered scraps of parchment. The ruined scaps could not be melted down like wax.  The only way to get rid of them was burn them, but Sister Timothy would not let her do this. She said, "One must remember one''s mistakes to see how far one has come." This bit of wisdom annoyed Lydia. She was making slow progress in her goal of becoming an illuminator. In fact, what she was becoming increasingly aware of was that writing in wax was her pleasure. It was the wax, it was the wax''s link to candle making that enchanted her. Tied to dirty ink there was not any joy in writing. She just did it because she was supposed to...because it passed time.


    The desire to make candles again grew into an endless ache. Making wax tablets with Cobb was no longer enough. Her free spirit began to resist the confines of the Abbey. She longed to walk freely, live freely...was freedom even possible if one were born female? Aunt Rachel knew a degree of it. The fierce and independent blood of the Wades flowed in Lydia''s veins.  Her blood was beginning to tell.


    One morning hoping to encourage Lydia, Sister Timothy sent to her to Sister Clare''s room. Sister Clare was an illuminator. With an air of pride Sister Timothy ushered Lydia into the nun''s cluttered room. She said, "This is the novice I have been telling you about." She intoduced them.


    Sister Clare rose from the desk where she was seated. On the desk was a rectangular sheet of parchment with beautiful letters written in black.  There was a smudge of ink on Sister Clare''s nose.  The fingers on her right hand were stained  black. Lydia glanced down at her own hand. Would it one day be permanently stained?If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Sister Clare said, ¡°It is good to finally meet you, Lydia." Her eyes traveled to Sister Timothy. "I will send her back to you after mid meal."


    Sister Timothy bowed and left the room.


    With a sparkle in her eye, Sister Clare said, "Hye, first  I will show you my store room.¡± In the west wall was a door. Sister Clare opened it. A terrible smell poured out of the room. It stank like Aunt Rachel''s garden shed. In this room dried woad and fresh buckthorn berry protruded from crocks. Dead bugs were in a bowl with their little legs sticking stiffly toward heaven. On a shelf was an array of glittering rocks. Some were in shades of yellow and orange, others were in hues of blue. One large flaked stone was as blue as the deepest night. It was beautiful. Sister Clare picked it up and asked,  ¡°It is lovesome, is it not?¡±


    Lydia nodded.


    ¡°I crush this azurite into powder to make the blue of the Virgin¡¯s robe and the blue of the sky.¡±


    An insect with long legs pushed itself out of a box. With one hand, Sister Clare grasped it and shoved it back into the box. ¡°That little critter makes a lovely shade of red.¡± She touched the buckthorn berry branches. ¡°These  make green.¡± Aunt Rachel used Buckthorn bark and leaves to treat coughs, tummy trouble and diarrhea. Were recipes for illumination close kin to that of medicine? When Sister Clare opened a box of finely ground black powder she said, ¡°There are various recipes but this is what I use to make black ink. It is burned bones and oak gall.¡±


    Lydia¡¯s mind went to Aunt Rachel''s shed. Inside of it was a box of bones. Rumor was they were human bones. Was illuminator ink made of human bones?


    ¡°Why are you looking like that child?¡±


    Unsettled, Lydia asked, ¡°What kind of bones do you use?¡±


    ¡°Sheep. What kind did you think?¡±


    Lydia lied, ¡°I dunna know.¡±


    ¡°In time I will show you how to prepare all my inks and pigments.¡± Sister Clare opened cupboard. Inside of it were the split skins of calves, some had been cut, others had not. These would become pages of parchment. Beside skins were ready pages of parchment and a stack of wax tablets. At the sight of the tablets something inside of Lydia relaxed. Even the presence of wax calmed her. Instinctively, Lydia¡¯s fingers reached out to caress the wax.


    From another shelf Sister Clare pulled out a wax tablet and showed it to Lydia. Drawn on the surface of the wax was the form of Eve. Delicately lined flowing hair covered her nakedness. Her eyes were riveted on the snake that wound himself around the Tree of Knowledge. Adam looked away from Eve and the snake. Lydia did not like this story. All the faults of the world were heaped on poor Eve.


    *


    December passed into January. The weather was bleak and Lydia was lonely. While she interacted some with the nuns, she was the smallest hen in the Abbey pecking order and no one outside of Sister Timothy and Sister Clare bothered with her. At night alone in her room she would try to remember what she had to be thankful for, food, shelter, her virginity, her ability to read and write. These things alone were not enough though.  Thoughts of escape filled her mind. Where would she go, what would she do? She did not know.


    On an afternoon in late January a familiar voice echoed in the halls of Romsey Abbey. On her way to Sister Timothy''s class she heard her father shouting, ¡°I hear tell my daughter is here. She dunna belong to you." Lydia stopped where she was. The door to Mother Therese''s room was open. Fader was in there! He continued, "She is betrothed and I am a man of my word. Back she goes with me. I will go to the priest, he will see things my way and you know it!¡±


    Mother Therese murmured something. Lydia felt a hand close around her wrist. She almost screamed with fright. When she turned she saw Sister Timothy. Her lips were pressed tightly together. She jerked her head to the side, bidding Lydia to follow her. Quietly they crept to Sister Timothy''s room. From the cupboard, the nun produced a man''s coat and hat. To Lydia''s astonishment she also handed her the tunic and britches Father Peter had given her. "Quick, put these on."


    Lydia stripped off her novice dress and pulled on the boys clothes. Sister Timothy helped her slip on the coat and hat. In the pocket of the coat Lydia felt a reed pen, an ink pot and a book of parchment. Sister Timothy kissed her forehead. "Now be gone. Cobb will meet you at the gate. I will go and help stall your father. Run girl, run!"


    With one quick glance at the Christ on the wall, Lydia fled the Abbey. At the gate Cobb was waiting for her. He handed her a bag. It contained her candlebox. He jabbed his chest and said, "Follow me."


    Old though he was, Cobb''s stride was massive and swift. They ducked into the woods and he cut a path only he could follow. Lydia panted behind him clutching the bag. The faint scent of honey filled her nostrils. As they made their way, Lydia wondered if this was the way Susanna had gone. She wondered if tomorrow her own name would ceased to be spoken in the Abbey as if she never existed at all.


    The afternoon was bitterly cold. By eventide, snow was falling. Hungry, thirsty, tired and frightened Lydia continued to put one foot in front of the other. They came out of the woods on South Road near the Swan Inn. A wooden sign with a swan on it rattled in the wind. At the door of the inn Cobb said, "This is where we part girl. When ye go inside ask for Vivian. When you see her say, ''I have come to apply for the char girl position.'' She will take care of ye from there." He patted her shoulder and turned away from her. She watched him until he slipped back in the woods. Would she ever see him again?

 Chapter 12. The Dragon

    The instant Lydia laid her hand on the inn¡¯s door, the sound of horses clattered behind her. She turned. IT COULD NOT BE! Had Fader bribed Mother Therese¡¯ the same way Susanna¡¯s brother bribed her? Most likely. Lydia slipped into the shadows and slid off the porch. Fader and Jacob tethered their horses. With her heart banging in her ears, Lydia watched them stomp up the Swan¡¯s Inn steps. If Fader caught her would he marry her off to Jacob this very night? It would not be hard to find a willing priest if Fader lined his palm with silver and gold.


    Thomas Wade grabbed the door and swung it open. Light bathed him. The determination on his face sent a chill through Lydia. The desire to suddenly take flight almost overwhelmed her but she held her place. Jacob followed behind his master. He looked weary but eager. Time had not improved his countenance. The door slammed shut behind him.


    Panicked Lydia turned  and looked around her. There were some outbuildings, but surely Fader would search the property as he had most likely searched Romsey Abby. Her eyes went to the woods. No, not into the woods, she would get lost there.  She darted onto the road and headed straight into the night wind. It bit her face and numbed her entire body, but she did not stop running. A time or two she slid. Her swift legs, tired though they were, carried her far beyond the Swan Inn. A place to hide had yet to materialize. Fear of frostbite wiggled in her head. It was so cold. How much did it hurt to freeze to death? If she kept moving, she would not freeze. Her pace slackened. She was barely getting one foot in front of the other when she heard a strange metallic  sound.


    Over the next rise a huge many footed monster appeared. Its legs and body were black. The body was shaped like a giant water beetle. Its two eyes blazed with fire. Dear God, was this what a dragon looked like? Would she be its virgin feast? That would be worse than marrying Jacob.The sound of the dragon was all rattles and clinks. The steady rhythm of feet approaching immobilized Lydia. Death, death, and the reality of what came after, would soon be knowledge she would own. Unable to move, unable to even close her terrified eyes, she watched the dragon approach. How much would it hurt to be torn to bits? The flaming eyes flashed at her. Would it breathe fire over her? Did it prefer roasted virgins or raw? She turned to run, but went skidding across a patch of ice. The frozen ground came up to meet her. She thrust her hands out. Pain shot up her arms at impact. She glanced behind her. The monster was almost upon her. She cried out to Saint Margaret of Antioch for help! All at once the dragon screeched and came to a snorting halt. Saint Margaret had heard her cry! The flaming eyes suddenly shifted into two lit lanterns. A man jumped down from a high seat. Two black horses shook themselves and whinnied.  This was not a dragon, this was some sort of bizarre wagon.


    With lantern in hand, the man came toward her. Lydia tried to get up, but her legs would not co-operate. A shaft of light shot out the side of the weird thing. A female voice asked, ¡°Why are we stopping?¡±


    ¡°There is a traveler Ma¡¯am, who looks quite cold.¡±


    Lydia knew this man''s voice. When she met his eyes, she knew that he knew who she was.


    Gently he asked, ¡°Would you be needing a ride lad?¡±


    The voice inside the horse drawn thing became eager, ¡°A lad? What does he look like? James bring him here.¡±


    James, Dame Paston¡¯s man, the one who had come regularly to buy candles at Thomas Wade¡¯s shop, nodded in the direction of the voice, the voice that must belong to Dame Paston. Finally, Lydia would see this phantom woman she had always heard of but never seen.


    James helped her up and took her to the thing. A large woman peered out the side window at her. In an anxious voice she said, ¡°Come boy, closer to my carriage so I can see you.¡±


    So the beetle looking thing was a carriage. Some of the Nobles at the Abbey had talked of them, but until this night she had never seen one. Lydia moved to the open window. Suddenly the Dame squealed, ¡°It is him. Tilt your head up son.¡± A fat finger reached out and lifted Lydia¡¯s chin. Two dark eyes stared into hers. A hug smile split the woman¡¯s round face. ¡°Praise God! James, do you know who this is?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Fear, terrible fear took hold of Lydia. She turned desperate eyes to James, he must not give her away.


    He smiled reassuringly at Lydia and said, ¡°No Ma¡¯am. Who is this?¡±


    Dame Paston clapped her hands together. Her eyes rolled to the heavens before lighting back on Lydia. ¡°This is the boy in my dreams. The one who can keep George out of hell.¡±


    Silently, Lydia wondered what Lord George Paston had done to get himself into hell.


    For several silent moments Dame Paston studied Lydia¡¯s face. ¡°Yes you are him. Oh, I knew you would come. I have been about my prayers, fasting and all.¡± Lydia doubted the Dame ever fasted. ¡°Oh, James this is a miracle.¡± Tears slipped down the Dame¡¯s cheeks. ¡°A miracle. I had stopped believing in them. George will have eternity now.¡±


    James said, ¡°As far as I can tell, the lad has not agreed to anything.¡±


    Lydia¡¯s heart hammered hard. She had landed in something. She was not sure if it was good or bad. Regardless it offered a chance of escape, a chance to put some distance between herself, her father and Jacob.


    The woman pushed open the coach door and said, ¡°Come boy, ride with me. I have a matter which I would like to discuss with you. Now, tell, what is your name?¡±


    Lydia knew she must play this well. She took the extended hand and tried to bow, like a boy would. She lowered her voice and said, ¡°I am Luke."


    "Like the gospel of Luke! Oh this is a good sign!  Come along now, hurry, all our warmth is escaping.¡±


    Suddenly unsure, Lydia glanced at James. His eyes met hers. They were indeed similar to the eyes of  the Christ''s on Sister Timothy¡¯s wall. Had he ever been to Romsey Abbey? James nodded toward the door. Dame Paston snapped the window shut. Lydia climbed inside. A small lantern lit the interior. James closed the door behind her and she settled onto the dark wool seat beside Dame Paston. Across from her an elderly maid slept. The coach swayed a little as James climbed onto the driver¡¯s seat. Once seated he called out, "Hye!" The coach lurched forward. The lamp light wavered as the vehicle jerked along the road. The contraption creaked, groaned and pitched about. It took all Lydia¡¯s strength to remain upright. Dame Paston¡¯s weight seemed to keep her solidly in her seat. The maid, somehow remained both asleep and in her seat as well.


    With tear bright eyes, Dame Paston said, ¡°Now I shall tell you how you are an answer to my prayers. Please do agree to do what I ask."


    Being a Wade, this was something Lydia would not do. One must be shrewd. She said, ¡±Not until I know what you require ."


    "Very well," Dame Paston sighed. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. In a far away voice she said, "Dreams are the way God speaks to me." It took all Lydia''s self control not to leap out of the coach. Dreams were dangerous things and this woman might be crazy. Still, somewhere in the darkness was Fader and he was more dangerous than dreams. More to herself than Lydia the Dame continued, "I knew my George was having some trouble, and I am to blame. He needed the firm hand of his father. What was I to do? My husband has been dead seven years. I am sure he is in hell or at least he should be.  I have paid no indulgences for him, nor will I. Life with him this side of heaven was miserable. I have no desire to share eternity with him. George on the other hand, I would give my fortune to see him when I cross over.¡±


    The white fur muff in Dame Paston¡¯s lap, suddenly moved. It uncurled itself and stared at Lydia with two shiny black eyes. It bared its teeth. A growl rumbled low in its chest. It was a little dog! Lydia had heard of lap dogs but she had never seen one.   ¡°There Precious. Mommy is fine.¡±  Dame Paston hugged the dog and continued, ¡°I saw you in a dream one Summer night. You were crossing a field at sunset. Saint Peter appeared to me and said, ¡®This child will travel to my church in Rome and by making this journey  free your son from the chains of hell.¡¯"


    Shocked, Lydia stared at Dame Paston. Saint Peter had not said boy, he had said child. Was she the child?


    Dame Paston continued, "Brother Matthew thought me a lunatic when I told him about the dream. It was hard work getting him  to write the the Bishop for the necessary proxy papers. He thought the Bishop would refuse, but gold paves many a barred street. I wonder what Brother Matthew will say when he sees that you have indeed materialized." The light in the dame''s eyes went out. Tears slid down her round cheeks. "My poor George. Oh, if only he were still here." She put her face in her fat hands and began to sob.


    Precious stood in Dame Paston''s lap and began to lick her hands. The old female servant woke up and said, "Me lady, be it George again?"


    "Aye, Old Bess it is."


    Old Bess''s eyes lit on Lydia and squinted. "This be the lad ye dreamed of?"


    Removing her hands from her face, Dame Paston said, "It is."


    "Then, stop yer bawlin'' and be grateful."


    "You are right, Old Bess." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Precious resumed his seat in her lap. After several silent moments, Dame Paston had composed herself. In a low voice the she said to Lydia, ¡°God had our paths cross tonight. Do you believe that?¡± Her eyes became strangely luminescent in the unsteady lamplight.


    Had God done this? Really?

 Chapter 13. The Castle

    The aroma of fresh water mingled with salt water and sweet, wet, sand invaded the hurling contraption. They must be near Paston castle. The castle was a short walk to Southampton. Aunt Rachel would soon be within walking distance! Lydia''s heart beat faster. Aunt Rachel would know what she should do. The horses''s hooves hit gravel. There was the screeching sound and then the banging of iron against stone. The carriage passed through what must be the castle wall. Torch light flickered beyond the windows. James shouted, "Whoa!" The horses stopped with a jerk. The carriage swayed when James jumped down. Dame Paston and Old Bess both woke up. Precious, who had not slept rose to his feet and stared at the door. It popped open. James helped Dame Paston and Old Bess down. Lydia forgot she was a boy, but James did not. He did not take her hand and help her down, instead he cut his eyes to the ground. Embarrassed Lydia stepped out on her own.


    Dame Paston said, ¡°James, go notify Brother Matthew that my angel has arrived.¡±


    ¡°But it is very late Ma¡¯am.¡±


    "Yes, indeed it is. It can wait till morning." She yawned hugely.


    A stable boy appeared out of the dark and took the horses'' reigns. To James. he said, "Your moder told me to tell ye to go to the kitchen."


    A manservant opened the castle''s ornate wooden door and escorted Dame Paston and Old Bess inside.


    James said to Lydia, "Come with me. Your are hungry no doubt."


    They walked around to the back entrance. The castle, illuminated by torchlight, looked like a huge granite tree stump. Its narrow deep windows contained blown glass panes. Lydia saw her own reflection from foot to hat in the wavy glass. With her close cropped hair and shapeless clothes, she did look like a boy. An odd sensation passed through her. James lead her to the servant door and into the kitchen. A thin woman with a kind smile stirred a pot of something at the hearth. She asked, "And who might this be?"


    James said, "Dame Paston believes this is her angel."


    The woman''s expression instantly changed. All kindness was wiped from her features. "Oh, good Lord. That woman. Now she is gunna have you off to Rome. James, I dunna like it. I dunna like it at all. She riskin'' the life of my only son to save the soul of her dead one. A son, who was not good or kind or worthy of your life." A bite of fury was in her last words.


    "I must do her bidding. I am honor bound. Have some faith Moder."


    "Faith, aye, there is a difference between honest faith and utter stupidity. She bought a bishop, she will buy Pope Boniface, too I wager. Bribery is not likely to get ANYONE''S soul into heaven-" The woman cut her sentence short and stared at Lydia. She asked, "Do you have a name?"


    Before she could answer, James said, "His name is Luke."


    "Face looks a bit familiar to me. Where did you find him?"


    "Traveling along the road. The Dame took a fancy to him, what was I to do? Moder he is tired and hungry. Will you not feed him?"


    "Of course I will. Sit yourselves down. Brother Matthew will be happy about this turn of events but his moder will not."


    The lamb stew was good and warm, but Lydia found her appetite lacking. Truth was she did not want to go to Rome. She wanted Aunt Rachel. She wanted Aunt Rachel terribly. After they finished their stew James, with candle in hand, took her to his room off the kitchen. He sat the candle down on a carved chest. On the chest was a framed drawing of a young woman''s face. There was fire and determination in her expression. Lydia wondered who''s she was, but did not ask.


    Against the wall was a straw mattress on the floor. Surely James did not expect her to share his bed with her. He said, "The bed is yours. I have some matters to attend to." He bowed to her and left the tiny room.


    Cold crept into the room from the shuttered window. Lydia went to it and tried it. The shudders swung open. The icy night air swept through the uncovered window. Stars peeked through dark, torn clouds. The music of th River Test filled her ears. It was a sound she had missed. She looked around the yard. She could see the garden, the chicken coops, the barns, stables and a bunch of beehives. The wall was high, but there was an oak tree in one corner. That would be her best escape route. She checked her bag with its box of candles, she put her writing stuff and the sprig of church yard yew Old Kate had given her into it. She had no food, but that was not necessary. She would soon be in Aunt Rachel''s kitchen.


    Lydia leveled herself on the window ledge and put out a cautious toe. Her toe made contact with frozen ground.Slowly, cautiously, she crossed the yard. When she reached the wall looked much higher than it had from the window. Would she be able to breech this fortress after all? She had heard stories about how men had fought here defending this wall. Men had died. All at once the yard seemed inhabited by ghosts. Lydia chided herself for her over active imagination and grabbed the oak''s lowest branch. She was half way up the tree when a voice asked, ¡°Going somewhere?¡±


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Lydia looked down. It was James. Blast it all. What to do? She could keep climbing, but he would only follow her. She was the Dame''s prize and he would not let her get away. "I want to see my Aunt Rachel. I do not want to go to Rome."


    ¡°Please, come down. It is too cold to go anywhere.¡±


    "I want to see Aunt Rachel."


    "There is something I must tell you." A note of sympathy crept into James''s voice. It set off alarms in Lydia''s mind. He continued, "Miss Wade I am sorry to tell you your aunt died a fortnight ago.¡±


    Though his words reached Lydia¡¯s ears they did not penetrated her brain. Stupidly she asked, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I am sorry but your aunt has passed.¡±


    ¡°No, no. You must be mistaken. Aunt Rachel is strong. Like me, she never gets sick¡±


    "During the pox she worked hard for the poor, I fear she wore herself out and the pox took her."


    This was impossible. No wonder Fader had come looking for her. An ache as large as the one she had felt the night her mother died opened up inside of her. Though she knew James was holding out his arms waiting to assist her down, she did not accept his assistance. When she was on the ground again she looked up into his shadowed face. In a small voice she asked, "Old Kate, is she still living?"


    "Aye, she moved in with her brother after you disappeared. He has a farm outside of Dorset. For some reason she took a woman named Hagar and her multitude of daughters with her."


    James knew about Fader''s concubine and her half sisters. What else did James know? He said, "Come back inside, please."


    Reluctantly, she followed him to the castle.


    *


    The next morning Lydia found herself seated at a long dining table. A huge platter of meat and fried eggs sat between her and Dame Paston. There was a rustling of heavy silks. Lady Bolton seemed to float into the room wrapped in thick shawl of the fine pale blue wool. She kissed Dame Paston on the cheek and took the chair beside her.


    The serving girl asked Lady Bolton, ¡°Will Lord Paston be joining us this morning?¡±


    Lady Bolton, said, ¡°No. ¡±


    ¡°I will notify the kitchen.¡± The serving girl left.


    Dame Paston said, "Oh Marianne, meet my Angel, Luke."


    Lady Bolton, turned her attention to Lydia. Her eyes were the same color as her shawl, a most unusual shade. She had, what Old Kate called changlring eyes, eyes that reflected whatever color she wore.Those eyes held Lydia fast. They told her Lady Bolton knew who she was, and what she was about. To Dame Paston Lady Bolton asked, ¡°Have you told Master Luke the fee you will pay him?"


    Fee? So, like the bishop, she was to be bought too. And what would her price be? She might die on the journey, if she was lucky. In the back of her mind a thought suddenly flickered. Money, her own money. Why with money, as Luke, she could open her own candle shop. Dame Paston would surely pay her angel well.


    Dame Paston exclaimed, "O, my goodness Marianne. I have no head for details. Luke you will be paid a hundred gold once you reach Saint Peter''s. You can come back with James and Brother Matthew, or stay where ever you like once you receive Pope Boniface''s absolution for my dear George."


    So she did intend to bribe the Pope. This was a fine business indeed. Lydia knew her soul was at risk. Perhaps at the end of this bizarre affair, she could seek her own absolution and gain heaven. Moder was there for sure, Aunt Rachel, that was uncertain. She must pray for Aunt Rachel''s soul and her own.


    In a pitiful, yet dramatic voice, Dame Paston pleaded, "Please tell me Luke, what you have decided."


    Did she really have a choice? No. She turned from the force of Lady Bolton''s gaze and looked at the dame. In a firm voice she said, "Aye, I will go."


    Dame Paston clapped her chubby hands together. "Oh this is indeed the finest morning I have known in a long time. Bless you my child. Bless you!" The dame smiled so hugely, Lydia was certain half her face was going to fall off. All at once the dame''s countenance changed. She slapped her hand on the table and said, ¡°I shall go too.¡±


    In a patient, but highly amused voice, Lady Bolton said, ¡°You and Geoffrey have been round and round about this. Your health could not stand the trip. James and Brother Matthew will escort your angel boy to Rome. Besides the Bishop has not issued the necessary papers for you to travel.¡±


    Dame Paston¡¯s face turned red. She banged her fist on the table. ¡°You, shall not tell me what to do. And papers be damned. Once I rode in the Crusades with Queen Eleanor. What times we had. I will not be denied this adventure. I am going on this trip and no one can stop me.¡±


    Lydia watched Lady Bolton¡¯s face. She did not return Dame Paston''s anger, instead, she softly said, ¡°In my condition, I need you here with me. The trip might take longer than we anticipate. What if you missed the birth of your first grandchild?¡±


    Grandchild! What! Had she wed Lord Geoffrey Paston? Apparently, and now they had a child on the way! Lady Bolton, now Lady Paston, had been a very busy young woman in Lydia''s absence.


    The anger left Dame Paston''s face. She smiled at her daughter-in-law and said, "No, I do not want to miss the birth of my first grandchild. As handsome as Geoffrey is, I do hope the baby favors George."


    Smiling like a satisfied barn cat who had just made a kill, Lady Paston said, "Yes, I hope so too."

 Chapter 14. Saint Anne鈥檚 Chapel

    They stood in the yard. The sun was at its zenith. The castle wall sheltered them from the rising wind. Lydia clutched the fur lined cloak Dame Paston had given her. It covered her gray pilgrim''s robe. The round pilgrim''s hat with the red cross on it obliterated a good bit of her peripheral vision, it also hid her face, which was a good thing. Vagrant tears kept leaking out of her eyes. In her hand was her pilgrim''s staff. It was a tool of locomotion and a weapon of defense. A pilgrimage was not without its dangers. Beneath her cloak and robe was the bag of her most treasured possessions, candles, writing tools and the sprig of yew. It grieved her to know her bag did not contain a single thing from her Aunt Rachel and then she remembered. The wax in the candles had been made by Aunt Rachel''s bees. It was a small thing, but it was something.


    Beside Lydia stood a very young monk. He possessed exactly two whiskers on his chin. Under his arm was a leather wallet with their pilgrimage papers. He was in such a good mood, it was irritating. James'' mother stood across from them. Her face was grim and her eyes were dark. With too much enthusiasm Brother Matthew said, ¡°Do not worry, dear lady God has opened this door.¡±


    She cut her dark eyes at the monk. ¡°Aye? Has he, Brother Matthew?


    ¡°Yes of course He has. Just as Dame Paston dreamed her angel appeared. Miracles do happen. More will come, you will see. Where is your son? I am impatient to begin my first adventure in faith.¡±


    In a voice steeped in bitterness, James'' mother said, ¡°Adventures in faith are not all glory, or have you not read the scriptures Brother Matthew?"


    Her question did not dim his smile. "All things come at a price."


    "Aye, and you will find out soon enough the expense of being a fool." Her words were hard, and they tore through Lydia.


    Brother Matthew simply laughed.


    From the barn James and an older man appeared. By the look of the older man, he must be James'' father. Behind them was a brown mule hitched to a pony cart.


    At the sight of the mule Brother Matthew''s good spirits evaporated. "MOSES AARON, I will not be toted to Rome by MOSES AARON! That mule is diabolical and contrary."


    A sharp glint came into the older man''s brown eyes. ¡°Ah, Moses Aaron, dunna listen to the daft monk. A finer more sure-footed creature God has never created." The man''s voice caught. He leveled his gaze at Brother Matthew and said, "You dunna be abusin'' this mule. Mark my words, in the Alps you will thank God for him. Hye now, undertide is long past. You best be goin'' or night will catch you out.¡±


    Brother Matthew did not move. "I want horses and a wagon."


    The glint in man''s eye turned to fire. He barked, "Lord Geoffrey Paston did not clear horses or a wagon for this journey. Make you conspicuous, bait for thieves and such like. Now stop your bellerin'' and get on your way."


    Perturbed Brother Matthew scrambled onto the cart. Lydia did the same. James hugged his mother. "I will be back Moder, I promise."


    "A promise you have no power to keep." Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she studied her son''s face. She kissed him and let him go.


    James'' father said, ¡°Take care my son.¡±


    ¡°I will Fader.¡± James climbed up beside Lydia and clucked to the mule. The cart wheels crunched the frozen earth beneath them.


    As soon as they left the protection of the castle wall the full force of the icy wind struck them. The mule''s breath was white. His hooves made a steady clip clop on the road. Ahead the hearths of Southampton spewed their smoke into the sky. At the sight of them Lydia felt her heart contract.


    *


    At eventide they stopped at a derelict chapel. Beside the front door was a collection of walking staffs. Other pilgrims were inside. James drove Moses Aaron to the sheltered side of the chapel and tied him to a post. Brother Matthew pulled a slip of parchment from his robe and murmured, "Saint Anne''s chapel." With a charcoal stick, he put a slash through the first line.


    Lydia asked, ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Marking off our stops.¡±


    ¡°Our stops, I thought we were headed straight for Rome.¡±


    Brother Matthew shook his head. ¡°Nay lad. A pilgrim never heads straight for any place, save heaven.¡± With the forefinger of his left hand, he counted the lines on the paper. Lydia counted with him and exclaimed, ¡°Thirty-three!¡±


    ¡°One for every year of our Lord Christ¡¯s life. It is what the Dame prescribed.¡±


    ¡°If we visit all those places it will take more than a twelvmonyth to reach Saint Peter¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Nay. James will not let us linger over long. He is not fond of shrines and churches.¡± He shoved the list and stick into his robe pocket.


    James called, ¡°Hye, lads.¡± Brother Matthew hopped down. For Lydia, the decent was a bit treacherous. She had not yet mastered getting down alone. If she had just been wearing britches it would have been easy enough, but the damned robe confined her like a dress and encumbered all movement. When she reached the oak door riddled with wormwood, James opened it. The rusty hinges screamed. A group of pilgrims were gathered around the eastern wall. A gray bearded priest said, ¡°Do come in quickly, lest all our warmth escapes.¡±


    "Of course." James closed the screaming door behind him. Without the dying light of day, the chapel was immediately cast into a smokey darkness. Acrid tallow candles burned on the altar. James, prodded Lydia and Brother Matthew to the group. On the wall was a portrait of Eve, the fallen mother. Unlike the modest Eve, Sister Clare had drawn in wax, this Eve was very masculine. Her hair was blown back revealing breasts that perched on her bare chest like two round apples. She did not have any nipples or any other feminine anatomy. Her eyes were closed. The snake, coiled in the tree of Knowledge, flicked his tongue at her. The priest said, ¡°Behold our carnal history. If God had not made woman the world would not have been thrown into chaos.¡±


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    A small snort came from Brother Matthew. He asked, ¡°Are you saying God made a mistake when he created woman?¡±


    Tartly the priest replied, ¡°I am only saying He should not have.¡±


    ¡°So you are saying God made a mistake.¡±


    The priest turned cold eyes on Brother Matthew. ¡°I know God does not make mistakes. But woman, that vile creature forsook her God. Do you not recall the words of of Tertullian*?" Before Brother Matthew could answer, the old man quoted, ¡°Do you not know you are Eve?...You are the devil¡¯s gateway; you are the unsealer of that forbidden tree; you are the first deserter of the divine law; you are she who persuaded him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God¡¯s image, man. On account of your desert-that is, death-even the son of God had to die.¡±


    Brother Matthew looked at him steadily. ¡°No, I have not heard that before, but if memory serves me correctly, when God chose to redeem the world he sent his agent through the body of a woman. Also, after all but one of Christ¡¯s disciples deserted him at the cross, it was the women who remained with him until his death. It was to women that he first appeared after his resurrection. Why do you think that was?¡±


    The old priest scowled at Brother Matthew and said, ¡°God¡¯s ways are too mysterious for me to decipher, and certainly beyond your foolish contemplation.¡± He turned his attention to the other pilgrims. ¡°Now, come see what we have in our reliquary boxes" The priest limped to the altar and pulled out a wooden box. The box was illustrated with paintings of John the Baptist''s life. The pilgrims gathered closer around him as he opened the box. Inside was a tiny broken pearl.Brother Matthew pushed Lydia forward. They went to the edge of the circle. The priest proclaimed, ¡°''John the Baptist''s baby tooth.¡±Everyone, including Brother Matthew, oohed and aahed. Lydia glanced back at James. His face was expressionless.


    The priest pulled out a second box. It was copper gilt and enamel. On it were tiny copper medallions of the Holy Mother. The medallions caught the flicker of the acrid altar candles. Their stench was overwhelming. Lydia felt like she was about to be sick. In the wavering candle light, the priest opened its lid and exclaimed, ¡°Now for the shred of the Virgin Mary¡¯s veil!" The priest pulled a shred of ancient, stained, dark blue wool from the box. "This is but a remanent of the veil Mary wore the night our Lord was born. Touching this scrap of cloth has blessed many a womb with healthy thriving children.¡±


    What?! A miracle had been a mere half days drive away and Fader had not brought Moder to this place just because did not believe in miracles. Moder believed in them! Would Moder be alive now, if Fader had brought her here? Did the scrap of wool possess power or was it rubbish? Lydia turned from the priest to look at the other pilgrims. They were all male. No one touched the cloth. Males did not need the power it was supposed to possess.


    After the priest finished his presentation, an old woman approached them with a basket of mementos. James purchase three. The mementos for Saint Anne¡¯s were loops of blue cloth. The blue symbolized Mary¡¯s robe. James affixed Lydia''s first mento to her pilgrim''s robe. For a brief moment their eyes met. His kindness reached out to her, but it could not soothe the ache inside of her.


    Across the road from Saint Anne''s chapel was a daub and waddle barn to shelter pilgrims and their beasts. At the doorJames paid the fee and lead Moses Aaron and the cart into the far corner of the barn. While he untethered Moses Aaron, fed him and rubbed him down, Brother Matthew sought out the company of other pilgrims. Lydia sank down into the rotting hay and pulled her knees under her chin. She felt like she was about to fly to bits. That little scrap of blue wool had brought her mother closer to her than even driving by Southampton had. It also had brought Aunt Rachel near. Aunt Rachel who had devoted her life to birthing babies, living and dead ones. Tears slid down her cheeks.


    James stooped down beside her and whispered, ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°It must have been hard going by Southampton today.¡±


    Lydia could not talk about the scrap of wool, it would be improper, but she did say, "It was hard. There is no one left in Southampton that I love except Father Peter, if he is still living."


    Gently, James said, "He is living."


    That was some comfort. The only two men she knew well in Southampton were Fader and Father Peter. There had been Jacob, but she did not think of him as a man. And, there had been James from time to time, in and out of the shop. Until last night, she and James had not ever been together for any length of time and now she was bound to him for only God knew how long.


    "Come," James said, "some food and wine will improve your spirits."


    If only it were that simple. James offered her his hand and she took it. His hand was warm in her cold one as he helped her stand. The instant she was upright he squeezed her hand and let go. Under his breath he said, "I must be remembering you are a lad. I do not want to give you away."

 Chapter 15. The Daughters of Eve

    James pushed the tarp back on the pony cart. It was filled with supplies, boxes, bags, blankets, ropes. There were a lot of food crocks, a sack of oats, a bundle of flat bread, hog''s head cheese, jugs of ale and wine skins. James grabbed a crock and said, "Come, I will heat some of my moder''s sage tea."  They went out to the fire that roared in the yard. Pilgrims encircled it, their dark forms held cold hands to the fire. A jug of something was being passed around. James set the crock among the embers. The talk around Lydia was coarse and filled with burps, interspersed with farts which lead to bursts of laughter. None of it was funny. Brother Matthew came and stood beside her. "Aye Luke."


    At first, Lydia did not realize he was talking to her. This Luke thing was still very new. "Uh aye, Brother Matthew."


    "That brew coming round is potent, too much for a lad such as yourself." He snickered. A bit tipsy, he was, and so quickly too.


    "James is heating me some tea." Lydia pointed at the crock in the embers.


    "Ah, that would be his moder''s sage tea. She has a way with tea. Honey laced with milk and a little touch of something to warm the blood." The jug came round, he took a swig and passed it off to James.


    James took a nip and passed it on.


    A man began to tell a bawdy story. Lydia could not believe the details in this story. This man, this supposedly Christian man knew the parts of a woman''s body better than Lydia knew her own. Good God was this how men spent their time? She wanted to cover her ears, more than that she wanted to erase from her memory all she had just heard. Finally the tea was ready. James wrapped a rag around the crock and opened it. White steam rose into the air. It smelled lovely.


    Slowly, Lydia sipped her tea. Its warmth slipped through her body dispelling the chill she had felt all day. The aroma of honey soothed her. The voices of the men faded from her mind. There was something rather potent in this tea. It was wrapping her in a warm cocoon. A few moments after she had finished the last drop, something alarming shot through her. Her eyes widened and her face broke out in a sweat


    James asked, "What is it ?"


    There was no time to answer. She dashed away from the fire. All day she had not gone, she had not been able to figure out how to get herself out of Brother Matthew''s range. She veered to the side, where to go, where? Every direction she looked was infested by males. All males. Fear filled her. Beyond the barn she saw a cluster of oaks and gorse. There, it would have to be there. She rushed behind a bush. The skill needed to pull up her robe, and pull down her britches eluded her. Her pilgrim''s hat tipped over her eyes. She could not see a damn thing. All at once she toppled over with her britches around her ankles. Her bare bottom hit the icy ground. It stung. Angrily she righted herself, pushed her hat back and got on with her business. The wind was blowing with disastrous results. A fine spray of pee misted her legs and she had nothing to wipe with. No wonder few women traveled! God had given her sex such inconvenient equipment. A man could just point and piss, a woman did not have that option. She straightened her robe. This was going to be a real problem. Pretending to be a boy on the way to Romsey had been one thing. To masquerade as a boy all the way to Rome, was another thing entirely.


    "Luke, Luke, where are you?" It was James.


    She did not answer, but waded through the underbrush to where he stood. He looked at her steadily and said, "You should not have run off like that. It is not safe out here."


    Embarrassed Lydia dropped her gaze. "I could not help it, I had to go. I did not know what to do." Tears welled in her eyes. "This is too hard. Someone is going to find me out. What I am doing is against the law. You know that."


    "I do."


    "Then why are we doing this?"


    James lowered his voice and said, "As silly as Dame Paston may seem to you, she is a woman of faith. She sees things and knows things. I have learned to trust her dreams. Some good always comes from them. She saw you in a field, she just assumed you were a boy because of the way you were dressed last night."


    Had it only been last night that she had been running away from Romsey? It seemed a decade ago.


    James continued, "I am honor bound to do the Dame''s bidding and you are safer dressed as a lad. It is perilous for a woman to travel, especially a young woman. Still, if you would rather go back to Southampton, we will. No one can force you to do this."


    Lydia looked up at James. His gaze was steady. He knew what going back would mean for her. She said, "No, we will keep going. Perhaps this will get easier with time."


    Obvious relief crept into James voice as he said, "Good. We got through today, that is what matters. We will take each challenge as it comes." The way, James said the word "we," made Lydia feel better.


    *


    Along the road the following morning, they were joined by a group of monks. At mid day, they stopped a roadside tavern. Due to woman who hovered at the doorway, there was a discussion as to whether or not those of the clergy should enter the establishment. Brother Mark, the self appointed leader of the group said, ¡°Aye, I think we should send those lads in.¡± He pointed at James and Lydia. ¡°They are not clergy and if they fall into temptation, what would it matter?¡±


    Brother Matthew protested, ¡°Are you saying the souls of clergy are more precious to God than the souls of laity?¡±


    One monk said, ¡°No, he¡¯s sayin¡¯ his own faith is too small to stand such temptation.¡±


    Another monk laughed, ¡°¡¯Tisn¡¯t just his faith that is small, ¡®tis his memory. He has dined here before.¡±


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    Brother Mark¡¯s face turned pink. He sputtered, ¡°I-I-I have never been here before.¡±


    The woman at the door asked, ¡°Have you forgotten me too?¡± She came toward Brother Mark. Despite the cold, her arms were bare and her dress was cut very low. The monks snickered as she placed a rough hand on Brother Mark¡¯s face.


    Brother Mark pushed her away. ¡°I do not know you.¡±


    The woman laughed and said, ¡°So said Peter of Christ our Lord.¡±


    Brother Mark shouted, ¡°How dare you utter the Holy name of Christ, foul daughter of Eve!"


    The woman sneered. Angrily she said, ¡°Have your forgotten your scriptures brother? Christ was compassionate to whores. It was the self righteous he condemned.¡±


    Was this woman a whore? A whore who knew her scriptures? How was this possible? Lydia stared at the woman. Her beauty was fading. Beneath her anger, Lydia saw fear.


    James took hold of Lydia¡¯s elbow. ¡°Let us go inside, Luke. Our faith will not be lessened if we feed our bodies. Brother Matthew will you be joining us?"


    Silently, Brother Matthew shook his head.


    "All right then, come on Luke."


    Lydia did not want to go in there. Old Kate had told her the devil himself held court in taverns waiting to seduce the weak. James propelled her forward. At the door the woman asked Lydia, ¡°Ever been with a woman, lad?¡±


    James said, ¡°Please Ma¡¯am leave him be. He is but a child.¡±


    For one long moment the woman''s eyes held James''. Softly she said, "As you wish, kind sir. It has been many a day since anyone called me Ma''am." She moved out of the doorway and let them pass.


    Inside the tavern, tallow candles burned. They were most foul. Fader had a trick for keeping the beef fat from turning. Who ever made the tavern candles had done a poor job. The room was smoky. A fire burned in the hearth. In the dimness Lydia was aware that there were other women in skimpy dresses snuggled up to men. There were doors on the back side of the room. Two were open and one was closed. What was this place? A man picked up a woman and carried her through one of the open doors. This was not just a tavern, this was a...Lydia could not even put the two words together. In the past she had called Fader''s concubine a whore, but poor Hagar, was not what these women were. They made their money...how did they not have babies? Suddenly she recalled what Aunt Rachel had shouted the night Moder died. "You would not let me close your womb." Had Aunt Rachel closed the wombs of prostitutes? With her great love for the poor and the outcast, there was no telling what Aunt Rachel had done.


    James stopped at a table near the fire. ¡°Sit, I will get us some refreshment." Lydia did as she was told. She could feel the eyes of the women upon her. Old Kate would have a fit if she knew where she was right now. Why had James brought her in here? She did not want to be in here.


    James returned to the table with a plate of thick mash and buttered toast. In his hand were two cups of hot cider. Lydia took her food. The quicker she ate it, the quicker they could leave.


    Outside the tavern the monks were locked in a loud and roaring argument. James said, ¡°Nothing like a holy war.¡± He tipped his cup to her and smiled.


    Lydia did not return his smile. She whispered, "Why did you bring me in here? It is not proper!"


    In a low voice James said, ¡°No it is not. I wanted you to see what can happen. Such could have been your lot, running away as you did. It is by God¡¯s grace that the Dame and I found you.¡±


    Lydia frowned at him. ¡°I would never be a--.¡±


    ¡°Aye, you say that with a full belly, but what if it were empty and had been for days or weeks? What if you had no one? There are many bad people in this world that take advantage of the lost and innocent. I do not want you to get hurt. You must never run away again, not even to take a piss. Promise me.¡±


    All her life Lydia had been told moral weakness drove the daughters of Eve into prostitution; no one had ever mentioned hunger or desperation. She thought moral depravity was something one picked, it had never occurred to her it was something that could be forced. A chill ran through her. There was a palpable evil in this room. Could such a thing happen to her if she was not careful? She prayed not. "I promise. Can we go now?"


    "Drink the last of your cider and we will go."


    Lydia gulped it down. "Done!" James picked up the last piece of toast and lead her outside.


    In the yard the monks were still at it. Brother Mark shouted, ¡°It has been decided. Brother Matthew, you go in. We voted seven to one.¡±


    The woman had returned to the door, she said, ¡°Come along Brother Matthew. Let me make a man out of you.¡±


    Brother Matthew protested, ¡°I can not go in there, I promised my moder I would never enter such an establishment.¡±


    Brother Mark shouted, ¡°Your moder is not here and you are a man, not a boy.¡±


    ¡°But, sir-¡±


    ¡°Stop acting like a sniveling girl and get your ¡®arse in there.¡±


    "No, I am not of your oder and I will not go inside. James let us go. Is that toast for me?"


    "I suppose."


    Brother Matthew took the toast. He turned, bowed to the woman in the doorway and said, "Woman I will pray for your soul.¡±


    A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. She replied, ¡°Thank you sir, I will pray for yours as well.¡± To the other monks she said, "I will see you boys in hell. Be off with you, you noisy lot of cackling hens!"


    Without getting tangled in her pilgrim''s robe, Lydia managed to climb up onto the cart seat. It was a small victory. Brother Matthew slid beside her and whispered, ¡°My moder has a sixth sense. She knows things I dunna tell her. It would break her heart if I went into such a place.¡± He took a big bite of his cold toast.

 Chapter 16. Wooden Madonna

    Night was coming fast. They needed shelter. Rain and sleet pelted them. In the distance was the remains of a cow shed. The door was long gone and the roof sagged. Still, it was better than nothing. Moses Aaron trotted into the shed and shook his soaked body. He brayed deep in his throat. James leapt off the cart and ran a hand down Moses Aaron''s neck. "There, there old boy, a good rub down and some oats will set you right."


    "What about us?" asked Brother Matthew.


    "Look for some kindling, build a fire and then get out of those wet cloaks and robes."


    In the back of the shed Lydia found some kindling and dry wood. She built a small fire while Brother Matthew draped their cloaks and robes over a broken stall. If God willed it, they would be dry by morning. Brother Matthew found a crock of honeyed whisky in the cart. He took a swig. A small gasp escaped his lips after he swallowed. He handed the whisky to Lydia.


    "I would rather have a blanket."


    Brother Matthew tossed her a blanket. The wool was rough to the touch, but thick. She wrapped it tightly around her and went to the fire. In the drafty shed, the fire offered little warmth. Wrapped in a blanket Brother Matthew sat down beside her and offered her bread and cheese. This she took.


    When James finished with Moses Aaron, he joined them. Brother Matthew handed him the crock of whisky. James did not gasp when he took a gulp. He handed the crock to Lydia. "A drop of this will warm you."


    Brother Matthew said, "That is too strong for Luke."


    Lydia glared at Brother Matthew and took the crock. The whisky burned as it went down her throat, but it did not cure the chill that rattled in her bones.


    After their meal, Brother Matthew made a single pallet out of all the blankets . He said, "We best snuggle up tonight or we will be frozen solid in the morning."


    Horrified Lydia thought, I will NOT bed down with two men.


    Brother Matthew crawled beneath the blankets. "The temperature is falling. I can feel it. Luke, James come to bed."


    Lydia could feel it too. Panicked she looked at James. In a low voice he said, "I can not have the Dame''s angel freezing. Luke you are safe with us."


    Was she? Her voice trembled. "I will sleep with Moses Aaron."


    The mule shook his head at her. James said, "In his own stall Moses Aaron will lie down to sleep, but on the road, he always stands."


    Lydia thought, Stupid mule!


    From the pallet Brother Matthew asked, "Be you forgetting your scripture, Luke?"


    She did not answer.


    Undetered by her silence he told her, "In the book of Ecclesiastes it says, ''Again if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?''"


    There was truth in those words and she knew it. Her fingers and toes tingled. Would she get frost bite if she refused? Probably. Though she did not want to, she climbed beneath the blankets beside Brother Matthew. James banked the fire and lay down on the otherside of her. He tucked the blankets around them. The only peope she had ever snuggled with in the cold were Moder, Old Kate and Aunt Rachel. Wedged between the two male bodies Lydia remained rigid. Soon, a soft snore came from Brother Matthew. Though she was not sure, she sensed that James was still awake. The combined warmth of James and Brother Matthew began to thaw Lydia''s frozen limbs. For better or worse, she was Luke now. She would have to trust these two men, especially James. He knew who she really was. The only man she had ever trusted was Father Peter, to trust another was going to be hard work for her.


    *


    They had had two cold, though clear days, of travel when they arrived in Dover. The smell of salt was pungent. Gulls soared and mewed above. A fine mist of water shot up from the dock. The waves were too choppy for the ferry to run. In the northwest dark clouds scudded. James said, ¡°We best go to the Great Gull. No good standing here.¡± He clucked to Moses Aaron. They traveled down a rutted street.


