Page 30 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘So, what’s that, about five or six weeks? Well, Luc, we’re going to know each other very well indeed by then.’ She reached out, found his hand