    Lydia noticed that the buildings of Dover were either burned, new or being rebuilt. Five years ago, King Philip of France had dispatched 10,000 men across the Strait into Dover. A battle had erupted and fire had spread. Many had died and the town had been left in ruins. Since Pope Boniface''s recent orchestration of marital alliances between the royal families of King Edward and King Philip a brittle peace had settled over Dover. It was still a dangerous place. King Edward''s knights and foot soldiers patrolled the streets. James and Brother Matthew exchanged wary glances.


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    The street ahead was blocked. The lilt of women¡¯s voices rose in the air. What? It was Candlemas! How had she forgotten this her favorite Holy Day? Silently Lydia sang with the women:


    If Candlemas be fair and bright


    Come Winter, have another flight.


    If Candlemas bring clouds and rain,


    Go Winter, and come not again.


    Last year, dressed all in white, she along with the rest of the female population of Father Peter''s church had paraded through the streets of Southampton with candles aloft. The special candles were made of Aunt Rachel''s bees finest wax.


    The singing came nearer. Everyone stopped. Around the corner the singers appeared in white wool dresses. Lydia longed to be among them, but disguised as a boy she could not. Boys did not join the procession of the Virgin Mary¡¯s Purification. How beautiful their candles looked, like gleaming swords. She touched the box of candles beneath her pilgrim¡¯s robe, the box, never left her person. She tugged on James sleeve. ¡°May we go to Candlemas?¡±


    Without waiting for his answer Brother Matthew leapt off the cart. James nodded, "Aye, keep close to that daft monk. I will meet you at the inn. ¡±


    Lydia glanced down the street. Brother Matthew was close behind the women who were entering a chapel. She scrambled down and hurried after him. When she reached Brother Matthew, he asked, ¡°Where is James?¡±


    "He went to the Great Gull.¡±


    Brother Matthew shook his head. ¡°I fear James is quite close to being a pagan. Nothing should interfere with the observance of the Holy Calendar.¡±


    Lydia did not respond. She followed Brother Matthew into the church. It was an unimpressive musty box. The windows were small and let in almost no outside light. The darkness accentuated the flickering of the candle flames on the altar. Between the chancel and the nave was wooden rood screen. Tied to the screen was a adolescent girl with greasy matted hair. Her white dress was patched and dirty. In her hands she held an unlit candle. Her eyes were closed. When Lydia passed the girl, she opened her eyes. They were the most startling shade of sky Lydia had ever seen. Softly, she said to Lydia, "You are a girl."


    Brother Matthew snickered, ¡°Ah Luke, in time you will not be mistaken for the weaker sex.¡±


    Indignation flared in Lydia. Weaker sex indeed! She would like to see any man squeeze a baby from between his legs.


    ¡°There now, lad, do not take offense.¡± Brother Matthew smirked. Lydia wanted to slug him, but they were in church. He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her to a seat near the front.


    From the shadows a young priest appeared. His eyes traveled first to the girl and then to the congregation. His robes were tattered and he was barefoot. His voice rose and fell like music as he began the service. In memory Father Peter''s voice replaced the young priest''s. Last Candlemas the sunlight had shown down on Moder in their pew. How beautiful she had looked. It had been such a good day. Now, a year later...


    As Lydia''s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could make out the carvings on the rood screen. There were vines, roses birds and three figures, the Madonna, Christ crucified and Saint John. All were painted. Especial attention had been paid to the Madonna. The painting style was not the same as the others. Her skin tones were delicate and her eyes were luminous. It felt like at any moment she would speak.


    A loud screech came the girl tied to the screen. Convulsions rocked the her body. She fell forward. The bands on her wrists stopped her from smashing into the paving stones. Spittle flew out of her mouth. No one in the congregation moved to help her. The priest did not even halt his recitation. The convulsions stopped. Slowly she opened her blue, blue eyes and looked at Lydia. The face of the statue Madonna seemed to hover over the girl''s face. Was this a vision? Lydia had never had a vision before. The girl pointed her unlit candle at Lydia and said, ¡°God is with you.¡±


    Was He? Completely shaken by the intensity of the girl''s eyes, Lydia covered her face with her hands. Even through her closed lids and upraised hands, she could feel the girl''s gaze.


    *


    After the Candlemas service Brother Matthew bought three mementos. They were bits of rope with a wooden rose bead tied to each. Trembling from reaction and cold Lydia was unable to pin Brother Matthew''s memento onto his pilgrim''s robe. Impatiently he said, "Give it to me." He pinned it beside the scrap of blue from Saint Anne''s.


    The instant they stepped into the street a gust of cold wind hit. Lydia ducked her head and pulled down the brim of her pilgrim''s hat. She followed close behind Brother Matthew. At the door of the Great Gull, they were met by a monk named Brother Laurence. He asked, ¡°Was the service to your liking?¡±


    With bright eyes Brother Matthew said, ¡°Aye, the success of our journey was confirmed by a lunatic girl. She had a fit, then pointed right at Luke and told him that God is with him! It was surely a sign.¡±


    Laurence nodded. ¡°Indeed. Though Serena is given to fits, she can see what lies beyond our mortal realm. Some think she is possessed of a demon, but not Father John. He shelters her and cares for her. Come, you must be hungry.¡± He took their cloaks and led them to the dining area.


    On the dining room wall above the hearth was painted a single sentence. Silently Lydia read it, Dixitque Dues: Fiat lux et facto est lux.*This was the first sentence she had ever written and read. The image of Sister Timothy filled her mind and steadied her.


    At the table by the hearth, James sat. He motioned for them to join him. When Lydia and Brother Matthew were seated, Brother Matthew asked, "Have you ordered dinner?"


    "Aye. Mutton stew."


    Brother Matthew smiled hugely. "Good choice!" He shoved the latest momento across the table to James and said, "Here is your memento from Saint John''s. You should have joined us. They had a painted wooden Madonna. She was lovely. The prettiest one I have ever seen."


    A strange expression crossed James'' face. He grabbed the memento, rose from the table and promptly left. Brother Matthew shook his head.


    Lydia asked, "Where do you think he has gone?"


    "Perhaps to see the painted Madonna." Brother Matthew leaned closer to Lydia and lowered his voice, "James used to have a sister. She ran off years ago. No one knows what became of her. My moder said the girl could paint and was quite good. Maybe she painted the Madonna."

 Chapter 17. A Very Pretty Boy

    Sunlight bounced off the surface of the water. Lydia waited in line with Brother Matthew and James. Moses Aaron tethered to the cart, dozed in the sun. It must be strange to be able to sleep standing up. The mule¡¯s nostril¡¯s flared a little. Was he having a dream? What did mules dream about? Did they have nightmares?


    People, so many people stood in line, merchants with wagons of goods, gentry and knights on horseback, foot soldiers, and pilgrims. A man near Lydia said, ¡°What a back up the foul waves have caused! Brings to mind those days when King Edward exiled the Jews. The poor beggars. Forced to leave all they knew and had.¡± He lowered his voice, ¡°Our King refusin¡¯ to pay what he owed ¡®em and keepin¡¯ their goods too. It were ill.¡±


    ¡°What?" asked his companion, ¡°You a Jew lover?¡±


    These words brought Aunt Rachel very near. Aunt Rachel had loved and cared for the Jewish community. Tears came to Lydia''s eyes. As Luke, she must not cry. She rubbed her tears away with the sleeve of her robe. The press of people became overwhelming. She looked to James. His eyes scanned the crowd, suddenly they stopped. He muttered, "Cyril."


    Brother Matthew heard him and asked, "Really? Well,  he has not got far! If I had stollen half the Dame''s silver I would at least be in Paris by now." There was a sudden movement in the crowd. Lydia saw a man sprinting down the street. James started to go after him, but Brother Matthew grabbed hold of his cloak. "Best leave him be. We do not want to lose our place in line."  James jerked his cloak free, but did not follow the man.


    A few  moments later Brother Matthew elbowed James and pointed. "Look!"


    James turned in the direction Brother Matthew pointed. A young man was waving. Sticking from his back like featherless wings were a shawm and a transverse flute. He pushed through the crowd toward them. He had clear skin and a halo of golden brown hair. Lydia was mesmerized. Never in her fourteen years had she felt any attraction to a male. In a single instant, she was swept up into a feeling that obliterated all sadness. Her heart began to race, and she knew she was flushed, but she could not help it. When he spoke his voice was melodious. ¡°Ah, Brother Matthew, Uncle, I did not expect to find you here.¡±


    Uncle?


    ¡°Nor did we expect to see you here.¡± James did not sound pleased. ¡°How is it that you come to be here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I got sacked.¡±


    ¡°Again. Why?¡±


    ¡°Flirted too much with my lord¡¯s daughters. It came to a bad end. I do think it is ridiculous that a man can only love one at a time and must confine that love to those of his own class. Still I think what I will miss most is not my lord¡¯s daughters but his books. Uncle he had a library with copies of Aristotle, Homer and Josephus.¡± He sighed and then looked at Lydia. His eyes held a liquid light. ¡°Who might this be?¡±


    Brother Matthew said, ¡°This is the angel boy in Dame Paston¡¯s dream. The one that will keep Lord George Paston--.¡±


    James cut him off, "That is enough!"


    "Sorry."


    The young man''s eyes danced as he asked, ¡°So what has Lord George  done now?¡±


    Brother Matthew opened his mouth but, James gave him a sharp look. His mouth popped closed.


    The young man smiled. ¡°Ah, so there is a secret sin. Shall I guess?¡±


    James growled, ¡°Not if you value your skin.¡±


    ¡°All right. Keep your secrets.¡± To Lydia, he extended his hand and said, "I am Antone, student of the Arts.¡±


    Brother Matthew snickered.


    Unable to return his greeting Lydia took his hand. It sent a shock through her entire system. What was this strange sensation? She felt the smooth skin of his hand, the warm softness of it, only his fingertips were rough. When he released her hand she was completely bereft.


    James said, ¡°This is Luke. Luke, this my nephew the grubber.¡±


    ¡°Uncle that is harsh, I have never dug a ditch in my life.¡± He cocked his head to the side and studied Lydia. ¡°Luke, eh? A very pretty boy.¡± In that moment Lydia wanted to be her own female self, dressed in her blue gown, with her hair tied back. An even deeper warmth washed over her.


    Antone clapped her on the back. ¡°Do not worry. I too was once a pretty boy, and look how handsome I have become.¡±


    Brother Matthew laughed. ¡°I see God has not curbed your vanity.¡±


    ¡°I do not speak vainly, I speak truth.¡±


    James said, ¡°Enough of this. Where are you headed?¡±


    Antone replied, ¡°Paris. Where are you headed?¡±


    Light almost equal to the light in Antone''s eyes filled Brother Matthew''s eyes. He said, ¡°To Rome to see the Pope.¡±


    "Blast you!" exclaimed James. "Can you not keep your tongue still. NO MORE!" Never, had Lydia seen James so angry.


    Antone smiled and said, "All the way to the Pope! Lord George must have been a very bad boy. I have always wanted to go to Rome." Before James could protest, Antone said, "Hye, Uncle, we are being waved on.¡±


    James woke Moses Aaron from his slumber. "Antone, take Moses Aaron¡¯s head.¡± With gentle coos and soft words, Antone persuaded Moses Aaron up the plank and onto the deck. Brother Matthew paid the toll.


    Wrapped in the dizzy fog of infatuation Lydia felt weightless. If they had left yesterday as they had planned, they would have missed Antone and Antone was not someone to be missed. Was there a special line in heaven for creatures such as he? There must be. He was glorious. He was traveling to Paris with them and possibly ROME! For the first time in ages she felt like God was smiling on her. This sensation quickly altered when the ferry shoved off. She was not prepared for the instability of the deck. The movement sent an odd queasiness through her gut. She took in a gulp of air. Her stomach lurched. She felt her breakfast slosh inside of her. She fixed her eyes on the horizon. It wavered. She took in another gulp of air.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Antone said, ¡°Uncle, your angel is about to be sick.¡±


    James turned to her. ¡°Are you alright Luke?¡±


    Lydia shook her head. She rushed to the side of the ferry. Vomit stung her throat as it came up and brought tears to her eyes.


    Antone said, ¡°Dear God, it is a good thing you are not traveling to Rome by boat.¡±


    The lovely Antone was repulsed by her sickness. She felt it deeply, but this knowledge did not give her any command over her stomach. James and Brother Matthew came to her. Antone remained with Moses Aaron and the cart.


    ¡°This will not do,¡± said Brother Matthew. He placed his hands on Lydia''s shoulders. ¡°Come, sit, and put your head between your knees.¡±


    Beneath the pressure of his hands, Lydia slid to the floor. She whispered, ¡°What is wrong with me?¡±


    Brother Matthew said, ¡°Sea sick. That is all. As soon as your feet touch terra firma you will feel better.¡±


    Lydia asked, ¡°How long will that be?¡±


    ¡°With this wind, I would say when the sun is there.¡± Brother Matthew pointed at the western sky, near the horizon.


    That was too long. Lydia could not bear it. She felt her stomach jump inside of her. She clutched her mouth, stood, spun around and wretched until her stomach was empty and then wretched some more.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± said James, ¡°slow and even. It is the only way to calm your stomach.¡±


    Lydia closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. Being seasick was horrible. She wanted it to stop now. A dry heave hit her. Once again she stood and leaned over the side of the boat. As she heaved she caught a glimpse of the white cliffs of Dover. Through her watery eyes she could not see them well at all. They were just a white blur. The rest of the crossing was complete misery. Never again would she travel by water anywhere! When they landed the sun had sunk to the point Brother Matthew had predicted it would. Also as Brother Matthew had predicted, the instant her feet made contact with land, the awful lurching inside her stopped. She took in a slow breath.


    James asked, ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°A little, but I am not steady.¡±


    Gently James helped her onto the cart seat. Antone jumped in back. The cart swayed wildly. Lydia felt her stomach churn. Careful not to sway the cart, Brother Matthew and James climbed onto the seat and flanked her. James said, ¡°Hye Moses Aaron.¡± The mule stepped forward. The movement of the cart was like the movement of the ferry, Lydia feared she would be sick again. James asked, ¡°Would you rather walk?¡±


    Before Lydia could answer, Antone said, ¡°Oh Uncle, you have grown tender since we last met. The boy will be fine. I know a place to spend the night and if the little sot walks we will not get there before dark.¡±


    James glanced at Lydia.


    ¡°I will be all right.¡±


    "See, the lad is fine."


    Ashamed of her weakness, Lydia closed her eyes and forced herself to breath slowly. She must NOT be sick again, Antone did not like it. Aware of Lydia''s distress, James stopped at the first inn in Calias.


    Antone protested, "Not here! There is a place--"


    James cut him off, "Go there then. We are staying here if they have a room."


    Fear filled Lydia, would he leave? Antone did not move.


    James went inside. He was only gone for a few moments. When he returned he said, "I have secured a small room. Antone, take Moses Aaron to the stables."


    Antone leapt from the cart, causing it to sway cruelly. When he was out of ear shot, Brother Matthew said,."I do not think the Dame would like him joining up with us, James."


    "If you had held your tongue he would not be. Hopefully, he will decide to stay in Paris. But what can I do, he is my nephew?"


    "You are too soft James, always have been. Come on Luke, let us go inside for some refreshment. I am thinking some table beer* will set you right." Brother Matthew got down off the cart and even offered her a hand, which she took. She was still so unsteady. She wobbled a bit as she made her way inside the inn. When they entered the dining room the smell of roadting boar was too much for her. She turned and bolted out the door. The cold air swirled around her. She tried to breath it in to calm herself. What she really wanted to do was cry.


    Coming up the steps James asked,  "Sick again?"


    "Not yet."


    "There is a fire around back, we will go there." Lydia followed him. A large tent filled one side of the yard. Next to it a fire burned. Beside the fire Antone was talking to a young woman with flaxen hair. Jealousy shot through Lydia. Noticing the focal point of her gaze,  James said, "You will have to be careful with my nephew about. He is much more observant than Brother Matthew. And he seems to be able to locate a pretty girl, no matter how cleverly she is disguised. If he does detect you, please do not be taken in by his charms. He will play with you and then forget you.¡±


    Lydia felt herself flush with embarrassment. She looked at the ground. Was she that obvious?


    Aware of her discomfort James apologized, "I did not mean to offend or imply anything. It is just, I know my nephew."


    Of their own accord, Lydia''s eyes strayed back to Antone. If he did discover she was a girl would he try to charm her? Would she let him? How she longed to have his eyes flash at her, the way they flashed at that flaxen haired wench.

 Chapter 18. The Trouble

    Empty of stomach but full of emotion, Lydia lay in a crumpled heap on a pallet against the wall. James had slung his cloak over a chair and placed the chamber pot behind it to offer her some privacy for necessities. With a body devoid of food and liquid, she doubted she would need the chamber pot tonight. Sleep was what she needed but it would not come. Across the room, against the opposite wall, Antone sat on his pallet in a pool of candle light. His long fingers ran up and down the holes on the wooden flute he silently played. From time to time he would stop and jot down something in a little book like the one Sister Timothy had given her. Was he writing a song? Laid in a neat row at the foot of his pallet were his shawm, several small pipes, his transverse flute. a rebec and a viol he had made. Though Lydia knew almost nothing about music, she could recognize good craftsmanship when she saw it.


    In the space between them was a hay mattress were the still bodies of James and Brother Matthew lay. Poor Brother Matthew drooled in his sleep. She could not tell if James was asleep. With her eyes half closed incase he was not, she watched Antone. She could not help but watch Antone. Every inch of her seemed strung tight. His very presence in the room tugged at her in the most alarming way. He was a temptation, a temptation she feared she would not, could not resist. Always she had scorned the Nobles at Romsey Abbey for their preoccupation with males, but then she had not known one could make her feel like this. It was a very strange sensation, wonderful and terrible at the same time.


    Antone''s candle guttered out. Darkness obliterated him. Softly he swore, "Damn." Lydia heard him snuggle down under his blanket. Soon his breathing slowed. For a long while she listened to the intake and outtake of his breath.


    *


    At first light Brother Matthew announced, "Dame Paston wants us to visit Saint Rachel''s. It has some slivers of wood from Saint Peter''s cross. I hear the memento is a cross made from the Cedars of Lebanon."


    Lydia put on her pilgrim''s robe as did James and Brother Matthew. To her surprise, Antone put on his own shabby coat. He was going with them! Excitement raced in her viens. He smiled at her and she had to look away lest he see her blush.


    Outside they made their way to the church. Above them the gulls soared and mewed in the clear sky over Calais. Their wings sliced through the cold blue. Brother Matthew lead them to a small church made of gray granite with a slate roof. It reminded Lydia very much of Father Peter''s church. Once inside the church the resemblance was even greater. This too was a plain church without fancy paintings or colored glass. It was also dark. When Lydia took her seat on the pew, she sniffed the air. The candles on the altar were wax, but not just any wax, they smelled like Aunt Rachel''s bees'' wax. The perfect tapers looked like Fader''s work. Often Fader made trips to sell his candles. From Southampton, to London to Paris, to Troyes and Dijon he traveled. Were the altar candles his work or possibly her own? She knew one thing for sure, they definitely were not Jacob''s.


    Mass proceeded. The church, the candles, the soft voice of the old priest brought those she loved both living and dead very close, Father Peter, Old Kate, her half sisters, Aunt Rachel and especially her Moder. Had Moder sat in this church when she traveled from Paris to Southampton? Poor Moder, younger than Lydia, she had been when she had married Fader. By God''s grace, Lydia had made it to her 14th year without being bound to a man. If she were were fortunate she would make it to her 15th as well. She glanced at Antone on the other side of James. His eyes were fixed straight ahead. Her body grew warmer and restlessness filled her. What was this sensation? Was this love? Did love make one feel sick and breathless and gloriously happy all at once?


    When Lydia went forward to receive Eucharist she opened her mouth. The priest lay the Host upon her tongue. The Host did not go down well, nor did it sit well on her upset stomach.


    After the service, Brother Matthew crossed number five off Dame Paston''s list. At the door he bought them cedar cross mementos. He breathed in the scent of the tiny cross and frowned. "Smells the same as the pine trees back home." He pinned Lydia''s cross on her robe. She now had five mementos, only 27 to go. The last would be the one she received at Saint Peter''s in Rome. They stepped out onto the street.


    An older woman came out of the church. On her arm was the flaxen young woman from the night before. The instant Antone saw her, he lit up like a hearth fire. His smile traveled slowly and sensuously across his lips. The wench returned his smile. He said, "May I escort Madame and Madamoiselle back to the Inn?"


    So, this was why he had come to Mass. Angry though she was with him, Lydia could not take her eyes off of him. His gaze was so focused it seemed that flaxen haired bitch was the only person in the world. How did he do that? She felt James nudge her elbow. Blast it all, he had seen her gaping again! With head down, she walked back to the Inn.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    *


    Antone did not join them for breakfast. He and the bitch and the older woman dined together. With expert grace he charmed the women. It took everything Lydia had not to stare. Unable to eat, she excused herself. Before she could leave the table, James asked, "Are you not hungry?"


    "Nay."


    "You really should eat."


    She grabbed a roll off the table, acted as if she intended to eat it and left. Upstairs in their room Antone''s pallet was made. His instruments were in his pack. His shawm and transverse flute stuck out of it. Against her will, she went to his pack. Her hand of its own accord, or so it seemed, touched the mouth peice of the shawm. A strange and sickening thrill went through her. His lips... She withdrew her hand. This was stupid and she was not thinking clearly.Upset with herself, Lydia bolted from the room. She ran down the servant stairs. Swiftly, she made her way across the yard to the stable. Once inside her eyes darted from stall to stall looking for Moses Aaron. From a far stall he nickered at her. She ran to him. He nodded at her and pulled a wisp of hay from his manger. Mangers held hay and Baby Jesus, according to scripture. Lydia slipped into the stall and flung her arms around his neck. She pressed her forehead against sleek coat. The tears she had been holding back since yesterday began fall.


    Moses Aaron turned his head toward her. Softly, he nickered softly. The sound was comforting. He gazed at her with his great liquid eyes. Kindness radiated from him. Lydia did not understand why Brother Matthew hated him so. She pulled the roll out of her cloak and fed it to him.


    The stable door banged open. Brother Matthew''s voice called out, "Luke, are you in here?"


    "I am with Moses Aaron."


    "Fine company he makes."


    "Indeed he does." Gently, Lydia ran her hand along the mule''s neck and whispered, "Thank you."


    Brother Matthew climbed up on the stall door. He frowned at Moses Aaron. "So do you have Luke thinkin'' you are a sweetie, you old sod? Soon Moses Aaron will reveal his true self just as we all do."


    Lydia remained silent. What would Brother Matthew do when her true self was revealed?


    *


    The morning passed slowly. The wind was not too bad. Moses Aaron was going at a slow trot. James tried to urge him on, but but the mule ignored him. Irritated James growled, "Go at your own pace then, you old sod!"


    "He always does," said Brother Matthew.


    For the better part of the afternoon, Moses Aaron maintained his speed. Then, for reason''s known only to the mule, he came to an abrupt stop. No amount of pleading from James or cursing from Antone could get the mule to budge.


    Angrily, Brother Matthew jumped off the cart. "I have a letter for Monsieur Seton. And I am sure he would give us lodging for the night. According to Dame Paston, he has the best cook in all of Flanders. Thrash this old beggar so we can be off."


    James shook his head. "Nay, thrashing never did no good with this one. Sometimes he knows a thing. Perhaps there is danger on the road."


    Brother Matthew rolled his eyes.


    Lydia volunteered to take Moses Aaron to a creek she could hear running near by. While he drank, Lydia relieved herself. She did not tip over or dampen her clothes. It was a small victory. While she was gone a group of four friars had joined James, Antone and Brother Matthew. There was not a single female in the group for Antone to flirt with. At least she would be spared that spectacle. Lydia tethered Moses Aaron to a tree, pulled out her own comb and began to comb through his mane. He seemed to like it.


    James built a small fire. He passed bread and drink around. After everyone was served, he broke away from the group and came to her. "Have you eaten anything today?"


    He was worse than a mother hen! She smiled brightly and said, "The Host," hoping to discourage further questions.


    "That is all?" James eyes narrowed.


    "It is enough."


    "No it is not." His voice became gentle, "If you do not eat, you will get sick. Please." He held out a hunk of bread and a cup. His eyes pled with her. Though she did not want to eat or drink, she took what was offered. The bread was soft and the cup held apple cider. When James did not leave, she took a sip of the cider hoping it would make him go. It did not. She took a small bite of bread. He remained rooted. Damn! He meant to watch her until she finished. It took all her resolve to drink, eat, swallow and not have her eyes stray to Antone. After she swallowed the last bite, James said, "Come, sit by the fire. You need to warm yourself."


    "I would rather stay here," she said quietly. "At least until my food settles."


    "All right, but do not stay long."


    Lydia nodded. As James back to the men, she saw Antone take his rebec out of his pack. He placed itagainst his chest and pulled the bow across its strings. A perfect strain of music peirced the silence and then he began to sing. His voice was uncommonly sweet. His music wove into the night. It reached out to Lydia and wrapped around her. A terrible ache and longing tore through her. Again tears came to her eyes. She pressed her hot face against Moses Aaron''s neck. This was torture. Glorious torture. James'' words from the previous evening echoed in her brain, "... he seems to be able to locate a pretty girl, no matter how cleverly she is disguised. If he does detect you, please do not be taken in by his charms. He will play with you and then forget you."


    Would he play her as sweetly as he played the rebec? Did he play all women the same? Would that she did not feel this. Deep down she knew James was right in his assessment of his nephew. And yet, and yet, she could not help but wonder...and hope.

 Chapter 19. The Whims of Moses Aaron

    Though Lydia longed to go nearer to the men, she remained where she was. If she went closer, she knew she would not be able to hide her feeling for Antone. James would see it, and so might the others. When Antone finished his playing and singing, applause broke out. Lydia''s hands tingled to clap, but she did not. Antone glanced in her direction. He raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged. Was he angry with her for not showing appreciation for his gift?  He put away his rebec.  The old Friar said to Antone, "I have a cautionary tale for you boy." Antone''s face flushed angry red. Most likely he did not like being referred to as a boy.


    There was a glint of mischief in the friar''s eyes.  "I think you will find it enlightening. It goes like this." He  put his hand to his chest, looked up at the heavens and began,


    "There once was a maid prone to lying. Her lips did not utter the truth.


    Her eyes they did beckon and her looks did appeal to her neighbor,


    a  poor guiless farmer.


    He begged for her hand and her father  agreed to be  immediately freed


    of the burden of his wicked relation.


    On their wedding night, the bride told her man, his bed she was bound not to


    share.


    Angry was he and demanded that she give reason for this stipulation.


    With tear dripping eyes, she confessed and she lied professing that she was a


    A nocturnal animal changeling.


    What my dear wife, do you change to at night?


    With stricken eyes and a quiver of voice, she confessed, A laying hen, I am sorry to say.


    The farmer possessed a soul of pure trust agreed because he thought that he must


    and said, Take the bed. I will sleep by the fire.


    The very next morn he went to his bed and found his best laying hen,


    deader than dead and all of his gold had gone missing.


    This poor man grieved  another wife he could get, and gold would come in its time,


    but a good laying hen was harder to come by.


    May this story my brothers be a caution to the wiles of a woman of singular thought.


    A maid should be pretty, a maid should be kind,


    but a maid should never possess her own mind.


    This story was different from the other stories Lydia had heard thus far on their journey. She looked at Antone. His fists were clenched.


    The old Friar with a bit of a snarl asked, "Was the tale not to your liking?"


    Before Antone could answer Brother Matthew said,  "It is a wrong headed story. A maid''s life is of more value than a hen''s."


    The story teller chuckled. "Not if she dunna sleep with ye."


    A burst of laughter erupted from the Friars.


    Brother Matthew scolded, "Ashamed you should all be! Friars jesting about females and sacred acts of matrimony."


    Angry, the old Friar stood. "Ye will not be usin'' such a tone with me." He stalked off toward the road. The other Friars followed after him.


    Brother Matthew said, "All of this unpleasantness could have been avoided. We could have been miles down the road and missed them all together. But no, Moses Aaron stopped so we had to endure that crude story. That cussed mule should be thrashed!"


    Moses Aaron snorted. There was nothing penitent in his posture.


    Angry, Antone said, "I agree with Brother Matthew."


    James  muttered, "Well, that is a rare occurance. Come, let us move further off the road, lest we be accosted by more bad company."


    Moses Aaron  tossed his head toward a grove of distant oaks. Lydia asked, "Do you want to go there?" The mule whinnied. "All right." As she lead him away, Brother Matthew exclaimed, "Now, the cussed beast moves!" Though she was not sure, it seemed that Moses Aaron cast an unsavory eye in Brother Matthew''s direction.


    *


    During the night, the sky had clouded. Dawn came with gray light. James unbanked the fire, stirred the coals and cooked a breakfast of griddle cakes and eggs. Much to her delight, Lydia discovered her appetite had returned. Not even Antone could destroy her hunger this morning. Brother Matthew ate with the steady concentration of a cow. Like his Uncle, Antone shoveled his food into his face at an alarming but thorough rate. Both finished at the same time. Lydia finished last. By his smile, she could tell James was pleased she was eating again.


    They packed up their bedding and James put the harness on Moses Aaron.


    Brother Matthew said, "You may be wasting your time James. If that beast does not walk, I am going to Saint Omer by foot."


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    "I second that," said Antone. He turned to Lydia and asked, "What about you Luke, care to join us?"


    Inside the word, AYE leapt, but she knew James would not like it. "Let us give Moses Aaron a chance before we condemn him."


    "A chance," snorted Brother Matthew. "He has had his chance."


    James climbed onto the seat. "Come on Luke, those beggars can walk." Lydia crawled up beside him. Silently, she said a prayer that Moses Aaron would indeed move! Without resistance, the mule headed for the road. On the road he increased his speed.


    Behind them, Brother Matthew cried, "Wait!" He had his pilgrim''s robe hiked up and was running after the cart. Antone''s unencumbered legs were making faster progress. He leapt up, spun around and landed with a shattering shake in the back of the cart. Brother Matthew hoisted his robe up to his thighs.


    Antone shouted, "You are slow priest!"


    Angrily Brother Matthew shouted back, "I am not a priest, I am a monk. If you were not such a pagan you would know the difference!"


    James burst out laughing. It was the first time Lydia had ever heard him laugh. Brother Matthew lost grip on his robe. It slipped down tripping him. He hit the ground with a thwack. Antone roared with laughter. It sounded very much like his uncle''s. Out of pity, James halted Moses Aaron.


    Indignant, Brother Matthew got up, stalked to the cart and swung himself onto the seat. "That was cruel, James, just plain cruel."


    "No!" hooted Antone. "It was not. It was funny, that is what it was! Your petite little legs churning, and then the fall, flat out!" Another fit of laughter shook Antone''s body.


    Lydia asked, "Are you all right?"


    "Aye, kind Luke I am. Thank you." Brother Matthew then sank into a withering silence.


    A tendril of smoke drifted in the sky. James saw it and frowned. A bit later they saw the friars'' camp. It was too close to the road. When the cart came along side the camp there was no movement. Brother Matthew broke his silence, "Sleeping it off, I wager.Too much drink and jesting."


    When they passed the camp, Antone exclaimed, "Wait! Uncle. I think something is wrong." He leapt off the cart and ran to where the friars slept. Moses Aaron halted. Something inside of Lydia told her not to look.


    Antone gasped, "Dear God!"


    "What is it?" called James.


    "They are not sleeping. They are dead, throats slit. Robbed in the night! Their cloaks, their flasks, even their shoes and blankets have all been stolen."


    James and Brother Matthew jumped down and joined Antone. Not Lydia, she remained where she was. Death was a slammed door. The abruptness of it always left her reeling. Yesterday the friars had been alive and laughing, their spirits still tied to their bodies. Now, body and spirit were divided.


    Brother Matthew groaned, "This is my fault I was to harsh with them. If I had been kinder they may not have stalked off to their death."


    "No," Lydia heard James say. "It is not your fault.  It is they who camped too close to the road, they kept their fire going and they did not keep watch."


    "That is kind of you James, but if they had stayed in our company, you would have covered the fire and had them join us away from the road. It is my fault."


    "Brother Matthew, you cannot take responsibility for this. Perhaps they would have done as I suggested, but I think not."


    Antone said, "There is nothing we can do for them. I say we get back on the road."


    Brother Matthew protested, "We can not just leave them here. The vultures will get them."


    Without sympathy, Antone replied, "That is why God made vultures."


    "Have mercy James," begged Brother Matthew, "we must return them to their order in Saint Omer."


    James said, "I agree. Saint Omer is not far. Luke make room in the back and put the supplies on the seat. Brother Matthew, go help him. Antone and I will bring the bodies."


    While Brother Matthew helped Lydia transfer goods on the cart, he prayed under his breath. A few words were loud enough for Lydia to hear. He was begging forgiveness. Wretched and convinced of his own guilt, tears streamed from his eyes. Poor Brother Matthew. In Lydia''s mind, Brother Matthew was not to blame. Thieves had done the killing. They had laid the trap. To Brother Matthew she said, "That Friar was a hot head, any word could have angered him. It was only a matter of time."


    "You too are kind, Luke."


    When half the cart was cleared, Brother Matthew laid a heavy tarp down in the space and called, "We are ready James."


    Lydia moved from the cart and went to where Moses Aaron stood. With trembling fingers she grasped his mane and closed her eyes. One by one the bodies were stacked in the cart. When it was loaded, she heard the tarp being rolled over them.


    Antone slipped beside her and asked, "A bit squeamish are we Luke?"


    He was mocking her. She opened her eyes and turned to him. At this moment in time, he did not glow with some ethereal light. He was a young, grubby man with a sprinkle of stubble upon his chin. In a haughty voice she said, "I may be squeamish, but I am not coarse." Lydia did not know how he would react to her words, but she was surprised by the hurt that shot through his eyes.


    "Come along," said James.


    By mid day they reached Saint Omer. The process of delivering the bodies to Saint Bertin''s monastery, and consulting the local authorities took all afternoon. Plus, there was Brother Matthew''s lengthy confessional. It was late evening by the time he came out of the church. The priest must have said what Brother Matthew needed to hear, for he no longer seemed so over burdened. He did not mention what his penance was.


    James said, "We are fast losing light. Now tell us the way to Monsieur Seton''s home, Brother Matthew."


    "Follow this road and turn left at the first bend." Brother Mattew climbed onto the cart.


    Moses Aaron set off at a brisk pace. When they reached the farm, Lydia stared in horror. The house was burned to the ground. The air still smelled of smoke. James called out. The barn door opened and an old man appeared. James asked, "What happened here?"


    In a cheery voice the man said, "My house is burnt. Fine blaze it was last night. Good thing the cook was visiting her daughter or toast she would now be. I just escaped through the window." He seemed to be a little drunk.


    Confused Brother Matthew said, "Sir are you not sorry your house is gone?"


    "No, not at all. My wife''s papa built it. Never liked the place. Always wanted something new. Now I shall have it." He smiled at them and asked, "Who might you be?"


    "I am Brother Matthew from your son, Solomon''s order. He asked me to give you a letter."


    "Ah, thank you. Is he well?"


    "Oui," said Brother Matthew.


    Monsieur Seton said, "I imagine you folks need a place to rest for the night. You are welcome to share my barn. Good thing you did not come last night or you too could be toast."


    Lydia wondered, Was it possible that Moses Aaron''s halt yesterday had saved them twice? Aloud she said, "I think you will agree Brother Matthew that we are fortunate Moses Aaron is a stubborn cuss."


    "Oui," said Brother Matthew. "Perhaps Moses Aaron, like Balaam''s ass in scripture saw a protective angel, when we did not. I will not be abusin'' the creature again."


    Moses Aaron stamped his foot and whinnied.

 Chapter 20. Madame Coeur

    The following morning they set out on the road to Amiens. The morning was cold, but not so cold as to be miserable. The sun peeked between the clouds. In the back of the cart Antone played his transverse flute. For the first time Lydia wondered why he never sat on the seat of the cart, but was always in back. His music swirled around them.


    James asked, "Antone is that a tune of your making?"


    The music stopped. "Aye Uncle. It is."


    "It is quite beautiful."


    "Thank you. I have not finished it, yet. I am having a bit of trouble with it." The playing resumed. The tune was the most lovely tune Lydia had ever heard. Antone had written this? How could such a shallow creature create something with such depth and warmth? A flat note shattered the beauty of the song. Antone tried it again. The squeak the flute made was earsplitting! He said, "Perhaps, I need a different flute." There was a fumbling of instruments and then the music began again. It went on quite well until that one note.


    Brother Matthew laughed. "Perhaps it is the player and not the flute."


    Antone did not reply. The music began again and proceeded hesitantly until the fateful note. Brother Matthew exclaimed, "SEE, IT is the PLAYER!"


    "Oh, hush," said James, "do not give up Antone. You will make it right."


    And Antone did go on, and on and on. The wayward note refused to be silenced. Brother Matthew sat with his hands clamped over his ears. Lydia would have done the same but since her comment yesterday morning about Antone being coarse, he had not spoken to her or even looked at her. Though she would not admit it, being ignored by him hurt. Deep down she did not want to risk further alienation.


    At dusk, Moses Aaron''s nostrils flared wide. He shook his mane and headed down a stony fork in the road. Instantly irritated Brother Matthew protested, "No James, not there. Make that devil get back on the main road. I am NOT going THERE!"


    The flute playing ceased. Antone asked, "Abusing Moses Aaron already priest! Your promises are indeed short. Uncle, where is Moses Aaron taking us?"


    "Madame Coeur''s."


    "Ah," said Antone, "I hear she is fair of face and has library. Why would you not want to go there Brother Matthew?"


    "She is a woman of queer notions and strange behaviors. No James, I beg of you. Do not subject me to her peculiarities."


    "Dame Paston instructed me to call on her. So we will. When we reach the gate you will hand over our traveling papers to her guards."


    Ahead was a thick stone wall and an iron gate barred the road. Two guards stood with spears. At the gate Brother Matthew passed their papers to the guard on his side. The man looked at the papers, nodded and handed them back. The other one opened the gate. Moses Aaron shot through. James did not even try to slow the creature.


    Amid the leafless trees a slate roof appeared. Moses Aaron pulled them into a large yard. In the dim light, Lydia gaped at the massive house. It was made all of pink stone and had blown glass windows. A huge ornate door rested at the top of a long stair. A sentry stood guard at the door. At the base of the stairs Moses Aaron came to an abrupt stop. He barely gave them time to get down before he took off again. James did not seem perturbed or surprised.


    Antone spun around and said, "Uncle, this is quite a place. Far larger than Dame Paston''s castle."


    James gave his nephew a silencing glance.


    They ascended the stone steps. The sentry took a look at their papers and rapped on the door. A dark skinned man opened the door. Lydia did not know if he was a Jew, an Infidel or an Ethiopian. Never had she seen such lustrous skin. He smiled at James. In a peculiar accent he said, ¡°Follow me.¡± He led them into a spacious entry. The sound of laughter echoed in the hall to their right. The man took them to the door where the laughter echoed and opened it. Lydia was completely dazzled by what she saw. The room was a festival of color. Turquoise woolen drapes with diagonal patterns in gold and silver ran from floor to ceiling. Red pottery and fine yellow linens decorated the table. At its head sat a tall elegant woman dressed in shimmering orange silk. The dress fit her like a second skin. Small cream colored discs ran the length of the front. The discs held the dress closed. It did not have a single lace or bow on it.


    At the table sat five men and one woman. They all turned to looked at the pilgrims.


    The woman rose and came to them. Concern filled her eyes. ¡°My dear friend Dame Paston, is she well James?¡±


    ¡°Oui, Madame Coeur, she is,¡± James assured her.


    Instantly Lydia was aware that Antone was very taken with this woman. His eyes traced her face and figure. It was a fine face and a fine figure. Jealousy seeped through her.


    Madame Coeur smiled at Antone. ¡°I see a family resemblance here James.¡±


    ¡°Oui, this is my nephew, Antone.¡±


    Antone bowed.


    "Little Antone, my how you have grown." To Brother Matthew she said, "Matthew so you are a Brother now?"


    "Oui Madame."


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    "Pity." The woman¡¯s eyes fixed on Lydia. She put a long finger under her chin and looked into her eyes. ¡°So, who is this young man?¡±


    Brother Matthew said, ¡°He is Lord Paston¡¯s proxy.¡±


    Madame Coeur cut her eyes at Brother Matthew. With her head inclined toward her dinner guests she whispered, ¡°You, Brother, should not speak so freely of intimate matters.¡± Turning her eyes back to Lydia she asked, ¡°What is your name?¡±


    Brother Matthew said, ¡°Luke.¡±


    ¡°Does the boy not possess his own tongue? Speak to me child.¡±


    Frightened, Lydia said, ¡°Pardon Madame.¡±


    ¡°Luke, mmm.¡± Madame Coeur let go of Lydia¡¯s chin. ¡°The lot of you will have a bath before you sit at my table.¡±


    Brother Matthew protested, ¡°Please, not that.¡±


    In acid tones she said, ¡°You will not foul my table or my beds with your unwashed bodies. It is no wonder the Jews call us filthy Christians. Look at the four of you!¡±


    Brother Matthew pleaded, ¡°Madame, have you no fears of ill health? No kindness? Baths are a danger. A chill, I shall die of a chill. James the cold drafts will kill us all.¡±


    Madame Coeur''s eyes flashed. ¡°You insult me. My bathing room is well secured. No draft can penetrate it.¡±


    ¡°But Madame, I am not due for a bath till April and it is only February.¡±


    Madame Coeur frowned at him. ¡°There is a brothel down the way. You will not have to bathe there.¡±


    Brother Matthew sputtered, ¡°I-I can not stay in a brothel. Did I not warn you James?¡±


    Panicked Lydia looked at James. His brow was furrowed. This complication was one he had not anticipated. He fumbled open his cloak. His hand shot out. In it was a letter. He said, "Pardon Madame, before I forget, Dame Paston has sent you this letter."


    "Thank you James." She took the letter. Her eyes lit again upon Lydia. After a moment of consideration she said, "Luke as Dame Paston''s emissary you shall be treated as my own special guest. Follow Rashi." The man bowed to Lydia. Madame Coeur continued, "He will take you to your room. James, the rest of you go to the servant''s bath.  You know the way." Madame Coeur returned to her guests. Rashi started down the hall toward a flight of stairs.


    Frozen where she was, Lydia did not know what to do. "Go on Luke," said James. "Rashi will take care of you." His eyes met hers. They told her it would be all right. Though fearful, she followed the tall dark man.


    The stone stair spiraled upward. At the top was another long hallway. There were many doors. They walked the length of the hall and stopped at the very last door. When Rashi opened the door a sweet fragrance met her. Candles had already been lit in the room. Beautiful wax candles. The clarity of their light tossed dancing shadows into the vividly draped room. A rainbow of silks canopied a double bed. There was a hearth with a large kettle of boiling water. By the fire was a bathing tub filled with steaming water. Rashi lifted the kettle and poured more water into the tub. He motioned toward a bench beside the tub. On it were towels, soap and a pile of clean clothes her size. It was as if Madame Coeur had known she was coming. Rashi said, "Scrub well, monsieur. Hair and all. Madame likes her guests to glisten." With a bow, he left the room.


    Never in all her years had Lydia bathed by submersion in a bathing tub! At home a bath was a half job. In her room, with her night gown serving as a tent she bathed with a basin and cloth, top half first, bottom half second, always partially covered. If her hair needed washing, she did that separate. She went to the tub and put one finger in the water. It felt divine. Only very rich people had bathing tubs. Never had she expected to use one.


    She took off her cloak, her pilgrim''s robe, her travel pack with her candles and writing utensils and then the boy clothes. They were indeed filthy. All that remained was her under garments. As they too slipped to the floor, for the first time in her memory, Lydia was completely naked. Was this how Eve felt in the garden before her bad judgment upended the world? With a mixture of delight and fear Lydia sank into the tub. The water came up to her chin. Its warmth soothed her weary body and soul. The cake of soap was not lye, but some exotic concoction. It removed layers of dirt from her face and it felt so soft. She dunked her head under the water and came up with a gasp of laughter. If all baths were like this she would bathe every day. Of course they were not. She scrubbed her short hair with the soap. A few fleas had taken up residence on her person and they did not like the soap. When she dunked her head again, tiny brown bodies floated in the water. The soap killed fleas. Odd.


    From beyond the door, Madame Coeur called, ¡°Hurry child, a boy does not take so long over his bath.¡±


    A boy. Lydia sighed. She had to go back to being a boy. Tonight, she did not want to be a boy, she wanted to be herself. Reluctantly, she climbed out of the tub. Just as she was reaching for the towel, there was a click, and the door swung open.


    "As I thought," said Madame Coeur.


    Frightened, Lydia covered her naked body with the towel.

 Chapter 21. Female Necessities

    "Hurry child, dry off before you catch a fatal chill! When you are dressed, Rashi will escort you to the dining room." Madame Coeur closed the door.


    Quickly Lydia scrubbed herself dry. She rubbed all the water out of her hair. It stood on end. A comb was on the pile of clothes. She pushed it aside and put on the clean undergarments, pants, thick wool stockings and a beautiful tunic. She ran her hand down the length of the tunic. It was woven in lovely shades of green. She felt like a woodland creature. Moder had liked her in green. Grasping the comb she pulled it with vigor through her short hair. It was quite a battle, but finally, all the snarls were gone. A few dead fleas were caught among the comb''s teeth. She wiped them out with the towel and grabbed the pair of brown leather boots on the floor. The boots came up to her knees. With deft fingers she laced them tight and tied them. The fit perfectly and they would be much warmer than her old boots. They would also protect her legs from brambles, thorns and stinging insects. Feeling strange and new she stepped into the hall.


    Rashi bowed to her and said, "This way Monsieur." He moved down the hall as if he were made of liquid. When Lydia entered the dining room she noticed the other guests were gone. Only James, Brother Matthew and Antone remained. Each was finely dressed in shades of brown. For the first time in days her eyes made contact with Antone''s. For an instant his eyes took on a most curious expression. Something in the reached out to her and then his face turned pink. The pink became angry red. He cut his eyes away from her. What had she possibly done now? Lydia glanced at James, he smiled. His smile told despite Antone all was well. She took her seat beside Brother Matthew.


    Brother Matthew shook his head. ¡°Madame Coeur, I appreciate these clothes but it is not right that I should forsake the robe of my vocation to dine at your table. My moder taught me I must always represent my station.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Madame Coeur, ¡°and how is your mamma?¡±


    ¡°Fine for now, but when she hears of my death by chill, she will be desolate.¡± Brother Matthew grimaced.


    Madame Coeur laughed. ¡°Does your mamma still have her visions?¡±


    ¡°Oui.¡±


    ¡°Does she still have prophetic dreams?¡±


    ¡°Oui.¡±


    ¡°Well when you get home I would like you to share my dream with your mamma. A twelvemonth ago I started having terrible nightmares about a dirty cloud covering the civilized world. Little black specks were falling on the land bringing death. I dreamed of a great wave of frothy water washing the specks off and huge plow. Suddenly, the people stopped dying. I consulted with my seer and she said, that the meaning would come to me in its own time. It took a while. The wave to me seemed to symbolize cleansing so I began to bathe. The nightmares vanished, but when I had guests they returned. One evening I had a visitor with the stench of travel on him. He asked to bathe. That night I did not have my nightmare. I soon discovered that if I had my guests bathe I was not troubled by bad dreams. And, I like pleasant smelling company.¡± She smiled at Brother Matthew. ¡°It is good to see your freckles again.¡±


    Brother Matthew turned purple, but he held his tongue.


    Servants filled their plates with roasted spice chicken, plum pudding, fine wheat bread, and sweet meats. Wine was poured into delicate cups made of a substance Lydia had not seen before. It was good wine. The food was richer than she was used to, and she was not sure she liked it.


    After the meal Madame Coeur took them to a sitting room. There was a lute on the shelf. Antone picked it up and began to tune it. Brother Matthew groaned, "Surely not more music Antone?"


    Antone pretended not to hear. He strummed the lute and fixed his eyes on Madame Coeur. His voice had a strange edge in it as it rose in song.


    There once was lady


    With mysterious eyes


    Who caused young men to heave


    Ardent sighs.


    One fine man


    Did hope and pray


    Her lips upon his own


    Would lay¡­


    Lydia glanced at the Madame Coeur. Was she pleased or amused? She was not sure. Must Antone be so obvious in his flirting? There was something almost angry in the way he was attacking the song.


    *


    Back in her room, the tub was gone. It was such a beautiful room. Lydia doubted she would ever sleep in such a fine room again. On the table by the bed was a silver metallic mirror. She had never seen her face in a mirror before. The only times she saw her reflection was upon the surface of water, or in a glass window. What did she really look like? With trembling fingers she picked up the mirror and studied her face, why she had a pretty face! Surely Antone would think so. Her eyes were like Aunt Rachel''s and her nose and mouth were Moder''s. Possessing their likenesses was a comfort.


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    A soft tap sounded on the door. Carefully Lydia put the mirror down and went to the door. "Who is it?"


    "It is Madame."


    Lydia unbolted the door. When Madame entered she said, "Good, you must keep this door bolted while you are here. I have guests in another part of the house who like to wander." In Madame''s hands was a pouch. "I have brought you some things you may need to continue your journey." She closed and bolted the door behind them. She went to the bed and dumped out the contents of a pouch. There were strips of rags for menstruation, a bar of soap, an ivory vermin comb, a small dagger and container with something in it. The menstruation rags sent a chill through Lydia. She was not as regular as the moon and currently she could not remember the last time she had had her cycle. It must be close. It was sure to be a complication.


    In a low voice Madame Coeur said, "I read the dame''s letter. I am convinced you are the angel in her dream. I do believe you are on a holy pilgrimage. Perhaps not for the salvation of Lord George Paston''s soul, but for the salvation of your own. It is curious or perhaps providential that Dame Paston would send you to Rome now. There have been rumors that Pope Boniface VIII will declare 1300 a year of Jubilee. If so, all sins will be forgiven, even George''s whatever it might have been." She looked at Lydia and asked, "Do you know what he did?"


    "No."


    "I am sure James does, but it will do not good to press him for information. He is loyal to his core." A faint smile came to the Madame''s lips. "And what of Antone?"


    Jealousy ripped through Lydia. "He does not know."


    "Of course he does not. I expect Brother Matthew knows, but I will never get a word out of him. Are you not curious as to what George did?"


    "Not really."


    Madame Coeur let the topic drop and reached for the box. Inside of it was an oddly shaped bit of wax. Madame asked, "Do you know what this is?"


    "No."


    ¡°This is protection.¡±


    ¡°From what?¡±


    Madame closed the box. ¡°It goes inside of you. It will stop a man¡¯s flow from reaching your womb.¡±


    Offended Lydia gasped, ¡°I assure you I have no need for such a device.¡±


    ¡°In time you may. When you do use it wash it well. It can make you sick if it becomes foul. I got it from your Aunt Rachel. I see her in you. Your aunt I were friends. I am sure, she would want you to have this.¡±


    Stunned to silence Lydia nodded. There was so much about her Aunt Rachel that she did not know.


    Madame Coeur picked up the dagger. ¡°This is also for your protection. I heard about the friars. The road is a dangerous place especially for a woman." She unsheathed the dagger. On its blade the Latin word Debeo was inscribe. Madame Coeur asked, "Do you recognize this word?"


    She nodded. "It translates, I must."


    "Indeed it does. A weapon of protection is used because it must be used to preserve life. It is never used to exact punishment or revenge." She tilted the dagger toward the candle light. How its blade did gleam.It was double-edged and very sharp. A good hard thrust would kill a man. Lydia wondered if she could kill? Had this dagger ever brought death? Something inside of her told her it had.


    With her delicate hand, and deft movements Madame Coeur showed her several times where and how to thrust the dagger. It was called a kidney dagger because it was long enough to puncture the kidneys. When she finished her demonstration she put the dagger back in its sheath and handed it to Lydia. "Keep this on your person at ALL times. You never know when you may have need of it." The weight of the dagger was not great, but Lydia could feel the power of it.


    Repacking the pouch, Madame Coeur said, "Wash as often as possible and comb through your hair every night. Vermin must be fought not given nice tangled beds to sleep in. Promise me."


    "I promise."


    Madame Coeur asked, ¡°Have you ever seen a button?¡±


    ¡°Button?¡±


    ¡°Oui." She pointed to the discs that held her dress together. "These are buttons." Madame Coeur then demonstrated how they worked by slipping her top button through the hole in the fabric.


    Amazed, Lydia said, ¡°That must make dressing ever so much faster. Laces take so long to tie, and then they often get into knots.¡±


    Madame Coeur smiled at her. ¡°They do indeed. Many inventions in fashion have resulted from these buttons. Wait till you see Paris, you will be astounded by the clothes." Madame Coeur stood up. "I will leave you now." Gently she touched Lydia''s cheek with the palm of her hand. "Sleep well my child."


    The soft touch of a female hand, Lydia had forgotten what it felt like. She watched Madame Coeur sweep out of the room and close the door behind her.

 Chapter 22. Upon the Stars

    Silent tears slid from Lydia''s eyes. Her hand still cupped the cheek that Madame Coeur had touched. Madame Coeur''s independant spirit reminded her of Aunt Rachel. A tall candle pooled light around her. Its aroma filled her nostrils. In memory she saw Aunt Rachel among her bees. She heard her voice humming along with the magnificent tiny creatures. Longing for Aunt Rachel brought more tears to her eyes.


    She thought it would be a relief to be alone tonight and not have to pretend she was something she was not, but she just felt afraid. She missed the nearness of James. At this moment all she wanted was to feel as safe as she did with James. On the bed beside her was the pouch Madame Coeur had given her. Everything she might need was in the pouch. Her mother would have said, ¡°God hath provided.¡± Her fingers dug into the pouch and extracted the dagger. It was sheathed. Never had she possessed a weapon. She unsheathed it. How its blade did gleam in the candle light. Could she kill a man if she had to? Something inside of her said,aye. This knowing unsettled her. She put the dagger back in its sheath and then into the bag.


    Next to the candle was a pamphlet. Desperate for distraction, she reached for it. Slowly she read the cover. It was a selection from Genesis. She turned the page and read:


    inmisit ergo Dominus Deus soporem in Adam cumque obdormisset tulit unam de costis eius et replevit carnem pro ea


    et aedificavit Dominus Deus costam quam tulerat de Adam in mulierem et adduxit eam ad Adam**


    Woman had not been fashioned from dust like man. She had been fashioned of human flesh. Why had her beginning been different from Adam''s? To what purpose had God made this so? As she continued her reading she arrived at the curse of Eve. As always it seemed far too great for a single sin. If Eve could travel to Rome in this year of Jubilee, would Pope Boniface VIII pardon her sin?


    *


    Outside a winter storm spewed shrill ice. It spattered against the dining room windows. James was not happy with the weather or the delay. He stood at the window glaring at the sleet as if he could intimidate it. He, like Brother Matthew, was anxious to be off.James left the window and said, "The roads will be a mess of muck. Moses Aaron does not fancy muddy roads. It will be slow going for sure."


    Brother Matthew started to comment but held his tongue.


    Madame Coeur entered the room dressed in red wool shot through with gold threads. The buttons on her gown were covered with ribbon rosettes. On her feet, she wore red kid slippers. Lydia had never seen such a beautiful dress. Antone¡¯s appreciative eyes ran the length of Madame¡¯s body. Madame said, "Come, let us go to the library. Rashi has laid a fire for us there."


    "A Library, I have heard tell of your library," said Antone. One eyebrow rose. He smiled.


    Inwardly, Lydia groaned. Another round of Antone''s flirting was not something she wanted to endure. She rose from the table and followed the others into the hall.


    When they entered the library Antone abruptly stopped. There were rows of books on wooden shelves. In a hoarse whisper he said, "There must be over a hundred books here. May I look through one of them?"


    Madame Coeur laughed, "Oui, of course and I would appreciate it if you read to us. This is a most dreary day. Please, the rest of you take a seat." James, Lydia and Brother Matthew took chairs and Madame Coeur said down on a settee.


    For several long moments Antone''s eyes roved the books. His face showed more ardor than she had seen on it before. Was it possible he appreciated books more than women? On the shelves, the books were bound in various colors of leather and parchment. Antone''s fingers touched the spine of one book. He pulled it from the shelf. "You have Ovid! I have heard tell of his work but I have never read any." With reverent hands he opened the book and turned the pages. Crisp cream pages with exact jots of ink. Lydia wished she could make her ink letters look so fine. Antone went to the window and held the book to the light. In his fine voice he began to read. The verses he read were about the creation of the heavens and the earth but it was not the Biblical creation.


    ¡°And while


    all other animals are bent, head down,


    and fix their gaze upon the ground, to man


    he gave a face that is held high; he had


    man stand erect, his eyes upon the stars.


    So was the earth, which until then had been


    so rough and indistinct, transformed: it wore


    a thing unknown before---the human form.¡±**


    As he continued, Lydia listened and waited for the part where woman fouled the earth with her error. It did not come. No blame was cast on Eve at all. The poem traveled from age to age, from gold, to silver, to bronze to iron, and only men were mentioned, only the sins of men. Why had this poet, not blamed Eve? Eve was always blamed. Why, he had not even mentioned her. She looked to Brother Matthew for some reaction but he was sound asleep in his chair.


    Antone''s voice ceased. More pages turned. His lips moved in silence. So great was his absorption he forgot where he was, he forgot everyone, even Madame Coeur.


    *


    The rain and sleet had stopped by the next morning. James had them bring their their packs when they came down to the dining room to eat. Seeingtheir packs, Madame Coeur protested, ¡°James, you need not hurry. The roads are a mire. It will be slow going and that could make you vulnerable. You best start out tomorrow.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Too eagerly, Brother Matthew said, ¡°We will be safe. We have God¡¯s protection.¡±


    Anger leapt in Madame Coeur''s eyes. Hotly she said, ¡°So thought many a murdered saint. God protects man¡¯s soul, not his body. Have you not learned that by now?¡±


    Brother Matthew responded. ¡°Of course God values our soul over our body, but you cannot argue that at times God does offer special bodily protection. We have that. Dame Paston said we would make it and we will. I have great faith in her dreams.¡±


    Perturbed Madame Coeur said, "I do not think your haste has anything to do with God or Dame Paston''s dream. You want to leave because you do not wish to bathe again and you can not wait to get out of my house."


    Brother Matthew colored up, but he did not lie, "TIs true Madame."


    Madame Coeur turned away from Brother Matthew and looked at James. ¡°Wisdom and caution are necessary. Please do stay. I will rest easier if you do.¡±


    Antone asked, "Must we go, Uncle? One more day in pleasant company would be wise." As usual, Antone¡¯s gaze was fixed on Madame Coeur.


    Aware of his nephew''s attention, James eyes narrowed. "We must travel when the weather allows.The sun is shining so we will leave. If this rumor about Pope Boniface''s declaration of Jubilee is true, the roads will soon be clogged with sinners headed to Rome. I do not relish that scenario."


    Madame Coeur shook her head. "Kind though you are James, you do tend toward stubbornness. Since I cannot change your mind, let us eat." She sat down at the head of the table.Of course, Antone took the seat nearest to Madame Coeur. He spent the entire meal being annoyingly witty. Lydia could not tell if Madame was genuinely amused by his banter, or if she was just being polite.


    When the meal was over, they gathered up their packs. Madame Coeur embraced Lydia and kissed her cheek. "May the angels watch over you dear child." She released Lydia and extended her gloved hand to James. He wrapped it in both his hands and shook it. Brother Matthew refused to even touch her. He stiffly bowed. Before Antone took Madame''s hand he cast a withering glance in Lydia''s direction. Could it be? Was that jealousy she read in his eyes? Was he jealous of the kiss Madame Coeur had given her? It seemed so. He lingered over Madame''s hand with an ardent kiss.James made a noise in his throat and Antone finally released the hand he held.


    They tipped their pilgrim hats to Madame Coeur and headed for the kitchen. The cook stood by the servant''s door with a large basket. Brother Matthew said, "I wil carry that!"


    Outside the air was cold, and damp. In the barn Moses Aaron was not happy to see them. He liked shelter and comfort. It took a pear tart to lure him from his stall, and another to get him harnessed to the cart. When he was led outside he made a very ugly noise in his throat. All feared he would not proceed, but he did.


    As they made their down the road, Lydia became aware of the changing landscape. The further they moved from the coast the more unlike home the world became. Land bound is what they were becoming. She had never lived very far from the sea, never been so far from home. Now, now she was headed far from all she knew. Had Moder felt this way when she traveled from Paris to Southampton when she married Fader?


    *


    Several times that day the cart got stuck. By day''s end Lydia¡¯s clean pilgrim''s robe and cloak were caked in mud. For the first time, James was in a truly bad humor. In his shrill mule voice Moses Aaron brayed his protest. All their tempers were short. Antone remarked, "Would that we had heeded Madame''s invitation and spent another night."


    James did not respond. Instead, he drove the cart off the road and into a pear orchard. The ground was too wet to start a fire. Their supper consisted of cold tarts and venison that Madame Coeur''s cook had packed for them.


    When the evening light faded into smoky lavender, stars began to peek through the bare branches. Lydia recalled the verse Antone had read yesterday:


    ...to man


    he gave a face that is held high; he had


    man stands erect, his eyes upon the stars.


    As she looked into the night sky she felt like she caught a glimpse of God. The stars were the steady light of heaven peeking through the darkness. In that moment Moder and Aunt Rachel seemed very near to her. Were they together watching over her?


    James said, "It is too wet to camp on the ground we will have to stay in the cart."


    "We will not all fit!" exclaimed Brother Matthew.


    Antone said, "We will if Luke takes the seat."


    "That will not do," said James. "Luke is too small to keep himself warm."


    "Really Uncle your pampering of this lad will warp his manhood."


    James growled, "If you think the seat is suitable you are welcome to take it."


    Though it was too dark to clearly read Antone''s expression, Lydia could sense his aggravation. He said, "All right I will."


    Later after they had shifted their supplies to one side, they were packed in the back of the cart like fish in a brine crock. Exhausted, James and Brother Matthew had both fallen swiftly to sleep. Antone took watch on the seat. Carefully he scanned the darkness.


    Wedged between James and Brother Matthew, Lydia gained a new appreciation for the male form. They were solid. She could feel the strength of them. Thomas Wade had not been the sort of father who held his daughter close. The only physical contact Lydia had had with a male was the disgusting hugs and kisses of Jacob Higden. James and Brother Matthew were nothing like Fader or Jacob. They were good, kind men.


    Brother Matthew smacked his lips in his sleep. He was dreaming. Moments later he started to snore. Antone dealt him a swift whack to the head, but he did not silence or waken the monk. Irritated, Antone softly swore. What sort of man was Antone? So far he had not been as bad as Fader or as crude as Jacob, but he was also not like James or Brother Matthew.

 Chapter 23. Dance with Angels

    Over the next two days Moses Aaron moved at an abominably slow pace. He stopped often and complained loudly. The pear tarts were gone and he wanted more. James shouted, "You old sod, get us to Amiens before night and I will buy you damned tarts!"


    Begrudgingly, Moses Aaron picked up his pace but they did not make it to Amiens that night. At least the ground had dried and sleeping in the cart was no longer a necessity. Though it was good to stretch out on her bedroll Lydia found she missed the security and warmth of James and Brother Matthew.


    The next morning when Lydia woke up, she felt a most unwelcome sensation. Merciful heaven, no, not this! She sent one hand between her thighs and touched the damp fabric. When she pulled her fingers up it was as she suspected. Blood. Her body was determined to betray her. A female body was always bent on betrayal, just ask any man! Lydia got up quietly. Brother Matthew was with Moses Aaron. James and Antone were still sleeping. She grabbed her pack and headed toward the stream. In a tangle of brush she changed her clothes and attached a rag Madame Coeur had given her. Thank God for Madame Coeur. She went to the stream to wash out her undergarment and britches. It would not do to be found with menstrual stains. With quick hands she dunked her clothes and scrubbed them. Her blood tinged the icy waters.


    A stone skittered behind her. She spun around. Her wet hand went to her dagger. It was Antone. He saw her dagger and asked, "Where did you get that?"


    "Madame Coeur gave it to me?"


    Jealousy flickered in Antone''s eyes. He asked, "What else did she give you?"


    Not understanding his implication, Lydia said, "Soap and a vermin comb." She turned her back to him and wrung out her wet clothes.


    "When did she give you those gifts?" There was a strange edge in Antone''s voice.


    All at once Lydia understood. She turned back to him and scolded, "You insult Madame Coeur. She treated me as a moder treats a son. Your mind is quite foul. Do not ever imply anything against Madame again. She has been a good friend to us."


    James anxious voice cried out, "Luke!"


    Bitterly Antone said, "Sounds like Uncle is worried his angel has been lost." He called out, "Your precious Luke is over here!"


    A red-faced James broke through the brush. This was the angriest Lydia had ever seen him. Antone smirked and spun away from her. To his uncle he said, "I leave you to your wayward angel."


    James did not even look at Antone. His eyes were fixed on Lydia. For the first time she was afraid of him. He came to where she stood. "What are you doing out here alone with Antone?" His gaze sharpened.


    Aware of what he had concluded, Lydia said, "I did not invite him. He must have followed me."


    "So, you broke your promise to me about going off alone?"


    This was ridiculous. First she was in trouble for going off with Antone, and now she was in trouble for going off alone. There was no pleasing James.


    He asked, "Why did you break your promise?"


    By his expression, Lydia realized this was the crux of his anger. She had proved faithless. "I am so sorry James. I panicked." Her eyes left his face and she stared at the ground. She whispered, "I had an issue of blood." She felt her face color with embarrassment. "I had to wash these." She held up her wet clothes and met his eyes.


    The anger in his eyes died. "This is a complication. Are you prepared for it?"


    "Aye ."


    He dropped his voice very low, "Miss Wade, I had a sister and a wife, I know about such things. For the next few days you will be in a precarious position and you will need my protection. Please, inform me before you do what is necessary." He paused and then added, "I must ask you once again to promise me you will not go off alone."


    Had, he said he had a sister, a sister, just one. Had that sister been Antone¡¯s moder? The one Brother Matthew said had run away? James said he had a wife. Past tense. What had happened to his wife? Lydia wondered why she had never considered James might have a wife, or even children for that matter? Did he have children? She knew so little about him.


    "Did you hear me, Miss Wade?"


    "Aye James, I did. I promise I will not go off alone."


    "Good. Now come on, if Moses Aaron is agreeable we just might make it to Amiens this morning."


    Moses Aaron was agreeable. Before they even reached Amiens they saw the towers of the Cathedral. Never had Lydia seen such a structure. The closer they came to it the larger it grew. James stopped Moses Aaron at the hitching post. All of them, including the mule tipped their heads back to take in the massive structure. This was the largest house of God Lydia had ever seen! The angles and the lines of it were intricate and beautiful. They stared in awe until Brother Matthew said, "If we hurry, we can make it to late Mass."


    Quickly, they rushed inside. The Psalter was just beginning. "Levari oculos meos in montes unde venient auxilium."**  Inside, the magnanimity of the cathedral was like an assault on the senses. Here in this place God was huge, austere, distant and grand. Lydia felt very small in her seat, smaller than she had ever felt before.


    After Mass, Antone said, "Look at the ceiling."


    Lydia tilted her head back. Amazement and fear took an even deeper hold on her. Antone told them the creation of the sense of space had something to do with the mathematics and flying buttresses that were employed to build the Cathedral. Lydia did not understand a word of his explanation. Still, his intelligence impressed her.


    Brother Matthew said, "That is fascinating Antone. But what this place is most famous for is the skull of John the Baptist. I believe it is this way." They followed after him. A group of pilgrims had already gathered around the reliquary box that held John the Baptist''s head. When the priest pulled the skull of out of its box, the sight of it shocked Lydia. She had never seen a human skull before. It was ugly and beautiful at the same time. The delicate bones in the nose cavities were parchment thin. The swoop of bone around the eye socket looked a little like the flying buttresses Antone had spoken of. Was this truly the severed head of John the Baptist, the relation of Christ her Lord? If so, this was the closest she would ever come to the human Jesus.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The priest put the skull back in its box and got out another. He said, "This contains dirt from Golgotha." It was not the same color as the dirt they had seen at Saint Anne''s Chapel.


    Brother Matthew whispered, ¡°Golgotha must be a pit by now so much of its earth has been spread around Christendom.¡±


    James shushed him. When the last box had been opened and displayed, Brother Matthew asked, "James, may I walk and pray the Labyrinth?"


    "If you must."


    "I must." They followed Brother Matthew to the nave. He stopped at the edge and pointed at the floor. ¡°Is this not amazing?¡±


    On the floor was a octagon that led inward. It was constructed of black and white tiles. It was as intricate as the rest of the place. What human mind had concocted such a house of God? Surely, only God alone guiding that mind had created this place. Lydia said, "It is amazing. Everything here is amazing."


    Antone asked, "Uncle, may we go look at the texts?"


    "Aye." James turned to Lydia, "Luke do you want to join us?"


    Before she could answer, Brother Matthew asked, "Am I to pray alone for the journey of us all?"


    Lydia hesitated. Though James wanted her to go with them, it was plain by Antone''s expression that he did not. A second look at Brother Matthew convinced her she must do this thing with him. "Nay, I will pray with Brother Matthew."


    James said, "All right, we will meet at the front doors. Brother Matthew do not be too long over your prayers."


    Perturbed, Brother Matttew responded, "Of course, I will be speedy. I would not want to spend too much time praying to our Lord!"


    A slow smile crept across James'' face.  He shook his head and went with Antone.


    Brother Matthew grabbed hold of Lydia''s arm and led her onto the labyrinth. "See how it spirals in."


    "Aye." Her eyes traveled the design. The black tiles reflected light while the white tiles absorbed light. In the black tiles she could see her own reflection, in the white tiles she was indistinct.


    "Follow me, we will pray and walk toward the center. If we are fortunate, we will dance with angels at its core."


    Lydia was not sure she wanted to dance with angels.


    Eagerly, Brother Matthew said, "Come let us begin." He let go of her arm and stepped onto the labyrinth. Softly, as he moved, he whispered his prayers. Lydia recognized them. While at Romsey Abby, Sister Timothy had taught these same prayers to her. Not so long ago she had been preparing for a life of dedication to God. Her future had been set in the sacred. But, now, now what did her future hold? What would become of her when this pilgrimage was over?


    As she moved, strange lights flickered across the surface of the black tiles, like tiny stars. She glanced around looking for the source of the reflections. They must be from the stained glass windows. But, the reflections were not color hued. They were colorless and brilliant. Her eyes went back to the tiles. Perhaps the reflections were due to the mathematics of the place. When they reached the center of the labyrinth, the floor beneath her seemed to heave and move. This had nothing to do with math. Where the angels were pulling her into their dance?


    Aloud Brother Matthew said, "Dixitique Deus: Fiat lux. Et facta est lux."


    Light! God said, "Let there be light. And there was light." Light spilled over Lydia and Brother Matthew. Warmth surrounded them. The sound of great wings beat against the silence. Strange music filled Lydia''s ears. Brother Matthew reached out and  took her hands. His eyes held excitement and joy. He lead her in a spinnng reel. Around them was the gentle presence  of other dancers. Never had she felt anything like this before. It was glorious and terrifying at the same time. All at once the spinning stopped. The music was silenced. Brother Matthew pulled her to him and asked, "Did you feel that?"


    She whispered, ¡°I did.¡±


    He pulled away from her. His eyes held a question. He poked at her cloak and asked, "What is that?"


    "My candle box."


    He asked, ¡°Are you a candle maker?¡±


    ¡°Aye." It felt good to admit at least a part of her truth.


    Brother Matthew¡¯s eyes grew brighter. He gripped her shoulders and said, "While we danced I had  a rare word from God. He said, ''Your candles will light homes and holy places. Do not forsake your calling.'' I did not know what He meant. Now I do. God wanted you to know He made you a candle maker!"


    Tears came to Lydia''s eyes. She whispered, "Truly?"


    "Indeed." He smiled at her. "Come, we must tell James."


    "Please, could these words be only between God and us?"


    "That would be for the best, I suppose. I just wanted to brag a little, which is not what our Lord would do." They went to the front where James and Antone were waiting.


    As soon as Antone saw her, he asked, "Luke have you been crying?"


    Embarrassed Lydia wiped the tears from her eyes.


    Brother Matthew said, "Sincere prayer does that sometimes. If you ever prayed you would know."


    "I pray priest." Antone spun around and headed out the door.


    Gently James said, "Brother Matthew, please stop implying my nephew is a pagan. He has his faith it is just not as public as yours."


    "I am sorry James. You are right." They went outside. An old woman was selling mementos. The memento for Amiens Cathedral was a black and white ribbon. James bought four and handed them out. Proudly Brother Matthew affixed his to his robe. Lydia attached hers. It would forever remind her that she had danced with angels.


    **I call on the Lord in my distress and he answers me. Psalm 120:1

 Chapter 24. Dagger in the Wood

    The River Somme echoed the colors of the morning sky. The reflections of bare trees and shredded clouds wavered on its surface. It was beautiful. Lydia hated that they had only spent one night in Amiens, but the weather was fair and it was time to move on. James said, "Hye!" Moses Aaron snorted and pulled the cart forward.


    At midday, Lydia felt herself leaking. Her flow was a damned, uncomfortable, nuisance and a danger. Though she did not want to, she must engage James'' help. She nudged him. When he looked at her, he raised his eyebrows. She nodded. He pulled the reigns and said, ¡°Whoa!¡± Moses Aaron happily stopped and leaned over to crop a shred of early clover in the dead winter grass.


    From the back of the cart, Antone asked, ¡°Why are we stopping?¡±


    Lydia climbed down.


    Antone groaned, ¡°Oh, God, the Modest Angel has to piss again." He glared at Lydia. "You consume too many liquids." To his uncle he said, "Why? Why do you cater to this twit? Make him piss by the cart and get it over with.¡±


    Lydia thought, Would that I could!


    With his eyes scanning the woods, James told Antone, ¡°Hold your tongue." To Lydia he said,¡°Do not go past those Junipers."


    "All right." Lydia made her way through the tangle of brush and saplings into the wood. The slender white oaks clung to their faded leaves. Just beyond them, was the clump of junipers. Aunt Rachel had used juniper berries as a body purifier. Within the shelter of these trees, Lydia quickly took care of her business. Her rag had become dislocated, that was all. Still, it was best not to waste an opportunity to relieve herself. The last thing she wanted was to give Antone another chance to chide her. When she finished, she stood. The breeze carried a familiar scent. Wild boar? They could be vicious. Beyond the junipers aman appeared. The pungent smell of pig filled Lydia''s nostrils. If he saw her he gave no indication. His swift legs carried him noiselessly passed her. Was he headed for the cart? What if he was the man who had slit the friars throats? Fear shot through Lydia. She tried to cry out, but her voice was frozen. Her hand went for her dagger, but hit her candle box instead. At the sound, the man turned. His dirty face seemed familiar. His eyes met hers. Recognition sparked in his. Did he know her? Did she know him? His face went pale and he veered away from her and disappeared into the brush.


    From the cart, James called out, "Luke?"


    Lydia''s eyes remained focused on where the man had disappeared. Where had she seen his face before? Faces flipped through her mind. She had seen so many faces since this pilgrimage began. All at once she remembered, the hanging tree. Again she saw the man''s body swinging from the oak tree, neck broken and dead. She recalled the noble and the peasant who had been with him. The man she had just seen looked like the peasant! There was a crunching of debris to her right. This time her hand made contact with her dagger. She spun around and jerked it from its sheath. When James saw it he asked, ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    "I saw a man, running through the trees. He was headed for the cart. I was afraid he might hurt you. When he saw me, he ran away."


    A slow smile crossed James face. Lydia was not sure if it was from amusement or appreciation. He pointed at the dagger, "Seeing that makes me want to run away too."


    ¡°My dagger did not scare him. It was the clatter of my candle box that sent him running.¡±


    ¡°It was probably just some vagabond, but it shows we can not be too careful. I should not have let you go even thi short distance alone. It was stupid of me. Your life is more important than your identity of your modesty."


    Antone burst through the brush and asked, "What are you two doing?" He eyed them suspiciously. His eyes went to Lydia''s dagger. A dangerous gleam came into his eyes. Quickly, she returned it to its sheath.


    James told him, "Luke saw a man."


    Antone asked. "Really, was he a faerie man?"


    Irritated Lydia said, "Nay, a real man, but his steps made no noise."


    A hard glint sprang in Antone''s eyes. ¡°So he had wings?" He was trying to provoke her.


    James said, ¡°Shut up, Antone. Go on Luke, describe him.¡±


    "He was youngish, short, filthy and..." her voice trailed off. In her mind the peasant from the hanging tree and the man she just saw blended. Had memory or fancy joined them?


    "And what?" asked Antone.


    "He smelled of swine. He was so fleet. I have never seen anyone run that fast or that silently." The peasant who had chased her that long ago evening had not been fast.


    James said, "I think you may have just seen Cyril. Come on Antone, lets go see if we can catch the poor beggar. Which way did he go?"


    Lydia pointed.


    He told her, ¡°Get back to the cart.¡± He and Antone took off. At their pace, they would never catch him. Cyril? Had she heard that name before?


    Back at the cart Brother Matthew asked, ¡°Where are James and Antone?¡±


    "I saw a man in the woods, James seems to think it was a fellow named Cyril."


    "Why on earth would Cyril be tailing us? If I had stolen half of Dame Paston¡¯s silver I would be in Rome by now. Of course Cyril being Cyril probably is flat broke by now and in need of a meal. If so why would he run? James is very merciful."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Lydia said, "I pulled my dagger on him."


    "Well, that would send him flying. Still, if it was Cyril, James will not catch him."


    Time passed and James and Antone did not appear. Lydia was beginning to worry. She asked, "Should we go after them?"


    "No. My first responsibility is to keep you safe."


    "So we are to remain here and do nothing? What if the man is not Cyril and he is armed?"


    "As are James and Antone. Though I do not think Antone will be of much service, still as scripture says two are better than one. We must pray for their safe return Luke. That is the best service we can offer.¡±


    Though Lydia did not agree, she remained where she was. James would be furious with her if she set out alone. After what seemed like forever, Antone and James emerged from the wood. They were alone. Brother Matthew called out, "So, he got away?"


    Antone asked, "What does it look like daft priest?"


    "Antone, I have told you many times I am a monk not a priest."


    James shouted, "Both of you shut up!" The two young men fell silent. James climbed onto the cart and took the reigns from Brother Matthew. Instead of taking his usual spot in the back of the cart, Antone was leaning on the seat right behind Lydia. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. Not since their meeting had she been this close to him. His nearness made her feel very peculiar.


    James slapped the reigns against Moses Aaron¡¯s back. The indignant beast set off at a quick clip.


    Brother Matthew asked him, "Did you see him at all?"


    Antone said, "No, only foot prints."


    "Do you think it was Cyril?"


    Antone''s arm touched Lydia''s back. A strange sensation swept through her. Why was he so close? His breathing was a little ragged. Was he afraid? Was that why he had drawn so close to them?


    James said, "It could be anyone. Still, who ever it was we must keep our eyes sharp."


    *


    That night they camped at a makeshift inn. It was just a daub and waddle building with some wooden platforms to sleep on, not a single hay mattress or blanket in the place. Two friars on a pilgrimage to Constantinople were also spending the night there. Before James went to the barn to attend to Moses Aaron, he told Brother Matthew to mind his tongue. Though offended Brother Matthew said he would. James did not say anything to Lydia, but his look told her to watch herself.


    The friars sat on one bench. The elder of the two said, "Come, join us. We have a little bread to share."


    It was indeed a little bread. Brother Matthew generously added a wedge of cheese and some dried figs he had purchased in Amiens. While they talked the cheerfulness of the friars chased away some of the shadows that had gathered in Lydia''s mind. The friars were from the order of Friars Minor. Their founder was a man named Francis from Assisi. Though he had been born wealthy he took a vow of poverty and lead a most holy life. Brother Matthew listened with attentive ears. To have so much and give it up for God, appealed to him. Apparently, it did not appeal to Antone. Though he listened, he was restless. When the friar paused, Antone asked "Would you like to hear some music?" His eyes scanned the group, purposefully landing on Lydia.


    The younger of the two friars said, "That would be a treat."


    Antone quickly got his rebec. He stood beside the lamp and placed the instrument against his chest. With a graceful movement he pulled the bow across its strings. Music filled the inn with pitch perfect strains. Softly he sang Saint Simeon¡¯s song. His voice was beautiful and sweet. The song stirred Lydia deeply. Moder had sung her this song every night. Every night, Lydia had sung it at Romsey Abby. Unbeknownst to her, tears trickled down her cheeks.


    When he finished the song, Antone said, "Luke you are a regular fount." His teasing ripped Lydia from the heights his music had taken her to.


    The young friar said, "Tears are a compliment to your playing sir."


    Lydia was furious. She wiped the tears from her eyes. If she were a true boy she would slug Antone right now, but, she was not a true boy. Unconsciously, her fists clenched and unclenched.


    Antone saw them and said, ¡°Ah, lad, do you think you can take me?¡±


    Was he testing her? Did he want a fight? A strange fury gripped her. She rose to her feet.


    Alarmed Brother Matthew said, ¡°Antone, you do not want to spoil your pretty face. Leave him be."


    "Shut up priest!" Antone''s eyes held Lydia¡¯s with an eerie calm. He was testing her. She could not fight him, lest she reveal her true identity.


    The young friar asked Antone, ¡°Sir, why risk your hands in a fight? Swollen or broken fingers will hinder the sharing of the gift God has given you. Please, play us another song instead."


    To Lydia''s surprise, Antone said, "You do have a point." He then said to Lydia, "I apologize Luke for my teasing. Now, what song would you like?"


    Brother Matthew apologized often, Antone never apologize to anyone but James. Was this apology sincere? There was only one way to find out. She said, "I forgive you. Could you play, L''autrier m''iera levaz?"


    A sly smile spread across Antone''s face. An instant chill went through Lydia. She had chosen badly.


    Antone asked, "Tell me Luke, have you like the knight of this song been been deceitful and lewd with a shepherdess?"


    The version of L''autrier m''iera levaz that Moder sang to her did not involve deceit or lewdness The one Moder sang was about the rejection of a knight''s attentions by a common young woman. Of course Antone would know a filthy version!. Angry with herself for trusting the charming idiot, she rose from the table and walked out of the inn.

 Chapter 25. The Blessed Mother

    Angrily Lydia stalked to the stable where James was tending to Moses Aaron. In a broken down stall she found him brushing the mule. He looked up and asked, ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Your nephew is an ass.¡±


    James laughed. ¡°Aye, poor boy, he is.¡± Suddenly his face sobered and he told her, "Be quick and do what must be done. This will probably be the only opportunity you will have tonight."


    Her cycle, her damned cycle. How many times would she have it before they reached Rome? In the next stall, with only Moses Aaron between them she took care of all her business. It was excruciatingly embarrassing but it could not be helped. When she was done, James provided her with a bucket of water to wash her rags. He then returned to the other side of Moses Aaron.


    The events of the day flooded Lydia''s mind as she scrubbed. She could not get the man in the woods out of her mind. His face flashed from distinct to indistinct. The memory of the hanging made her shudder. Once again she heard the voice of the noble shouting, "I will find you boy! I swear I will, and when I do, another breath you shall not breathe." She needed to talk to James. With quick hands she wrung out her rags. Now what to do with them? They needed to dry. From the other side of Moses Aaron, James said, "The window shutter is busted. I think the bottom half  might serve a purpose." As Lydia laid out her rags, she glanced up at the window. The stars reached out to her and steadied her. When she finished with her laundry, she went around Moses Aaron and said, "James, there is something I need to tell you."


    His eyes narrowed when he saw her face. "It sounds serious."


    "It is." She dropped her voice low, "When I was on my way to Romsey Abbey I was pitched by Crofter Gimbles'' Old Agnes and hit my head on a field stone. When I woke up, I saw three men, a peasant, a noble and a man on horseback with a rope around his neck. The horse took off and the man was hung. The noble saw me. I was able to out run him. He vowed to kill me. I have not seen him since, but the man I saw in the wood today looked like the peasant who was with him."


    A dark fire flared in James'' eyes. He said, "Describe this noble."


    "He was tall, long legged and his voice boomed. I do not remember much about his face except that his teeth seemed to flash when he spoke."


    "How far were you from Romsey Abbey?"


    "Half a day on foot."


    James eyes narrowed. "That would have been last March?"


    "Aye." It had almost been a year since that evening.


    The fire in James eyes was carefully tamped down. His brows furrowed. He seemed very troubled.


    "What is it James?"


    He smiled reassuringly at her. "I just hate that you had to go through that.¡±


    "Do you think the man I saw was Cyril?"


    "I pray not. Cyril was Dame Paston''s pigman for years, as was his fader before him. It broke Dame Paston''s heart when he turned out to be a thief. If he did worse..." His voice trailed off. "Come it is best we get back to the others."


    "No." Lydia did not want to get back to the others, well Antone. She said, "I would rather sleep in here with Moses Aaron." There was no way she would subject herself to Antone. He was not good or kind. Whatever he stirred in her was not love, but it was powerful.


    James glanced at the broken window and said, "It is not safe in here. Come.¡± Reluctantly Lydia followed him.


    *


    The road to Paris was rutted. The cart bounced along. Moses Aaron was taking his sweet time and stopped every time he spied even the tiniest blade of new grass.  Beside Lydia, James wore a pertpetual frown. Since their encounter with the man, who might have been Cyril, James had lost his usual calm. Brother Matthew noticed and asked him, ¡°Are you well James?¡±


    James said, "I am alright, but something is amiss, I feel it in my bones."


    Though Lydia was uneasy too, the closer they got to Paris, the more her heart and her mind turned to Moder. Soon, soon she would walk where Moder had walked. The places she had only heard about, she would see with her own eyes. Excitement filled her.


    Seated directly behind her, Antone was full of chatter and music this morning. Though she would never admit it to herself, her body liked the nearness of him. The River Seine, dark and reflective, flowed nearby. A single crane took flight. The beating of its wings sounded to Lydia''s ear like the rising of angel wings.


    Antone said, "Lovely, the way birds fly. Always wished I could fly."


    "Me too," said Lydia.


    "If I had wings," Antone continued, "I would fly straight to university. It will be good to have access to books and attend lectures. Nights on the left bank, loitering...I have missed it all."


    James asked, "So, you will stay in Paris?"


    "Oui. Life on the road is an adventure, but I would like a few comforts and some pretty girls about."


    Jealousy pierced Lydia, followed quickly by resolve. No, she must not let silly, flirtatious Antone rob her of the beauty of this day. Ahead in the morning mist, Paris appeared. At the sight of it Lydia''s heart took flight. They were almost there!


    Once inside the city, they made their way steadily toward Notre Dame. The streets were filled with students rushing and calling to one another. Never had Lydia seen such a variety of males. Every size, shape and color was represented in the streets. There were rich, well dressed students in coats with buttons! There were others toting books and bags for the wealthier students. Antone waved and called out to a scruffy young man. ¡°Theo!¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The young man shouted back, "Ah, the music has returned to Paris!" Lydia did not even have to turn to see Antone''s response to this compliment. She could feel him beaming.


    James wanted to find lodging before they went to Notre Dame, but Brother Matthew protested, "Dame Paston said we must go there first. It is on the list in bold letters."


    They passed a street that reeked. A tanner was on that street. Moder¡¯s, papa had been a tanner. Moder never told the story of her first encounter with Fader. Only Fader had told the story. In memory, Lydia heard him boasting, ¡°I had been in search of quality beef fat for tallow and had consulted your Moder''s papa. When I saw the tanner¡¯s pretty eldest daughter and realized the prosperity of her papa''s business, I asked for her hand in marriage.¡± How Fader had smiled when he said this, but Moder, though she smiled, the smile was only on her lips and never in her eyes. In one afternoon, her fate had been sealed. A shiver vibrated through Lydia, such had almost been her fate. She turned back to look down the street. Did it lead to Moder¡¯s old home? She wanted very much to see it, but she knew better than to ask. To see her grandparents, if they were still living, would compromise her identiy and possibly lead to them contacting her father. They had given Moder to him, why would the not give her to him, as well?  It was a risk she would not take.


    Ahead, she saw the bridge that led to the Isle. Beyond it, Notre Dame loomed large. At the hitching post, James stopped the cart and tethered Moses Aaron. Moses Aaron shook his head in protest. He wanted food and shelter. "In time, beast, in time," murmured James.


    Brother Matthew paid the bridge toll. They crossed the River Seine behind a group of pilgrims. The closer they came to the cathedral the faster Lydia''s heart beat. She was almost there, almost to the place where her mother had found refuge. While Amiens Cathedral had awed her, Notre Dame struck her dumb. The towers of Notre Dame soared toward heaven. Lydia''s eyes followed their lines into the blue cloudless sky. Moder, could Moder see where she was?


    In a reverent voice Brother Matthew said, ¡°Tis Our Blessed Mother¡¯s Cathedral. Dame Paston said it is the most beautiful house of God her eyes have ever seen.¡±


    Antone nudge Lydia and said, "Take a breath Luke."


    Lydia sucked in a big breath of air. She felt a little dizzy. They walked to the cathedral¡¯s steps. Moder had stood on these steps!


    Brother Matthew whispered, ¡°It is more grand than I ever imagined. I thank God and Dame Paston for this opportunity.¡±


    Lydia could only nod. Though Moder had done her best to describe the exterior of Notre Dame to her, she had not succeeded. No one could describe this indestructible magnificence. She looked and looked. Her eyes were too small to take it all in. Brother Matthew¡¯s comments did not reach her ears. She heard nothing, was aware of no one else. In the stonework, Biblical characters stood one on top of the other. A long panel depicted Christ and his disciples. An impish figure of Satan clung to Judas Iscariot. She had always felt sorry for Judas. He had done a wicked thing betraying Christ, but he tried to give the money back. The priests would not take it. If only he had waited three days, he would have been forgiven. But, he had not been able to wait three days and he had hung himself. A chill ran through Lydia, once again in memory, she saw again the swinging body of the man at the hanging tree. Had Judas swung like that?


    With a quick movement, Antone was at the doors. In a dramatic gesture he opened a door and exclaimed, ¡°Come and be amazed!¡±


    Going from the morning sunshine into the muted light of the cathedral was like entering another world. The air was charged with a hushed silence supported by the murmur of people in prayer. Shafts of light penetrated the shadows. The stained glass windows blanket the floor with colored light. Huge decorative columns  soared upward. Tiny candle flames flickered on the altar that was so far away. Lydia took in a deep breath and smelled the essence of Notre Dame. It was sweet and smoky.


    Behind her, Antone launched into the history of Notre Dame, ¡°In 1163 this great Monument to our Blessed Mother in worship of God¡¯s Holy Son was begun. For Seventy-two years artisans and masons toiled---¡± His voice, like background music, went on and on, but Lydia¡¯s mind was too occupied to hear his words. She remembered the joy in Moder¡¯s eyes when she described Notre Dame. Often she would lapse into her Lingua Franca as she spoke. In memory, Moder¡¯s voice said, ¡°The largeness of the ceiling, the height of it seemed to invite the angels. Every time I worshipped there I felt like I had fallen into a magic palace where anything was possible. Anything. It was the most beautiful place I have ever been. I thought, surely this must be what heaven is like and if so, then I will happy there.¡±


    Was this like heaven? Was heaven filled with this mixture of light and shadow, beauty and vastness? In Amiens she had felt small and insignificant. This cathedral though vast, did not have the same effect on her. It welcomed her and held her. Beside the altar was the Blessed Mother with the Christ Child in her arms. Her stone eyes were vacant and dark, yet some how radiated strength. This was Notre Dame, honored for her power, her love and her sacrifice. As Lydia followed the men toward the altar, she became aware of the Blessed Mother''s presence and a large loving silence. For the first time in her life, she experienced the meaning of the words, Blessed Mother.

 Chapter 26. Without Sin

    The shadows in Notre Dame began to shift. Much time had passed. James said it was time to go. Lydia did not want to go. She did not ever want to go. How hard it must have been for Moder to leave this place, this very holy place. She asked James, "Can we come back?"


    Before James could answer, Brothe Matthew said, "We will come to Evening Mass."


    "Perhaps," said James.


    Outside, the afternoon sun cast harsh light. Lydia raised her hand to sheild her eyes. Across the Isle was  Palais de cite'', the residence of King Philip the Fair. Like King Solomon''s palace in scripture, the house of French kings rivaled the house of God in its splendor and beauty.


    On the Isle people in amazing attire strutted like vivid peacocks around Lydia. She wondered if any of them were royals. What was it like to have such beautiful clothes? What was it like to wear bright yellow silks and fine purple wool? In Romsey Abby, Susanna had often coveted the clothes of the nobles. What would she have thought of theses elegant clothes with their buttons and tassels? As they made their way across the bridge, Lydia noticed that many of the finely dressed women took notice of Antone. Since she walked behind him, she could not see his face. By the constant bobbing of his head, she wagered he was pouring forth his most enchanting smile. Lydia could not help but think, What a fool I was to ever hope he would notice me someday.


    On the other side of the bridge, a surly Moses Aaron waited for them. The mule let out a shuddering breath and tossed his mane. He was ready to go. So, eager was he, James had them all get into the cart, before he untethered Moses Aaron from the hitching post. Brother Matthew pulled hard on the reins, while James leapt into the cart. As soon as James landed in his seat, the mule set off at a very brisk pace.


    When they entered the market place. Moses Aaron slowed to a crawl. His great nostrils snuffed the air. Lydia breathed in the aroma of baked goods and roasting meat. Pear tarts, did she smell pear tarts? Moses Aaron abruptly stopped before a booth. He thrust his nose forward and swiped a tart. An old woman with a broom smacked his nose. She shouted, "Leave my tarts be, you hairy thief." Moses Aaron gobbled down another.


    James handed the reigns to Lydia got off the cart. He jerked Moses Aaron''s head away from the platter. "I apologize for my rude beast. How much do I owe you for the lot?"


    A toothless grin spread across the old woman''s face. "Ten coppers."


    James gave her a silver. The woman was awestruck. "Merci Monsieur." Her gnarled fingers slipped the silver into her apron pocket. She wrapped the tarts in a bit of cloth and handed it to James.


    "Merci Madame," said James. He bowed to the woman and returned to his seat. He gave the tarts to Lydia and took the reigns. Satisfied that he had gotten what he wanted, Moses Aaron turned his attention back to the street. All around the cart, vendors were at their tables displaying their wares. Women, children, men, students and servants strolled from booth to booth.


    In the distance a male voice shouted, ¡°Adulterers! Adulterers! Make way for the passage of Adulterers!¡± In an instant a path cleared. People lined up, pushing and shoving against the booths. Their eyes were bright with excitement. A show was about to take place, a most despicable show of punishment. Lydia did not want to see this. James tried to turn onto a side street, Moses Aaron balked. James cursed him and slapped the reigns. He shouted, "Hye, Moses Aaron!" The mule refused to move. In a matter of moments the seething crowd hemmed them in. They were trapped. The spectacle could not be avoided.


    Around the corner they came, a man and a woman stripped of all their clothes. From Lydia''s place on the cart, she could clearly see them. Behind the couple officials shouted, "Adulterers! Make way for Adulterers!" Public humiliation was the price of adultery. There would be more to pay, this was just the first step in the judicial system of the day.


    James told Lydia, "Cover your eyes!" But, Lydia found she could not. She was mesmerized by the pendulous swing of the man¡¯s organ. It was such a strange and curious thing, a bit like that of a bull, only not so large. Antone elbowed her. He had seen what she was looking at. Embarrassed she turned her attention to the woman. Her large breasts were young and firm. They too swung. Lydia''s small breasts did not move like that. The woman''s downcast eyes dripped silent tears as she struggled to cover herself with her long dirty hair. On her fore arms were dark purple bruises. Some one had hurt her. The crowd shouted with hypocritical indignation. The men were focused on the woman''s pale bare body. They feasted their lustful eyes on her shame. Finally unable to bear the sight, Lydia closed her eyes. The cart tipped a little.


    James yelled, ¡°Stop! You will get yourself killed!¡±


    The seat beside her was vacant. Lydia''s eyes popped open. Shoving his way through the crowd was Brother Matthew. He was headed straight for the couple. Was he mad? One did not interfere with the public wheels of justice! When he reached the woman he tore off his cloak. The naked man saw and thought he had come to his aid. Brother Matthew shook his finger at the man. The crowd laughed. At the sound of their laughter the young woman covered her face with her hands.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Oui!" shouted a youth, ¡°We can see her nips now.¡±


    Again the crowd laughed.


    Brother Matthew glanced back with rage, a burning rage! He turned to the woman and threw his cloak around her. The crowd was all at once silent. Brother Matthew was now in mortal danger, still he shouted, ¡°What did our Lord Christ do to the woman caught in adultery?¡±


    A murmur went through the crowd as his words were translated into other languages, but no one answered him.


    Brother Matthew''s voice rang out clear and strong, "He told her to go and sin no more.¡± A rock whizzed past his ear, nearly striking him. Brother Matthew thundered, ¡°Shall you stone us, you who have not sinned?¡±


    Again a murmur rippled through the crowd. Brother Matthew did not wait for further response. He shouted at the naked man. ¡°You will not spoil her further.¡± With a nod to the officials Brother Matthew put his arm around the young woman and guided her to the cart. He said, "James, we need to take her to the convent."


    The young woman protested, ¡°They will not take me. I have no money for my keep.¡±


    James said, ¡°I know a sister at the convent.¡± His kind eyes looked down upon her.


    A fragile trust entered her eyes. She said, ¡°I will go with you.¡±


    James motioned for Lydia to get in back with Antone. Brother Matthew lifted the woman onto the seat and climbed up beside her. Frightened, Lydia waited for retaliation from the crowd and the officials. None came. They all stared with wide eyes, as Moses Aaron turned did James'' bidding. The mule tossed his head from side to side, clearing a path for himself.


    The woman reeked. Lydia wanted to cover her nose. Beside her, Antone seemed unfazed. Could he not smell her? Once Lydia would have judged her, but now, she wondered what had brought her to this point in time? Swiftly they traveled down the street until Moses Aaron halted at the door of an inn with a crane painted on the sign board.


    James said, "So you remember this place you old sod?" Moses Aaron nodded. James told Antone, "Stay here with Luke and fetch us a room. We will be back when this thing is settled." As soon ans Lydia and Antone were on the cobbles, Moses Aaron took off without resistance.


    As they watched the cart drive away, Antone said, "No one drives Moses Aaron, he drives himself." He shook his head. "Once the woman is delivered, poor Brother Matthew will get such a scolding from my uncle. He could have gotten us all arrested or killed! Still, it was a courageous thing he did."


    "It was."


    Inside the inn, Antone asked for a room. There was one, a large one with pallets. Antone secured it and asked, "Luke are you hungry?"


    "Not really."


    "Excitement does seem to effect your digestion. Fortunately it does not bother mine." He led her to a table in the dining area. This was the first time they had EVER been alone. Lydia felt suddenly nervous. After ordering their food, Antone remarked, "I had hoped to meet up with friends tonight, but your company will have to do." He smiled at her.


    Warily Lydia replied, "And I must make do with yours."


    When the rich pork and pie were set on the table Lydia felt a slight pang of hunger. She took a bite. It was delicious. Between bites, Antone began to spout historical facts about Notre Dame. After a lengthy monologue, he asked, "Have you been to Paris before?"


    "No, but my moder grew up here."


    "So, what does your Moder think of your pilgrimage?"


    "I do not know."


    ¡°Oh. Is she--"


    Before he could finish the sentence Lydia said, "Aye, she is."


    "I am sorry." There seemed to be genuine compassion in his voice. An awkward silence fell between them. His eyes scanned the room and he abruptly changed the subject. "See that wench over there. Lovely, is she not?"


    Blast it all! Lydia turned to look at the serving wench. She was comely. One of two things was about to happen, Antone would leave her to charm the wench or he would engage in the male sport of speculation. He chose the latter, "Have you ever kissed a girl Luke?"


    "A gentleman does not speak of such things."


    Antone laughed. "You have not. Ah, but wait, it will happen."


    As usual Antone''s condescension irritated her. She wanted to shout, Shut up! It was true she had never kissed anyone back. Jacob had forced kisses on her. They had had not been pleasant and the thought of them always upset her.


    "Dear God Luke, have I again said something to offend your sensitive ears?"


    Lydia glared at him. "Why do you assume I am so stupid and inexperienced? You know nothing about me."


    An amused smile tugged at Antone''s lips. "As far as I can tell it is my uncle''s express wish that I know nothing about you. You are a mystery." His eyes narrowed as he studied her.


    They had swiftly moved into very dangerous territory. Lydia dropped her eyes. The events of this day had been too much. Tears were going to descend at any moment and she doubted she would be able to stop them. A warm hand, closed over hers. The touch sent a strange sensation through her. She looked up and met Antonte''s gaze.


    He squeezed her hand and quickly released it. "I am sorry fo being such an ass."


    Lydia could not speak. She still felt his hand over hers even though he had removed it. The sensation spiraling through her made her wonder, Is this what causes a woman to loose her head and fall for a man? Or is this just some strange power Antone possed that drew women so effortlessly to him? The word women, brought Lydia back to herself. She was no fool. Antone liked women, just one woman would never do for him. She said, "I accept your apology."


    James and Brother Matthew entered the dining room. In their arms were the bedrolls. James asked Antone, "Did you secure us a room?"


    "Aye."


    "Are you joining us or will you be going to university?"


    Antone smiled at his uncle. It was his charming smile. "One more night of your hospitality would be appreciated."


    "One more night it is."


    Only this one night and then Lydia would be free of Antone, forever. The thought brought her a mixture of relief and sorrow. She did not know which was stronger.

 Chapter 27. Mirabilia

    After their supper, Brother Matthew asked James, "May we go to Evening Mass?"


    "Nay. It has been a long day and I do not want to go anywhere else." Due to the finality of his tone and the look he gave Brother Matthew, no one protested. James stood and the rest followed suit. "Antone," James said, "Lead the way." They followed him up the staircase and down the hall. Antone stopped in front of a door. James opened it. A single candle burned on a crate. The room was rectangular. Two windows faced the southeast. Though both windows were shuttered, the moonlight crept in through the cracks around the shutters. This room had actual beds, but there were only two! Lydia glanced at James. He seemed unconcerned. She was concerned. James shut and bolted the door. His shoulders sagged. For the first time in days his body seemed to relax. He said, ¡°It is good to have a safe haven tonight.¡±


    With a peculiar smile Antone said, ¡°It is good to have a bed to sleep in. Whom will sleep with whom?¡±


    Without looking at Lydia, James said, ¡°That is easy enough, you dear nephew will sleep with me.¡±


    To Lydia, Antone said, ¡°Be careful this night, tender Luke, you know the priest drools.¡±


    Before Brother Matthew could protest, James cut in, ¡°Antone, you know he is a monk, give him that courtesy on your last night. Please, or else you can find other lodging.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Uncle, sorry, Brother Matthew. It will not happen again.¡±


    With hurt feelings, Brother Matthew replied, ¡°Since we will be parting tomorrow, perhaps, for once, you will be able to keep a promise.¡±


    Though the comment was meant to sting, it did not. Antone laughed and said, ¡°Indeed.¡±


    James sat down on the bed and took off his cloak, pilgrim''s robe and boots. He pulled a pamphlet from his back pocket.


    Antone''s eyes latched onto it and he exclaimed, "Mirabilia!* Where did you get that!" He stripped the pamphlet from his uncle¡¯s hands. Without another word, or another glance at anyone he plopped himself on the floor beside the candle and began to read. His absorption was complete. James stretched out on their bed. Within moments he was asleep.


    Brother Matthew pulled back the blankets and studied the bed. He whispered, "See any vermin?"


    Lydia looked. She did not see anything, but that did not mean they were not there. After they shed their cloaks, robes and boots, they climbed into the bed. Oh, how Brother Matthew would bellow if he knew he was sharing a bed with a female! He whispered in her ear, "Luke, I am going to Morning Mass at Notre Dame. Come with?"


    "Aye."


    "Good. Till morning." Brother Matthew snuggled down into the blankets and was soon sound asleep.


    Though James would be furious when he found her missing. Well, if he found her missing. James was not a deep sleeper. Still, Lydia was determined to try. In memeory she heard her Moder''s voice, ¡°The dark was lit by the candles that wavered on the altar. All was silent. Mass would begin and as it progressed the fresh new light of day would creep through the cathedral with muted softness. It was like a kiss from God.¡± She so wanted to see what her mother had seen and experience what her mother had experienced.


    Lydia pulled out her vermin comb and slid it through her hair. Nothing tonight. That was good, would the comb come clean in the morning? She slid it back in her pocket and glanced at Antone. He was still on the the floor reading. The soft glow of the candle encircled him in a ring of light. So small, so ephemeral was a candle wick and yet when lit it had the power to push back the darkness.


    Antone glanced up and saw she was awake He took the candle and crept silently acrosss the floor to her. In a low voice he said, ¡°Listen to this Luke. This is what you will behold when you go to the Vatican to see Pope Boniface.¡± From the pamphlet he read, ¡°Within the palace of Nero is the temple of Apollo¡­before which is the Basilic of the Vatican, adorned with marvelous mosaics and a ceiling of gold and glass.¡± He sighed. ¡°Imagine such a ceiling.¡± His eyes took on a far away look.


    Timidly she whispered, ¡°I cannot imagine.¡±


    ¡°Nor I. It is something that must be seen.¡± Did this mean he was considering going with them? Had James given him the pamphlet on purpose to encourage him to continue in their company? It was obvious James cared for his nephew very much. It was also obvious that he worried about him.


    Their voices had awakened James. He said, "Antone, leave Luke be."


    Antone gave her a crooked smile and scooted back across the floor.


    *


    Before first light Brother Matthew shook Lydia awake. He motioned to her and climbed out of bed. On silent feet, the walked toward the door. As she grabbed for her cloak, her foot bumped against her her candle box. It clattered. James raised himself up on one elbow and asked, "Where do you two think you are going?"


    "Mass," said Brother Matthew.


    James asked, "Where?"


    "Notre Dame."


    "That is half way across the city, going in the wrong direction. I saw a chapel down the street. You can go there."


    Though they did not want to go there, Brother Matthew said, "All right James, if we must."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "You must. Thanks to Pope Boniface the roads will soon be clogged with pilgrims headed toward Rome to celebrate this year of Jubillee. So do not waste time dawdling."


    Incensed, Brother Matthew said, "I assure you James, going to Mass is not dawdling.!"


    In a flat, even tone, James said, "Standing around gaping at relics that are not on the list is dawdling. So come straight back. We will be leaving after breakfast."


    Disappointment filled Lydia. Leaving, already? There would not be another opportunity to go to Notre Dame, to feel the nearness of Moder, or to bask in the beauty and silence of the cathedral. She wanted to cry.


    With a hint of hope in his voice, Brother Matthew asked, "Will we pass through Paris on our return?"


    This was something to hope for. James quickly dashed this hope. "Nay," he said. "We will follow the Pilgrim''s Way back. Paris is not on the traditional route."


    Brother Matthew said, "You are a brute, James..¡±


    "Perhaps I am," said James. "Now get going before I change my mind."


    Angry determination filled Lydia. They might bypass Paris on their return, but she would not. In fact, when this pilgrimage was over, she would come back to Paris and live! She followed Brother Matthew out of the room and down the stairs. Outside the sky was beginning to turn a soft blue. The air was cold and smelled of rancid food. They dodged the refuse and the nasty puddles of God knew what on the street. At the tiny chapel they stopped. It had a single door with a cross carved on it. Brother Matthew pulled open the door. Every time they opened the door to a new holy place it was like opening a gift. They never knew if it would be a good gift or a bad gift.


    In this little chapel tallow tapers burned on the alter and cast their scant light into the damp stone structure. After they took a seat, a man, near James age, with a very clean robe, walked alone down the aisle. He did not have a candle bearer. A couple old ladies huddle in the front pews. That was the total of his congregation. The priest stepped behind the altar and gave the old women a nod. He looked out over their heads and smiled at Brother Matthew and Lydia. He then proceeded to perform the Mass in perfect Latin. His voice was rich and deep. It carried Lydia on waves of sound. Kindness and joy seemed to billow out of him. It was odd, not even Father Peter had seemed so happy in his vocation. When Mass was over, the priest greeted them at the door. He shook their hands and said, "Thank you so much for coming. I am Pere Stephen."


    Brother Matthew said, "I am Brother Matthew on pilgrimage to Rome, and this is Luke."


    The priest looked directly at Lydia and said, "Please to meet you both. Luke, you remind me of someone." He studied her a moment and said, "You bear a striking resemblence to my cousin Tabitha."


    Lydia''s heart seemed to stop in her chest. She asked, "Was her papa a tanner near the Isle?"


    "Oui. He was."


    Was, past tense. So her grandfather was dead. Was her grandmother? To Pere Stephen she said, "Tabitha was my mama."


    He frowned and asked, "Is she among the living?"


    "No. She died last spring."


    "I am so sorry. Such a sweet child. It broke my heart when she moved away." He reached out a hand and squeezed her shoulder. Timidly, Lydia met his eyes. He had known her mother, he had loved her mother. She could see a hint of Moder in the bridge of his nose and the line of his brow.


    He removed his hand and said, "I knew Tabitha had a girl, I did not know she had also had a son, but then it has been a long time since there has been any word of her. Are you a candle maker like your papa?"


    Brother Matthew burst out, "Luke is. In Ameins he had a word from God blessing his calling and profession!"


    "Indeed," said Pere Stephen. As a smile spread slowly across his face, Lydia felt like it was her mother was smiling down on her. He placed he placed his hand on her head and blessed her, "benedicat tibi Dominus et custodiat te ostendat Dominus faciem suam tibi et misereatur tui onvertat Dominus vultum suum ad te et det tibi pacem."* His blessing echoed through Lydia. Moder was close, so close. She had not needed to be in Notre Dame this morning. She needed to be here.


    He invited them to breakfast, but Brother Matthew told him, "No, we must get back."


    As Pere Stephen watched them go, he said, "May we meet again, this side of heaven."


    Brother Matthew called back, "In God''s time."


    Lydia was determined she would see Pere Stephen again. She would learn about Moder''s childhood and the life she had lived before Fader carted her off.


    As they made there way back to the inn, Brother Matthew said, "Well, Luke that was something indeed. There is a candle maker in Southampton, named Thomas Wade. Would he be your fader?"


    "Nay." It was a bold faced lie and she must tell another. "I am from Romsey."


    "I have never been there."


    Lydia thought, Thank God.


    Back at the Inn, they found James and Antone seated in the dining room. James had already ordered breakfast. He looked up and said, "Well, you two made good time."


    "We did indeed," said Brother Matthew without elaboration.


    They ate their eggs and pork in silence. When the meal was over Antone''s lips curled into an enchanting smile.


    Brother Matthew whispered to Lydia, "Be wary of that smile, Luke."


    "Uncle," said Antone turning his smile on James. "Last night after much thought and prayer I had a revelation.¡±


    Brother Matthew interrupted, "Thought, prayer and a revelation, you?¡±


    The smile left Antone¡¯s lips. He continued, ¡°I can see you are uneasy, Uncle. It troubles me.¡±


    Brother Matthew interrupted, "James, you know what is coming next. Consider, he will be an added expense, another mouth to feed and a extra burden for Moses Aaron."


    Veiled amusement played across James'' face. To Brother Matthew, he said, "I am sure Moses Aaron will be touched by your concern. Still, let Antone finish.¡±


    Nervousness trembled in Antone¡¯s voice as he spoke, ¡°I would like to go to Rome with you, if you will have me. I would be another man to keep watch.¡±


    For several moments James studied his nephew. ¡°I believe you are in earnest. I would indeed welcome another set of eyes."


    *Mirabilia means Marvels. It is a guidebook discribing the Marvels of Rome

 Chapter 28. The Nun in Troyes

    They were in wine country. Vineyards and pastures lined the road. A hawk flew overhead. Lydia missed the sight of pelicams and gulls. In the pasture, early lambs bleated to their mothers. Ahead the watchtowers of Troyes rose. Around the town was a thick sand colored wall. James drove the cart to the line waiting to go through Porte d¡¯Auxerre.


    Brother Matthew said, "That wall is eight feet thick. Surely it can keep out any enemy. While we are here we will visit St. Pierre¡¯s Cathedral. It has the basin Christ used to wash his disciples feet and the skull of St. Philip. It does seem that saints had trouble keeping their heads." The line moved forward. Brother Matthew asked, ¡°James, did Dame Paston send a letter to Sister Dorcas?¡±


    "Aye. Our first stop will be the Abbey of Notre Dame-Aux-Nonnians."


    ¡°Do you think the she will make trouble?¡±


    When he replied James sounded worried. ¡°I hope not. Still, it seems a gamble, one I would not take, if I had not been ordered to.¡±


    "I think the same James. The Dame and her deceased husband''s sister do not get on."


    In back Antone said nothing. He was being unusually quiet.


    They crossed over the dry moat and through the thick walls. Moses Aaron carried them up the Grande Rue, over Bishop''s Gate and finally to the convent. Memories of Romsey Abbey filled Lydia''s mind. She missed Sister Timothy and Cobb, but she did not miss the confines of the Abby. Aunt Rachel had not believed a holy calling was necessary to be content with a monastic life, but Sister Timothy''s joy in her devotion had taught Lydia that for some it was essential. Now that Lydia''s true calling had been confirmed by Brother Matthew and God, hope in her own future continued to cautiously grow in her heart.


    Moses Aaron halted at the abbey gate. James climbed down and handed the reigns to Brother Matthew. "Pray that this will not take too long." He went to the door and knocked. The door opened. Two nuns peered out. He told them, ¡°I have a letter for Sister Dorcas from Dame Paston.¡± They admitted him.


    Under his breath Brother Matthew began to pray. Within moments the door opened and a young nun with a ruddy complexion said, "Sister Dorcas would like to meet the one called Luke." This was unexpected.


    Brother Matthew whispered, "I knew there would be trouble." Moses Aaron snorted his agreement.


    A bad feeling filled the pit of Lydia''s stomach. Her legs trembled when she climbed down off the cart. She passed through the gate and into the abbey. Inside the abbey walls peculiar sensation traveled through her body and spirit. Without another word the nun motioned for Lydia to follow her. This sister swiftly passed from the dark to the light that spilled through open doorways. Near the end of the hall Lydia felt the presence of evil. The feeling grew stronger with each step she took. The atmosphere in this convent was not anything like the atmosphere of Romsey Abbey. Something was off, way off. Without a word, The patter of the nun''s sandals slapped in a strange rhythm on the floor. They sounded like the flapping of huge wings. Dark wings. Lydia felt dark wings. The air was oppressive. The nun turned at the end of the hall and stopped. They stood before at a heavy wooden door. On the door was an intricate carving of a flaming cross. It was tinged with stains that looked like dried blood. The nun knocked on the door. A perturbed voice said, "Enter."


    The nun swung the door open, but she did not go inside. Once again she extended her hand and motioned for Lydia to move. A peculiar aroma wafted out of the room. Was it brimstone or a tallow candle gone foul? Afraid, Lydia hesitated. She stuck only her head inside. There were no windows. By the wall, James glanced at her. In that instant he communicated to her to be wary. She slipped inside.


    In the center of the austere room, an older nun sat at a table. A large rancid candle sputtered unsteady light around her. In her thin speckled hands was a letter, the letter Dame Paston had written to this her sister-in-law. The eyes in the finely boned face were hard and angry. When she spoke her voice was harsh. "Close the door.¡± Lydia did as she was told. Her eyes narrowed and she said, ¡°So, you are Luke."


    Lydia was not Luke, she had never been Luke. Aunt Rachel had told her once, "A rare lie that saves your skin is a necessary evil." If Aunt Rachel were here she knew, she would tell her to lie. Softly Lydia said, "I am."


    A pleased expression came over the nun''s countenance, but then was quickly extinguished. She said, "You are very pretty boy. You do indeed look like the boy, Dame Paston described in her dream. She has had many dreams over the years. She tends mixes her Faith with imagination, she always has." Her hard eyes swiveled to James. "But, you James, have always shown some sense. I am surprised at you for agreeing to go on this fool''s journey.¡± James remained immobile, his eyes fixed upon the nun''s face. Sister Dorcas continued, "The letter mentions three on this pilgrimage and yet I was told there is a fourth in your party. Who is it?"


    James said, "My nephew, Antone."


    Infuriated by his response, Sister Dorcas hissed, "How is it that my brother''s bastard has become attached to this pilgrimage?"


    Lydia could not believe her ears. She was not sure what shocked her more, Sister Dorcas''s language or the identity of Antone''s father. This was a fine mess!


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    "We met him along the road, " said James.


    "So, you are feeding and sheltering him, with the Dame''s money?"


    "I do so at my own expense."


    Sister Dorcas cocker her head like a raven. In a voice laced with sarcasm, she said,"Really. Well, that is noble, but there is something else driving you James. What is it?"


    The tension in James was palpable. Hie eye twitched, ever so slightly as he worked to keep his anger in check. He said, "I am bound to do the will of Dame Paston."


    A dark light filled the nun''s eyes. She dropped her voice low and asked, "Even when her will goes against the will of God?"


    "I do not believe it does."


    Sister Dorcas leveled her gaze at Lydia and asked, ¡°Do you believe you were sent from God?¡±


    Before her experience on the labyrinth in Amiens, Lydia had not truly believed. Now, she did. This nun was trying to trap her into committing another verbal sin. So much depended on her answer. Lydia drew back her shoulders and said as firmly as she could, "I believe as Dame Paston believes."


    Sister Dorcas eyes sliced through her. They seemed to penetrate the core of her being seeking out her weakness. Would she find it? Would she guess, or did she know already? A sly smile crept across Sister Dorcas'' wrinkled lips. She smirked and said to Lydia, ¡°Well that was a clever answer.¡± The dark eyes turned back to James. "Thanks to Pope Boniface VIII generosity my damned nephew, worm that he was, will receive eternal respite. If not for the Pope, the best Dame Paston could have purchased for George was about 12,000 years worth of indulgences, but after those years would still have to spend eternity in hell." The word hell seemed to echo in the room. To Lydia, a 12,000 year reprieve from hell was a bargain.


    Sister Dorcas rose from her seat and crossed the room to where Lydia stood. She stopped mere inches from her. She was so close, Lydia could see this woman''s resemblance to Antone. She had his coloring and the same straight teeth. Once, she had been a very beautiful woman. A quick hand reached out and grasped Lydia''s jaw. Roughly she turned her face from side to side. "A boy?" Again, there was a hiss in Sister Dorcas'' words when she asked, "Will you sin or will you speak truth?" The grip of this nun''s long fingers hurt. "Speak Girl, now if you value your soul." Hatred dripped from her voice. Hatred flashed in her eyes. Never had Lydia felt the nearness of Satan, but she felt him now in this room, but his was not the only power in this room or this world.


    Deep inside Lydia felt the rising of an inner strength she did not know she possessed. She looked directly into the loveless eyes that were fastened on hers and said, "I am the one Dame Paston saw in her dream. I have received a word from God."


    "Liar!" Sister Dorcas released Lydia''s jaw and turned to James. She asked, "Why have you taken up with this girl? What is she running from? You know it will catch her in the end. You were not able to save your sister, you will not be able to save her. It is best you return home and leave her here."


    Though flushed with anger, James still managed to keep his voice even, "I have delivered the letter I was duty bound to deliver. Now, I have other matters to see to. Excuse us."


    Sister Dorcas'' eyes flashed. She said, "What you are doing James is illegal and you know it. Because I care for your lasting soul and the girl''s, I will not permit it." With a sneer she added, "Leave her with me or else I will tell the authorities she has been sharing quarters with three men.¡±


    This was too much. Lydia exclaimed, ¡°I have not played the whore!¡±


    A very wicked smile creased Sister Dorcas''s wrinkled face.


    Stupid, stupid, Lydia thought. She should have kept her mouth shut!


    In a voice filled with triumph, Sister Dorcas asked, "James why would God forgive Lord George Paston if his proxy is a wanton liar among liars?"


    In a low, controlled voice James said, "I do not understand the ways of God or the church that claims to worship Him. I was commissioned by Dame Paston and I will finish my commission. She had a dream in which this child appeared. I believe in her belief." He glanced at Lydia and added, "And I am not alone in this." From his cloak, he pulled another letter. "For you from Madame Coeur."


    All at once the wicked light in Sister Dorcas''s eyes went completely out. James placed the letter on the table. A slight tremor went through the nun¡¯s hands as she took the letter. Her color faded. She did not open it. In a hoarse whisper she said, "Leave, and do not let me ever see your face here again."


    "As you wish," said James. Swiftly he left the room. Lydia had to run to keep up with him. It seemed Madame Coeur had more than daggers in her arsenal of defense. What on earth had been in that letter? Outside James leapt onto the cart seat, and took the reigns from Brother Matthew. Lydia heaved herself up beside Brother Matthew. The cart lurched forward.


    Suddenly aware they were headed out of the city, Brother Matthew protested, "But James, we have to go to St. Pierre¡¯s Cathedral. It is on the list."


    "We are leaving now."


    "But James, Dame Paston said-"


    Full of fury, James replied, "I know what the Dame said. I have indulged her whims too long. We have one goal now, and that is to reach Rome." This was the first time James had ever spoken critically of Dame Paston


    Brother Matthew leaned close to Lydia and whispered in her ear, "Luke, what happened?"


    Lydia shook her head. There was no way she would tell him. She glanced back at Antone. He was very still. Did he know he that was the son of a noble?

 Chapter 29. The Thief

    The sun would soon set. James wanted to find shelter, but Moses Aaron refused to pick up the pace. Irritated, James jumped down, grabbed hold of the Moses Aaron''s head and practically drug the mule and the cart off the road. Moses Aaron snorted in protest. The small clump of junipers was not very good covering. "I do not like it here," he said. "But it will have to do. Antone, Brother Matthew, gather some firewood." He told Lydia, ¡°Help me fetch the water.¡±


    Lydia scrambled down and got the bucket from the back of the cart. As they walked to the nearby stream, Lydia was very aware of the tension in James¡¯ body. At the stream he said, "I have to admit, Sister Dorcas was right about a few things. We are on a fool journey, I have not used good judgement and what we are doing is against the law. The worst of it is, that if we get caught the punishment for you would destroy your life. I am ashamed of myself and so very sorry."


    Fear rushed through Lydia''s mind and body. She said, "There are indeed risks for me, but then I am female and always vulnerable in this world. If you had not found me that night on the road, I would have been forced to share a bed and a life with a brute of a man. I am grateful to God and Dame Paston for saving me from that life. Please tell me you are not abandoning this pilgrimage."


    Grimly, he said, "I should, but Sister Dorcas was also wrong. My sister was given an opportunity to follow her calling. I have seen evidence of her work on this journey. She may not still be living, but at least I know she got to live out her calling, even if it were only for a little while. God,help me, but I want the same for you. It is wrong that talent should be poured into a female form and remain unutilized. For now, we will continue onward."


    Releived Lydia said, "Thank you, James."


    "I am not worthy of your thanks." Though Lydia wanted to argue the point,she did not. He took the bucket from her and swung away from her. Everything about him forbade further conversation. The topic had been dropped and it would not be revisited. With an angry thrust, he dunked the bucket into the stream. When he pulled it up, his eyes scanned the area. His jaw was rigid. He seemed to be considering something but he did not speak of it. After several silent moments he said, ¡°We best get back.¡±


    When they returned to the campsite, a small fire was burning. Brother Matthew had stale buns stabbed through with a stick toasting over the flames. When the buns were ready he passed them around. He sat down beside Lydia and said, ¡°I am thinking it will not be long until the newest Paston heir is born. If, he is a boy.¡±


    Antone who had been about to take a bite out of his bun stopped. His face flushed with anger. Lydia wondered if his anger was due to the fact that as a bastard he had no legal claim to the Paston legacy.


    James glanced at his nephew. ¡°I think it is still a bit early.¡±


    In a slow, agonized voice, Antone asked, ¡°Lord Geoffrey got married?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± said Brother Matthew.


    ¡°Who did he marry?¡±


    ¡°Lady Marianne La Croix.¡±


    Antone exclaimed, ¡°I thought she was married to Lord Bolton!¡±


    ¡°Oh, my I had forgotten you proposed to her too. Like you had a chance.¡± Brother Matthew shook his head. ¡°Last year Lord Bolton drowned near the mouth of the River Test.¡±


    Images filled Lydia¡¯s mind. Lord Bolton had been found dead the day her marriage bans to Jacob Higden had been read. That seemed a century ago.


    ¡°Lord Bolton is dead.¡± Antone asked, ¡°Why did no one mention this to me?¡±


    Brother Matthew said, ¡°I did not think you would be interested. Besides, it was an unsavory business, and I try to avoid gossip.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean Pr¡ª¡° Antone almost said ¡®priest¡¯ but stopped himself.


    Dropping his voice to a whisper, as if there was anyone else to hear them, Brother Matthew said, ¡°The marriage was a scandal. Lord Bolton was scarcely cold in his grave when Lord Geoffrey asked his widow to marry him.¡±


    In a peculiar voice Antone said, ¡°If she is still as beautiful as she was when I last saw her, a man would be a fool not to wed her if he had the chance.¡±


    Lydia did not like the route this conversation was taking.


    Brother Matthew wrinkled his nose. ¡°Other men might agree but not I. There is something unwholesome about her.¡±


    With venom Antone said, ¡°How dare you speak of her that way! You know nothing of females.¡±


    Unperturbed Brother Matthew said, ¡°Perhaps you are correct, but I do know a thing or two about souls and I can tell a good one from a bad one.¡±


    Before Antone could form a retort, James cut in. ¡°Enough bickering. Eat your suppers.¡±


    After they finished eating, James banked the fire and sent them to bed. He was taking first watch.


    Though worn out, sleep would not come to Lydia. Antone¡¯s words haunted her. If he had been able to marry the current Lady Paston he would have. Lady Paston was very beautiful. She always had been. Lydia remembered her dressed in mourning in Father Peter¡¯s church. Then, she recalled how beautiful she had been even in pregnancy. None of the Ladies at Romsey Abbey could compare with her. What was it like to be that beautiful? No one had ever called Lydia beautiful. Her highest compliment had been that she was ¡°a very pretty boy.¡± Would it be said that she was a very pretty girl? Would Antone think she was a very pretty girl? Would that be enough for him? Or did he pursue beauty? Round and round her thoughts went as she watched the stars above her move. Something akin to sleep pulled at her, but failed to completely submerge her. A dull thud brought her fully awake. She raised herself up on one elbow.


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    The dark form of a man stood over James. James was not moving. With silent hands the man began to search James. He was looking for money no doubt. From his bedroll Brother Matthew sprang. He hit the man hard with his body. The man staggered backwards and pulled a knife. Terrified Lydia reached for her dagger. Before she could untangle herself from her bedroll, Antone made a lunge at the man. He knocked him down. There was a jumble of bodies twisting on the ground. Where was the knife? There was a flash of metal in the darkness and then someone groaned. Was it Antone? Brother Matthew grabbed hold of the man and pulled him off of Antone.


    Lydia rushed toward them. Antone remained in a crumpled heap groaning. Lydia drew her dagger and plunged it into the man¡¯s side the way Madame Coeur had shown her. The man let out an angry shriek.


    Lydia ripped the dagger out of his flesh and shouted, "Get!" The man saw the dagger that dripped his blood and ran. Brother Matthew started after him, but Lydia shouted, "Let him go! We can not have you getting hurt too." To Antone she asked, "Are you stabbed?"


    "No. Kneed me in the balls, the bastard."


    Visibly, shaken, Lydia wiped off the blade of her dagger. She had never stabbed anyone before and she felt quite sick. She shoved it back in its sheath. Would the man die from the wound she had given him? He might. If he did¡­ A groan from James recalled her to the matters at hand. He was still prone on the ground and breathing unevenly. She knelt beside him. She could smell his blood. From her bag, she pulled a candle from her candle box. With a deft strike of her flint, she lit a candle. A wavering light, tinged with the aroma of honey pooled in the darkness. Blood, James blood stained his clothes.


    Brother Matthew pointed at the candle and asked, "Is that a good idea?"


    "I think James has been stabbed." James was not moving. He did not have a knife wound but he had an ugly gash bleeding on his head. Lydia checked, James'' eyes. With careful fingers she opened one eye and then the other. His pupils shrank in the light. That was a good sign. She examined his head. It was covered in blood. With the sleeve of her pilgrim¡¯s robe, she sopped up his blood. Near his temple was a nasty open wound. It needed stitches. A doctor, a midwife, a barber could stitch him up. If only she had paid more attention to how Aunt Rachel stitched, she could do it, but she had not paid attention. ¡°Brother Matthew fetch me some rags.¡± When he returned with the rags, she told him to gently put pressure on James wound. She then went to Antone.


    With obvious concern he asked, ¡°Is Uncle going to be all right?¡±


    ¡°He needs stitches and medicine. I would feel better if he would come to.¡±


    ¡°As would I. He must be all right. Grandmoder could not bear it if he is not.¡± Lydia suspected that Antone would find it hard to bear as well.


    The light of her candle revealed some bloody scratches on Antone and a place where the knife had grazed his left forearm. The fact that he was unable to uncurl himself concerned Lydia. ¡°You may have an internal injury.¡± For some reason, Antone smirked at her. He was so confusing. He assured her his pain would pass, so she went back to James.


    Brother Matthew said, ¡°I will go fetch Moses Aaron." He blew out her candle.


    As Lydia cradled James bleeding head she prayed. He had to be all right. He just had to be. Suddenly, James jerked awake. His hand went to his head. "What happened?"


    Antone exclaimed, "Thank God you are awake Uncle! You were attacked by a man."


    James asked, "Where is he? Was it Cyril?"


    "He ran away after Luke stabbed him,¡± Antone replied. ¡°No, it was not Cyril. He was taller and tougher than Cyril and he did not reek of pig."


    "Blast it all," groaned James. "Did he take anything?"


    "No, Brother Matthew was on him too fast for that."


    Carefully, Lydia and Brother Matthew got James into the cart and then helped Antone. While Brother Matthew drove Moses Aaron, Lydia continued to hold the rag against James head. If only the bleeding would stop. Still worried, Antone sat beside his uncle, clutching his arm. Every bump in the road caused James to wince.


    After what seemed like a long while, the light of day began to color the sky. In the distance a small group of buildings appeared. Moses Aaron headed straight for them. The mule did not halt until he was ready. He chose an oblong house with a big barn and stopped.


    Before Lydia could get down, a tall man opened the front door and came out to the cart. He held an oil lantern in his hand. His beard was long. Lydia could not tell if he was young or old. On his head was a small cap. His faded tunic had a badge sewed on it. He asked, ¡°How may I help you?¡± His dark, dark eyes appraised her. They were so black, black like the tiles of the labyrinth floor at Amiens. So black, she could see her reflection in them.

 Chapter 30. In This World

    To the man holding the oil lamp, Lydia said, "My friend was attacked by a bandit and has a nasty wound on his head. Is there a doctor, midwife or barber who can tend to him?"


    The man nodded. "Yes, my grandmoder is a midwife. She is in the kitchen with my wife. If you do not mind your friend being treated by a Jew, she will see to him.¡±


    Brother Matthew¡¯s mouth formed a huge O. He was about to say something but before he could, Antone said, ¡°Of course we do not mind.¡± To Brother Matthew he whispered, ¡°Shut your mouth and help get Uncle inside.¡± To Lydia¡¯s amazement Antone stood up. It seemed he had been miraculously healed of whatever had been paining him.


    Brother Matthew and Antone helped lift James down. He was not steady on his feet. In the lamplight, his color looked bad. As they walked, the man told them his name was Rabbi Rashbam. Inside the house, he led them down a narrow hall to the kitchen. A young pregnant woman stood by the hearth. She wore a brown dress with a star sewn on it. The Rabbi told her, ¡°Dear, these pilgrims were attacked.¡±


    From behind Lydia, a familiar voice said, "The road is dangerous and will be more so, since Pope Boniface has declared this a year of Jubilee." A tiny woman brushed passed Lydia. She glanced at her. The old woman was familiar, and she knew Lydia. Dumbstruck Lydia could not believe her eyes! It could not be! Only in dreams and memory had she ever expected to see her again. It was Bab! Bab, the Jewish midwife, who had trained Aunt Rachel. She gave a slight nod to Lydia and then went to James. In her soft voice she said, "Well hello old friend. I did not expect us to meet in this world again. But then, life is like that.¡±


    James gave her a weary smile. ¡°Bab, it is so good to see you.¡± Tears stood in James¡¯ eyes. Lydia had never seen him so moved by emotion.


    Bab told Antone and Brother Matthew, ¡°Lay him on the table." To her grandson she said, ¡°Fetch me more light.¡±


    Antone, and Brother Matthew lifted James onto the table. Rabbi Rashbam put a smaller table beside the kitchen table. On it he placed six lamps. Their flames wavered and smelled of olive oil. James hair was matted with drying blood. His wound looked much worse in this well lit room. Carefully Bab examined it. From a bag that was tied around her waist, she pulled various packets. One smelled like juniper. Bab held up the herb and said, ¡°Juniper will staunch his blood, draw out the bad and prevent infection.¡± James had been attacked right beside juniper and Lydia had not known it could help him. Once again, she regretted not being more attentive to her Aunt Rachel. After Bab thoroughly cleaned the wound, she threaded a silver needle with stiff black thread. "James, sit, very still, just like you did when you were a little boy and I had to give you stiches."


    ¡°Aye, Bab.¡±


    When the needle pierced James skin, nausea thundered inside of Lydia. She looked away. James grunted but that was all. Lydia could hear the needle as it moved in and out of his skin. If this lasted much longer she would be sick. Finally, Bab said, "There. All done. Eli, Brother Matthew, take him to my room.¡± To Antone she said, ¡°Young man, let me take a look at those scrapes." She tapped the chair beside her. Obediently Antone sat down.


    After his scrapes were attended to Bab sent Lydia, Antone and Brother Matthew to the back basin to wash up for breakfast. As they washed, Brother Matthew whispered, ¡°Do you think it wise to break bread with Jews, the killers of Christ?¡±


    Angrily Antone hissed, ¡°Christ was a Jew, the disciples were Jews, Mary was a Jew. Paul was a Jew. You holy men stagger me with your religious bigotry. These people have offered us care and food. All things Christ told his followers to do. Have you forgotten your scriptures?¡±


    Brother Matthew grumbled something but said no more.


    *


    Dusk would soon fall. At the front door, Rabbi Rashbam told Antone, "When our service is over, you and your friends can come outside and join us for a feast."


    Through the window Lydia watched people file into a barn that served as their tabernacle. Every person, man, woman and child had one of those yellow stars sewn on their clothes.


    James was still in Bab¡¯s room. Last time Lydia had looked in on him, he was still pale but he was eating, and Bab said that was a good sign.


    The colors of day faded and darkness covered the earth. One by one stars appeared. Lydia¡¯s stomach grumbled. She was hungry. How much longer? Suddenly the night was filled with the sound of clacking stones. The barn doors flew open. A roar of human shouts poured out. Men, women and children raised their voices. Antone rushed to the door and flung it open. Lydia went to his side. In the yard a fire was being lit. Two young men carried a cloth dummy tied to a pole by its throat. The way it swung sent a chill through Lydia.


    With a whoop, one of the men lit the dummy. It burst into flame. A cheer rumbled from the people. What was this strange celebration?


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    The crowd churned in the yard. Antone said, "Come on!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the night. Brother Matthew did not follow.


    Music like Lydia had never heard before spiraled around her, begging her join the dancing. Skirts swirled, boots thumped and children squealed with delight. The musicians played their viols, flutes, timbrels and hand held harps. They sang as they played. Antone told her the language they were singing in was Hebrew. She asked, "Do you know what they are celebrating?¡±


    Antone smiled at her and said, "Aye, the Feast of Purim. Have you heard of Queen Esther in Scripture?"


    Lydia nodded.


    ¡°Then, you know how Queen Esther saved the Jewish people from being killed by the evil Haman. This feast is to honor her."


    So the hanging dummy they burned was a symbol of Haman. Though she had not liked that part, it pleased her to know the Jewish people had a feast to honor the brave Queen Esther.


    Antone leaned closer to her and whispered, "If only these people had a Queen Esther now. It will not be long before they are driven from this land too. In Paris they are not allowed to celebrate Purim. King Philip sees the feast as an act of insolence against Christ. Others see it as an act of rebellion.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°No, it honors the liberation of Jewish people, but I fear, some of the men are frustrated by the continuing confines set upon them by the crown. I have heard talk that when King Philip casts them out they will go to Mediterranean.¡± Antone had not said "if," he said "when." How awful to keep being cast out. Would Bab be exiled again before her life was over?


    Though still close to her, Antone returned to his normal voice and asked, "Have you noticed the stars these people have sewn on their clothes?"


    "Aye," she said. ¡°What are they for?"


    "King Philip decreed that they wear the star. It sets them apart from others and makes them easily identifiable as Jews."


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Bitterly Antone said, ¡°Fear, prejudice, ignorance. The human need to have a scapegoat to blame. The despicable belief that one people are superior to another.¡± He stopped. ¡°Enough of this talk. This is a celebration. Shall we join the dance?¡±


    Lydia shook her head. She did not know how to dance like a boy. He smiled at her and spun into the swirling crowd. His feet knew exactly what to do. His movements were as fluid as the music he made with his pipes. He twirled a girl. His eyes were laughing. Painful jealously filled Lydia. How she longed to be the one he twirled.


    Turning away from the dancers Lydia went to the table that was covered with dried fruits and some foods she had not seen before. No longer hungry she went to the barn where Moses Aaron was stabled. The mule tossed his head and nickered at the sight of her. Lydia climbed into the stall and pressed her cheek against his. "You are a comfort to me, you old mule."


    Moses Aaron snorted.


    A little girl entered the barn carrying a lantern. She called, ¡°Kit, kit, kitty, come here.¡± A tiny ball of orange and white fluff streaked up the little girl''s dress and perched on her shoulder. With one hand, the child pulled the kitten down and rubbed it against her cheek. With the tenderness of a mother, she scolded her errant pet. When she finished, she looked up, saw Lydia and smiled. At once, Lydia was struck by the child''s eyes, they were same color as Moder''s. The little girl came to Lydia and said, ¡°This is Ratter. He will kill barn rats when he is bigger.¡±


    Lydia stroked Ratter¡¯s soft fur. ¡°He is very pretty.¡±


    The child looked at her with scorn. ¡°He is handsome. Girls are pretty, not boys.¡±


    ¡°You are right. I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°It is fine. He is almost pretty.¡± She kissed the kitten. ¡°My mama, she tells me not to kiss the filthy cat. Cats are not filthy, Ratter is Jewish. He washes before every meal.¡±


    Lydia asked, ¡°Are you Jewish?¡±


    ¡°No, I am Christian." Her voice dropped to a whisper, ¡°I wish I was Jewish. I would live in a clean house and say Torah. When I am big as you, I will learn. I will learn many things.¡± Her intelligent eyes were filled with determination. The girl asked, ¡°Why are you hiding in here?¡±


    ¡°I am not hiding. I came to see Moses Aaron, is he not a fine mule?¡±


    Skeptically, the little girl looked at the mule. ¡°There is nothing fine about a mule.¡± She spun around and headed out of the barn. Lydia followed her.


    The child¡¯s pace was rapid. She pushed through the dancers and rushed out into the night. It was not safe for a girl child to be out alone! Lydia ran around the dancers and went to the dark edges of the yard. Through the vineyard the girl''s lantern bobbed. Afraid the child would not make it safely home, she ran after her. Not far down the row Lydia tripped on a vine. When she stood, the little girl was gone. Where the child had been, stood an animal. Its body seemed to be made of pale silver. A single horn was fixed to its head. It could not be!

 Chapter 31. Beatice鈥檚 Gift

    The words of her mother echoed in Lydia''s mind, ¡°Unicorns appear to damsels who are pure of heart and body.¡± This was surely a sign sent from God that she was traveling the correct path. Cautiously, she approached the creature. It did not dart away, but waited until she was quite close. The beast turned, it was not a unicorn at all, but a stag with a single new antler growing from the side of his head. Disappointment hit her hard. He was not a sign or magical creature. He was just a deformed deer. Swiftly, he leapt away. Lydia called out, "Little girl, where are you?" There was no answer. Lydia dashed in the direction she had last seen her. No lantern bobbed up and down in the vineyard. The child had vanished completely. Again, and again, she called out for the child. No one answered. Had she just imagined the child? Was she already home?


    Behind her Antone asked, "Luke, who are you looking for and what are you doing out here alone?"


    Alone, alone! She had once again broken her word to James. She tried to answer Antone but her lip trembled. She must not cry, not now, not in front of Antone. The last thing she needed was a dose of his teasing.


    Stepping close behind her, he asked, "What is going on?"


    Lydia did not know. Unable to turn, unable to face him, with a catch in her voice, she said, "I saw a little girl head this way. I was worried about her. She seems to have vanished." Had the child been a vision, a figment of her imagination? Lydia''s heard felt funny.


    Antone''s fingers encircle her wrist. He said, ¡°You are trembling." His fingers tightened around her wrist.


    A tear splashed down her cheek. Blast it all. Why were women so given to tears? They did not serve her in this man''s world. She tried to hold her words back, but they tumbled out anyway. In a broken voice she said, "The little girl had eyes the same color as my moder¡¯s. Why did she have my Moder''s eyes, and why has she vanished?"


    "I don''t know," said Antone. He gently turned her to face him. She knew the torch light from the festivities revealed the tears that were now flowing from her eyes. Without a word, he pulled her to him. His arms held her so close. A sob ripped through her. Gently he stroked her hair as she cried. The comfort of him was unexpected. No one had ever held her like this before. He smelled of earth, sweat, smoke and something irresistibly sweet. He whispered, ¡°You have had a tough go of it, and I fear I have not helped. I am sorry, Lydia.¡±


    He knew! Lydia pulled free of him and asked, "What did you call me?"


    ¡°Lydia. You are not Luke. Your candle box, I have seen ones like it in Paston castle. Your fader is Thomas Wade."


    "How long have you known?"


    "I became suspicious the night I taunted you and you curled your fists to hit me, only you did not hit me. It became more and more obvious that the way Uncle treated you was nothing like he treated Brother Matthew and I when we were your age. I sensed something was off, and it had nothing to do with you being Dame Paston''s angel boy. From that point on I watched more carefully the way you walked and carried yourself." He reached for her, but she took a step back.


    She said, "Know, I am not a girl for you to play with.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said softly. ¡°You are not.¡±


    There was something different in his voice, something she had not heard before. It pulled at her. He placed his palm on her wet cheek. His hand was warm. She could not clearly see his face but she could feel his eyes. What did he see as he looked at her? She did not ask. She told him, "We must tell someone about the little girl."


    Lydia heard Bab singing in Hebrew. The shadow of the old woman came closer. Lydia ran to meet her. Bab asked, "Child, why are you crying?"


    Once again, Lydia told the story of the little Christian girl with eyes as blue as Moder''s and the unicorn. She concluded by saying, " I thought I had received a sign from God, but it was not a unicorn, just a stag with a single horn."


    Bab told her, "We Jews are segregated from the Chrisitans on this land. There are no Christian children anywhere near here. As for the stag, I too have seen him." She paused before she continued, "We humans strive for signs that confirm what we want to believe. What do you want to believe Lydia?"


    "I want to believe that the little girl was Moder watching over me. I want to believe the unicorn appeared to me to confirm that this pilgrimage is not sinful, but it is a lie. A llie, is a lie."


    Bab asked, "Is it? Our minds are limited and our grasp of the truth is human. God sees what we can not see. We must not be so arrogant as to insist we know what is true or so cruel as to insist we qualify a lie."


    This sounded like a riddle to Lydia''s ears. She said, "There is one more thing, Antone knows who I am."


    Bab reached out her hand to Lydia and Lydia took it. The old woman¡¯s skin felt like fine parchment. With a glance back at Antone, she said, ¡°Antone has lived with secrets his entire life. You can count on him to keep yours. But do be careful, proud cock though he can be, his chest does harbor a tender heart that has known much grief."


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Behind her, Antone made a peculiar noise.


    To him, Bab said, ¡°Chilly, night?"


    "Aye, Ma¡¯am it is."


    With an edge in her voice Bab said, "You, lad, will not tell James what you know. His burden is heavy enough without having to worry about you trying to seduce Lydia.¡± Antone started to protest but the look Bab shook her head and continued, ¡°You will leave her alone. I know a bit of magic and I know a curse or two. So, beware.¡±


    Lydia recalled her vision of Bab as the crone flying across the sky blowing ice upon the land. The little girl had been another vision. The stag had been real. It was hard in this world to know what was real and what was not. A shiver went through her.


    ¡°Aye, I will, I promise.¡± Antone stepped forward and asked, "May I go see my uncle?"


    ¡°He would like that.¡± When Antone walked away,, Bab said, ¡°I have hope for him. He has a bit of his uncle in him. He may turn into a fine man some day.¡±


    Lydia thought, Maybe, but I will be an old woman by then.


    *


    James was on the mend. He was about the house and walking of his on volition. One morning at breakfast Bab told James and Antone, ¡°There is something I think you both should see.¡± To her grandson she said, ¡°Eli, I think James is strong enough to make the journey now. We will take them to wine cellar after breakfast.¡±


    After the meal they piled into Rabbi Rashbam wagon. Antone was careful to keep his distance. Bab and James rode on the seat with the Rabbi. Brother Matthew had been very quiet and self-contained since they arrived at the Jewish settlement. This morning was no different. He was not comfortable amongst the Jewish people, but he was respectful. The oxen pulled them passed the vineyard to double wooden doors that opened in the side of a hill. Lydia had never seen anything like this before. She climbed down.


    Rabbi Rashbam opened the doors. Cool air tinged with the aroma of wine swirled out of the darkness. Rabbi Rashbam lit an oil lantern and stepped inside. The rest followed. Huge urns filled the cavernous space. The walls at the back of the chamber had a smaller set of double doors. The lamplight revealed symbols on them.


    Astonished Brother Matthew blurted out, ¡°These are Christian doors!¡±


    Antone asked, ¡°Are those doors from Troyes, the ones the nuns took when they rebelled against the church?"*


    Rabbi Rashbam nor Bab responded to his question. Inside the doors, the lamplight darted in the fermentation room. Great casks lined both sides. In the back was an alcove. The light reached the alcove before they did. Both James and Antone took in a sharp breath.


    On the wall was a portrait of Eve. It was magnificent. This was the fallen mother, in all her glory. Her anatomy was correct. Her lines were graceful. Around Eve was the Garden of Eden. It was succulent in its green and blue shades.


    Bab said, ¡°Beatrice painted this.¡±


    Anxiously Antone asked, ¡° My Moder? When?¡±


    ¡°Three years ago.¡±


    ¡°Then she is still alive?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. I do not know,¡± said Bab. ¡°She joined a group of pilgrims bound for Constantinople when she finished.¡±


    James with his eyes still fixed on the painting murmured, "My dear sister, what a gift God gave you and what a curse."


    ¡°True,¡± Bab agreed. ¡°Her gift cannot be denied. It has driven her, her entire life. I will tell you what she told me about this painting. She said, ¡®Though, many see Eve as the door through which all evil entered the world, I do not. The serpent appealed to Eve¡¯s reason. He gave her credit for having a mind that could hold knowledge. She took the fruit knowing it was forbidden, knowing it must be forbidden for the power it held, the power she could possess if she but ate of it. She held the destiny of the ages in her palm. The serpent did not offer this power to Adam, he went to Eve.¡¯¡±


    Brother Matthew interrupted, ¡°Because she was weak.¡±


    ¡°We are all weak," said Bab, "Beatrice believed the serpent chose Eve because she was strong. The serpent, super natural though he was, did not have the power to sway Adam in this matter but Eve did. Beatrice asked me, ''When she ate the fruit and found it pleasing, what happened to her?'' I said, ''She fell.'' Beatrice said, ''Not at first. Nothing happened until she shared the fruit with Adam. When Adam ate the fruit, then they both saw. When Adam wanted to possess what Eve had, they both fell. If Adam had loved Eve better, and loved God more, he would have refused. His love might have covered her sin.'' I do not know if she had a point, but I do know she made me think."


    Mute, Lydia stared at the painting as she struggled to understand this perspective.


    Softly James said, "In a fit of rage my sister once told me, ''Men use women and then deny us the use of the gifts God has planted within us because they know we have the power to sway them, to make them loose their heads. How stupid is a man in love or in lust?'' And she was right." His voice broke off.


    With his eyes fixed on the painting Antone asked, "Uncle do you think Eve resembles Moder?"


    "A little," said James.


    Bab turned their attention to the left wall. Rabbi Rashbaum held up the lamp. On this wall was a portrait of Mary with Jesus when he was about eight. The boy Jesus had Antone''s likeness.


    Tears came to Antone''s eyes. "That is how old I was the last time I saw her. I remember the softness of her touch and her wet tears falling on my head."


    James'' gripped his nephew''s shoulder. He too was remembering that day.


    "This Mary," said Brother Matthew, "Looks like your moder James."


    "Indeed." James grip tightened on Antone''s shoulder. In a voice hoarse with emotion he said, "It does my heart good to see my sister¡¯s work. Rabbi thank you for providing her with a space to express her gift."


    Antone covered his face with his hands and wept.

 Chapter 32. An Excellent Woman

    In the kitchen, Bab removed the bandage from James head while Lydia, Brother Matthew and Antone watched. She said. "It is healing. No infection. How are you feeling?"


    James smiled and said, "Much better."


    "Good." She handed him a small jar and a bag of herbs. To Lydia she said, "Make sure he uses these every evening for the next week."


    "I will."


    To all of them, Bab said, "My grandson would like for you to observe Shabbat with us."


    Lydia asked, ¡°What is that?¡±


    For the first time since seeing his mother¡¯s art work Antone spoke, ¡°It is the Jewish custom to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy.¡±


    ¡°But it is not Sunday," said Brother Matthew.


    Bab replied, ¡°From sun down Friday until sundown tomorrow is out Sabbath.¡±


    James said, ¡°We would be honored to join you.¡±


    "We will be honored to have you."


    That evening a table was set in the front room with wine goblets, plates and spoons. Two wax tapers stood unlit in the center of the table. They took their seats. With a flame from the lamp, Madame Rashbam lit the two candles. Tiny flames sputtered to life, and reflected in the eyes of those around the table. Rabbi Rashbam began to speak in Hebrew. It was a musical language, and Lydia could tell by the tilt of Antone¡¯s head that it appealed to him. After Rabbi recited Solomon¡¯s words in praise of an excellent woman in Hebrew he translated them for the pilgrims. One line struck Lydia to her core. Rabbi Rashbam said, ¡°She perceives that her merchandise is good; her candle does not go out by night.¡±* Her candle, my candle, thought Lydia. Was this the word of the Lord? She had never heard this scripture before.


    Later that night after every one had gone to bed, Antone sat at the kitchen table scratching something in ink into his little book. James and Brother Matthew were both asleep by the hearth. Quietly, Lydia took out the little book Sister Timothy had given her. She wanted to write down the words that Rabbi Rashbam had said about an excellent woman, but she could not remember all he said and her writing skills were not up to the task. She was pretty certain Antone¡¯s were. For several moments she wrestled with whether or not she should ask him to write them down for her. Finally her desire to possess the words won out.


    With a quick glance at James, she untangled herself from her bedroll and slipped beside Antone. He did not turn to her, but he did stop writing. She whispered, ¡°Could you print out the scriptures about the excellent woman?¡±


    Without a word, he took the book from her and wrote out the scripture in Latin. His handwriting was lovely. His reed pen moved so fast. When he finished, he gave the book to her. On the page, her eyes searched for the word lucerne, which meant candle. She found it. ¡°Thank you Antone.¡±


    ¡°You are welcome. I have another scripture for you, one I think you might like. May I?¡±


    She gave the book back to him. He wrote: Et quaedam mulier nomine Lydia, purpuraria civitatis Thyatirenorum, colens Deum, audivit: cujus Dominus aperuit cor intendere his quae dicebantur a Paulo.**


    Though she did not know all the words, she could recognize her name. She said, ¡°My name is in the Bible? Moder never told me.¡±


    Antone said, ¡°She might not have known. Lydia was the first convert in her realm and she was a seller of purple cloth and a fine craftswoman. The candles in your bag, do you hope to make more and sell them?¡±


    Unable to verbalize the depth of this desire, Lydia nodded.


    With a catch in his voice he said, ¡°I hope you get to. I see my moder in you, but you are not like her. She follows her whims, like I do, you follow your sense and your heart.¡± His voice dropped very low, ¡°You are an excellent woman.¡± Lydia had no idea how to respond to his compliment. With his book in hand Antone rose from the table. ¡°We best get some sleep. Good night Lydia.¡±


    She looked up at him. Briefly their eyes met. Something had changed in his. She whispered, ¡°Good night, Antone.¡±


    *


    Sabbath morning the cock crowed. The day before Bab and Madame Rashbam had prepared all the food that would be eaten this day. No work could be done on the Sabbath, not even by guests. Brother Matthew entered into the quiet naturally. For James it was a bit of a struggle. He was feeling better and he wanted to be busy. Antone read from some of the Holy Books the Rabbi had. Lydia spent her time deciphering the words Antone had written in her book.


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    When dusk descended, they gathered for the Havdahah, the ritual that ushered in the new week. When three stars appeared in the sky it was time for the ceremony. Lydia was transfixed by the intricately braided candle that adorned the table that night. She had never seen anything like it. The wax tapers wove in and out of each other, and each possessed its own wick. It was the most beautiful candle she had ever seen. First Rabbi Rashbam blessed the wine, and then the fragrant spices. After those blessings Madame Rashbam lit the tiny wicks of the candle.


    In Hebrew Rabbi Rashbam recited from the Ten Commandments in Exodus. When he finished he translated, ¡°But the seventh day is the Sabbath of the LORD your God: in it you shalt not do any work, you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your manservant, nor your maidservant, nor your cattle, nor the stranger that is within your gates. For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day, and made it holy.¡±*** All at once Lydia felt the presence of God. How could this be? Did God still visit his children the Jews though they had rejected His Son?


    Rabbi Rashbam said, ¡°We are thankful for your presence in our home. You were strangers to my wife and I and now you are friends. We thank you for the kindness of your friendship.¡±


    *


    When the Sabbath ended, James told Rabbi Rashbam that they would be leaving in the morning. Lydia did not want to go. What she wanted was to stay here with Bab. Bab knew her history and her identity. She could be done with this difficult life. What held her back was her desire to make candles. Without the gold she would earn at the end of this journey, she would not be able to open a shop.


    Monday morning, Lydia awoke to the sound of Bab humming. It was a tune Aunt Rachel used to hum. James was already up and out of the house. Brother Matthew was still snoring away. When she turned to look at Antone he was looking at her. Sudden shyness came over her. It was going to be very different traveling with Antone, now that she knew, he knew who she really was.


    After breakfast, James said, "It is time to say our Goodbyes. Thank you so much for your hospitality."


    "You are most welcome," said Rabbi Rashbam." He shook hands with Rabbi."


    Bab said, ¡°It was so good to see you my friend.¡± She stretched out her arms. James held her gently and a tear slippled down his cheek. He released her and she went to Antone. On tip-toe she whispered something in his ear, and he nodded. When she hugged Lydia, she said, "Take courage and comfort. Love watches over you." Her wrinkled lips kissed Lydia''s cheek. She nodded to Brother Matthew and he nodded in response. They stepped out into the cold mornig air.


    From the door, the Rabbi, his wife and Bab watched them climbed into the cart. All were in their usual places except for Antone. He was now seated directly behind his uncle. Without being told Moses Aaron took off. When they reached the main road it was crowded. The worried look returned to James'' face. In a voice tinged with bitterness, he said, "Blast this Year of Jubilee. Pope Boniface, the church and the merchants along the Pilgrim''s Way will make a fortune. From now on food and shelter will be more expensive and harder to come by. If only we were in Rome already. The city will be in a state of madness by the time we get there."


    In the days ahead, as James had predicted shelter was hard to find and ridiculously expensive, as was food. Moses Aaron became more surly each day. He did not like the traffic or the multitudes of sinners they met at each juncture. Lydia did not like them either. With so many people around it was hard to conceal her femininity. If she were found out, it would be very bad for all of them all, but worse for her.


    One day as they passed another church, Brother Matthew in a fit of frustration shouted at James, ¡°If we do not go to a church soon God will curse this journey!¡±


    James had replied, ¡°I think it was cursed from the beginning.¡±


    As for Antone, he seldom spoke, and had not played a single instrument since the morning he saw his mother¡¯s paintings. Not even the faces of pretty girls turned his head when they passed them. Lydia was worried about him, as was James.


    In Dijon cathedrals finished and unfinished pushed up into the mist of the morning sky. Inside the city Moses Aaron turned down a cobbled street. A gust of wind blew up and sent a wooden sign swinging. On the sign was a candle. From the open shop door drifted the aroma of melting tallow. Lydia¡¯s throat constricted. She glanced at James. He gave her a gentle and sympathetic smile. It took everything she had not to burst into tears.


    _______________________________________________________________________


    *Proverbs 31:18


    *Acts 16:14 <sup> </sup>One of those listening was a woman from the city of Thyatira named Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth. She was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul¡¯s message.


    ***Exodus 20:8

 Chapter 33. The Crypt of Saint-Benigne

    The smell of candle making, how she missed that aroma. Lydia want so badly to leap from the cart and go into the shop. Under his breath, James said, "In time, we shall go there." It was a promise, Lydia would hold onto. James did not promise things he could not do. As they passed by the shop, she craned her neck and looked at it until, the only way she could see it was if she turned around. In her peripheral vision, she could see Antone. He was looking at her. She felt her face begin to flush. Abruptly, she turned around.


    Up ahead was a cathedral. It did not have the grandeur of Notre Dame but it was sturdy and solidly built. It looked like a fortress. Brother Matthew exclaimed, ¡°That is Saint-Benigne! It is on the list! James, can we PLEASE stop for Morning Mass?¡±


    ¡°No, we have to secure lodging. Also, I have a letter for Dame Paston¡¯s cousin, Domina Simeon.¡±


    Desperate Brother Matthew asked, ¡°What about later, please? Luke and I have not been to Mass in ever so long. You may not need Spiritual refreshment, but Luke and I do.¡±


    Irritated, James said, ¡°No.¡±


    Beside Lydia, Brother Matthew slumped down. He was furious, but he held his tongue.


    Of his own accord, Moses Aaron abruptly stopped in front of Saint-Benigne. James slapped the reigns, but Moses Aaron refused to budge. ¡°So, you think they should go inside old boy?¡± The mule snorted. "All right then, they can go."


    Brother Matthew asked, ¡°Really?"


    "Aye."


    "Thank you James. Thank you Moses Aaron." He climbed off the cart followed by Lydia and Antone. James remained seated. Brother Matthew asked, "Are you not coming with us?"


    ¡°No. Be off with you and come straight out when Mass is over. No dwadling."


    "Of course, Uncle," said Antone. He went to the heavy doors and opened them. Lydia and Brother Matthew passed through. Antone was close behind. All at once Lydia felt like she was standing on holy ground. She felt something she had not felt since she had been inside Father Peter''s church. It welcomed her body and her spirit with such comforting warmth. Soft shadows draped the space. It felt like coming home. The morning sun had just begun to fill the windows.


    Brother Matthew chose seats near the front and they sat down. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Lydia was not sure which, she was between Antone and Brother Matthew. The nearness of Antone was once again doing funny things to her. The temptation to reach over and touch him was so strong, she had to clasp her hands together. She closed hers and tried to pray.


    The service began. Lydia opened her eyes. The candle bearers came first. Lydia watched them light the altar candles. The candles were wax. Their tiny flames wavered. Just behind them a young priest wielded the incense. Its fragrance was strong and sweet. The priest came next. He was old, like Father Peter. He turned and faced the congregation. His kind brown eyes smiled at Lydia. It was an instant connection. In a loud voice he proclaimed, ¡°Quem liquidos pelagi grandientem sternere fluctus imperitus, fidumgue regis, trepidumque labantem erigis, et celebrem reddis virtutibus alumum hoc Iubeas rogitante deus contngere portum.¡±


    Beside her, Antone whispered the translation:


    When you commanded Peter to walk over watery waves


    You bid him to have faith, you raised him up when he began to sink


    You restored his fame and kindness of virtues


    Praying to you, God, may we also reach our safe harbors.


    This felt like a word directly from God. She had been walking on watery waves for such a long time. On the road danger and death always lurked. Her mind turned over the words ¡®safe harbor,¡¯ they seemed to echoed inside of her. How long had it been since she had had a safe harbor? For reasons she could not explain, this place, this cathedral felt like a safe harbor. Not just a safe harbor, but her safe harbor.


    As the priest spoke, Lydia did not understand everything, but she could hear the compassion in this man''s voice. It was a voice she hoped to hear again. When the homily was over, he blessed the elements. It was a mystery that the body and blood of Christ could enter the human body through this ritual, it was not magic, it was something else. The congregation stood and they all moved forward. Lydia stepped before the priest. His eyes met hers with a silent blessing. Holy men such as him, were rare indeed. He put the the bread on her tongue. It was sweet. She turned to the young priest who held the cup. The wine was bitter. It reminded Lydia of her own humanity. The smoke of incense, the smoke of pneuma hovered over the congregation. Lydia closed her eyes. Deep inside she felt the stirring of God¡¯s spirit. When she opened her eyes, rays from morning sun shot through the windows. It filled the cathedral with golden light.


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    After the service Father Thomas said, ¡°If any pilgrims would like to tour the crypt, follow Brother William and I.¡±


    ¡°I am going,¡± said Brother Matthew.


    ¡°Me too,¡± said Antone.


    Lydia protested, ¡°But we promised James we would leave after Mass.¡± Neither of them listened to her. She had two choices, she could go outside to James, or follow Father Thomas. Since she might never see Father Thomas again, she chose the latter.


    In his magnificent voice, Father Thomas began his recitation of the history of Saint Benigne. He lead them down the aisle, behind a screen and through a door that lead to descending stairs. Cold air rose up from the crypt. With her hand against the wall, Lydia followed the group down the stairs. As they descended into the crypt, Father Thomas told them the story of Sainte Benigne for whom the church had been named. This saint had performed many miracles. Despite her fondness for this Father Thomas'' voice, Lydia could not help but think, Of course Sainte Benigne performed many miracles. Saints were supposed to perform miracles, it was their job. At the bottom of the stairs, she prayed she would not have to look at the bones in Sainte Benigne''s crypt. She had seen far too many bones on this pilgrimage. If she never saw another human bone again, it would be a blessing.


    Below, the crypt was cast in a wavering light. It was likethe light that passed through dense foliage. The crypt was in a room made of three concentric circles. Three was a holy number. Near the ceiling small openings let in morning sun. Columns like tree trunks held up the ceiling. At the top of each column were carvings of men¡¯s faces. When Father Thomas had completed his recitation, they were free to examine the crypt.


    Lydia went to one of the columns for a better view of their artistry. In the shadow of the nearest one, she saw a man. He was not just any man, he was the man she had seen in the wood! Was it coincidence? Or had he followed them all this way?


    Brother Matthew saw him too and asked, "Cyril, what are you doing here?"


    The man stepped out of the shadows with his head tucked down. "It be so good to see tha kind face Broder Matthew. I come here to make a confession."


    "Of theft?" asked Brother Matthew.


    "Nay. Commandments I dunna broke, but I dunna steal. It were all a lie that young banshee conjured. I know''d things she dunna want told."


    Antone asked, "Banshee? What Banshee?"


    "Lady Geoffry Paston."


    Lydia thought, Lady Geoffry Paston, formerly Lady Bolton. Had the Lady done something wicked or was Cyril just trying to save his own hide?


    Brother Matthew asked, "Have you been following us?"


    He shrugged and said, "Aye, I dunna know what else to do. No home, no money-" His voice broke off.


    Father Thomas asked, "Is there a problem?"


    Cyril said, "I need absolution."


    Father Thomas motioned to the young priest, Brother William and said, ¡°Please finish the tour. I have a matter to attend to.¡±


    Brother William nodded and directed the pilgrims to the far side of the room. Father Thomas said to Cyril, "Come with me.¡±


    Brother Matthew said, "May I come too?"


    Gratitude shone in Cyril''s eyes.


    Father Thomas asked, "Are you friends?"


    Brother Matthew said, "We grew up together."


    "Then come along."


    Cyril bowed to the group. He cast an eye at Lydia, and gave a little start. So he did remember she had pulled her dagger on him. For some reason a sense of satisfaction filled Lydia.


    Father Thomas took Cyril''s hand and led him up the stairs. Brother Matthew, Antone and Lydia followed. Once they were back in the sanctuary, Brother Matthew said, ¡°Antone, you best go get James."


    "I will." He made his way swiftly down th aisle.


    Brother Matthew shook his head. "This is not going to turn out well." Father Thomas and Cyril disappeared behind a screen. Brother Matthew sat down on the front row. Lydia did as well. Like a distant breeze Cyril¡¯s voice rose and fell. She could not understand a word he was saying.


    The front doors opened and closed. James and Antone came striding up the aisle. Antone asked, ¡°Where is he?¡±


    Brother Matthew pointed to the side where a screen stood.


    ¡°I guess we will have to wait,¡± said James. He took the seat beside Lydia. Antonesat down beside him. There was nothing they could do but wait.


    After what seemed a long while, Cyril appeared from behind the screen. The instant he saw James he blubbered, "I done a bad thing James, but Father Thomas said, God forgives. I have penance to do. I know, and I will do it whatever it is."


    James asked, "What have you done Cyril?"


    "I stood by and let Lord Geoffrey hang his broder."


    Stricken James said, "No! Not Lord Geoffrey!"


    "Aye,"


    Lydia stood stunned. Cyril was the peasant at the hanging tree. That long ago evening, she had witnessed not a hanging but a murder. This tragedy was as old as Adam and Eve. One son had slain the other. This news would devastate Dame Paston. But, why had Lord George Paston put up no fight?

 Chapter 34. The Story of Cyril

    It was peculiar how clearly the events of that long ago evening filled Lydia¡¯s mind. Details that she had forgotten rose to the surface. She saw Cyril¡¯s face in all its clarity. She saw Lord Geoffrey Paston, and she could not help but see the likeness he shared with Antone. Why had she not remembered any of this this before?


    James looked into Cyril¡¯s pleading eyes and said, ¡°Tell me what happened Cyril.¡±


    Before he began Cyril took in a deep breath. With eyes fixed on James, he stuttered, ¡°T-that old hog that were always gettin¡¯ loose had gone a missin¡¯. I saw her tracks in the dirt and followed her a long while. I made it to that lonely oak. Beneath it were Lord George and Lord Geoffrey. Lord George were sittin¡¯ on his horse, Star. Too late I saw the rope around his neck. Lord Geoffrey slapped the horse and off he bounded leavin¡¯ Lord George swingin¡¯. Lord Geoffrey told me to come along, and I did. Crossin¡¯ through the field we spied a lad. I think he seen the whole thing the way he took off. Lord Geoffrey wanted me to catch him, but I dunna. No more blood on me Lord¡¯s hands is what I thought. So I held back.¡±


    James glanced at Lydia. He told Father Thomas, ¡°I believe him.¡±


    In a broken voice Cyril said, ¡°Thank you James.¡±


    Jame said, "You are welcome. Plus, we have a witness." He wanted Lydia to speak.


    She said, "I am that lad. Though I did not see him arrive at the scene. He did nothing when the man was killed. It was all the nobleman''s doing. After they saw me, they took chase. I know this man could have caught me. He is swift, I saw him run on another day in the woods. I thought he looked familiar and then I remembered seeing his face in the dating daylight. I have a question thought, why did the man on the horse not fight his execution?"


    Sudden sobs broke from Cyril. It took him a couple moments to regain his composure. "He were havin'' one of his spells and he were drunk. Not dead drunk, but drunk enough to sit a horse without knowin'' why."


    Father Thomas laid his hand upon Cyril''s shoulder. "You have known much torment. It is time for you to seek your peace and God''s mercy." Father Thomas turned to Lydia and James. He said, ¡°Thank you for your witness and your testimony. I will take care of him from here. Come Cyril.¡± With a gentle hand, Father Thomas guided Cyril out of the cathedral.


    As soon as the doors closed, Brother Matthew said, ¡°Imagine, God providing a witness! You Luke all this time you knew a secret you did not share. Tight lips you have. Glad you spoke when you did. Cyril would not hurt a fly. Every time he has to butcher a pig, he weeps." he shook his head. "This is an unexpected ending to our Pilgrimage.


    Lydia sputtered, ¡°W-what?¡±


    James gave Brother Matthew a warning look before he said, ¡°We will go to Domina Simeon¡¯s. I am in need of her counsel. She is a wise woman.¡±


    Confused Lydia followed them outside. How could the pilgrimage be over? They were not in Rome!


    The instant they were all aboard the cart, Moses Aaron bolted. He took them down a street, through a gate, whizzed passed a huge house made of gray stone, and headed straight for the stables. James shook his head. ¡°I cannot believe you remember this place too, you old mule.¡±


    Brother Matthew asked, "James, how often do you actually drive that creature?"


    "Honestly I do not know."


    A stable boy took Moses Aaron''s reins and they climbed down.


    The yard behind the house was large. It smelled of spring. New grass grew. Flowers that Lydia had never seen before were beginning to bloom. The air here was not cold and damp like home. Not a single gull flew overhead and yet she had the strangest feeling of homecoming. This was proving to be a most peculiar morning.


    James went to the back door and knocked. A middle aged woman, opened the door, saw James and gave him a big hug. ¡°Ah, James it has been long since we have had the joy of your company. I see you brought friends.¡±


    "Oui, Celeste, this is Antone, my nephew, Brother Matthew and Luke."


    Celeste smiled on the group. ¡°Nice to make your acquaintance. Come in, come in." They entered a small room with shelves that touched the ceiling. A boy servant stood dressed in full uniform. He nodded at them as they entered. Celeste asked, "Are you in need of lodging?"


    ¡°Perhaps," said James. ¡°I need to speak to Domina Simeon.¡±


    She nodded at the boy servant and said, "Fetch Pierre.¡± The boy headed down the hall. Celeste ushered them into a large kitchen. A pot of gruel bubbled over the fire. Two boys dressed in fine clothes sat at the table. These were not servant¡¯s children. Celeste introduced them, ¡°Na Simeon¡¯s grandnephews, Paul and Gerard.¡± They looked to be around eight and twelve.


    Paul, the younger one said, "Fine morning to you." He grinned.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Gerard sat very straight in his chair. He did not speak at all. In fact, he gave them a rather cold nod.


    An old man popped into the kitchen. He had the most exquisite blue eyes Lydia had ever seen. The instant he saw James his face broke into a smile. ¡°Ah James,¡± he said, ¡°Na Simeon will be delighted to see you.¡± James followed him through the door.


    Celeste asked, ¡°Hungry?¡±


    Lydia was not. In unison, Antone and Brother Matthew said, ¡°Oui Madame.¡±


    ¡°Take a seat then.¡± They sat down across from the boys. The younger boy, Paul noted their pilgrims¡¯ robes. He asked, ¡°Are you bound for Rome for the Year of Jubilee? We want to go but Great-aunt will not take us.¡±


    For once Brother Matthew held his tongue. Antone told him, ¡°Your Great-aunt is a wise woman. The roads are lined with bandits and pestilence lurks wherever crowds circulate. It is best to avoid sin at home and live rather than travel far and die in search of absolution.¡±


    ¡°Aw, you sound just like Great-aunt.¡±


    Celeste scolded, ¡°Monsieur Paul, mind your manners.¡±


    A servant girl entered the kitchen. Lydia glanced at Antone. If he found her pretty, he did not give any indication.


    Gerard on the other hand was all eyes. His face became flushed. His entire being was focused on the girl.


    She said, ¡°Na Simeon would like some refreshment for her guest.¡±


    The tray the Celeste prepared for James had a choice piece of ham and some rolls with cheese. Celeste handed the tray over to the servant girl. Gerard watched her leave the kitchen. Seemingly unaware of anyone, he said, ¡°I am going to marry her.¡±


    Celeste laughed. ¡°Like your papa would let you marry a servant, Monsieur Gerard!¡±


    Paul added, ¡°Besides you are betrothed to cousin Marie.¡±


    Gerard glared at his brother and growled, ¡°If I run away you will have to marry cousin Marie.¡±


    Placing his hand over his heart, Paul vowed, ¡°I will promise myself to God first.¡±


    "That is enough," said Celeste. She plunked a tray with five bowls onto the table. Steam rose from the gruel. It was wrong to waste food and Lydia did her best to eat. Antone and Brother Matthew each had two bowls full.


    The kitchen door opened and Pierre came inside. He said, ¡°Na Simeon would like to see the one called Luke.¡±


    Nervously, Lydia rose. She had a knot in the pit of her stomach. Something was about to happen, something she might not like. She followed Pierre through the hall to double doors that opened into a room of vivid blue. Seated at its center was an old woman dressed to perfection in black. She held out her hand and said, ¡°Come here child.¡± Lydia went to her. ¡°Lean closer.¡± Lydia did. She squinted at her and said, ¡°Oui there is a resemblance to that rascal Thomas Wade. If she has his talent with wax, I am sure Madame Beauxchampe would profit from her employment.¡± Na Simeon leaned back in her chair and asked Lydia, ¡°Are you a worthy chandler?¡±


    Confused, Lydia stood straight up and responded, ¡°Oui I am." What was happening?


    ¡°James, I will send Madame Beauxchampe word. And now, you my child, you will stop this farce. My maid, Collette will take you upstairs to dress you in your true nature.¡±


    Horrified, Lydia turned to James. What! Her true nature. Her true nature? She looked at James.


    He said, ¡°I am afraid Brother Matthew was right this pilgrimage is over,¡± he said. ¡°Lord George is not in need of absolution.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    A tautness came to James face, His voice was strained as he said, ¡°He did not commit the sin we thought he did.¡±


    Before she could stop the question it popped out of her mouth, "What sin did he commit?"


    Her question was met with silence. From past experience Lydia knew, James would not tell her a word more. She turned to Na Simeon.


    The older woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "My cousin had hope that Pope Boniface could be forgive any sin, even the sin of Judas. I am sure that by now she is assured of his forgiveness due to the declaration of this year of Jubilee. Only, he is not the son who needs forgiveness."


    For a moment, Lydia stared at Na Simeon blankly. The sin of Judas? All at once she understood. Dame Paston had thought Lord George had committed the sin of Judas. They thought he had hung himself. For Brother Matthew to have agreed to this pilgrimage, he must have believed Pope Boniface would and could secure forgiveness for the sin of suicide. What of James and Na Simeon? Did they believe? She could not ask. In truth, she was not even sure what she believed herself. Still, she had always pitied Judas, and she hoped for those who had done as he had done that God did forgive. She asked, "What is to become of me?"


    Na Simeon said, "Show me your candles, Lydia."


    From her bag, Lydia pulled her candle box. She opened it and unwrapped the candles.


    Na Simeon took the box from her and studied the contents. "Thomas, always knew how to pack candles. They have suffered only a bit of travel damage. I think they will impress Madame Beauxchampe. If she approves, you may become an apprentice in her candle shop."


    These words were unbelievable. Lydia''s mouth dropped open. Was it possible that God had indeed heard her prayer.


    Na Simeon said, "Do not gape dear. It is unladylike. This is not a certainty. It is a possibility and a good one. Now we need to get you cleaned up."


    In dazed wonder Lydia looked down at her dirty robe. She had never been so filthy in her entire life. What would it be like to wear a dress and women''s shoes again? What would it be like to make candles again? Heaven, it would be heaven.

 Chapter 35. The Cleansing

    James rose and said, said, "I think Brother Matthew and I should return home immediately. I am worried about my parents and Dame Paston. A man who could slay his own brother is a danger."


    Lydia stood in stunned silence. What, return home? She could not return home and James knew that.


    Na Simeon asked, "Have you considered how you will explain your return to Dame Paston. You have not been gone long enough to make a full pilgrimage."


    "You are right." His kind eyes turned toward Lydia. "I assume you will not be returning with us."


    Lydia shook her head. "No."


    To Na Simeon he said, "Can you give her lodging until she finds employment. I can pay."


    "That is very gracious of you. I will look after her, but what of the problem of no proxy and no forgiveness for the dearly departed George?"


    "I plan to tell the Dame that Luke has passed from this life. She will be heart sick and. I can not help that."


    Na Simeon asked, "Will you press charges against Lord Geoffrey Paston?"


    "No, what good would it do. The court always sides with nobility."


    "So true. I think you should stay the night at least. It has been a long day already and you are weary. A few good meals, a nights rest in a real bed will do you good. Besides, I doubt you would get Moses Aaron to budge."


    A faint smile flickered on James'' face. He muttered, "That cussed mule. All right. We accept your invitation."


    "Good. Go to the kitchen and get Celeste to run some baths. The lot of you are filthy." To Lydia she said, "Wait here with me." James bowed and left. As soon as the door closed behind them, Na Simeon rang a bell and a maid entered the room. She was a brawny girl with strong arms and a proud chin. Na Simeon introduced her. "This is Collete. Collette this is Lydia. She needs a good scrubbing."


    "Oui, Madame."


    Na Simeon rose from her chair and walked to the western wall. She placed her hand on a panel of wood and suddenly the panel swung open. Beyond the opening was a staircase. A secret staircase! Lydia had heard about these but she had never seen one. To Collette, Na Simeon said, ¡°Collette has prepared a bath for you. Only she and I will know what became of Monsieur Luke.¡±


    "Oui Madame." She dropped a curtsey and picked up a candle holder with a lit candle. With a gesture of her hand, she bade Lydia to follow her. The light pooled into the deep darkness in the secret passage revealing a vividly painted stair well. As they ascended the stairs, the light shown on a depiction of the creation of the heavens and the earth. The fine lines and the texture of the brush strokes were surely those of Antone¡¯s mother. How many secret places had she painted? Would her art ever come to public light, or would it always be hidden?


    At the top of the stairs, Collette pushed on a door. It opened into a room with a roaring fire and a steaming bathtub. There was a settee and trunk in the room.


    ¡°Clothes, off,¡± said Collette.


    Lydia had no intention of disrobing in front of this strange young woman. No one but her moder and Aunt Rachel had ever seen her naked, and then she had been a baby. Oh, she had forgotten Madame Coeur had seen her naked too.


    Collette gave her a threatening look. Lydia could only imagine what she thought of her. A girl dressed as a lad traveling with three men was surely akin to the whore of Babylon in Collette¡¯s eyes. Embarrassed, Lydia struggled out of her pilgrim¡¯s robe. Next, Luke¡¯s clothes fell in a heap at her feet. It was like the shedding of a skin. Never would she be blessed with the freedom of britches. Forever after her legs would be encumbered by skirts. She took off her undergarments and was as naked as Eve in the garden. Shame filled her and her face was hot. Was this how Eve felt when she hid from God?


    ¡°Go on, get in now,¡± prodded Collette. With a sense of regret Lydia stepped away from the remains of Luke. How she would miss being him. She climbed into the water and sank down into its warmth.


    With uncompromising determination Collette proceeded to scrub Lydia down hard. If she scrubbed any harder Lydia was certain she would wear through her skin right down to her soul. Collette did not utter a word, but she grunted from time to time with disgust. Lydia looked down at the bath water. She had not realized how truly filthy she was. The zeal with which Collette attacked Lydia¡¯s hair made Lydia yelp. When she had it sudded good, she thrust Lydia¡¯s head under water and held it. Lydia rose with a sputtering gasp.


    ¡°There now,¡± said Collette, ¡°your body is proper clean even if your soul is not.¡± She handed Lydia a towel. While Lydia dried herself off, Collette pulled female under garments and a dress from the trunk. She shook the dress out. It was faded blue wool and not nearly as pretty as the dresses Moder had made.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Quickly, Lydia dressed, anxious to cover herself from Collette¡¯s judgmental eyes. She pulled the dress over her head. At least the wool was soft. Before she could tie the strings, Collette had them in her grasp. She bound Lydia up tight. ¡°Sit,¡± she said when she finished. Lydia sat down on the settee. With quick hands, Collette combed through her wet hair. It had grown quite a lot since she had left Romsey Abbey. So much so that Collette was able to pull it back in ribbon. Collette stepped back from her and tilted her head as she surveyed her work. ¡°You will do. Come.¡±


    They entered into the secret panel but they did not go down the stairs. The candle'' s light cast weird shadows down a passage. Collette stepped boldly into it. They veered to the left and came to a hole in the floor with a ladder. Collette went down first, somehow she managed to keep a firm grip on her skirt and the candleholder. The ladder ended in the cellar. In the cellar there was another ladder propped against the wall. This time Collette nodded for Lydia to go first. Above was a drop door. Lydia pushed it open. This was the garden shed. "Out with you now," said Collette. Lydia scrambled up. With a jab toward the shed door, Collette told her, ¡°Go through there, then round to the front door and knock. Tell Pierre you are a friend of Domina Simeon. Nary a worry about him recognizing you, his eyes is as dim as his head.¡± The door in the floor banged shut at her feet.


    Lydia peeked out the garden shed before she went out into the yard. Nervously she crept across the yard and to the gate that lead to the street. Once there, she went to the front door and knocked. Her heart was racing in her chest. What if Collette was wrong? What if Pierre recognized her?


    The door swung open and Pierre squinted into the evening sun. Lydia curtseyed and said, ¡°I am a friend of Na Simeon. She is expecting me.¡±


    ¡°Oui, she just told me a girl were coming and here you are. Come in child.¡±


    Lydia followed Pierre back to the sitting room. He announced her.


    ¡°Thank you Pierre," said Na Simeon. "Would you please go fetch the men I sent down to wash?¡±


    ¡°Oui Domina.¡± He left the room.


    From her chair, Na Simeon said, ¡°Well, you do clean up nicely. I can see a bit of your Aunt Rachel in you. I never met your mother, poor soul. Now, we must choose a name for you. Your father has been known to pass through here upon rare occasion."


    Another name. She did not want another name. "Please Na Simeon. I want the name I was given at birth."


    "I am not sure that is wise, but it is your choice to make. It is time we inform the men, well Brother Matthew, of your true identity. Judging by the way Antone looks at you, he either knows or he is a Sodomite.¡±


    Lydia whispered, ¡°He knows.¡±


    ¡°Very well then, let us put Luke behind us.¡±


    Though Lydia wanted to protest the obliteration of Luke, she held her tongue. Her future was in this woman¡¯s hands and she dare not irritate her. Truth was she was terrified of Brother Matthew¡¯s reaction. After the scalding judgment of Collette, she was not sure she could face his condemnation as well.


    Too soon Pierre returned with James, Antone and Brother Matthew. James as always had an encouraging smile for her. Antone seemed rather astonished by her appearance, as for Brother Matthew he stopped right where he was and stared at her. Lydia waited for the blow of his words. The room was very quiet. She looked from Brother Matthew to James. Had he told him?


    Na Simeon said, ¡°We have a dinner guest this evening. This is my friend, Lydia¡ª¡°


    ¡°What!?¡± Brother Matthew shouted. ¡°That is Luke! Luke why are you dressed as a girl?¡±


    Antone said, ¡°Because she is one, blind priest.¡±


    The color in Brother Matthew¡¯s face went from pink to a terrifying shade of red. He turned his glaring eyes on James. ¡°Please tell me I have not traveled from Southampton to Dijon in the company of a female." He shuddered, "I have shared a bed with her many a time. I am surely bound for hell.¡±


    Na Simeon said, "That is quite enough Brother Matthew. You accepted Luke in good faith and have not committed any sin."


    He glared at Lydia, ¡°What she has done is illegal and dangerous! James, how could you sanction this? I never took you for a liar."


    Fire had lit in Na Simeon''s eyes. "I said, hold your tongue. James did what he was ordered to do. This matter is done. Not another word."


    Brother Matthew proclaimed, ¡°We must all go to confession NOW! Our souls are in danger.¡±


    Severely Na Simeon said, "Your body is in danger if you do not quiet down you reactionary little monk. If you must go to confession, go to Father Thomas. He can keep a secret.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± said Brother Matthew. ¡°You ALL should come with me.¡± He gave Lydia a particularly sharp look.


    Softly she said, ¡°I will go. I am sorry I deceived you.¡±


    ¡°As well you should be.¡±


    *


    In her confession, it was strange, to hear her own voice recounting the numerous times she had pretended to be what she was not. She wondered if Brother Matthew would ever forgive her for her duplicity. When she had finished her recitation, Father Thomas absolved her and gave her a penance of daily writing and memorizing scripture for a year. This absolution made her feel like her soul had been swept clean. She had not realized the heavy weight of deception, until she no longer shouldered it. When she came from behind the screen Brother Matthew rose to offer his confession. James and Antone had not felt the need to confess anything.


    Lydia sat down on the front row. She could hear Brother Matthew¡¯s voice as he confessed. What he had to confess outside of ignorance she did not know. He had never deceived anyone, never lied, or broke a commandment. Still he went on for quite a long time. When he finally appeared his expression had changed. He said to her, ¡°Father Thomas told me you are to be a chandler for Madame Beauxchampe. So the word I received from God in Amiens was a true divine word. You were meant to be here, though the means to get you here does not rest easy on my mind. Still we have both confessed and that is all we can do. Understanding is not always granted.¡±


    No it was not.

 Chapter 36. Good Things

    Due to Brother Matthew''s lengthy confession, it was almost time for Evening Mass. So, they agreed to remain. As they sat waiting for Mass to begin, neither spoke. Brother Matthew kept his eyes focused on the Virgin. When Mass did begin, Lydia felt peculiar. This was the first time since she left Romsey Abby, that she had attended Mass dressed as herself. It was a very different experience after so much time. She was not the same girl she had been. For the first time in a very long time, she accepted the Eucharist with a clear heart.


    Outside Sainte-Benigne the stars shown like distant candle flames. It was late. Weariness settled over Lydia. The day had been too long. She and Brother Matthew got into the waiting coach. Neither spoke. Both stared out their separate windows. A heavy awkwardness was now between them. The days of companionship were over. Perhaps if given time a new kind of friendship might have formed, but there would not be time. Lydia pushed this thought away from her, because behind it came an ocean of thoughts that she would not allow herself to think about. All she wanted was¡­ She did not know.


    When the coach pulled up to the front doors of Na Simeon¡¯s house. Brother Matthew did something he had never done before. As she stepped down, he took her hand and helped her out. That brief touch sent a tremor through Lydia. How she was going to miss Brother Matthew.


    The front doors swung open and Pierre ushered them to the dining hall. The table was set with lovely gold and red plates. Silver goblets were waiting to be filled. A row of six candles lit the table. They were long wax tapers. Had Madame Beauxchampe or her husband made these candles? They were not as fine as Fader''s work or her own.


    Na Simeon, James and Antone entered the dining room. There was a bit of sadness in James¡¯ eyes. As for Antone''s, Lydia dare not look into his. She felt her face grow hot. Blushes, blasted blushes. Though Antone had not seen her eyes, he had seen her blush. She imagined he was smiling to himself. How he did like to make girls blush!


    Fortunately, the meal was designed for Na Simeon''s delicate digestion. It was not heavy, saucy or spicy. A servant girl brought out, plain roasted duck, sweet peas, bread, butter and potatoes. She filled their silver goblets with a red wine that was sweet but not strong. Lydia forced herself to concentrate on her food. The conversation at the table went over her, and swelled around her as she tried not to think. She must not think.


    After the meal, they went to Na Simeon¡¯s sitting room. Na Simeon said to Antone, ¡°Your uncle tells me you are musical, could you sing or play us a tune?¡±


    Much to Lydia surprise he said, ¡°Oui, Domina.¡± This would be the first time he had played since they were at the Jewish settlement. ¡°I have been working on a tune and I think I figured out the problem. If you would excuse me while I get my flute.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Na Simeon.


    As soon as Antone was out of the room Brother Matthew muttered, ¡°I hope he is not going to play that infernal song with the bad note. After the events of today I can not stomach that horrid song.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± James said, ¡°he has remedied the problem.¡±


    ¡°Be hopeful if you must, but I would rather not risk it. If you would excuse me Na Simeon, I am done in. May I retire?¡±


    ¡°Of course Brother Matthew. You have had quite a day. Good night.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight Domina, James,¡± he paused and choked out, ¡°Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    James and Na Simeon both spoke their goodnights, Lydia found her throat had swollen into silence and she could not speak. Her eyes met Brother Matthew¡¯s. He saw a stranger in her and not a friend. It hurt. Tears were threatening. Lydia watched him walk out of the room. She turned her gaze to her hands. When Antone entered, she did not look up.


    Before he played the song, he went through two scales to warm up. And then, just as Brother Matthew had predicted he launched into the song with the sour note. Only this time when he came to the fated note, it did not sound flat but rang true, like a bird¡¯s trill. The music went on and it was lovely. When he finished, Na Simeon clapped her bejeweled hands.


    ¡°Very fine young man! Very fine. Thank you!¡±


    *


    The room Na Simeon had put Lydia in for the night was dark. The nub of a candle she been given by Pierre when she first went to bed, had guttered out ages ago. Tired as she was she could not sleep. Why was it when the body and emotions were utterly exhausted the mind would decide it was time for a nice long think? She did not WANT to have a nice long think. She crawled out of bed and got her pack. Blindly she searched the pack for her candle box. Her fingers brushed against the bit of churchyard yew Old Kate given her. She pulled it out. It smelled faintly of Home. She would not think about home. She dropped the yew back into her bag and pulled out her candle box.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Slowly and carefully she opened the box and found the candle she lit the night James had been attacked. She dislodged the burned out candle from the holder and put her candle in it. From her pack she got her flint and struck it. Sparks lit the darkness and then the lovely glow of wavering flame cast dancing shadows. A soft pool of light encompassed Lydia and comforted her. On the bedside table was a pamphlet of the Gospel of Matthew. To distract herself from all the thoughts that threatened to drown her, she picked it up and began to read.


    As she read, she realized how many words she still did not know. In the coming days she would not neglect her letters. From this night forward she would make the most of the advantages that had been given her at Romsey Abby. Suddenly the words, lucerna corporis est oculus si fuerit oculus tuus simplex totum corpus tuum lucidum erit, leapt off the page at her. Quickly she translated Christ''s words, "The light of your body is your eye. If your eye be pure, your whole body shall be full of light."* Was her eye pure? No. She suspected it would take more than a lifetime to achieve pure vision.


    James¡¯ knock sounded on her door. What could he want at this hour? She picked up the candle and went to the door. When she swung it open, it was not James, but Antone. The smile on his lips told her he had intentionally misled her. ¡°What is it Antone?¡±


    For a long moment he stood silently staring at her. Finally he said, ¡°I just wanted to see if I could steal a kiss. But, you are not the sort of girl one steals from.¡± With a gentle hand he cupped her chin. ¡°You and this pilgrimage have changed me. I know you do not believe me, and I cannot prove it, but it is true. I shall forever be grateful our paths crossed. I will return with Uncle and Brother Matthew to Paston Castle. The roads are treacherous and they will need a third look out. After wards, I will return. Trust--" There was a rustling of skirts in the hallway. Dressed in a beautiful silken robe, Na Simeon appeared. Antone let go of Lydia''s chin.


    Na Simeon asked, ¡°Antone, have you lost your way? Your room is at the other end of the hall.¡±


    Antone stuttered, ¡°Oui, I mean no. Uh, Goodnight Na Simeon.¡± Like a scared dog, he scuttled down the hall.


    ¡°Good night Antone.¡± Na Simeon called after him. To Lydia she said, ¡°Old women do not sleep well. Mind some company?¡±


    ¡®¡±I would be honored.¡±


    Na Simeon entered the room and closed the door. She looked at the candle in the holder Lydia held. "That is not one of mine." She ran her finger down its waxen side. "You do very fine work. Your father taught you well. At least he did one thing right. Be grateful for that."


    Lydia was, deep down she was.


    After taking a chair, Na Simeon told her to get back in bed and then proceeded to tell her about Madame Beauxchampe¡¯s business. Candle talk, oh how Lydia had missed it. Visions of wick trimmers and dipping strings filled Lydia¡¯s mind. Much to her surprise she yawned.


    A smile creased Na Simeon¡¯s face. ¡°You are sleepy at last. Good, I am feeling a bit sleepy myself.¡± She stood and went to the door. ¡°Do not open this door again tonight. I fear a certain young man is just waiting for me to leave.¡° She looked directly into Lydia¡¯s eyes and asked, ¡°Do you love him?¡±


    All sleepiness vanished. There was no way she could admit that. Though Lydia felt her face grow scarlet, she remained silent.


    Gently, Na Simeon told her, ¡°Love, dear girl, is a mystery, unfathomable and sometimes a very terrible thing. We women give birth to boys praying that they will be different from other men. Generation after generation they most often are not. But sometimes there is a rare man. A gentle man, who learns what true manhood is. Like Christ he cherishes women, and does not abuse them. Perhaps Antone could become such a man.¡±


    Bab had wondered the same thing. Despite what Antone had so recently told her, Lydia did not have much faith in his conversion. She doubted even more, that he would remember her once, she was no longer in his field of vision. He was what he was, still she would never forget him. Na Simeon gave her a soul piercing look before she left the room.


    * Matthew 6:22

 Chapter 37. The Offer

    The next morning, Lydia stood in the yard with Na Simeon. James, Antone and Brother Matthew were about to leave. Brother Matthew was polite but oh, so distant. As for Antone, his eyes seemed to be searing holes in her. James alone was his same kind and generous self.


    Hitched to the cart, Moses Aaron tossed his head as if he knew he was going home. The beast probably did know. Lydia went to him and placed her hand upon his cheek. She whispered, ¡°I am going to miss you so much.¡±


    Behind her James cleared his throat. She turned and hugged him. His arms were so strong. He had been her haven, her angel, how was she going to get on without him? When he let go of her she told him, ¡°Thank you for all you have done for me James.¡±


    ¡°It was an honor, Miss Wade. Make the most of the life God has given you. Promise me you will take care of yourself.¡± The desperation of his plea sent a chill through her. She knew he was thinking about his sister.


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    He took her hand and placed seven gold coins into it. "You have earned these.¡±


    "But I did not finish the pilgrimage.¡±


    Softly he said, ¡°You did. We all did and each of us is richer for it.¡± He gave her one last smile, turned away from her and climbed into the cart where Brother Matthew waited.


    Lydia dropped the coins into her apron pocket. Antone was still on the ground. He must get into the cart, soon, or she would lose all control. Shyly, he approached her. His heart was in his eyes. Under his breath he promised her, "If God allows, we will meet again." From his pack he pulled his flute, the one he had played last night. He handed it to her, and said, "To remember me by."


    As if she could forget him. His fingers brushed hers when he handed her the flute. His touch was sweet and ever so painful. His eyes met hers. With eyes wide open, he took her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. The sensation it sent through Lydia, was like nothing she had ever felt before. Behind him James cleared his throat. Antone winked and released her hand. Would she ever see him again? If she did, would she risk her life on him? He turned away from her and climbed into the cart.


    The morning sun cast them in sharp light. There they were, her three men. Before this journey she had had a small opinion of the masculine heart and mind, but their kindness and valor had changed her opinion. She hated that she and Brother Matthew were parting on difficult terms but it could not be helped. Before James could call out the command to go, Moses Aaron started off. Until they disappeared at the gate Antone¡¯s eyes were on her. Then all at once, they were gone. The sense of desolation that crashed over Lydia was devastating. The ones she loved had left her again. At least this time they were alive and by God''s grace would remain so.


    Gently Na Simeon placed an arm around her. "Take heart child. Today you will begin your new life. Good things are coming, take comfort in that."


    All Lydia could do was nod. She did not trust her voice to speak. Good things might be coming, but good things were also going.


    Na Simeon said, "Come along. It is time we made our way to Mass."


    The coach stood ready and waiting. A footman helped them inside. All the way to Sainte-Benigne her eyes scanned the windows, hoping for one last glance at the cart and those it contained. She did not see them. They had vanished from sight and from her life.


    Once inside Sainte-Benigne, the atmosphere of the place wrapped around Lydia like a a favorite shawl. She sat down on the pew beside Na Simeon and closed her eyes. Prayers for James, Brother Matthew, Moses Aaron and Antone filled her mind and heart. She glanced up when the procession began. On the altar candle flames wavered. Sudden gratitude filled her. Today, she would make candles. She would melt tallow to a perfect clarity and dip and re-dip until the candles were a perfect shape. Her gaze traveled fro the altar to a painting of Christ crucified. His face so like Rabbi Rashbam¡¯s. She saw the statue of the Virgin Mary and thought of her own mother. In fact, here now, she felt closer to Moder than she had felt since she last saw her.


    When Mass was over it was raining. The driver brought Na Simeon¡¯s coach as close to the front doors as possible. The footmen helped them climb into the contraption. Over the wet road they traveled. The rain beat against the roof. When they rounded the corner, Lydia let out a gasp. There, waving in the driving rain, was the wooden sign she had seen yesterday. She asked, ¡°Is this Madame Beauxchampe¡¯s candle shop?¡±


    ¡°Oui,¡± said Na Simeon. ¡°I had planned to go in with you, but this weather is no good for an old woman.¡± She slipped a sealed note into Lydia¡¯s hand. ¡°Your recommendation. Give it to Madame.¡± She gave Lydia an encouraging smile.


    It was a struggle to return the smile. The rain stung Lydia¡¯s face as she stepped out of the coach. Her knees felt unsteady beneath her. With a trembling hand she pushed the shop door open. The smell of scorched tallow filled her nostrils. The room was almost empty of candles, and the ones on the shelf were of average quality. There was a sound from the back of the shop, a door opened. Lydia had expected a mature woman to come through the door, but the young woman who did, was not yet near thirty. She had tawny hair and sad red rimmed eyes. In a wavering voice she asked, ¡°How may I help you?¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Lydia dropped a curtsey and said, ¡°My name is Lydia Wade. Na Simeon has composed a letter of recommendation for me and I have samples of my work.¡±


    The woman sighed. ¡°A fine lot of good that letter¡¯l do you. I cannot read but I recognize the seal and the handwriting. Let me see your candle work.¡±


    From her pack Lydia took out her candle box. Madame Beauxchampe saw the box. ¡°Did you say your last name was Wade. Is Thomas Wade a relation of yours?"


    This reference to her father was unexpected Lydia. Should she admit her relation? Doing so, could secure her the job. She said, "Oui, he is my fader. Do you know him?"


    ¡°I met him once in at the Hot Fair in Troyes. He sold his wax candles in boxes just like that one. My Henri bought a box. I still have it here somewhere. Those candles produce the finest light." Lydia handed her the box. Madame Beauxchampe opened the box and ran her fingers along the smooth sides of the wax. She held a candle up and tested its wick. ¡°Good wax work. How are you with tallow?¡±


    ¡°As good.¡±


    Sudden tears sprang in Madame Beauxchamp''s eyes. She wiped her tears with the hem of her apron and said, ¡°My Henri, oh my Henri-- I feared I would lose his business. He would be heart broken if I did." She hid her face in her apron. She remained hidden for several moments, then she uncovered her face. ¡°I am sorry. I do need your help Lydia. I believe you can help save this shop. But, I must tell you, I can not pay much right now. I can offer you three meals and a bed.¡±


    It was enough. "I accept."


    Madame Beauxchampe hugged her. "Thank you so much." She let go of her and said, "Let me show you the work room, I fear it is a mess." She led Lydia through the door to the workroom. There were the tools of the trade, wick cutters, dipping racks, large and small vats. The fire in the hearth lit the room with wavering light. A pot of scorched tallow bubbled over the fire. Lydia swung it away from the fire. The batch was completely ruined. Fortunately, there were several large blocks of tallow on the shelf along with a good portion of wax. All of it really needed to be in the cellar, not up here with the heat.


    Lydia said, ¡°Today we will straighten up this room. Tomorrow we will begin making candles."


    Once again Madame Beauxchampe burst into tears. "Surely, you are an angel sent from God."


    Lydia smiled, "I was thinking the same thing about you. We will do well together." With those few words Lydia¡¯s life as a candle maker resumed.


    That evening after everything had been cleaned and put away, Madame Beauxchampe took Lydia upstairs to a sitting room with two doors. On a bench a very pregnant seal gray cat, sat licking her haunches. She cast her yellow eyes in Lydia''a direction. Madame Beauxchampe said, "That be Ashes. Henri loved her something terrible. She has not been in the candle shop, since Henri passed." A small fire crackled in the fireplace. Propped against the wall near the fire place was a ladder that lead to a closed trap door. Madame Beauxchampe said, "That leads to your room. Its were the apprentice stayed. He ran off after Henri died. Took my best wax when he left. The space is small but clean. I do hate you have to navigate the ladder in your skirts, but it can not be helped. When you go up, just give the trap door a little push. It sticks some times. I will hand a candle up to you."


    With her pack slung over her shoulder, and her skirt bunched in her hand, Lydia ascended the ladder. The trap door did indeed stick. She pushed hard. It opened and cold air swirled around her. Madame Beauxchampe stood on the second rung and handed her up the candle. Lydia took it. The warmth and the light of it was an instant comfort to her. She pulled herself onto the floor and looked around at the tiny space beneath the eaves. To her surprise the last light of day streamed through a small glass window. She had never had a room with a real glass window before. She went to the window and looked out over Dijon. The rain had stopped and the city looked clean and bright. Horses, carts, people and oxen, were making their way home. A young man with reddish hair driving a mule cart looked up at the window. She almost waved at him, and then realized, he could not see her. Her thoughts immediately went to James, Brother Matthew, Antone and Moses Aaron. Where were they camped this night? Were they safe, were the dry? Silent tears began to slip from her eyes. She watched the young man and the mule disappear down the street.


    The stones from the sitting room fireplace adorned the wall to her right. A pallet lay near it. She went to the stones and placed her hand upon them. They were warm enough to to keep the chill away from her pallet. On a box beside the pallet was an actual book. It was small and bound in leather, but it had pages and words in Latin. She picked it up, It was a book of the Psalms and the Song of Songs. How had this treasure come to be in this room? She would be able to do her penance. It was time she got started.


    By the light of her candle, she scratched words into the book Sister Timothy had given her with the ink Sister Timothyhad taught her to make in Romsey Abby. With each stroke of her reed pen, she felt contentment settle over her.

 Chapter 38. Of Candles and Men

    It was not Madame Beauxchampe habit to attend Mass at Sainte-Benigne, but she gave Lydia permission to go. After yesterday''s rain, the city smelled sweet. The morning sky was smeared with clouds faintly illumined in peachy light. The sun had yet to show its face. Through the huge doors, Lydia entered Sainte-Beigne. As it did yesterday, the grand cathedral welcomed her with its stout and loving presence. Peace came to her lonely heart. She sat down on a pew and closed her eyes. Prayers of gratitude filled her. She would make candles today. She would melt tallow to a perfect clarity and dip and re-dip until the candles were a perfect shape. When she finished her prayers she looked around at the candles that flickered on the altar. There was a crucifix she had not paid any attention to yesterday. This morning it seemed to jump out at her. The face of the crucified Christ was so like Rabbi Rashbam¡¯s. Her eyes turned to the statue of the Virgin Mary. She reminded Lydia of her own mother. In fact, here now, she felt very close to her mother. She had not felt this close to her since she had sat with her during Mass in Father Peter''s church. The ache of her loss throbbed inside of her. She was beginning to understand that this grief would never go away. Always, she would miss and want her mother.


    The service began. Morning light crept up the windows. How many dawns had she met with James and Brother Matthew? Most likely, there would be no more. As for Antone? Would he reappear in her life at some point and share more sunrises with her? She did not know. How far down the road were James, Brother Matthew and Antone this morning? She prayed that where ever they were, they were safe and well.


    Father Thomas'' voice filled the cathedral. It drew Lydia close. It anchored her. The last two days of her life were a blur. Nothing seemed quite real. It all felt like a dream, she would wake up from. Last night she had been so exhausted she had tumbled into sleep. This morning when she awoke she thought at first she was with James, Brother Matthew, Antone and Moses Aaron, but she had not been. She had been in her attic bedroom. A large nameless seal colored cat had been curled against her, rumbling. Her belly was swollen and full of kittens. Lydia had been enchanted and horrified by this beast. She hoped the mama cat would be able to deliver her own babies with out incident. Her thoughts wandered from the awakening to the moment in which she resided. Father Thomas'' voice was reciting scripture. She followed the music of it, but could not catch the words. Inside her heart was singing, "I will make candles today. I will."


    After Mass Lydia hurried to the shop. Before she opened the door, she discovered another talent Madame Beauxchampe lacked. The aroma of burned toast and eggs filled the air. When Lydia came into the house kitchen, Madame was cleaning up the mess and crying. She said, ¡°I-I-wanted to make you a nice breakfast¡­¡± She started sobbing and could go no farther.


    ¡°Its all right, Madame Beauxchampe. Sit, I will get this cleaned up and make us some breakfast.¡±


    "Please call me Isabelle, Madame Beauxchampe is such a mouthful."


    It was not proper, but Lydia said, "As you wish."


    "Thank you." She took her seat, but she did not stop crying. The large seal colored cat sauntered into the kitchen and hopped up on Madame-- Isabelle''s lap. She said, "Good morning, Ashes. Did you sleep well?" The cat rubbed her cheek against Isabelle''s. While Isabelle continued to hug the cat and silently cry, the cat, Ashes, watched Lydia prepare the eggs and toast. Her small gray nostrils flared in and out as she sniffed the air. When the eggs and toast where ready, Lydia served them. With tears still streaming, Isabelle served the cat a portion of her egg and then picked up her spoon and dug in. Lydia was relieved to see her grief had not affected her appetite.


    Later after breakfast, the candle making began. Isabelle was useless as a tallow melter or candle dipper, but she could cut strings and tie knots nicely.


    As Lydia worked she was amazed that she had not forgotten anything her father had taught her. For all his faults and there were many, she could not deny he was the fine candle maker. And she had inherited his skill.


    The shop bell rang. Isabelle left her wicks and went to the front room. She said, ¡°Bonjour Brewer Arlette.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A male voice said a bit too sweetly, ¡°Bonjour Madame Beauxchampe. I have come for my prayer candles.¡±


    ¡°You must do a lot of praying sir, this is the second time this week you have come to purchase my candles.¡±


    ¡°Oui, I am praying, I am praying my life is visited by an angel.¡±


    Lydia had never heard a brewer talk like this before.


    Brewer Arlette''s boots crossed the room. He stopped. Lydia heard the faintest sound of wax striking wax. Was he handling the new batch she had just put out? He better not nick the candles.


    He asked, ¡°Did you make these Madame Beauxchampe ?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, my assistant Mademoiselle Wade did.¡±


    ¡°A woman made these, remarkable.¡±


    Lydia was not sure if she should be pleased or insulted by this comment.


    Brewer Arlette said, ¡°I will take all of these.¡±


    It was odd, but Lydia felt torn. As happy as she was about finding a buyer so quickly for her wares, she hated to let the candles go. They were her first batch in over a year.


    The price Brewer Becotte offered to pay was very generous.


    When Isabelle came back into the work room her eyes were full of light. It was the first time Lydia had seen her happy since she met her.


    ¡°Lydia, we shall be able to eat and meet expenses at least for the next month, all because of you. For the first time, since Henri passed, I feel hope stirring inside of me."


    *


    The first day of April, Ashes successfully gave birth to five kittens. Three were calico and two were seal gray. Isabelle was quite taken with the tiny creatures. She told Lydia, "I think I best stay here and keep an eye on her. Can you manage alone?"


    "Oui, I can." Alone, Lydia worked away the morning. Just after noon the shop door opened and a young man came inside. He was holding a large package. He smiled at Lydia. There was something vaguely familiar about him. His red hair, looked like burnished copper. He was perhaps in his mid twenties. He was not handsome like Antone, but he had a pleasing face. He smiled at her and said.¡°I have an order of wax for Madame Beauxchampe. Who might you be?"


    ¡°I am Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    He put the wax on the counter and said, ¡°I am Jon Paul Gerard, pleased to meet you.¡± He bowed to her, and then unwrapped the packet of wax.


    It was golden and sweet smelling. Lydia ran her fingers over the surface of it. The quality was good.


    ¡°I have one more in the wagon.¡± Jon Paul went outside. Lydia breathed in deeply. She loved the smell of wax. Her father had too.


    Isabelle came into the shop. ¡°Who¡¯s here?¡±


    ¡°Monsieur Gerard.¡±


    She frowned, and said, "Deal with him please. He was a good friend of Henri''s and it pains me to see him." With a quick turn, she went back into the house kitchen.


    Jon Paul brought in another hunk of wax and set it beside the other. His eyes roved first Lydia¡¯s face and then the candles hanging behind her. ¡°May I see a pair?¡±


    Lydia turned and pulled a pair down. When she handed them to him his fingers brushed hers. The sensation was not cataclysmic like Antone''s touch, but something definitely stirred inside of her. He whistled when he held the candles up to the light. ¡°Very nice Mademoiselle. I am thinking that perhaps a bee keeper and candle maker should join company.¡± The look he gave her, was not like the looks Antone gave girls when he flirted with them. In fact she was not even sure he was flirting. She felt her face turn red as she dropped her eyes.


    He let out a breath and said, "Please forgive me for my forwardness. I tend to say what pops into my head. My Mamma says it is not my best quality."


    Still looking down, Lydia said, ¡°Oui of course.¡± She fingered the rope around the second hunk of wax and untied it. She pushed the cheese cloth aside. This wax was of a lighter color. It looked like pearls. It was the most beautiful wax she had ever seen. ¡°Where did you get this?¡±


    ¡°I have a little queen bee, runs her hive well. Her workers only get the finest nectars.¡± He paused and said, ¡°I would like to buy these candles.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Monsieur." Before she could name the price of them, Jon Paul pressed a silver coin in her palm. She protested, ¡°This is too much.¡±


    ¡°No, it is not.¡± His hand closed lightly over hers as he released the coin. Again something inside of her stirred. She pulled her hand free.


    As Jon Paul put the candles in his breast pocket he said, ¡°Domina Simeon told my mamma, that your given name is Lydia, from scripture."


    Was Na Simeon prone to gossip? Lydia braced her shoulders back and replied, "Oui."


    His eyes held the same kindness that James'' eyes held. He smiled at her and said, ¡°I believe your name is found in the book of Acts. Lydia was a seller of purple. A business woman, like yourself."


    It was strange but Lydia had never thought of herself as such. Always in her mind the candle making came first. Money was just a fortunate outcome that allowed one to make a living.


    His smile warmed her. He said, ¡°The scriptures also says God opened Lydia''s ears to respond to the things spoken to her by Paul. Perhaps God will open your ears to me.¡±


    Surely, this WAS flirting. Was he like Antone?


    Tartly she said, "I would not count on it."


    Jon Paul threw his head back and laughed a great ringing laugh. There were bells in it. Lydia found herself deeply effected.

 Chapter 39. The Calico

    On the 15th of April, Lydia found Ashes curled up in Isabelle''s mending bag. She was breathing heavy and her eyes had a glassy look to them. Panic ripped through Lydia. A birth was about to take place. Would Ashes survive? Would her kittens? She called for Isabelle. When she saw Ashes, she stroked her head and said, ¡°There my girl. I will see you through this, do not worry.¡± Ashes turned dull eyes toward Isabelle. There was trust in those deep gold eyes.


    The only births Lydia had ever seen where those of her sisters. In all truth if she could run far from this moment she would. Isabelle told her, "Go to the rag bin and rip up some rags. We will need them." She turned her attention back to Ashes and said, "There is little I can do, all the hard work is Ashes''."


    The process of birthing kittens took awhile. The first one that slipped out was a shockingly slimy looking thing. Lydia felt her stomach turn. Isabelle gently put the kitten by Ashes¡¯ head. The mother cat began to lick away at the mucous mess, revealing the kitten¡¯s mostly white fur and the tiny patch of orange over the left eye. With each stroke of her mother¡¯s tongue, the tiny kitten wriggled. It was breathing, it was alive. Joy rushed through Lydia! Two more kittens followed that were the same color as their mother. All of them, living and breathing. IT was a beautiful miracle. Lydia touched the first born kitten. Its fur was so soft. She asked Isabelle, ¡°Is this a girl or a boy?¡±


    Isabelle shrugged. ¡°With cats its hard to tell until they are several weeks old.¡±


    Lydia had not known this. As she looked down at the little calico kitten, something inside of her stirred. Girl or boy, she had just fallen in love with this tiny scrap of animal. It was a dangerous thing to love, but she could not help herself.


    That night, alone in her room, she prayed for Ashes and her babies. She said a special prayer for the calico.


    *


    Two weeks later, the kittens¡¯ blue eyes were opened and their ears had stood up. Patch, which is what Lydia had secretly named her favorite kitty, stared up at her on wobbly legs. It seemed this creature became more precious to her with each passing day.


    That afternoon when Jon Paul Gerard delivered the wax, he heard the kittens mewing. He said to Lydia, ¡°So, the babies have come. May I see them? My Mama has been wishing for a cat?¡±


    Lydia was not sure what to do or say. Isabelle would not want to see him. To Lydia¡¯s surprise, Isabelle came into the shop, holding one of the seal gray kittens. She said to Joh Paul, ¡°I think your Mama will like this one. It is very fastidious.¡±


    In his strong hands, Jon Paul took the kitten. He smiled down on it and said, ¡°I think you are right. She will be so happy to hear, she will finally have one of the Great Mouser¡¯s kits.¡± He asked, ¡°May I see the others?¡±


    Isabelle teased, ¡°Are you wanting one for yourself?¡±


    He shrugged and said, ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    Lydia had not verbally claimed the little calico, Patch. What if Jon Paul wanted that one?


    Isabelle said, ¡°¡±Lydia will you show him the other kittens?¡±


    ¡°Oui, Madame.¡± She lead Jon Paul through the work kitchen, into the house kitchen. Ashes was in a crate soundly sleeping while her other two babies crawled all over her.


    Jon Paul stifled a laugh. He smiled and asked, ¡°There is nothing like new life is there?¡±


    It was true. Lydia returned his smile and said, ¡°There is not.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    He put down the kitten he was holding.. To Lydia¡¯s dismay he said, ¡°I have always had a fondness for calicos.¡±


    No!


    Gently, he picked up Patch. The kitten stared at him and he stared back. Jon Paul said, ¡°This one is a smart one I can tell.¡± Anther reason to want Patch. At that moment he turned and looked into Lydia¡¯s eyes. It was the first time she had noticed their dark amber lights. He said, ¡°Ah, so you too are fond of calicos. Have you spoken for this one?¡±


    Lydia shook her head. She had not. It seemed inappropriate to be asking to keep a pet, when she was so new to the job, but she so wanted this cat.


    Jon Paul smiled at her and said, ¡°Ask. If Madame says no, I will take the calico so you will know where your darling is and that he or she is being well cared for.¡±


    Did he mean it? ¡°That would be very kind, Monsieur.¡± But, it would not be the same as having Patch for herself.


    *


    A week passed and the kittens became more lively. Each day Lydia resolved to ask for Patch, but each day her courage failed her. The thought of being told no was ominous in her mind. To have another being she cared for removed from her immediate proximity, was a heart breaking thought.


    One morning after the kitchen was tidy, Lydia went to the cat box. The kittens were pouncing on each other and grabbing one another¡¯s tails. From the box, Lydia lifted Patch. He or she, they still were not sure, rubbed their little head against Lydia¡¯s hand. Unaware that Isabelle was watching her, Lydia kissed the kitten¡¯s head and cuddled Patch close.


    Isabelle asked, ¡°Would you like to keep that one?¡±


    Overwhelmed, Lydia asked, ¡°Oh, may I?¡±


    Isabelle joined her by the cat box. ¡°Oui. You may. The other two are spoken for and I thank God for that. Usually, I keep Ashes confined when she is in heat, but in my grief I forgot that life keeps being created. Still, I am grateful I did forget, these babes have been a charming distraction. What will you call it?¡±


    This tiny creature would be her own! Lydia had never had her own pet before. If tended well and looked after, a cat could enjoy a long life. Aunt Rachel had a cat named Elise, that lived to be eighteen years old. If only this warm little bundle of fur could have such a long life, she would not be lonely. With tear filled eyes she said, ¡°Oh, thank you Isabelle. I had not dared to hope I might keep it. I have named it Patch.¡±


    ¡°A very appropriate name. Did you have any pets as a child?¡±


    ¡°No. My fader raises fighting cocks. I always adored the little chicks, but I abhorred what they would become.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I remember Henri telling me about the cock fight he saw while we were in Troyes for the Hot Fair. He said your papa had the finest birds and the best fighters.¡±


    It was true. Lydia replied, ¡°Fader never did any of his business by half measures. Excellence was his creed.¡±


    A tenderness came into Isabelle¡¯s voice when she said, ¡°I wager his attention to other details in his life suffered as a result.¡±


    ¡°True. He was not a good husband or a good father, or for that matter. unless a miracle has occurred, he is not a good person.¡±


    ¡°Regardless,¡± said Isabelle, ¡°you are a fine young woman. The destiny of a child is not determined entirely by the man who sired her.¡± Her eyes took on a faraway expression. Lydia knew what this meant. Henri was about to be thoroughly recalled. In a soft voice, Isabelle said, ¡°My Henri and I longed for children that did not come. My Mama believed I was fortunate, I was not so sure. When Henri died, I was thankful, I only had myself to answer for. While I am better off than I was, thanks to you, I could not be supporting a host of babes.¡± Isabelle visibly shuddered and closed her eyes. "I have always feared child birth. My oldest sister died of it as did the babe. A double terrible tragedy. I thought Henri would not survive the loss, but in time he did. In more time he began to see beyond his grief and came to love me. He was the kindest man I have ever known, and I do not expect to ever meet another like him.¡±


    At that moment, a voice called from the shop, ¡°Madame Beauxchampe, where are you?¡±


    It was Brewer Arlette, come to buy more prayer candles. Isabelle said, ¡°Could you go deal with him? We need his money, but I cannot stomach his fawning this morning.¡±


    This was the first time that Isabelle had ever mentioned she was aware of Brewer Arlette¡¯s interest. Lydia put Patch back in the box. When she entered the shop, the bright smile on Brewer Arlette¡¯s face was replaced by disappointment and concern. He asked, ¡°Madame is not feeling poorly this morning is she?¡± He was completely smitten with Isabelle and he did not even try to hide it.


    Lydia said, ¡°No, she is fine, just other wise engaged.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. I will return later this afternoon.¡± He bowed to her and left.


    Moments after the door closed, Isabelle came into the shop. Lydia told her, ¡°He is coming back.¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Oh well, I guess there are worse things than an attentive man who buys our candles.¡±

 Chapter 40. Date of Birth

    Morning Mass had begun. On the Altar of Sainte-Benigne, candles that Lydia had dipped flickered. This day was not just any day. It was the day of her birth. Fifteen years ago, she had entered the world. Fifteen. If Fader had had his way, she would have a child by now, maybe another on the way, or she would have lost a child by now, or she would be dead. None of those things had happened. Would she ever want a child of her own?Would she ever risk her life to have one? Would she ever love a man enough to allow him to plant his seed in her? Two years ago the answer had been a resounding no. Today, she felt a longing for her own family. She wanted to lay eyes on bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh. Why? Why this change of heart? What had stirred this peculiar and unwelcome longing?


    The words of Father Thomas¡¯ homily were lost on her. Her mind traveled over memories she had, and memories she conjured. She saw her mother¡¯s face and Aunt Rachel¡¯s. They seemed far away this morning and not near. They and Bab had witnessed her birth. She knew Moder well enough to know that she had rejoiced in her arrival, but had she also grieved that she had ushered a female into the world? Every woman wanted to give her man a son, a lineage. Moder had wanted that desperately. If any of her dead babies had been a boy, would her grief have been greater at the loss? Would she have died even sooner? Inside Lydia¡¯s mind and heart the answer echoed, ¡°Aye.¡±


    As for Aunt Rachel, how had she coped with all those years of ushering life into the world, or bringing forth the dead? How many mother¡¯s and babies had she witnessed live or die? What a strong woman she had been. One of the warriors of this life. Lydia had not been given the gift that Aunt Rachel had, but she was determined to be just as faithful to her calling as Aunt Rachel had been.


    Of all those present at her birth, only Bab remained. For years, she had been thought her dead but she still lived, while Moder and Aunt Rachel did not. Moder had been gone over a year, had it really been a year? At times it felt more like a decade. As for Aunt Rachel, it had been over a year since she had last seen her living. On that long ago morning, she had no idea, that she was seeing that lovely face for the very last time. Since Lydia had not witnessed the death, nor seen the burial, Aunt Rachel¡¯s absence from earth felt less real.


    The words that Father Thomas spoke, broke into Lydia¡¯s thoughts.¡°iugum enim meum suave est et onus meum leve est.¡±*She repeated the words herself. Her burden was indeed light, not just the spiritual kind, but the physical kind as well. The better the candle, the better the light. To Lydia, nothing was so satisfying as a well made batch of candles. And nothing was as comforting as sitting in the pool of light cast by a well made candle.She found comfort in the flames that danced at the tip of the altar candles. Once again, Lydia found comfort in the Sainte-Benigne. Father Thomas¡¯ voice soothed the rumpled edges of her spirit.


    After every Friday morning Mass she delivered a fresh batch of candles. For a half hour afterwards on Friday, Father Thomas took time to help her with her penance. On bits of parchment he copied scriptures for her to trace on the wax tablet she had made forherself.He helped her with the execution of the letters and repeated over and over the correct pronunciation. Her reading and writing continued to improve as did her understanding.Father Thomas was a gift. If she had not traveled so far, she would have never met him, never continued her education in the way she could now. She was so thankful Father Thomas was not adverse to developing the mind and spirit of a female.


    After her lesson, Lydia did not go straight back to the shop. What she was longing for this morning was the crash of waves upon the shore. Would she ever hear that sound again? If not the waves, then she needed the sound of flowing water. She made her way to Le Raines. It¡¯s stream caught the light of the sun and tossed it back to her. For several moments she just listened to the soft song of its flowing waters. In memory she traveled back to the River Test and her tenth birthday. Moder was with her and so was Hannah and Aunt Rachel.She remembered how the willow leaves had created lacy patterns over the water. That long ago day, she had been happy. Moder was not sick with a pregnancy or grieving the loss of a babe. Moder was happy too. Though her laughter was rare, it rang that day.Lydia could hear it still. She closed her eyes and recalled in detail the exact spot they often visited by the River Test. Deeply she breathed in the air. She smelled, water, earth and something else. Could it be? She opened her eyes. There were a few straggly blue bells on the ground. How had bluebells come to be here? They were a gift from God. She dropped to her knees and inhaled their aroma. They smelled of home and happiness.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    She rocked back on her heels and studied the tattered beauties. To her their blossoms had always looked like tiny fairy caps. Bab once told her, the Wee folk wore them when they danced. Bees buzzed among the blossoms still heavy with dew. One bee flitted right passed her. It soared into the clear sky and disappeared into the rising white ball of the sun. The morning light was blinding. She squinted her eyes.


    A quack from the Le Raines drew Lydia¡¯s eyes back to the water. A mother duck paddled around with some almost mature ducklings. They looked awkward and unsure to Lydia. This morning she felt awkward and unsure of herself. Each year she entered held new surprises and challenges. What would this year bring her? She hoped for continued employment and independence. But, there would be other things that would come. She braced herself to face them.


    A vain drake strutted on the shore. He reminded Lydia of Antone. Were those ducklings the drake¡¯s? Lydia could not help but wonder if Antone, somewhere had a few ducklings of his own. She also wondered if Antone, James and Brother Matthew had made it safely back to Southampton? Where was Antone now? Would she ever see him again? It was strange realization that she had been separated from him as long as she had been in his company. During the day, her work kept her occupied and she did not think of him at all. Some nights, just before sleep over took her, she would see him in the light of camp fire. She would long to hear his voice. A part of her knew time was coloring him in clothes that he did not wear. Who was he enchanting now? She was not vain enough to believe that he had stopped his flirting because of her. He was a creature of impulse and attraction. Who was he fixated on now? In an effort to dislodge his memory, she shook her head.


    There was a step behind her and she turned. To her surprise she saw that it was Jon Paul Gerard. Fixed to his belt was an axe, a spike, a small shovel and large knife. Over his shoulder was an empty bag and in his hand was a bucket of dried cow dung. Lydia knew what he was going to do. He was off to smoke out a hive of bees. Someone in the area must need a hive removed. He smiled when he saw her. ¡°Good Morning Mademoiselle. So you too are a creature that seeks solace in the music of water.¡±


    His words were almost poetry and he had estimated her correctly. ¡°Oui, Monsieur.¡±


    He turned his attention to the flowing stream. ¡°There is nothing like light on water, except for maybe bees in flight. Do you agree?¡±


    ¡°Not entirely, there is also the light that dances from the candle wick.¡±


    He gave her a knowing smile. ¡°Indeed, you are correct as usual.¡±


    His assessment of her intelligence pleased her. She said, ¡°It looks like you are off to smoke out some bees.¡±


    ¡°Indeed I am. Madame Pascal hired me. She is not fond of the company of bees in her garden shed.¡±


    Lydia said, ¡°My Aunt Rachel adored bees. She kept the hives that supplied the wax for my fader¡¯s candle shop. Her wax, like your own, was superior.¡±


    He laid his hand over his heart and said, ¡°Ah, you could not have given me a finer compliment.¡± His face beamed and his eyes sparked delight.


    Had she been too generous in her comment? The last thing she wanted to was plant ideas in his head. She started to rise. Her heel caught on her hem. He reached for her hand to steady her. There was something so solid about him. She placed her hand in his. His fingers were muscular. They encompassed her small hand with their strength. The instant she was standing upright, he let go and said, ¡°I must be off. It was as always a pleasure to see you, Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Monsieur.¡± She watched him walk away from her. He had an easy stride. Her hand still felt the warmth of his. Unbeknownst to her, a smile of pleasure curled her lips.


    *For my yoke is sweet and my burden light Matthew 11:30

 Chapter 41. Whitsun

    For reasons unknown and unexplained to Lydia, Isabelle had an aversion to Sainte-Benigne and Mass in general, but one evening she said, ¡°Madame Gerard has invited us to share Whitsun with her family. Would you like to go?"


    The question was would Isabelle like to go? No only did she have a aversion to Sainte-Benigne and Mass, she also still had an aversion to Jon Paul Gerard. Lydia took a quick study of Isabelle''s face unsure of how to answer. There was tension in her face, but she did not look as if she was against going. "If you wish to."


    Isabelle sighed, "It is not a wish I have, but Madame has been so good to me since Henri''s passing, it would be rude to turn down another invitation. So we will go, but we will not be attending Sainte-Benige, The Gerard''s attend The Chapel of Our Lady."


    This chapel was small and poor. Every week Lydia took Isabelle¡¯s candle tithe to the chapel. It was shepherded by a barefoot Franciscan named, Friar Judas. Rumor had it that he was being watched by the crown. The wealthy did not approve of the Franciscan vow of poverty. In the nobles sacred belief, God wanted his entitled children to be wealthy, the wealthier the better. Each week, Friar Judas accepted the candle tithe with grace and gratitude. He was a scarecrow of a man, kept alive by the food tithes of his congregation. So, the Gerards were part of that congregation. Would Jon Paul be with his Mama? At times he so reminded her of James, she thought he might regard faith with the same kind of distance James did. Tomorrow she would find out.


    After Isabelle bade her good night, Lydia remained in the kitchen with the cats to finish the dress she had been sewing. It was made of russet wool with dark green embellishments. It was the first dress she had ever made entirely on her own. Though she would never admit it to herself, she worked hard to finish the dress for a purpose. Buried deep inside of her was the hope that Jon Paul would see her in it, and she would see the amber light in his eyes when he did.


    The candle burned low. Ashes and the kittens slept soundly in their box. From where she sat, she could see Patch. Isabelle thought the kitten might be a girl. If so, Lydia would have to be very vigilant. She did not want her baby to ever have to endure the dark business of birthing.


    Finally the last stitch was done. Lydia stood and held the dress up to her. Her stitches were not so fine as Moder''s had been, but they were improving. She twirled. It fanned out around her. It was so pretty. Tomorrow she would look pretty in it, and perhaps someone would notice. A smile spread across her face. She tossed the dress over her shoulder and grabbed the stub of a candle. Now to go and maneuver the ladder. How she hated the ladder. Making an ascent or a descent was always a hazard. Every time a hem caught or her legs got tangle she feared for her life. At those times, she longed for the days when her legs walked freely in Luke¡¯s clothing.


    *


    Outside, the sky was cloudless and a fresh breeze was blowing. Lydia breathed in deeply trying to calm herself. The wagon was coming. Two mules pulled it. On wagon seat sat Jon Paul and his Mama. Behind them on a plank was a man a woman and and a little girl. The wagon stopped. Jon Paul smiled down at her and she felt her heart pick up a beat. He held her eyes just a second and then in a twinkling, he swung Lydia into the back of the cart. His touch was so light, and the movement so swift Lydia felt a bit dizzy. With a slower motion, he gently helped Isabelle into the cart. Isabelle sat on the plank beside Lydia. Her face had a determined smile pasted it.


    Madame Gerard turned to them. A snowy white cap covered her faded auburn hair. Her eyes were quick and bright blue. They swiftly surveyed Lydia, before they turned to Isabelle. Madame Gerard said, "Isabelle it will be so nice to have you with us this morning." To Lydia she said, "It is good to meet the chandler who has been supplying our home with light." She glanced at her son, and added, "you do very fine work."


    "Thank you, Madame Gerard."


    She waved a hand at the young man, woman and child seated across from Lydia and Isabelle. "Mademoiselle Wade, this is my son, Tobias Gerard and his wife, Marguarite." Her eyes became tender when she introduced the little girl, "And this is my beloved, Peronelle."


    The child was about five. Her eyes were the same color as her grandmama''s. They were shy, curious eyes. Her parents nodded their greetings.


    The wagon swayed as Jon Paul took his seat. With a flick of the reigns the mules pulled forward. Isabelle and Marguarite quietly chatted, while Peronelle and Lydia listened. Tobias was a quiet man. He listened without comment. There was something about him that made Lydia think of a shepherd. She did not know why. The wagon pitched and rattled as it rolled down the rutted road. A head was the Chapel of Our Lady. The small church was not without elegance. It had finely carved wooden doors and imps of frightening detail on the cornices. The wagon stopped. Jon Paul and Tobias were quickly down to help the ladies out. Tobias swung his wife and child down. Peronelle laughed as he twirled her. As for Jon Paul, first he helped his Mama, then Isabelle and last Lydia. She braced herself. Again his hands held her lightly. He did not squeeze, but still she felt the strength of him in his touch. Too soon, she was on earth and out of his grasp.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Madame Gerard entered first, followed by the rest. Lydia had never been inside this sanctuary during a service. Inside the only art was a wooden Madonna. Time had faded her paint. The tallow candles flickered on the altar. Thanks to Lydia''s expertise, they did not burn foul. The seats where the Gerard''s sat was in front. They must be the wealthiest congregants. The more money one had, the nearer one was to God. At least that was common belief and practice. Unlike his brother, Jon Paul, stood to the side as the ladies entered. Was he to sit beside her? Lydia''s heart seem to stumble within her. When she took her seat, he did indeed take the seat beside her. A mixture of joy and worry spun around in her head and stomach. He was so close she could smell him. He smelled of strong soap, leather and wool. It was a pleasing combination.


    The procession began. Two small boys with candle holders preceded Friar Judas up the aisle. As they walked the flames danced. Lydia followed the light. It was then that she noticed that chapel was not dressed in white as was the tradition of Father Peter¡¯s church back home. It was festooned in red. Red signified fire, holy fire. Lydia wondered what this service would hold. She was not in Southampton and did not expect any stories of King Arthur. This was Dijon. Would the service be any different than those she knew in her own land?


    Dotted among the congregation a few people wore white garments. These were souls that had been baptized on Easter Sunday. The sound of babes crying, snuffling and some shrieking filled the chapel. This noisy little lot of humanity had been born during the Great Fifty Days that separated Easter from Whitsun. There were many villeins present this morning as well. They were tenements of the wealthy. For them, this week held respite and revelry. There would be a festival, and the Brewers of Dijon would peddle their wares and fill the cups of all who were thirsty. One of them was Brewer Arlette. He too was in the congregation this morning. He cast a glance at Isabelle. His heart was in his eyes. If Isabelle saw, she ignored him.


    Up front, Friar Judas did not wear a red vestment. He was adorned in the simple robe of a Franciscan brother. The red tendrils of fabric that slashed through the church did not please Lydia. For her fire was not some red thing, it was white yellow with tinges of orange and a heart of blue. She preferred white for Whitsun, but she was no longer in her home country.These differences must be accepted. A twinge of homesickness twisted inside of her. She closed her eyes. The past filled her mind, Old Kate and Moder were on either side of her. Father Peter¡¯s voice tried to rise in her memory, but it was dim and no longer so clear. Would she forget his voice entirely? Frantically, her mind raced to the voices of Moder, Aunt Rachel and Old Kate. Relief filled her as she found them still wholly intact in her mind. She must not forget the way they sounded. She must not.


    Friar Judas¡¯ voice pulled her from the past. He was retelling the story of Pentecost. The story of that mystical day when the Holy Spirit descended upon humanity. The Friar''s voice was not rich, like Father Thomas, but it had the same ring of sincerity. "et factus est repente de caelo sonus tamquam advenientis spiritus vehementis et replevit totam domum ubi erant sedentes¡± * The congregation began to shuffle their feet. So many feet moving together sounded like a mighty wind. The babes hushed. Near the ceiling of the church was a large empty hole. From this hole a dove flew. It was the symbol of the Spirit descending upon Christ at his baptism. The beautiful bird glided over the congregation. It¡¯s iridescent wings caught the flickering light from the candle flames. It landed on of the sculpted head of the Virgin. It¡¯s bright eyes looked down at the babe in her arms. Lydia stared in wonder at this bird. When the dove had descended at Christ¡¯s baptism, God had said, ¡°This is my beloved son in who I am well pleased.¡± What was it like to hear the voice of God?


    Brother Judas proclaimed, ¡°et apparuerunt illis dispertitae linguae tamquam ignis seditque supra singulos eorum¡±** From the hole where the dove had descended, flame licked straw cascaded down. This symbolized the cloven tongues of fire that danced over the heads of the people, both male and female, slave and free man on the day of Pentecost. In Lydia¡¯s mind the fire of Pentecost gleamed like candle flames not like sliced infernal tongues. The fire she believed in was warm and good, not terrifying. God had given the light of the Spirit to humanity to share. Those who called themselves Christians and used brute force to coerce people into faith, defiled Love. Those who openly practiced fear and bigotry, did not understand or know the kind of Love Christ had exemplified. The smoke of the burning straw mixed with the aroma of tallow and humanity. A haze settled over the crowd. Several people began to cough.


    A stray spark landed on a man¡¯s tunic. It burst into flames. Jon Paul was swiftly up, he grabbed a bucket by the hole and doused the man. The flames went out. Applause broke out. Jon Paul bowed. Was it possible he had sat on the aisle seat for this purpose? Lydia felt herself grow pink because of her presumption.


    -----------------------


    *Acts 2:2


    And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.


    **Acts 2:3


    And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them.

 Chapter 42. Of Windows

    When they reached the shop, Isabelle said, ¡°Madame Gerard, the kittens are weaned, you can take your baby home if you like.¡±


    Eagerly, she said, ¡°Oui, I would love to. Jon Paul, get me down. I must hold this kitten at once.¡±


    Peronelle asked, ¡°May I come too?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Jon Paul leapt down to help them out of the wagon. First his mama, then Isabelle, next Peronelle. Lydia braced herself for his touch. It was feather light and so brief, and yet the instant he let her go, she still felt held. She looked up at him. His eyes smiled down into hers. They did not hold the hunger Jacob¡¯s so often had, nor the charisma of Antone¡¯s, the sensation they caused in her was a new one, she could not quite name, or explain to herself.


    From the front door, Peronelle asked, ¡°Mama, Papa will you not come too?¡±


    Marguerite smiled and said, ¡°No, go on. Be careful of the kitten¡¯s claws. We cannot have your coming down with a fever.¡±


    Tobias made a peculiar sound in his throat. Lydia was not sure if it was of agreement or dissent.


    Peronelle asked Jon Paul, ¡°Are you going to come with us, Uncle?¡±


    He took her hand and said, ¡°Of course my Sweet.¡±


    Lydia followed them inside. In the dim light of the shop, they made their way to the living quarters. The instant they entered the kitchen Peronelle let go of her uncle¡¯s hand and went to the cat box. Patch, whose eyes had taken on a golden hue, looked out over the edge of the box. The little girl exclaimed, ¡°Is this one ours? It is beautiful.¡±


    Fear clutched Lydia¡¯s heart. Surely Isabelle would not give Patch away. She had promised.


    Jon Paul responded, ¡°No, that is not our cat. That is Mademoiselle Wade¡¯s cat.¡±


    Peronelle smiled at Lydia and said, ¡°You get your own cat? I want a cat ever so badly, but Mama will not let me have one. So, Grandmama said I could share hers. Is that not right Grandmama?¡±


    Madame Gerard nodded and said, ¡°Indeed it is. Now, Isabelle, which one is ours?¡±


    Isabelle leaned over the cat box and pulled out the seal gray kitten, whose eyes had yet to turn. ¡°This one is yours.¡± She placed the cat in Peronelle¡¯s extended hands.


    The little girl trilled with delight. ¡°Oh, its fur is so soft. Madame Beaux-champ, is it a girl or a boy?¡±


    ¡°I do not know.¡±


    As Peronelle pressed the kitten¡¯s cheek to her own, she asked, ¡°Uncle, do you know how to tell if this is a girl or a boy?¡±


    Jon Paul said, ¡°Perhaps, let me have a look.¡± He took the kitten from his niece and gently pulled up its tail. The kitten was not amused with being handle in such a way. It let out a low growl and a hiss. Jon Paul cooed, ¡°There, there little one.¡± After a quick peek, he said, ¡°This is a boy.¡±


    Light filled Peronelle¡¯s eyes. ¡°A boy. Then he will not have kittens, Mama does not like girl cats because they have too many kittens. Perhaps she will like him.¡±She reached up and Jon Paul handed the kitten back to her.


    Isabelle asked, ¡°Could you check the other two?¡±


    Jon Paul took the other seal gray cat and performed the same speculative procedure. ¡°This one is a girl.¡± He then took Patch. She did not growl or hiss when he lifted her tail. The kitten seemed to know he did not wish her harm. ¡°This too, is a girl.¡± Lydia was so pleased. She really wanted Patch to be a girl.Jon Paul handed Lydia, Patch. His hand brushed against hers. The sensation was pleasant.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    To her kitten she said, ¡°Patch you are a Mademoiselle and may you always stay one.¡±


    Madame Gerard told Lydia, ¡°She is a fine cat and will make a good companion I wager.¡±


    ¡°I think so too,¡± said Lydia. ¡°From the first time I saw her, I wanted her for my own.¡±


    The eyes of the older woman grew a bit wide in response to this confession. She said, ¡°My husband said as much of me when we met.¡±She cast a glance in Jon Paul¡¯s direction. She turned to Isabelle and said, ¡°It has been ever so long since you have been to the house. Please come home with us.¡±


    There was panic in Isabelle¡¯s expression. Had she spent a great deal of time with the Gerard¡¯s when Henri was living? Had she been there since he had passed? Lydia wondered, not for the first time, what had been the cause of his death. Isabelle never spoke of it. She asked Lydia, ¡°Would you come too?¡±


    A bit too quickly, Jon Paul volunteered, ¡°We have little stream that runs through our property. I think you would find its music lovely.¡±


    A look passed between Isabelle and Madame Gerard. Lydia was not sure what the look meant, but it appeared that Isabelle wanted to go and she seldom went anywhere. Lydia said, ¡°Oui, I would like that.¡±


    The drive to the Gerard home was pleasant. A cool breeze was blowing and the across the feilds that lined the road. They turned onto a path that lead through towering oak trees in full leaf. Riding beneath the great trees was like passing thought a cathedral of lights and darks. Beside Lydia, Peronelle sat with a contented kitten asleep in her lap. She had become very attached instantaneously. Lydia did not envy her mama when it came time to separate the two.


    Ahead there was a break in the trees. Lydia saw a dab and waddle barn. A weathered stone house with a thatched roof. There was a chicken coop, a pig sty and a large pen with of what looked to be three month old lambs jumping around butting one another with their heads. They were comical. Beyond the house, Lydia caught a glimpse of a smaller building. It did not look like an outbuilding, but like a dwelling. She wondered, if anyone lived there. Unlike the house which had greased parchment windows, the windows in the smaller building winked at the sun. Glass! A window from which a body could actually look out of. A glass window was a luxury and wonderful thing.


    With a tinge of sadness Isabelle said, ¡°I see you have completed your house Jon Paul. It looks lovely.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Though Lydia could not see his face, she knew he was smiling.


    Tobias spoke, ¡°He has yet to move into it though. He¡¯s wanting a wife to take care of him.¡±


    All Lydia could see was the back of Jon Paul¡¯s neck and it turned very pink.


    Isabelle tactfully changed the subject. ¡°It looks like you have bern blessed with healthy lambs.¡±


    Tobias replied, ¡°Oui. We had a good portion born healthy and alive. I wish you could have seen them when they were newly born. Perhaps next year.¡±


    There was a catch in Isabelle¡¯s voice when she said, ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    Jon Paul stopped the wagon in front of the house. He leapt down, as did Tobias, to help the ladies down. Lydia braced herself to be lifted down by Jon Paul. There was no lingering in his touch as he swung her down. A question, of its own accord, flitted thought Lydia¡¯s mind, What would it be like to be enclosed in those strong arms? Though no one heard he silent question, she felt herself go pink with embarrassment. The effect Jon Paul had on her would come to no good.


    The door to the house opened. The great, gorgeous dog, Al, sauntered into the yard. Instinctively, Peronelle pulled the kitten close to her. Al gave the tiny thing, a good sniff then turned his attention to Lydia. His eyes danced with delight. He pressed his great head beneath her hand. She scratched his ears. ¡°Good to see you handsome fellow.¡±


    An old man with a long white beard came out of the house. He balanced himself on a stick. His face was puckered with a merry grin. He called out, ¡°Good to see you Isabelle. It has been awhile.¡±


    ¡°Oui, it has. Too long.¡± With tears in her eyes, Isabelle rushed into the man¡¯s arms.


    He patted her shoulder and said, ¡°There, there love.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have missed you so.¡± Isabelle gave him a kiss and stood back and studied him. ¡°You look ornery as ever.¡±


    ¡°That I am girl. I see you have sent a plague to visit our house.¡± He pointed his stick at the kitten in Peronelle¡¯s arms.


    The child protested. ¡°He is not a plague, Grandpa. He is a cat. You will see, he will be a fine ratter.¡±


    The word ¡®ratter,¡¯ echoed inside of Lydia. A peculiar sensation came over her. She got a pricking in her fingers. In memory she heard the voice of the little girl in Rabbi Rashbam¡¯s barn on Purim. She had called her kitten Ratter. In age and stature she had resembled Peronelle. Another strange coincidence attached itself to the night she thought she had seen a unicorn.


    Madam Gerard said, ¡°Mademoiselle Wade, This is my fader. Being a Brit, he prefers to be called Mister Elliot.¡±


    The merry old man turned his rheumy eyes upon Lydia. He squinted at her and then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. In a hoarse voice he asked, ¡°Rebecca, have you come to me at last?¡±


    Madame Gerard asked, ¡°Fader, what ever are you talking about. This is Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    His eyes were still riveted on Lydia. He said, ¡°Aye, I know. Tis¡¯ Rebecca Wade.¡±


    Rebecca?


    ¡°Oh Fader, you have her confused with someone else.¡±


    The expression on his face changed. He looked as if he had just received a physical blow.

 Chapter 43. The Resemblance

    Rebecca Wade had been Lydia¡¯s grandmoder¡¯s name. She had a vague recollection of her. Warm arms held her and a soft voice crooned a lullaby to her. She said, ¡°My grandmoder¡¯s name was Rebecca Wade.¡±


    A transcendent light came into the old man¡¯s eyes. With a catch in his voice he said, ¡°What a beauty she was. I can see her still, wavin¡¯ at the ship as it carried me away. I had every intention of comin¡¯ back for her, but I was too late. She was married to Thaddeus when I returned. I was a foolish young man.¡± His studied her face and said, ¡°You got her eyes and the tilt of her chin. Strange how features pass from one generation to the next. Stranger still, that we should meet like this. What are the chances?¡±


    Lydia had no idea what the chances were, but she was very aware that Madame Gerard had gone strangely quiet. Had she not known about her fader¡¯s love for Rebecca Wade?


    Suddenly aware that he was staring at her, Mr. Elliot said, ¡°Pardon me for starin¡¯. I just canna get over the resemblance.¡± He bowed in apology as best as he could.


    Lydia said, ¡°No one ever told me I resembled her. I dunna know much about her.¡±


    Madame Gerard broke her silence and said, ¡°Fader, take Mademoiselle Wade for a walk. I am sure you have some things to discuss. I will call you when the food it ready.¡±


    ¡°That be a grand idea.¡± He said to Lydia, ¡°Will you join me Miss Wade?¡±


    Lydia glanced in Isabelle¡¯s direction. She nodded her approval. ¡°Why thank you. I would like that.¡± She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. As he guided her down the dirt path, they passed the bee hives. There were so many. Lydia could hear the hum of them. So this was where the fine wax was made and the fine honey. When they reached the stream, as Jon Paul had said, it was singing. There was a hewn log by the water. Mister Elliot guided her to it and sat down. Lydia was a bit concerned the wood might muss her new dress, but she did not want to be rude. She shrugged her shawl down, so it would touch the wood and not the skirt of her dress.


    Once they were settled he said, ¡°It is good to cross paths with someone from home. I visit Southampton in my dreams some nights.¡±


    ¡°I do as well,¡± said Lydia.


    Kindness filled his eyes. He said, ¡°I detect a bit of homesickness. Been away from home long?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir, I have.¡± It had been over a year since she had lived in her own home. It had been five months since that dreadful ferry ride took her from the country of her birth.


    For a moment, Mr. Elliot focused on the flowing waters and then he looked at her and said, ¡°Your Grandmoder were a fine strong girl. Smart too. I should never have left like I did. Never. But, I were a fool, no family for me. I longed for a life, and I had it, left me empty it did. When I returned, Rebecca had been wed for nearly two years to Thaddeus. I would like to say I would have been better to her than he was, but I canna. I was a selfish brute in my day.¡±


    Lydia could not help but wonder if her grandmoder might have known some happiness with this man. Lydia¡¯s only memory of Grandfader was of him roaring about his burned supper. Aunt Rachel had boxed his ears and told him to shut his cursed mouth. He had been very old and feeble then. It was not long before he rested beneath the ground and according to Fader, burning in hell.


    Mr. Elliot said, ¡°I hear tell that your fader took over his fader¡¯s shop and that is where you learned to make candles. Jon Paul had brought a number of them home and they are fine indeed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Sir. Where did you live in Southampton?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°I grew up in Bolton Castle. My fader were a groom and my Moder were a maid. I dunna have the taste for servitude, so as soon as I were able I headed for the sea. And after many a misadventure I ended up here. I hate being land locked something terrible, as I am sure you do too.¡±


    Lydia could only nod. Her throat had grown tight with unshed tears. The warmth of this day¡¯s sun seemed to reach down and remind her of its continuous presence. It was here, on this water and it could make it shine. Lydia and Mr. Elliot slipped into a companionable silence. Time ceased to exist. She felt an abiding peace. Lydia closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun. Her thoughts traveled backward and forward in time.


    A step on the path and a snort of a large animal, startled Lydia from her reverie. She opened her eyes. It was Jon Paul and Al. He said, ¡°Mama sent me to tell you dinner is ready.¡±


    Al came to where Mister Elliot sat and nudged his hand with his nose. Mr. Elliot said, ¡°Aye, thank ya, boy, I be needin¡¯ a boost.¡± He placed his old hands on Al¡¯s back, and hoisted himself up. Once on his feet, he held onto Al¡¯s ruff and said, ¡°Lead the way.¡± To Jon Paul, he said, ¡°Be takin¡¯ Miss Wade¡¯s arm. The path be a might uneven and we canna have her twistin¡¯ an ankle.


    Dutifully, Jon Paul extended his arm to her. The delight she felt at the prospect of being escorted by him, surprised Lydia. Her hand wrapped around the crook of his arm. She could feel the strength of his muscles. He smiled down at her. Those curling lips...what would it be like to be kissed by them? Quickly, she banished the thought.


    In the yard, they were met by a man, who Jon Paul introduced to Lydia. ¡°This is my papa, Monsieur Josiah Gerard. Papa this is Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    The man tipped his hat to her. He was a little taller than Jon Paul and but his eyes held the same amber lights that Jon Paul¡¯s held. ¡°It is good to meet your Mademoiselle.¡±


    ¡°Like wise, Monsieur Gerard,¡± said Lydia.


    Madame Gerard came out of the house and said, ¡°It is too lovely a day to eat inside. Josiah, Jon Paul, set up the tables.¡± She turned and called out, ¡°Tobias, bring the benches out.¡±


    Quickly, the tables and benches were arranged beneath an ancient oak tree behind the house. The tree¡¯s branches provided a perfect patchwork of spangled light. The breeze was fresh and Lydia was hungry. There was mutton, boiled eggs, fresh bread, honey, potatoes baked in their jackets, fennel salad, mead and goat¡¯s milk. It had been a long while since Lydia had enjoyed such a meal. Neither she, nor Isabelle were skilled cooks. As she ate, she snuck glances at Jon Paul. He was a hearty eater, but he was not sloppy. Beside him, Peronelle sat. Jon Paul was good with children, or at least an attentive uncle. As soon as Peronelle finished her meal, she begged, ¡°Please, I want to be with Edmond.¡±


    Her mama asked, ¡°Who is Edmond?¡±


    ¡°My kitten, I named him.¡±


    Marguerite said, ¡°He is not your kitten, remember.¡±


    Peronelle did not respond to this comment. With clearly strained patience, she waited for permission to be excused. Marguerite gave her daughter a weary smile. To Jon Paul, she said, ¡°Could you take her?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Mister Elliot followed them inside. Tobias and his papa went to the barn. Left to themselves the ladies began to talk about more feminine things like remedies and recipes. After a bit Marguerite asked, ¡°Isabelle do you have any interest in the intentions of a certain Brewer?¡±


    Blankly, Isabelle asked, ¡°Who ever do you mean?¡±


    Marguerite gave Lydia a knowing smile. The smile spoke much and Lydia divined information from it that she prayed was false. Was Marguerite about to play matchmaker? In Lydia¡¯s mind Brewer Arlette was elevated from a nuisance to a threat. She had not cared for him before, but now she loathed him. And what of Isabelle? Currently she was immersed in her grief. What would happen when she emerged? Would she be swayed to abandon her Henri¡¯s life dream?


    Marguerite said, ¡°I have heard tell that a certain brewer has become quite devout of late and is seen frequenting your shop to purchase prayer candles. I wonder what he is praying for?¡±


    This teasing did not please Lydia. There was something almost catty about it. Madame Gerard said, ¡°That is enough.¡±


    Marguerite shrugged and said, ¡°I was just curious.¡±


    Isabelle¡¯s face had turned ashen. In a small voice she asked Madame Gerard, ¡°Have there been rumors about me. I have no wish for any man except for the one I had, and he is now beyond my reach.¡± She paused for a moment and then said, ¡°I think, I am ready to go home now.¡±


    Marguerite protested, ¡°Please do not go. I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.¡±


    Really? It did not seem so to Lydia.


    Perturbed, Madame Gerard said, ¡°Go fetch Jon Paul so he can take these ladies home.¡±


    With the faintest of smirks, Marguerite rose and went into the house. What was that about?


    Gently, Madame Gerard put her hand over Isabelle¡¯s and said, ¡°Do no mind her. You know how she is?¡±


    Isabelle nodded. Lydia thought, then she should not be as she is!

 Chapter 44. A Man of SKill

    Jon Paul came out fo the house with a worried expression. Quickly he walked to where the ladies were seated. He said, ¡°Marguerite tells me you are ready to go home.¡±


    Without a word, Isabelle nodded.


    ¡°I will fetch the wagon.¡±


    Lydia watched him head to the barn. By his gait, it was obvious he was angry. Within minutes, he had the mule and wagon out of the barn.


    Madame Gerard rose and hugged Isabelle. ¡°Do come again,¡± she said.


    With effort, Isabelle managed to reply, ¡°Of course.¡±


    As Jon Paul lifted Isabelle onto the wagon seat, a look passed between them. He said something to her that Lydia could not hear. Isabelle responded with a quick nod of her head. Her eyes traveled to the house. Standing in the door frame was Marguerite. There was a look on her face of thinly veiled triumph. Her comment about the Brewer had been premeditated and had received the response she wanted. Why? Why would she purposely torment Isabelle?


    Very preoccupied, Jon Paul swung Lydia up onto the plank in the back of the wagon. He cast an eye in his sister-in-laws direction. There was fire in his eyes. Angry fire. Obvious dislike shown own his face. He climbed onto the wagon seat beside Isabelle. He called out, ¡°On with you now Jeremiah.¡± The mule obeyed. Jon Paul was in complete control. The face of Moses Aaron arose in Lydia''s memory. The beast driving this wagon was nothing  like the magnificent Moses Aaron. Was her favorite mule in his  own stall this day? She prayed so.


    On the way to town, Jon Paul kept up a leisurely conversation with Lydia about local flora and fauna. Lydia knew this conversation was not really directed at her, it was meant to distract Isabelle, but it was not working. With a slight turn of his head, Jon Paul gave Lydia side glance. The fire in his eyes was now banked. They held a look of genuine concern.


    In the streets of Dijon drunken villeins staggered. Music and dancing was to be seen. Booths were set up selling various foods and plenty of free beer and wine flowed. Suddenly very tense, Isabelle looked at her feet. Was she avoiding eye contact with a certain brewer. All Lydia could do was pray he did not see them as they passed. Her prayer was not answered. Lydia heard him, before she saw him. He called out a greeting, ¡°Well, hello friends. I have wondered where you were."


    I bet you did, thought Lydia. There on the street side he stood by the shop. Brewer Arlette did not seem to be inebriated. His face was lit up with unveiled adoration.


    The instant, Jon Paul stopped, the brewer whisked to  Isabelle¡¯s side of the wagon and waited.


    Ever so slowly, Isabelle turned her head and looked down at him. Faintly, she smiled. He held out his arms to her and she went into them. He swung her down. A bit dizzy, she grabbed his arm and he steadied her. None of this boded well as far as Lydia was concerned.


    She couldn¡¯t help but notice his eager expression, though it was not vulgar. Dazed, Isabelle held onto his arm. He guided her to the front door of the shop an opened it.


    Jon Paul turned to Lydia, and he gave her a hand and helped her down. Under his breath he said, ¡°Arlette is not a bad man. He has a genuine affection for Isabelle. People, like the witch my brother is tethered to, would have Isabelle drive him off.¡±


    Surprised and dismayed, Lydia asked, ¡°So you approve of a match?¡±


    An amused smile played on his lips, but did not burst forth. ¡°Not every woman is as self sufficient as you, Mademoiselle Wade. A good man can be a gift from God.¡±


    Aware that he still had her hand, Lydia said, ¡°Perhaps. I best get inside.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    He released her hand and said, ¡°Send Arlette on his way. I know Isabelle and she will be wanting the comfort of her bed.¡±


    How would he know this?


    With a tip of his hat, Jon Paul gave a slight bow and said, ¡°Until next time.¡± He climbed back into the wagon and drove away.


    Inside the shop, Lydia found a very pale Isabelle displaying candles for the brewer. Did the man not notice how pale and reserved she was? Lydia said, ¡°Ah Isabelle, I will take care of Brewer Arlette. You go on now.¡±


    Isabelle nodded. To Brewer Arlette, she said, ¡°I have a bit of a head ache. Mademoiselle Wade will tend to you.¡±


    Anxiously, Brewer Arlette asked, ¡°You are not feeling well? I am such an oaf, I should notice such things. My Sylvia used to say, I had eyes but could not see. I am so sorry for keeping you.¡± He bowed to her and she took her leave.


    Lydia slipped behind the counter and asked, ¡°What would you be looking for today?¡±


    ¡°Common tallow candles for the kitchen. When did this trouble with Isabelle start?¡±


    ¡°At the Gerard¡¯s.¡±


    He said, ¡°Ah,¡± but that was all.


    Lydia wrapped up the candles and gave them to him. Absently, he paid her. His eyes strayed to the door that Isabelle had passed through. Lydia wondered what had become of his Sylvia. Did he have children?


    As he took the candles he said, ¡°Thank you Mademoiselle. If Madame Beauxchampe has need of anything, do not hesitate to contact me.¡±


    Lydia said, ¡°That is very generous.¡±


    With a wistful voice he said, ¡°Nothing is too generous for Isabelle.¡± Unaware that he had just spoken her first name and revealed the depth of his care, Brewer Arlette left the shop.


    Lydia sat down on the stool with a sigh. It was hard to detest a man when he so obviously cared. And, Jon Paul was not wrong. Isabelle was not cut out to traverse life alone.


    *


    The following day, Jon Paul stopped by to check on Isabelle. She was not in the shop, but in the work kitchen tying knots. Jon Paul asked, ¡°How is Isabelle this morning?¡±


    ¡°Better,¡± said Lydia.


    ¡°A certain brewer did not over stay his welcome did he?¡±


    ¡°No. He was quite kind.¡± Though she tried to hide it, Lydia knew her expression had just revealed her worry.


    Jon Paul asked, ¡°And how are you this morning?¡±


    ¡°I am fit enough.¡±


    ¡°Indeed you are.¡± His smile was one of appraisal. He said, ¡°Papa and I will be going to the Hot Fair in Troyes. I was wondering if you would like to send some of your wares with us to sell?¡±


    The word Troyes reverberated inside of Lydia. Memory conjured that horrible nun who had accused her of committing vile acts with men. If not for Madame Coeur¡¯s letter, Lydia may have ended up shamed or even dead. Troyes, was not a place she ever wanted to go. Besides all that, Fader attended the Hot Fair. He would most likely be there. If he saw her work, would he recognize it?


    Jon Paul asked, ¡°Mademoiselle Wade are you all right?¡±


    Suddenly aware of him, she said, ¡°I am fine.¡± It was not the truth, but she could not speak the truth. What would he think of her if he knew she had traveled in the company of three men, slept with three men, traveled as a male herself. Would he be smiling at her the way he was now if he knew the sins of deception she had committed? Probably not. She said, ¡°Let me go fetch Isabelle.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    In the kitchen, Isabelle was frowning over her knots. The wicks were tangled and she was crying. Lydia wrapped her arm around her shoulder and said, ¡°There, there. I will set them right.¡±


    ¡°I cannot seem to focus this morning,¡± Isabelle said. She wiped her nose. ¡°Did I hear a customer?¡±


    ¡°No, it is Jon Paul. He has come to ask you about the Hot Fair.¡±


    ¡°Oh, goodness. I had forgotten all about that. When Henri passed I had to sell all the candles he had made for the Hot Fair. The night you arrived I was down to my last candles.¡± She rose from the table, patted her cheek fondly. ¡°You were and remain a Godsend.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Lydia followed her into the shop. Isabelle said, ¡°Thank you for the offer, Jon Paul, but we are just keeping up with our orders and I do not have any extra.¡±


    ¡°I bet if I helped we could get a lot together. Just enough for you to have a financial cushion, so to speak.¡±


    Lydia did not know Jon Paul knew how to make candles. Isabelle said, ¡°You are too generous. Where would you find the time?¡±


    He smiled and said, ¡°I will make the time.¡±


    With a glance at Lydia, Isabelle said, ¡°I bet you will. All right then, but I must warn you Mademoiselle Wade is a force when it comes to candle making. You will be amazed.¡±


    ¡°I bet I will. I will come back this evening and we can get to it. Deal?¡±


    Isabelle smiled a genuine smile, ¡°Deal. Bring supper unless you want the charcoal I serve up.¡±


    He threw his head back and laughed. His laughter tore through Lydia like a sheet of light. He seemed to possess such joy. She had no idea what that was like. With a grin he said, ¡°I will bring supper. See you two then.¡±


    Lydia watched him leave. Her heart beat a bit faster. In a few hours he would return. How skilled an artisan was he? She would find out soon enough. Soon, she would work beside him. Impatience for him to return hammered inside of her.

 Chapter 45. Sacred Act

    Lydia was outside sweeping the entrance when Jon Paul arrived on the mule, Jeremiah. In his right hand was a large basket. With a swift move, that did not bobble the basket, Jon Paul dismounted. Cast in the glow of the evening sun, he looked like an angel. It was a strange trick of the light. The smile that spread across his face at the sight of her, made Lydia homesick, but she did not know why.


    With a little bow, he said, ¡°Good evening Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    ¡°Good evening Monsieur Gerard.¡±


    Jon Paul tethered Jeremiah to the hitching post. The mule did not protest as Moses Aaron was prone to do. Lydia reached out a hand to touch the mule¡¯s velvety snout. Jeremiah looked at her with his dark eyes. There was no lack of intelligence in his gaze. It seemed he chose to accept his fate rather than struggle against it as Moses Aaron did.


    Jon Paul said, ¡°You have a way with animals.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Her fader had a way with animals too, that was why his roosters won so many cock fights. But his way, was not a good way. She did not want to think of him or the violence of his birds. She turned the attention back to Jeremiah. ¡°This is a fine mule.¡±


    ¡°Oui, he is. Trust worthy loyal and always good tempered. Grandfader says he never met the like of such a mule.¡±


    Nor had Lydia. She asked, ¡°Shall we go inside?¡±


    ¡°Oui.¡±


    They found Isabelle in the work kitchen, cutting wicks. She appraised the basket Jon Paul held and asked, ¡°What have you brought for us to eat?¡±


    ¡°I have brought stewed rabbit with yeast rolls, my finest honey and a drop of mead. I would like Mademoiselle to sample my brew.¡±


    ¡°Indeed?¡± Isabelle smiled at him. ¡°Always peddling your brew. So how does it sell at the Hot Fair?¡±


    ¡°Very well, Madame, very well.¡±


    In all honesty, Lydia was not fond of mead. It was too sweet for her and it never set well on her stomach, but for Jon Paul she would give it a taste.


    Isabelle rose from the table and lead them into the house kitchen. The smell of rabbit stew filled the room when Jon Paul lifted the lid on the basket he carried. Patch and Ashes appeared from the cat box with wiggling noses. He told them, ¡°You will get a taste, in time.¡±


    The meal was very good, even the mead.


    Jon Paul asked, ¡°So, what do you think?¡±


    Lydia said, ¡°It had a sweetness that is just right and the fermentation is not over powerful.¡±


    Pleased, Jon Paul smiled. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Lydia said, ¡°Your mama is a excellent cook. It was kind of her to send this meal for us.¡±


    With a gleam in her eye, Isabelle said, ¡°His mama did not make this meal. He did.¡±


    Jon Paul gave a little nod. ¡°Why thank you both.¡±


    He could cook? Could he make candles?


    After they cleared the table, Isabelle hung back to wash the dishes. When Lydia offered to help, she said, ¡°Oh, no go on. You two need to get started. Besides, I am really more trouble than help.¡±


    Lydia protested, ¡°That is not true.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, go on now. I will be there in a bit.¡±


    In truth Lydia was more than a little anxious about being alone with Jon Paul in the work kitchen. Too clear in her memory were the groping advances of Jacob. Deep down, she knew Jon Paul was not a brute, but the fear was there. Unwanted memories began reeling through her head, vivid in emotion and disgust. Reluctantly, she followed Jon Paul into the work kitchen. Once inside he asked, ¡°What would you like me to do first?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Never had Fader or Jacob ever asked her what to do first. They told her what to do first. She said, ¡°Please start with the tallow.¡± The tallow was a test for him. She would not let him at their good wax until she was certain he could melt without scorching or burning. He took the block of tallow and cut off an appropriate amount. He put the melting pot on and began to slowly add the tallow. Lydia turned her attention to the dipping rack to finish cutting and tying the wicks. It was taking Isabelle quite a long while to wash the few dishes they had dirtied.


    When it came time for dipping she let Jon Paul do it. She watched him carefully. He had a solid working knowledge of candle making, but she noticed as the candles formed they were quite common looking, but not crude. They would fetch a fair price. While he could turn out a serviceable candle, they lacked the artistry that Fader¡¯s had, the artistry that he had passed down to Lydia. She wondered if her candle making was more than a skill. Was it possible it was her art? She thought of Antone¡¯s mother¡¯s work.Those paintings with their expressive eyes and faces had other worldly quality about them. They were more than representations of humans. They conveyed the spirit within. She thought of Aunt Rachel¡¯s way with flora and fauna and the potions and cures she had made. It took creativity and insight to have healing power. Had Beatrice and Aunt Rachel felt about their work the way she felt about hers?


    When Jon Paul completed the dipping tallow candles he put them on the tallow cooling rack. Lydia turned her attention to the wax melting pot. It was smaller than the tallow pot. Fader had taught her to never use the same vessel for wax as tallow. The tallow could corrupt the wax. When it came to wax preparation Jon Paul¡¯s true skill manifested itself. He was better at it than she or Fader were. Lydia secured the wicks on the dipping rack while Jon Paul tended to the melting. ¡°It is ready,¡± he said.


    Now, for the thing that Lydia enjoyed most in all the world. She lowered the strings into the pot. Slowly, patiently, she watched the candles grow on the wicks. Their sides were smooth, the wax was growing evenly thicker. As she dipped, she felt the weight of the candles grow heavier and then the moment came when instinct told her they had reached completeness. Unaware that Jon Paul had been watching her, she placed them on the cooling rack.


    In a reverent voice he said, ¡°I have seen many a candle made in my day, but I have never seen anyone make them like you. It was a sacred act.¡±


    For Lydia it was. It was a sacred act she would practice and perfect as long as life allowed her too. She said, ¡°Thank you. I think that is the best compliment I have ever received.¡±


    He smiled at her and said, ¡°It is true. Isabelle was right, you are a force when making candles.¡±


    Lydia surveyed her work. What she produced was excellent, but it was also telling. A worried frown creased her brow. If Fader saw these candles at the Hot Fair he would know they were hers. These candles could lead him straight to her.


    Concerned by her expression, Jon Paul asked, ¡°Is something troubling you?¡±


    She nodded her head. ¡°Oui, I am worried.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    Did she dare make a confession to him? For her own safety, she felt she must. ¡°The candles I just made cannot be taken to the Hot Fair. I am worried that if my fader sees them he might recognize my work. As I look at the lot, I feel in my liver that he would indeed know they were mine. He would ask you where you had gotten them. If you told him, he would come for me.¡±


    Concern grew in Jon Paul¡¯s eyes. He asked, ¡°To what end?¡±


    ¡°If he found me, he would force me to marry the boorish man I am betrothed to. He very much wants me, and any children I might bear to carry on the work in his shop.¡± Her voice broke as she said, ¡°He does not believe in heaven, so he wants me to give him a legacy on earth.¡±


    The concern in Jon Paul¡¯s eyes changed to righteous indignation. ¡°While I breathe that will never happen to you.¡±


    That was quite a promise and one that Lydia believed he just might be able to make good on it.


    With a tremor in his voice he continued, ¡°I vow that I will not even speak your name before him, for I shall surely see him. Between his cocks and his candles he is a staple at the Hot Fair. He also purchases my wax. He has for years.¡±


    Astonished, Lydia asked, ¡°You mean I have made candles with your wax before? I do not remember any wax I used being as beautiful as the wax I have been using here.¡±


    ¡°Oui, you have used my wax, but I never sold your fader my finest. I reserve my finest wax for those who deserve to use the best product of my bees.¡±


    There was a tension in the space between them. Something inside of Lydia wanted to cross that space, but before she could make a move, Isabelle entered the work kitchen followed by Ashes and Patch. Patch mewed ever so piteously to be held. Lydia stooped down and picked her up. Her tiny tongue licked, Lydia¡¯s cheek.


    Isabelle surveyed the tables and said, ¡°The two of you have finished two batches already. I am astonished.¡± She yawned. ¡°I am sorry I did not help. I just meant to rest my eyes for a moment, and the next thing I knew the sun had set and all the windows were dark.¡±


    Lydia was not sure if Isabelle was telling the truth about falling asleep, but what did it matter. She had very much enjoyed working with Jon Paul.

 Chapter 46. Be Witches?

    It was late July and their best wax was running low. Just that morning during Lydia''s reading lesson, Father Thomas had placed a large order for wax candles. A Bishop would be visiting in August and Father Thomas wanted their finest candles to illuminate Sainte-Benigne. A week ago, Jon Paul should have come around with another batch of wax, only he had not. He still had not returned from the Hot Fair and Lydia was worried. In and out of the shop people talked about the hoards of people headed for Rome to be atoned by Pope Boniface in this year of Jubilee. Vagrants, pilgrims, nomads and theives were clogging the streets and causing trouble. Shop owners and street vendors were being robbed. Many farms were being picked clean of their unripened harvests. Every night when Lydia said her prayers, she prayed for Jon Paul and his papa. Too vividly she recalled the dangers of the road. James had almost gotten himself killed and those friars had been murdered. If anything happened to Jon Paul, she would not be able to bear it. Death claimed so much. It must not claim Jon Paul yet. In her worry she did not stop to question her growing attachment to this man.


    The shop bell rang. Lydia passed from the work kitchen into the shop. A very old woman dressed in a rusty brown cloak was studying their best candles. Lydia asked, ¡°May I help you?¡±


    The old woman turned. Lydia was startled by her resemblance to Bab. Only it was not Bab because her smile was toothless and ingratiating. Her voice was a soft as the whisper of calm water over stones. She said, ¡°Ah Miss Wade, I have a bit of work for you if you are able.¡± This woman spoke the language of Lydia¡¯s homeland. Usually such an encounter with some one from her country made her happy. At the moment she felt the hair on her arms stand. Instinctively she knew, the woman was not after a bit of regular wax work, but something very different. She asked, ¡°What are you needing?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it be nothin¡¯ but a trifle, just a little figure. I hear tell you are very good with wax and can bend it to your will.¡± Her eyes fixed on Lydia. In their pupils was a depth of darkness Lydia had not witnessed before. ¡°Do you think you have the skill?¡±


    The old woman had just challenged Lydia¡¯s pride. She responded, ¡°I may have the skill and I may not. You have not given me enough information to tell me what is required.¡±


    The old woman chuckled softly. ¡°Oh, you be a smart one, you. Nothin¡¯ gets by you I wager.¡± This was a temptation of vanity. Lydia was being manipulated and she knew it. The woman continued, ¡°Smarter than many a man, even that vile fader of yours.¡±


    At the mention of her father, everything inside of Lydia got very still. She asked, ¡°Who is my fader?¡±


    ¡°You be knowin¡¯ Thomas Wade of Southampton.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Well, he be knowin¡¯ me. Before daft King Eddie booted us out of the country, your fader did a bit of work for me. He owed me, owed me his soul or the devil would pay.¡± The dark eyes became bird like. ¡°Me cousin is Bab. You knows Bab. Many said it were her that put the curse on your fader, but it were me.¡±


    This was quite a claim. Lydia had never believed the rumor about Bab but she sensed cursing people was a talent this old woman possessed. Something inside her warned her against asking about or verifying which curse. Instead, she asked, ¡°Have you seen Bab lately?¡±


    The old woman frowned. ¡°Not since Calias when we first arrived. Now, let us stop ramblin about folks that not be here. I need me a figure. A wax man in fine clothes. Your fader made many a wax man for me and a few wax women.¡±


    A chill ran through Lydia. Wax men? Wax women? Fader had made volts. Volts were wax image spells. Surely he would have done it for profit, not because he put any faith in such fancies. Right? There were those who said Thomas Wade bargained with the Devil. Lydia had always dismissed such talk, but now, here in this room, she could not help but wonder about all the sorts of evil her father dabbled in. Had Aunt Rachel known he used the wax from her sacred bees to create instruments of great harm? The magic would not have been imbued by Fader, but he would have made the vessel. Lydia had heard tell that the Bishop of Troyes had commissioned a volt of Jeanne of Burgundy. The Bishop had wanted her dead. In that case the volt had failed. Had Fader and this woman¡¯s volts succeeded? A shudder ran through her entire body. She thought her father was bad, but was he trully evil. With great effort, she forced her voice not to tremble when she said, ¡°Candles I can make, a sculpture I have never tried.¡±


    The old woman cooed. ¡°What is in a family gets passed from one generation to another. You be but a lone woman such as myself. How long do you think it will be before Madame marries that lurking brewer?¡±


    It was unsettling how much this woman knew. Had she or someone else been spying on the shop? ¡°I do not know what the future holds, Madame. But this I do know, I have neither the talent not the desire to fulfill your request.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Anger flamed in the old woman¡¯s eyes. ¡°Be ye risking a curse upon your head?¡±


    With more venom than she intended, Lydia said, ¡°Cursed I was the day Thomas Wade sired me.¡±


    The old woman broke into a cackling laugh. ¡°You are a rich one. Put me in the mind of your Aunt Rachel. She never tolerated me ways, but she were kind, when many were not. I give you a pass this time, but mind yourself. I will be watching.¡±


    Isabelle entered the shop. For an instant she hesitated and then she said, ¡°Hello, Bathsheba. It is good to see you.¡±


    Before Lydia¡¯s eyes the witchy little woman became as harmless and innocent as a new born babe. ¡°It is good to see you too, my dear.¡±


    Isabelle cocked her head ever so slightly and asked, ¡°How can we help you today?¡±


    ¡°Help, I need not. An artist is what I be lookin¡¯ for. One skilled in wax.¡±


    Without any change of expression or appearance of having any idea what Bathsheba was requesting, Isabelle said, ¡°Mmm. No one comes to mind.¡±


    ¡°Dunna it?¡± Bathsheba asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Without rancor she said, ¡°Ha! I dunna believe you. Good day ladies.¡± She curtseyed ever so slightly, and went out the door.


    As soon as she was gone, Lydia asked, ¡°Is that woman a witch?"


    "I do not know. What I do know is this, she is a cunning old woman, always has her ears and eyes open. She picks up bits and sews them together. Some do say she is a witch and she may be. Still, without her, I would not have had Henri as long as I did.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    With a reluctant eye at the shop door, Isabelle said, ¡°No one knows what I am about to tell you except Jon Paul and Bathsheba. No one else must ever know. I will not have my Henri¡¯s reputation ruined. He was a kind good man and a loving husband. I believe I can trust you, but you must promise that you will not repeat what I am about to say. If you can not promise, I will hold my tongue.¡±


    Curiosity, pricked at Lydia. She wanted very much to know this secret. Would she finally learn how Henri met his demise? She said, ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°Come into the house kitchen. I will not be telling tales about Henri in the open.¡±


    Lydia followed her into the house kitchen. Patch saw her and came running. She picked up her kitten and held her close. Isabelle stared at the low burning fire in the hearth. Silence hung between them. Time passed ever so slowly. The shop was unattended.


    Finally, Lydia said, ¡°If you have changed your mind. You need not tell me.¡±


    With tear glazed eyes, Isabelle looked at Lydia. ¡°I want to tell you. It is just so hard. I am afraid of hearing this story out loud, for I have never told it.¡± She dropped her gaze back to the fire. In a voice that wavered, she said, ¡°My Henri was not a well man. Spells of illness came upon him. I did not know about them until a long while after we married. My sister never mentioned them. Why would she? I did notice Henri looked strained. I asked him if he felt poorly and he said, No, I am fine. It was a lie." She shook her head. Her voice dropped lower, "Without telling me, he consulted Bathsheba. She has a gift of healing. From her, he bought tokens, healing herbs, and calming spells. He performed ridiculous rituals, which I caught him at and he confessed what he was doing. Bathsheba¡¯s treatments and instructions did help him for a while. He was able to work and we got on. One night he heard voices. The voices stayed with him. My heart was breaking. If I told anyone they would think he was possessed and the voices were from Satan¡¯s horde. I was so afraid, but I knew there was not any evil in him, only some sickness. A sickness in his mind.¡±


    No one had ever told Lydia people could have a sickness in their minds. As far as she knew demons were to blame.


    Isabelle continued, ¡°Unbeknownst to me, Henri told Jon Paul about the voices because he feared he might hurt me. He asked Jon Paul to keep an eye on me, on us really. One morning when Henri was at Mass, Jon Paul stopped by to speak with me. I was furious that Henri had confided in him, but Henri was right to be concerned. Jon Paul told me he would move in with us as Henri''s apprentice. The offer was so generous and I wanted to refuse, but I could not. Henri was getting worse. For a short time, Jon Paul¡¯s presence steadied him, and then the voices grew louder. Henri could not work, and Jon Paul and I had to carry on as best as we could."


    This story was heart breaking. Lydia with Patch in hand went to where Isabelle stood. She wanted to touch her but instinct told her not to. One touch might cause Isabelle to crumble.


    "One night in desperation I went to Bathsheba. She gave me some tonics that soothed Henri and taught me a crooning song. With Jon Paul¡¯s help Henri was able to go back to work for a week or so." Isabelle fell completely silent. Her hands gripped the hearth stone above her. In a voice barely above a whisper, she continued, ¡°One morning Henri disappeared. Jon Paul went after him. He found Henri in a Campion¡¯s Wood not far from here. He had been attacked and robbed. My poor love was nearly dead when Jon Paul brought him home. I asked Jon Paul to get Bathsheba. She came and brought Friar Judas. She, the Friar and Jon Paul kept vigil all night. For one more night I held my Henri. He never woke up, never spoke to me again. But I held him, I held him tight and prayed God would spare his life. God did not" Free flowing tears slid down her face. She clenched her fists and said, "I have been very angry about that. Every aspect of my life turned to darkness. Bathsheba gave me a few potions to help me sleep and eat. If not for her I may too have ended up in a grave. I wanted to die too, only I did not.¡± She looked at Lydia and said, "The day you arrived, I felt like you had come for a purpose. God had not entirely abandoned me. I called you an angel and you have been that. Lately, I have begun to accept that Henri was beyond cure. He is free of his sickness now. He is at peace. It is time I find some peace of my own.¡±


    Selfishly, Lydia prayed this peace that Isabelle was now seeking did not include Brewer Arlette.

 Chapter 47. In the Shadows

    The July sun beat down hard. It was too bright. Lydia had a head ache. It was her time. Her flow. Her nemesis. Today was not a day she wanted to be out delivering candles. So far neither the many tallow, nor the few wax candles she carried, showed any sign of heat damage. Her last stop was the Chapel of Our Lady. She entered the gloomy darkness of the small church. Usually at this time of day Friar Judas was on his knees before the altar praying. He must be out attending to some family in his congregation. Still Lydia called out, ¡°Hello!¡±


    No response. She looked around the sanctuary. It was such a quiet, tiny place compared to Sainte-Benigne. To Lydia it seemed more like a cave than a church. It felt like the sort of place an injured animal would go to heal or to die. She heard the skittering and the scratching of mice and rats. This church needed a cat. She went to the seat she had taken on Whitsun. In memory Jon Paul was beside her. In current time, Jon Paul and his papa had still not returned from the Hot Fair. They were past due. If only Friar Judas where here, he might have some word of them, or at least say a prayer with her for their safety.


    A fly buzzed by her head. She swatted it away. It took off to a distant corner and proceeded to buzz at an alarming volume. Since the candles she was delivering were tithe candles, she did not need to be paid for them. She might as well leave them on the altar. The tallow candles on the altar had almost burned themselves out. In the sputtering glow of them, Lydia saw that the table was decorated with a painting. At first her heart leapt up within her. Had she just discovered another work by Antone¡¯s Moder, Beatrice? No. The work was not so fine. The proportions of the kneeling Christ were not correct. He looked a bit disjointed. The thought of Beatrice brought the thought of Antone very near. He felt like someone she had once dreamed about but never really known. She doubted she would ever see a more beautiful young man. She also doubted she would ever see him again. By God¡¯s grace, she prayed he was well, as were James, Brother Matthew and Moses Aaron. She placed the candles on the altar and made her way back out to the street.


    Preoccupied by the memory of Antone, she took off toward the shop. A man¡¯s voice called out to her, she turned her head. It was the driver of Na Simeon¡¯s coach. He stopped the coach beside her. Through the open window, Domina Simeon asked, "Care for a ride home?"


    The driver leapt down and helped Lydia inside. Na Simeon motioned to the seat across from her. She said, ¡°Mademoiselle Wade I have heard good things about you. Father Thomas raves about your skill as a candle maker and praises your intelligence. You do our sex proud.¡±


    Embarrassed and pleased by this compliment, Lydia said, ¡°Thank you, Father Thomas is an excellent teacher and Isabelle is a kind and fair woman. I am very grateful."


    ¡°As you should be." Na Simeon cocked her head and said, "I hear there is potential trouble in your paradise.¡±


    Not this, not now. Lydia braced herself for what came next.


    Na Simeon said, ¡°It has come to my attention that Bathsheba visited the candle shop. What did she want?¡±


    This was not what Lydia expected. How did Na Simeon know about Bathsheba''s visit? And since she did know, she had probably also deduced the reason for the visit. Lydia owed a great deal to Na Simeon, but did that mean she should answer this question? Carefully, she said, "She came to see me, to see if I would do a bit of work for her."


    "And you said?"


    "No."


    "Good girl." Na Simeon shook her head. ¡°I know Isabelle has a soft spot for that woman, because of Henri. Still she should not trust Bathsheba. I fear the she will besmirch Henri''s name and betray Isabelle''s good trust for a price. Be wary."


    A sad silence settled over Lydia. Perhaps Henri''s secret was not as secret Isabelle imagined. She asked, "What am I to be wary of?"


    Na Simeon dropped her voice and said, ¡°You and Isabelle are women doing men''s work. There are those who do not approve. All kinds of trouble can be brewed when men think a woman has over stepped her place."


    A chill went through Lydia.


    "I am sorry my dear to have to be so candid, but in our short acquaintance I have surmised that you are shrewd. I do not want Henri drug through whatever filth Bathsheba can conjure, nor do I want Isabelle or you to be left without resources. I have heard Monsieur Arlette has a keen interest in Isabelle. He is an honorable man, see to it that Isabelle considers him as a match. As for you, I heard tell of a bee keeper who lights up every time you are in his vicinity. Jon Paul is a good man, almost as fine as James. You would do well to consider him. He would take care of you."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Hotly, Lydia said, "I can take care of myself."


    "Can you? Really? Perhaps if you were in a profession more suited for a woman like your Aunt Rachel was, but you are not is such a profession. I have seen what can happen to a strong minded woman first hand if she does not have the shelter of a marriage."


    To come back to this point again! After all Lydia had been through and how far she had traveled, it all came back once again to a husband. Would a woman''s life forever be tied to a man? She protested, "But, I do not want a husband."


    Na Simeon''s eyes became very tender. She said, "I know. We sometimes get what we do not want. But can you honestly say you find Jon Paul repulsive?"


    Lydia could not say that.


    The coach stopped and the driver hopped down to help the ladies out. Na Simeon gave her dark purple gown a good stiff shake. The driver opened the shop door and Na Simeon sailed inside followed by Lydia. To Lydia''s dismay, Brewer Arlette was inside with Isabelle alone.


    Na Simeon said, ¡°Good afternoon Madame Beauxchampe. Good afternoon Monsieur Arlette.¡± She glanced at the candles in his hands. Lydia saw a spark of mischief dance in the old woman''s eyes as she said, ¡°I have heard tell that your devotion to Christ our Lord has increased immeasurably as of late. Some have even suggested your were thinking of joining an order.¡±


    Brewer Arlette looked positively startled by Na Simeon¡¯s words. ¡°No, I assure you Domina, I have no such aspirations.¡±


    With a slide of her eyes to Isabelle, Na Simeon asked, ¡°So how are your girls, Persephone and Anna?¡±


    Clearly uncomfortable, Brewer Arlette responded, ¡°They are doing well. Before I know it, I will be arranging marriages for them both.¡±


    Na Simeon voice became sympathetic. ¡°A delicate business no doubt. Children do grow up much too quickly. They will be needing a woman¡¯s guiding hand. Do you have anyone in mind for a wife?¡±


    The directness of her question, sent Lydia into a panic. Surely, the brewer would not name a name. He did not. He said, ¡°I am seeking God¡¯s wisdom in finding another wife. When it is time, He will instruct.¡±


    Na Simeon tapped him on the shoulder with her fan. ¡°You are a wise man. I will pray you follow God''s instruction.¡±She turned her attention to Isabelle, ¡°So how are you my dear?¡±


    While Isabelle and Na Simeon chatted, Lydia helped Brewer Arlette with his latest purchase. His eyes kept straying to Isabelle. While Isabelle might seem oblivious, Na Simeon definitely was not. When the brewer left the ladies, Na Simeon gave Lydia a knowing glance.


    *


    The evening sun was nearing the horizon. It had been a long day. With Patch in her arms, Lydia stood staring out her open attic window. .A familiar figure appeared on the street. It was Bathsheba. She was hobbling along at a swift pace. A warning pricked inside of Lydia. The old woman was up to no good, she could feel it. Coming from the opposite direction was a young woman. The two stopped and spoke briefly. The distance between Lydia and the young woman was too great for her to recognize her. A package passed between them. It looked like a candle box. Had Bathsheba found someone to make her volt? The two women parted. The younger one was headed toward the shop.


    There was a lightness in the young woman¡¯s step. As she neared the candle shop, Lydia saw the woman clearly. She was Jon Paul¡¯s sister-in-law, Marguerite. Had Marguerite used Jon Paul¡¯s wax to fashion a vessel of harm? To Lydia¡¯s dismay Marguerite stopped at the candle shop door and rang the bell. Lydia put Patch on her shoulder and climbed down the ladder. She heard Isabelle pass into the shop. Lydia followed quickly behind. She heard Marguerite say, ¡°Good Evening, Isabelle. Mama is worried about Papa and Jon Paul. She thinks a prayer vigil is in order and she would like you to join us for morning Mass."


    Lydia entered the shop just as Isabelle said, ¡°Of course." At her feet, Ashes sat with eyes fixed on Marguerite. her tail swished back and forth ever so slowly. On Lydia¡¯s shoulder, Patch sat as if ready to pounce.


    To Lydia, Marguerite said, ¡°I see you and your kitty are firmly attached. Peronelle somehow got me to consent to having that cat in the house with us. I suppose I relented because she is an only child and she gets lonely. There was a wistfulness in her voice that Lydia had not heard before. Marguerite gave her an almost genuine smile and said, ¡°You too must come to the prayer vigil Mademoiselle Wade. I am sure Jon Paul would appreciate your prayers.¡± The look she gave her was suggestive and it irked Lydia.


    Thought it was a struggle, she managed to say, ¡°Thank you for the invitation. I accept.¡±


    ¡°I knew you would. I am sure the men are fine. Men will be men you know. I feel certain they have come upon a bit of fun and are not ready to leave her.¡±


    Neither Lydia or Isabelle responded.


    Marguerite cast her eye around the shop. ¡°It looks like your business is doing well, Isabelle. Henri would be pleased.¡±


    ¡°Indeed he would.¡±


    ¡°Good evening ladies. See you in the morning.¡± She spun away from them and was out the door.


    Under her breath Isabelle muttered, "Bitch. I would hate her if I were not a good Christian woman."


    Lydia said nothing.

 Chapter 48. Four in the Wood

    Light, so much light. Every blade of grass, every leaf on the trees seemed to emanate with its own separate light. Lydia did not recognize this forest. It was not like any back home, or any in Dijon she had seen. Where was she? How did she come to be here? From above sunlight sifted through the tree leaves creating an unearthly glow. She felt a strange sense of weightlessness. Slowly, she walked through the beech mast. The aroma of earth and beech was strong and sweet. Up ahead in the shadows she saw the figure of a man. Abruptly, Lydia stopped. He turned to her and waved. Did he know her? Did she know him? Perhaps he was someone she had met on the pilgrimage. There was something vaguely familiar about him. She returned his wave. He came toward her. When he reached her, she did not recognize him and yet the sense of familiarity remained. He smiled a very gentle smile and said, ¡°At last we meet Mademoiselle Wade. Please tell my Isabelle I love her and miss her. And, thank you for helping her. You are an answer to my prayers for her.¡± There was an unusual depth of warmth in his brown eyes.


    Was this Henri? He was dead.


    With a slight bow, he extended his arm, and said, ¡°There is someone here to see you.¡±


    From the grove of beeches, stepped a woman. It could not be! It was Aunt Rachel! Her hair was down and free. She ran to Lydia and hugged her tightly. For the first time in ever so long, Lydia felt safe. Aunt Rachel whispered, ¡°You are doing so well my child. So well. Do not lose heart.¡±


    From behind Lydia another voice said her name. It was the voice she had not heard in over a year. Aunt Rachel released her and Lydia turned to the voice. It was Moder. She looked healthy and strong. In her arms was a baby, wiggling and kicking. Moder tilted the baby so Lydia could see its face. The child opened its eyes. The eyes were soft brown with amber lights. A dream she had came to mind. Was this the same child that Moder had held in that long ago dream of Samhuin? In the dream, Moder and Lydia¡¯s dead sisters had glowed with a strange blue light, whiled the baby had been bathed in golden light. In the dream Lydia had thought the baby was her baby. In the dream she had been terrified Moder would steal her child and take her to Death. The word Death reverberated through Lydia. Where was she? Had she passed beyond the realm of the living? Was this place heaven? She took a step toward her Moder and the baby. All at once the entire landscape shuddered. Shadows fell into deeper darkness. The light of the sky flickered. She reached out for Moder and the baby. Just before she touched them everything went dark. Everything! She cried out. She had not gotten to hug Moder or speak to her. She so wanted to feel Moder¡¯s arms wrapped around her. She wanted to hear her voice again. Slowly, dim light penetrated Lydia¡¯s closed eye lids. She felt the warmth of tears running down her cheeks. A cock crowed. She heard the sound of purring and felt a small furry body in the center of her chest. When she opened her eyes, Patch gave her a sleepy wink.


    It had just been a dream. Just a dream and yet Aunt Rachel and Moder had seemed so real, as had Henri and the baby. Had the dream been a heavenly visitation or was it just a trick of sleep?


    What did it mean? For the second time her mother had appeared to her with a child. Why? She had no desire for a child, ever.


    After Lydia had washed and dressed she went down the ladder with Patch on her shoulder. Isabelle was stoking the hearth fire. When she turned to Lydia, her face glowed in the fire light. She glowed like the baby in Lydia¡¯s dream. An uneasy feeling settled over her. The longer she was awake the more she felt like the dream was more than a concoction of sleep. One thing was for sure, she would tell Isabelle about Henri. She said, ¡°I had a visitation form Henri in my dreams.¡±


    Isabelle went suddenly rigid and fear filled her eyes. Hoarsely she asked, ¡°Was it a good dream?¡±


    The part about Henri was, the part about being separated from Moder hurt too much to speak about. She told Isabelle, ¡°Do not be frightened Isabelle. It was good to meet Henri.¡±


    Visibly, Isabelle relaxed. Eagerly she asked, ¡°What did he say? How did he look?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°He looked very well. He has the kindest eyes I have ever seen.¡±


    Mutely, Isabelle agreed.


    ¡°He told me to tell you he loves you and misses you. He thanked me for coming to help you. He said I was an answer to his prayers for you. Even in heaven he still prays for you, Isabelle.¡±


    Isabelle asked, ¡°Truly?¡±


    ¡°Oui.¡±


    Isabelle rushed over to Lydia and gave her a quick hug. ¡°Thank you for sharing that with me. You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that. Henri loves me, he would want me to do what ever is best for me and God will guide me. I must trust that.¡±


    There was something about the way Isabelle looked that unsettled Lydia. In her stubborn opinion, despite what Na Simeon had said yesterday, she believed what was best for Isabelle was to continue running the candle shop for the rest of their lives!


    *


    Later when the Gerard¡¯s arrived, Tobias was driving the wagon, beside him was Marguerite. As he helped Lydia into the wagon, his eyes met hers. They were almost lightless. Did he think something had happened to Jon Paul and his papa? He put her down in the back of the wagon and then lifted Isabelle up. Madame Gerard sat on the opposite seat with Peronelle. The little girl was holding her hand. Madame Gerard said, ¡°Thank you both for coming to add your prayers to ours.¡±


    Isabelle said, ¡°Lydia and I are honored to be included." Lydia nodded her agreement.


    Peronelle told them, ¡°We miss Uncle Jon Paul and Grandpapa. They have been gone ever so long. I have been asking God over and over to send them home, but so far they have not come.¡± She glanced up at her Grandmama. Obvious concern showed on her small face.


    Lydia wanted to say, ¡°They will come home,¡± but she knew better. It was possible they might never come home. It was a terrible possibility.


    The rest of the ride to the chapel was a quiet one. The only one who did not seem out of sorts was Marguerite.


    At the chapel, as soon as they walked in, people began to ask, ¡°Have you any word?¡±


    Tobias and Madame Gerard answered with a painful, ¡°No.¡±


    The fear that had been growing about Jon Paul¡¯s well being flamed into near panic inside of Lydia. It was one thing to be afraid alone, it was much harder to be with others who shared the same worries. As her mind raced from one disastrous scenario to another, Lydia did not hear much that Friar Judas said during Mass. Only one thing penetrated the chaos in her mind. He recited a scripture, not in Latin, but in the common language. He quoted, ¡°Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone...¡±* Jon Paul was not alone. He was with his Papa. Surely they would protect each other as she, James, Brother Matthew and Antone had worked together, shared their warmth and kept watch together. They had been four though, and Jon Paul and his papa were only two. Still, two were better than one, but not as good as four.


    New fear knotted up inside of Lydia. If Jon Paul did not make it home, how would she feel? Sad, so very sad. People came and went too much in this life. If he did come home, would she take Na Simeon¡¯s advice? The words, ¡°Two are better than one¡± pierced her to her core. In this moment terrified of Jon Paul¡¯s demise, she knew what she would choose. She was however uncertain if that choice would hold if he returned safely alive..


    After the service, several other members of the congregation remained to pray for Jon Paul and his papa. It seemed they were not the only ones who had not yet returned from Troyes. There were a few other merchants who were also missing. Everyone knelt at the altar rail. Peronelle¡¯s was beside Lydia. Her hands were firmly clasped in front of her. Friar Judas began to pray, ¡°Oh Merciful Father, please grant our request...¡±


    Lydia felt tears gather on her lashes. One slid down her cheeks then another. Was it possible she had begun to care for Jon Paul? If he never returned home...he must return home. Beside her Peronelle was openly weeping. She placed a protective arm around the child. Would that she had the power to protect this child from loss, but Lydia knew she could not even protect herself.


    Friar Judas¡¯ prayer was long. The entire time he prayed Madame Gerard, on the other side of Peronelle had her back straight and rigid, only her head was bowed. How many times had she knelt here and prayed for her family? How many time had the request she made been granted? Lydia prayed so hard that God would not deny this mother her son and her husband.


    When the prayers were over, Father Judas shook everyone¡¯s hand. He told Madame Gerard, ¡°I will continue to pray.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Madame Gerard. Though no tears fell, her lashes were wet.


    The ride back to the shop was also silent. It was an unbearable silence. When they reached the shop, Tobias helped Isabelle down first and then he helped Lydia. As he placed her down on the street, he said, ¡°Whether in heaven or on earth, I know my brother is thankful for your prayers.¡±


    Deeply touched, Lydia could only nod. She turned away from him and went swiftly into the shop.

 Chapter 49. The Twist of a Dream

    Another week had passed and still Jon Paul and Monsieur Gerard had not returned. Lydia stood at the shop counter waiting on a young, fussy maid. She was looking at Lydia¡¯s best tapers with a critical eye. She finally said, ¡°I guess these will do. They will have to. Monsieur Bonaparte¡¯s shop is too far to walk in this heat. I suppose local convenience in itself benefits this shop greatly. You and Madame Beauxchampe do as best as two females can do.¡± She sighed.


    Lydia wanted to slap her. The shop was in a good spot, she could not deny that, but that was not the ONLY reason their candles sold well. Hastily she wrapped up the candles and bid the maid a good day.


    To her dismay Lydia¡¯s next customer was Brewer Arlette. Wonderful. What he did with ALL the candles he bought she had no idea. He could light a cathedral with his combined purchases. He smiled timidly at Lydia. She suspected he knew she did not much care for him. If he were not after Isabelle¡¯s hand, she might be more agreeable. He asked, ¡°Has there been any word of the Gerards?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I hope they are safely home. I heard tell of a band of thieves are posing as Franciscans. They travel in simple robes, bare foot as they decrythe avarice of humanity, between here and Troyes. They loot or they kill or do both according to their mood." He shook his head. ¡°What opportunities for evil Pope Boniface has created with this year of Jubilee."


    Inside Lydia''s chest fear began to tighten. Too vivid in her memory were those murdered Friars Antone had spotted on the pilgrimage. Everything those men owned had been stolen, including their clothes.


    Isabelle came out of the work kitchen with a box of fresh candles. The smile she gave Brewer Arlette set off warning bells inside of Lydia.


    The smile that spread across Brewer Arlette¡¯s face nearly split it in two. ¡°Ah, Madame it is so good to see you.¡±


    With a hint of a smile, Isabelle said, ¡°And you too, Monsieur.¡±


    The smile was not lost on Brewer Arlette. If his eyes beamed any brighter they would ignite every candle in the shop.


    Isabelle handed the box to Lydia. ¡°Take these to Raven Tavern.¡±


    The last thing Lydia wanted to do was leave Isabelle in the shop alone with the stupid brewer, but she had no choice. An order was an order. She took the box and fled. The most she could do was come back as quickly as possible. On fast feet she made a dash for the tavern. Swiftly she walked with her head held high and her eyes fixed on the sign with a carved raven on it. How much damage could Brewer Arlette do in her absence? Totally focused on her goal she did not see the man leap down from his wagon. She ran right into him dropping her box. Were any candles broken? If there were, this clumsy man would pay for them. She started to berate him, because it surely was not her fault. Every hot word she was about to say fizzled into silence. Her eyes grew wide. She whispered, ¡°Monsieur you have returned.¡±


    Jon Paul''s smile shot through her like light. He said, ¡°Indeed, I have. We made it in late last night. It was a brutal journey and long. The roads are wreck.¡± He stooped down and picked up the box. ¡°I hope that I have not broken any.¡± He lifted the cover and found all the candles to be whole. ¡°They look fine to me, but if any are less than perfect I will pay for the damage.¡± He returned the box..


    As their eyes met, Lydia forgot all about time, Brewer Arlette and the future in general. The amber lights in Jon Paul¡¯s eyes danced for her.


    The front doors of the Raven Tavern banged open. Monsieur Joseph, the proprietor said, ¡°What is taking you so long Jon Paul.¡± He saw Lydia and said, ¡°Ah, I see. Once the two of you stop gawking at each other I would like my orders of candles and mead."


    Lydia turned scarlet. She handed the box over the Monsieur Jospeh. ¡°The order is complete.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Mademoiselle Wade.¡±


    Jon Paul pulled a wooden box filled with jugs of mead off the back of the wagon and disappeared into the tavern behind Monsieur Joseph.


    The mule, Jeremiah shook flies off his neck and snorted. Lydia went to the mule and held her hand out flat to him. He nuzzled her palm. She wished she had something to give him, but she did not. ¡°Next time we meet, I promise I will have a carrot or an apple for you.¡± He gazed at her with placid eyes.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The tavern doors opened and Lydia turned. It was Jon Paul. By his delighted expression he surmised she had been waiting for him. Had she? A huge smile spread across his face. Oh no, he had gotten the wrong idea. He said, ¡°I see Jeremiah has an admirer. Lucky fellow he is.¡± He asked, ¡®Would you like a ride back to the shop?¡±


    Isabelle! She had forgotten all about her and the stupid brewer. The shop was not far. She could run there faster than he could get Jeremiah and wagon turned around. ¡°You are most kind, but I best go on my own. I have been gone too long¡±


    The smile faded a bit, but he still he said, ¡°It was a pleasure to see you this day.¡±


    Before she could stop the words in her head, they slipped right off her tongue, ¡°It was a pleasure to see you as well.¡±


    His eye brows raised ever so slightly. In that instant Lydia knew she had just communicated her interest in him and he had received that communication. His smile increased again.


    Flustered she said, ¡°Give my regards to your mother.¡±


    He nodded and said, ¡°I will and thank you for the prayers.¡±


    For some stupid reason she bobbed a curtsey, said, ¡°You are welcome,¡± and fled.


    As her shoes thrummed on the dirty street, Lydia felt Jon Paul''s eyes upon her, but she did not turn back. Within moments, she pushed through the shop door. The bell rang. The shop was empty. Surely, Isabelle had not taken Brewer Arlette into their living quarters? She went into the work kitchen, no one was there. For a brief moment she listened at the house kitchen door. She did not hear anything. She pushed open the door. Isabelle was crumbled in her chair staring blankly at the empty hearth.


    Lydia rushed up to her and asked, ¡°Whatever is the matter?¡±


    With vacant eyes, Isabelle looked up at her. In a hollow voice she said, ¡°Brewer Arlette has asked for my hand in marriage. He would not have done it in your presence I am sure. I was a fool to allow myself to be alone with him. It has been only a year since Henri¡¯s death, I am not ready for another husband.¡±


    Inside Lydia was screaming, THANK GOD! Aloud she asked, ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°I suppose. Just a little shaken.¡±


    Trying not to sound too eager, Lydia asked, ¡°How did he take your refusal?¡±


    Isabelle shook her head. ¡°I did not refuse him..¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Lydia¡¯s entire world began to spin.


    Isabelle looked directly into Lydia¡¯s eyes. ¡°I asked for time. In need time to think. While I know I am not ready for a husband, I am weary of this shop.¡±


    Shocked, Lydia asked, ¡°What has brought this on?¡±


    ¡°When I first married Henri I was a wife and happy in my role. When Henri''s illness began to get worse, I stepped in to help in all the ways I could. I could run the business side, but the candle making has always been beyond me."


    Lydia started to protest but Isabelle held up her hand. "No, you can not honestly say I am a good candle maker unless you plan on going to confession for lying."


    Lydia protested, ¡°You are improving.¡±


    Quietly, Isabelle shook her head. ¡°Barely, and I hate the work so..¡±


    Hate was such a strong word. Isabelle had never used it in connection to candlemaking. This could not be happening! Lydia said, ¡°What about keeping the shop open in Henri¡¯s memory?¡±


    Isabelle shook her head. ¡°Everything in this shop reminds me of Henri. Perhaps too much. Your dream got me to thinking.¡±


    Oh no, not that damned dream. Lydia regretted ever sharing it.


    ¡°I have been thinking about what Henri said to you in your dream and I realized he would never bind me to this shop. He was not a selfish or arrogant man. When he got ill he apologized over and over from taking me into business when he knew I really did not want to be there.¡±


    Alarmed by this turn of events, Lydia scoffed, ¡°You put too much stock in my dream.¡±


    ¡°No, I do not. I take it as a message from heaven.¡±


    Curses! Lydia was angry with herself! How could she set this in motion? Her life was about to be upended again.


    Isabelle took her hand and said, ¡°A man of some means and a pleasant disposition asked for my hand today. I am no fool. If I must have a man, I choose him.¡±


    Before she could stop the question, Lydia cried, ¡°What about me?¡±


    ¡°I will not abandon you Lydia. Nor, willl I sell Henri''s tools. They are yours. I spoke to Brewer Arlette about you. There is a small cottage on his property with a hearth. It will be your home and your shop."


    This seemed very generous, but Lydia would be with out guild sanction and far from town. Without Guild sanction she could and most likely would be barred from selling her candles. Tears smarted in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Forcing her voice not to tremble she asked, ¡°How much longer do you plan on keeping the shop open?"


    "Until I accept his proposal."


    "And that would be?"


    "A month."


    Darkness seemed to crash down all around Lydia. This could not be happening! She had been at the Raven Tavern for such a short time. How had the beastie brewer accomplished so much in so little time?¡±


    Isabelle¡¯s eyes held hers. She said, ¡°Lydia I am so sorry..¡±


    The desire to spit in Isabelle¡¯s face was strong in Lydia. She spun away from her and went back to the shop. All around her were the rows of candles she and Isabelle had made. Well, truth be told, she had made most of them. How could the greatest desire of her life come to her and then be ripped so cruelly from her? Damn her dream, damn Na Simeon¡¯s meddling, and damn Brewer Arlette. Would a day ever arrived when a woman could, of her own volition, own and operate her own business without a husband? If it ever did come, Lydia knew she would be long dead.

 Chapter 50. Of Blood and Loss

    All day Lydia had longed to flee, but she had been trapped in the work kitchen filling the candle order for Saint-Benigne. She and Isabelle had not spoken. There was absolutely nothing to say. Any attempt Isabelle made at conversation, Lydia immediately shut down. Finally, Isabelle left her alone to make candles in solitude. As she worked her mind raced and her thoughts smashed into the the same wall. In a months time, this life she now led would be over. The shop would be sold and she would live in a little hut with the status of a servant. No one in her family had ever been a servant. At least not that she knew of. The people in her family were in trade, their own masters. If only she had been blessed with the guts to be a midwife like Aunt Rachel, but she had not. Instead she had been cursed with the ability to make candles. Life was a wretched thing!


    When the last batch of candles was finished, Lydia packed them and cleaned up the work kitchen. Tomorrow morning she and Isabelle would deliver them. In the house kitchen, Isabelle was warming a stew. Lydia was not hungry. She told Isabelle, ¡°I am going for a walk.¡±


    Isabelle asked, ¡°Are you sure? It will be dark soon. I do not think it is wise.¡±


    ¡°I am sure.¡± Lydia grabbed her shawl and headed out into the street. She did not want to go to the cathedral, though it would be safe there. The last person she wanted to talk to was God. Instead, she made her way to Le Raines, the stream where she had seen the blues bells on her birthday. Though it was only the beginning of August, her birthday seemed like it happened a long time ago. When she reached Le Raines the sound of flowing water embraced her. She knelt down beside the river and closed her eyes. Silently she asked, ¡°Oh, Aunt Rachel what am I to do?¡±


    There was no answer. She opened her eyes. The sun touched the distant horizon. The clouds became smears of orange and gold. If only she were a bird and could fly away. If she were a bird, she would be a sea gull, even though seagulls were scavengers and their voices were raucous. They were so gorgeous when they flew in the morning sun. The way they glided across the water had always mesmerized her. She longed to be by the shore again.


    The shadows lengthened. The wind set the leaves to murmuring. A human voice, distant but distinct said, ¡°Ah, look who has come to be beside the water. It be a might late for one such as you to be wanderin¡¯ around alone.¡± Lydia turned to the voice. It was Bathsheba. It would not do to meet this old woman while kneeling. Lydia stood.


    When Bathsheba reached her, she tilted her head to the side and asked, ¡°You in some trouble?¡±


    Without much conviction, Lydia said, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°A lie that is. So, the brewer has finally staked a claim. How long before yer kicked out on your arse?¡±


    Was this woman clairvoyant or just observant? Lydia did not attempt another lie. ¡°I will not be kicked out. Provisions are being made for me.¡±


    ¡°Ah but the provisions be not your pleasure. A servant, I wager. Will you like being a servant?¡±


    Lydia jutted out her chin and said, ¡°I will do what I must.¡±


    ¡°Will you now? Would that include weddin¡¯ or beddin¡¯ a man if need be?¡±


    This question was pointed and irritating.


    Bathsheba was not finished. ¡°I heard tell that a lad, lookin¡¯ much like yourself arrived at Na Simeon¡¯s and disappeared like he was spirited away. Curious.¡± The old woman fixed her knowing eyes on Lydia.


    What was this old woman up to? Lydia said, ¡°If you will excuse me I best get back to the shop.¡±


    A low rumbling laugh shook Bathsheba. ¡°Aye, you best get back to the shop while there is still a shop to get back to.¡±


    Swiftly, Lydia made her way to the street. Isabelle had been right to warn her. When she reached the shop, she cast a wary glance over her shoulder and went inside. Isabelle was at the shop counter working in the account book by candle light. She glanced up and said, "I left the stew pot ashes for you."


    For the first time that day, Lydia was cordial. "Thank you."


    Pleased that she had finally spoken to her, Isabelle smiled and said, "You are welcome."


    Outside the shop, they heard a wagon stop. The next instant, a boot banged against the door. Lydia turned to open it. In the door way Tobias stood with Marguerite in his arms. He pushed passed Lydia. In a voice that trembled he said, "We were on our way to Mass and she went limp. When I looked down at her..." He did not finish his sentence.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    By the blood soaking through Marguerite''s dress, Lydia suspected she was having a miscarriage. Moder had had several. Isabelle nor Tobias knew what to do, but Lydia did. She said, ¡°Isabelle put some heavy cloths on your bed. Tobias, this way.¡± Isabelle ran ahead scattering the cats as she went. In the bedroom she had put a heavy wool blanket on the bed. Gently, Tobias put Marguerite down. Lydia told him, ¡°Go fetch Bathsheba. I just saw her by Le Raines, go down the first side street to your left. Hurry!¡±


    Tobias fled. He was almost as pale as Marguerite. Lydia asked for the smelling salts. When she waved the bag under Marguerite¡¯s nose. No reaction. Nothing. This was not good. Lydia told Isabelle, ¡°We need to get her out of these sodden clothes. Help me.¡±


    Together they tugged Marguerite¡¯s bloody dress and underclothes off of her. Every thing was soaked in blood. Deep, rich, dark blood. Isabelle covered her with a wool blanket. Lydia listened to Marguerite¡¯s heart. It was beating irregularly. Anger surged through Lydia. This was all part of the curse of Eve and it infuriated her. There was no way on God¡¯s earth she was going to witness this woman die. Marguerite made a strange gulping sound in her throat. Her body went limp. Just as Lydia had seen her Aunt Rachel straddle Moder¡¯s body and breathe air into her mouth, she did the same to Marguerite. In, out, in out. All the while she prayed. And then, Lydia felt it. The breathe of Marguerite filled her own mouth. Marguerite coughed and looked at Lydia¡¯s face. Lydia implored, ¡°Come on now, just keep breathing. One breath, one more breath and now another.¡±


    Marguerite obeyed. With each breath she became a bit more alert. Finally the eyes staring up at Lydia¡¯s face recognized her. Marguerite whispered, ¡°I am loosing my baby.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Lydia. ¡°Bathsheba is coming. She will know.¡± To Isabelle she said, ¡°Heat some water and bring a cup of hot water and honey for her to drink. She needs liquid. She has lost an awful lot of blood.¡± Please God, do not let it be too much blood!


    Frightened, Isabelle nodded and left the room. Lydia heard her put a kettle on to boil.


    With wide eyes, Marguerite said, ¡°Please hold my hand. I fear Death is in the room and do not want it to take me. Peronelle needs her mama.¡±


    ¡°Indeed she does.¡± Lydia took her hand and held it tight. ¡°Stay focused on me. You are brave and strong. Breathe in, breathe out. Slow and steady.¡±


    The bedroom door banged open and in limped Bathsheba. She glanced at Lydia and said, ¡°Seems you learned a mite from your aunt.¡± To Marguerite she said, ¡°Let me have a look.¡± She pulled back the cover and examined Marguerite.


    For the first time in her life, Lydia did not close her eyes while a midwife tended to her patient. She asked Bathsheba, ¡°Will you please tell me what you are doing, so I will know what to do if, when, I am faced with such a thing again?¡±


    ¡°Very well, I will.¡±


    Though Lydia¡¯s stomach began to protest at what she saw and heard, she refused to let it give way. More blood had spilled onto the wool blanket. There was just so much blood, hunks of it were like liver. Bathsheba took clean rags from her pack and showed Lydia how to place them and how to staunch the blood. Next, she gently felt the section where the baby had rested. When she did this she shook her head. Marguerite said, ¡°Its gone."


    ¡°Aye, it is."


    Marguerite did not cry. She gripped Lydia¡¯s hand tighter. It seemed she was determined to hold on to this life.


    As Bathsheba prepared herbs to ward off infection, she told Lydia the recipe. The words were familiar. Aunt Rachel had grown these herbs and administered them. Lydia realized she had absorbed more than she knew.


    When Isabelle brought the cup of steaming water and honey, Bathsheba put the herbs into the cup. With eyes closed, her lips moved in prayer or perhaps she recited an incantation. She stirred the contents slowly. When she opened her eyes, she handed the cup to Lydia. ¡°Give it to her slow. We dunna want her spewin it out.¡± To Marguerite she said, ¡°This will ward off infection and ease pain.¡±


    With hands that Lydia had to force to be steady, she placed the cup to Marguerite¡¯s lips. Just a sip, just one. She tilted the cup back up. Sip, by sip, Marguerite drank the brew. Just before she had the last drop, she fell into natural sleep.


    Bathsheba took the cup from Lydia and said, ¡°You did fine girl. You did fine. I been worried about this pregnancy all along. My best herbs dunna make it hold.¡± Sadly, she shook her head. ¡°I must go out and tell the husband this little wife is stayin¡¯ put and the wee babe is lost.¡± She limped out of the room.


    Exhausted, Lydia collapsed into the chair beside the bed. She watched the rise and fall of Marguerite¡¯s breathing and she prayed, prayed so hard. Peronelle still needed her Mama.


    There was a knock on the kitchen door. She heard someone enter and then Jon Paul asked, "Has something happened?"


    Lydia heard Tobias speak, but it was so low she could not understand what he said. Jon Paul responded. "No worries. I will tend to the chores. In the morning I will bring Peronelle around."


    Beside her, Marguerite stirred. She asked, "Is that Jon Paul?"


    "Oui."


    "Fetch him for me and Tobias, I need to speak to them."


    Though Lydia thought it might be best if Marguerite conserved her strength she did not argue. Still blood spattered, Lydia knew she looked a fright. "I will be right back." Marguerite released her hand. Lydia took in a slow deep breath, crossed the room and opened the door. There in the wavering candle light stood Jon Paul. Everything in her wanted to run into his arms and sob. He took a step towards her. The distance between them was small. His presence pulled at her. She stopped where she was. "Marguerite would like to speak to the both of you." Tobias pushed passed her and ran into the room. Lydia turned and saw him sink down on his knees beside the bed. He took Marguerite''s hand in both of his. The look on his face communicated all his worry and his love.


    Lydia felt a hand on her shoulder. Softly Jon Paul said, "We will give them a moment before we go in." His hand steadied her. His strength flowed into her. Unable to speak, Lydia nodded. Of its own accord her hand reached up and grasped the hand on her shoulder.

 Chapter 51. Recovery

    As Lydia watched Tobias with Marguerite, never had she seen such tenderness of a man for his wife. Was this what love could look like? Tobias turned to them and motioned for them to come into the room. Jon Paul gave her shoulder a squeeze. Her hand flew down and he released her. Tobias remained kneeling on the floor. His hand entwined in Marguerite¡¯s. He looked up at his brother and said, ¡°I am staying here for the night.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Jon Paul.


    Weakly, Marguerite said, ¡°Please make sure you tell Peronelle a bedtime story and let the cat sleep with her. She¡¯s been begging for that for weeks. It will comfort her.¡±


    ¡°I will. Is there anything else I can do?¡±


    Marguerite nodded. ¡°Please bring her to me first thing in the morning and pray for me, for us.¡± She held out her free hand to him and he took it. Lydia had thought he did not care for his sister-in-law, but he did.


    ¡°I will.¡± He smiled and released her hand.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Tobias said. His gaze returned to his wife. Her eye lids were heavy and she was beginning to drift off again.


    Quietly, Lydia followed Jon Paul back into the kitchen. Bathsheba was at the hearth stirring a pot with some steaming brew. In her chair, Isabelle stroked Ashes. Out of no where, Patch pounced at Lydia. She picked up her kitten and nuzzled her. There was nothing like the comfort of a cat.


    Jon Paul said, ¡°My she is growing fast. So is Peronelle¡¯s Edmond. She carries that cat around like doll. He is so patient with her.¡± He reached out to pet Patch. The kitten leaned into his wiggling fingers as he rubbed her ears. His eyes sought out Lydia¡¯s. Softly he said, ¡°Good night. I will see you in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Good night.¡±


    With his knuckle he stroked Lydia''s cheek and then turned away from her. She watched him head out through the shop.


    At the hearth Bathsheba chuckled. ¡°It be about time for that one.¡±


    Lydia did not know if Bathsheba was referring to Jon Paul or herself. She did not ask.


    *


    After two days, Marguerite¡¯s blood had stopped flowing and she was eating again, so Tobias took her home. Lydia had never expected to like Marguerite but she did. There was good in her, though at times it was challenging to find. It had been a joy to have Peronelle in the shop with her. The little girl, quiet though she was had wanted to know everything about candle making. Lydia remembered being that inquisitive when''s she was a child. She had also been persistent too. It was one of the reasons Fader had begun to teach her the trade.


    This morning, Lydia and Isabelle were in the shop packing an order for Na Simeon. When it was done, Isabelle said, ¡°Please tell her that this will be the last order the shop will fill. I am certain she and Father Thomas will both continue to want your candles. Also I want you to know that once the shop closes I will pay my tithe to the Chapel of Our Lady in your candles. It will not be much, but it will be something.¡±


    ¡°Oui, it will, and I thank you.¡±


    With sadness in her voice, Isabelle said, ¡°I wish I could do more. I wish I could afford to give you this shop.¡±


    ¡°It is all right. You are so generous. I am content and looking forward to my new home.¡± Lydia smiled and Isabelle gave her a relieved smile. The bitterness in Lydia had left her. Life was what it was. So far each time there had been a shift in her circumstances, she had met them and she would do it again.¡°I will see you in a bit.¡± Lydia picked up the candles and headed out for Na Simeon¡¯s.


    The day was overcast and it felt like rain. She must hurry. The walk to Na Simeon¡¯s was a rather long one. When Lydia turned onto the lane that lead the chateau, she was struck by the past. That day had been so confusing when she had been stripped of her identity as Luke and sent to the front door to resume her life as Lydia Wade. In truth the girl who stood trembling on that door step did not exist anymore. In just a few months time she had gone from being a frightened child to becoming a woman. It had happened as she worked at her trade and as she learned to support herself. On that day when she stood as Lydia for the first time since she left home, she had knocked timidly on the door. To day she gave a resounding knock on the heavy wooden door.


    Pierre opened the door. ¡°Good morning Mademoiselle Wade, is it candle day already?¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Oui, it is. Madame Beaux-champe asked me to relay a message to Domina Simeon. Is she free?¡±


    ¡°Oui. She is in her room.¡± He took the boxes candles from her and lead her up the stairs to Na Simeon¡¯s room. Again, the past was with her. She glanced down the hall where she had slept, where Antone had snuck down to see her only to be thwarted by Na Simeon. What would have happened if Na Simeon had not interfered?


    Pierre stopped before a door and knocked. Na Simeon called out, ¡°Come in.¡± Pierre opened the door and Lydia followed him in. Na Simeon sat enthroned on a cushioned chair by the window. She was dressed in dark green silk. She gave Lydia a smile and held out her hand. Lydia went to her and took the extended hand.


    Na Simeon said, "Good morning, Lydia. How can I help you?¡±


    ¡°I have a message from Madame Beauxchampe. Because of your constant generosity toward her she wants you to know this is the last batch of candles from the shop."


    Na Simeon smiled and said, ¡°So the brewer has asked for her hand. It will be a good match. But what is to become of you? As for the candles, of course I want you to make them. Trust me there will be others that will do the same. Secretly perhaps, but there will be others. Now tells me will the Where will you be set up?¡±


    To speak about her future was difficult for Lydia. ¡°There is an outbuilding on Brewer Arlette¡¯s property that Isabelle has graciously offered me. My hope is to be able to make enough candles to support myself, if that does not work, I may train as a midwife. My future is uncertain, so I am taking things as they come.¡±


    For several silent seconds, Na Simeon studied Lydia and then asked, ¡°And what of Jon Paul? Has he not offered a solution for your future?"


    ¡°He does no know abou the impending marriage."


    Na Simeon¡¯s lips pressed into a hard flat line. ¡°Regardless of what he knows or does not know, I expected he would have proposed by now. Tell me have you completely discouraged him?¡±


    ¡°No, not completely.¡±


    The tight lips relaxed into an amused smile. Na Simeon said, ¡°Well, then, there may still be hope. As for your candle making, of course I want you to keep making mine. Trust me there will be others that will do the same. Secretly perhaps, but there will be others." Lydia hoped so, she really did not want to be forced into midwifery.


    On the table beside Na Simeon was a letter. She picked it up and said, ¡°This came only yesterday. I think you will be surprised by its content. It is from Dame Paston.¡±


    At the mention of the Dame''s name, Lydia''s heart took off like a horse race. Would the news be good or ill?


    The bejeweled fingers of of Na Simeon opened the letter. She said, ¡°I will read you the part that will be of interest to you." She held it up to the light coming through the window. "My dear Cousin, what a peculiar year it has been. I was sent an angel to be my George¡¯s proxy in Rome, only the angel died before he ever got there. When James returned with the news, I was grief stricken, but my grief was soon tempered.¡±


    The image of James was conjured in Lydia¡¯s mind and heart. How she missed him. Na Simeon continued reading, ¡°Do you remember Lord Thaddeus Bolton? He was found drowned nearly two years ago. It turns out the death was not accidental. That demon son of mine, Geoffrey murdered him. One foggy night he tossed Lord Bolton off the docks. The man could not swim."


    A memory from the night, Moder died flashed through Lydia''s mind. She remember the two men talking about King Edward. Had they been Lord Paston and Lord Bolton. That night while she stood on the shore, contemplating taking her own life, she had heard a splash of water. Had that splash been made by Lord Bolton¡¯s body?


    Na Simeon continued reading, "It seems my son Geoffrey killed Lord Bolton because he coveted his wife. I know this is shocking, but he was just like his father. If he saw a female that pleased him, he did not rest until he had her. So, after Geoffrey killed her husband, he took that grief stricken girl into his bed and married her.¡±


    Lydia had seen Lady Bolton in church not long after her husband''s death. The young woman had not looked grief stricken. A bad feeling began to swirl inside of Lydia. Cyril had called Lady Bolton, now Lady Paston, a Banshee with secrets. Was one of her secretes collusion in her first husband¡¯s murder?


    Na Simeon paused in her reading. "Can you believe the scandal of it all?"


    ¡°No."


    She took up reading the letter, ¡°When James, the Bastard and dear Brother Matthew returned from the failed pilgrimage, something seemed off with James. We have always been so close. When Geoffrey was found guilty of Lord Bolton''s murder, James finally told me what Cyril had witnessed. My George, my Eternal Beloved, is not in hell for suicide, but his brother is for murder. As for Geoffrey, he deserves the same fate as his father." Na Simeon looked up from the letter. "The rest is a bunch of chitter chatter. She does mention the day of Geoffrey''s hanging, but it is a side note. Lady Geoffrey Paston gave birth to a little boy who she named George. According to my cousin, the child has the same loving spirit as his dearly departed uncle." Silently, Na Simeon shook her head.


    Stunned, Lydia could not speak. How could people be so horrible? Lord Geoffrey Paston had broken so many commandments. What level of hell had he sunk to? As for Dame Paston, she did not know what to think. The Bastard she referred to was no doubt, Antone.


    Na Simeon, folded the letter and put it back on the table. "Dame Paston does mention that James and Brother Matthew have been a comfort to her, but she says nothing of Antone. I am certain he did not stay at the castle. He was never welcome there."


    Lydia nodded. It had been over six months since she had last seen Antone. Where was he and what was he doing? At least she knew James and Brother Matthew were safe and well. Enough time had passed that Antone could have made his way back to her, but he had not. And, she had not ever expected him to.


    With eyes narrowed, Na Simeon asked, ¡°So, have you recovered from the fever of Antone?¡±


    That is what it had been, a fever. He was the first man she had ever fallen for. The first that she had ever thought she might love. It was not love on either of their parts. Being thrown together had fed the attraction. Once they were apart it faded. ¡°Oui, I have recovered.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±

 Chapter 52. The Offer (Final Chapter)

    The day had arrived. In silence, Lydia and Isabelle walked to Mass. Whether Isabelle was happy or sad, Lydia could not tell. As for herself, she felt numb. By Brewer Arlette¡¯s grace she would be allowed to continue to work and live in the candle shop until they found a buyer or a renter. Every night she prayed, no one would make an offer or a lease. This morning they went to their usual places in worship. Tomorrow, after today¡¯s reading of the bans, they would sit with Brewer Arlette and his girls. The girls were with him this morning. They were small for their age with large dark eyes. Their eyes darted to and fro, resting upon occasion upon Isabelle. They had been to the shop with their papa a couple of times over the last week. They spoke very little and were pointedly polite when Isabelle spoke to them. Beneath their delicate exteriors, Lydia suspected that they possessed lioness strength. It would not be an easy adjustment period. Another negative was that they sneezed around cats. So, Ashes would continue to live with Lydia and Patch in the shop.


    Marguerite was in worship with Tobias and Peronelle. Since her miscarriage she attended every Mass. Moder had done the same. Why would a woman think that keeping a seat warm in church would prove faithfulness and sway God? And the prayers? What desperate prayer was Marguerite pleading in her quest to birth a healthy child? Peronelle sat between her parents, content to just be in their presence. Why could one child not be enough?


    For whatever reason, Jon Paul was not present this morning. It was probably best, at least this is what Lydia told herself. Why was it best? She did not know, but she had to tell herself something or else she would hear the echo of Na Simeon¡¯s words, "And what of Jon Paul? Has he not offered a solution for your future?¡± Would he offer her a future once he learned of the this marriage? If so, what would she say? What would she do? She refused to allow herself to even think of the possibility he might not speak to her at all, might not want her at all. The fear that he might too have lost interest in her the way Antone had, hovered just below the surface of her thoughts.


    The next thing Lydia was aware of was that they were standing outside. She had absolutely no memory of the closing prayer or even taking the Eucharist. Brewer Arlette and his girls were beside Isabelle.


    Friar Judas read the Banns. ¡°Donovan Arlette will take Isabelle Beauxchampe a week from this day to be his wedded wife.¡±


    A week! Isabelle had not said it was THAT soon. Just a week? What was the rush. Only seven days? Lydia looked at Isabelle, her face was emotionless. What ever she was thinking or feeling was buried deep within her. Congratulations were bestowed upon the couple. Brewer Arlette received them with great joy. Isabelle received them with polite courtesy. The girls eyed their soon to be stepmother with suspicion. This could turn out to be a fine mess.


    *


    That afternoon Isabelle was with her soon to be husband, while Lydia tended the shop. No customers had come in all afternoon. Did they think that because Isabelle was getting married she had immediately gone out of business? Lydia prayed this was not the case. A sob hung in her throat. She refused to release it. Perhaps Na Simeon was mistaken. Perhaps no one would buy her candles ever again. Then what? A midwife? Could she truly be a midwife? Time would tell. A bit of her had actually expected Jon Paul to show up and claim her as soon as he heard the news. Only he had not. At least not yet. Perhaps never. Did she want to be claimed? In the secret place of her heart, she did very much. To distract herself, she let the cats into the work kitchen for company and began tidying up. She found an errant ball of string beneath a shelf. Would she get to clothe the entirety of that string in wax or tallow before this shop passed to other hands?


    Later, after Lydia closed the shop for the day, she refused to retire to her room for the cry that had been threatening all day. She was not ready to cry. She did not want to give into it. Instead, she locked the shop and went for a walk. Her pace was so brisk, she paid absolutely no attention to her surroundings. Due to her frame of mind and her lack of attentive navigation, she found herself in a part of Dijon she had never been in before. It was the Jewish settlement. Men and women dressed like Rabbi Rashbam and his wife walked the streets. Everyone wore a yellow star sewn to their clothes. A chill went through her. This star marked all of them, even the children as set a part, as people threatened with expulsion from their homes and everything they knew. Their future lay in the fickle hands of King Philip the Fair.


    From the open door of what looked like a shop, came the voice of a man chanting a Hebrew prayer. The cadence of the prayer, drew Lydia into its rhythm. She went to the open door and peeked inside.


    The building was a makeshift house of Worship. The Menorah stood on a table near the front of the room. Five benches were on either side. Light from an open window slashed through the dim interior illuminating a portrait of the Lion of Judah. The strong face of the lion and its mane caused Lydia¡¯s heart beat to speed up. Was this, could this be another example of Beatrice¡¯s work? Heedless of the man praying, Lydia went to the painting for a closer look. Her hand reached up and touched the mane. The brush strokes had to be Beatrice¡¯s. The gaze of those tawny eyes was so similiar to the eyes of Christ on Sister Timothy''s wall. Finding this portrait now had to be a good omen.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A voice behind her asked, ¡°May I help you?¡±


    Unable to take her eyes off the painting, she asked a question she did not expect to get an honest answer to, ¡°Who painted this?¡±


    The man said, ¡°A friend.¡±


    Of course, he did not identify the painter as female. Lydia did not press further. It was best that Beatrice¡¯s identity be hidden. Lydia turned to him. He had gray flecked hair and kind eyes. His clothes were made of fine dark wool but marred with the star that identified him as a Jew. She said, ¡°Your friend is an amazing artist.¡±


    ¡°Oui. The best I have ever known.¡±


    Two men, entered the room. The man said, "Good evening Brethren."


    Lydia surmised they must be there for some kind of meeting. She said, ¡°It is getting late. I best be going.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He bowed to her and turned his attention to the men.


    Out on the street it was getting dark fast. She would never get home before last light.


    At a pace quicker than the one that had carried her to the Jewish Settlement, she made her way swiftly back to the shop. When she arrived, it was indeed dark, but the shop candles were lit. Isabelle must be doing the books. Inside, Isabelle was doing just that. She looked up and said, ¡°Lydia, have you been out alone again? You know it it¡¯s not safe.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry. I lost track of time.¡±


    Isabelle shook her head, "As is your habit."


    To change the subject and avoid any more scolding Lydia asked, ¡°How was your day?¡±


    A faint smile came to Isabelle¡¯s lips. Apparently, she had had a good day. She said, ¡°The farm is lovely. I grew up on a farm and to have so much space felt divine. The house is very nice and it is large. I have never lived in such a place before. The girls, thank God, have a nursemaid. They have definitely taken a disliking to me and I must admit the feeling is mutual. It is a concern, but perhaps in time I will win them over or accept defeat as a stepmother.¡± She gave Lydia a rueful smile and asked, ¡°So how was your day?¡±


    "Very quiet. Not a single customer. I got some wicks cut and some others trimmed. I cleaned up the work kitchen with the company of Ashes and the help of Patch.¡±


    There was a knock on the shop door. Lydia knew that knock, as did Isabelle. She called, "Come in Jon Paul, it is open."


    Lydia''s heart stumbled within her. So, he had come after all. When Jon Paul entered, he looked nervous.


    Isabelle asked, ¡°Can we help you?¡±


    He asked, ¡°May I have a word with Mademoiselle Wade, alone?¡±


    ¡°If it is all right with her.¡±


    Lydia nodded.


    ¡°I will just step into the work kitchen.¡± Isabelle left the room, but did not close the door.


    With a side glance at the open door, Jon Paul quietly said, ¡°Marguerite told me about the reading of the Banns and the wedding. Where does that leave you?¡±


    ¡°Here until the shop sells or is let.¡±


    He took a step closer to her and said, ¡°You are too fine a candle maker to loose this shop.¡± With candle light flickering across his face, Lydia could see and feel the intensity of his concern. She whispered, "You are very kind.¡±


    His eyes were full of something that she could not identify. He said, ¡°I mean to be more than kind. I have some money put away. I will lease this shop for as long as I can and you will continue to do what God created you to do.¡±


    Though Lydia was stunned by his generosity, she needed to know his motive. ¡°Why would you do that?¡±


    The shadow of smile hovered on his lips. ¡°I would do it because, I have seen you work and your work.¡± He motioned to the candles on the wall and counter. ¡°You have a gift. It is in my power to see that you use that gift here, for a little while longer.¡± He had not said anything about marriage. Tensely, he asked, ¡°Will you accept my offer?¡±


    ¡°What are the terms?¡±


    ¡°I take a cut of the profits to pay the lease and you get the rest. Upon my honor, that is all.¡±


    She looked up at him and said, ¡°That is the kindest thing any man has ever offered to do for me. But, I can not let you do it.¡±


    His voice cracked when he asked, ¡°Why not?¡±


    In this life, she had compromised herself too much as Luke. She would not take such a risk again. She said, "It is not done. You know that. People would insinuate I am doing you favors in return.¡±


    He turned bright red.


    Did he want favors? What the hell did he want?


    Flustered he said, ¡°It would not be like that at all. Lydia, I just want to help you."


    He was sincere and he had just called her by her first name. Was he aware of that? She liked the way he said it. Though there was physical distance between them, she felt the nearness of him. In this moment, she could not deny she had come to care for him deeply, and more importantly, he had earned her trust. She said, "The best help you could give me is the shelter of marriage."


    The amber lights in his eyes flashed. He said, ¡°But I thought you did not want a husband.¡±


    ¡°You changed my mind."


    He smiled and said, "Marry me."


    She spanned the distance between them and took his face in her hands. The stubble of his beard was rough. She said, "I will agree only if you promise me that you will be good to me and not put too many babies inside of me."


    Solemnly he said, "I promise. I am a man of my word."


    He was. She believed him. If she did not believe him, she would never risk her life on him. Looking directly into his eyes she said, "I will marry you." With just four words, she bound her life to his.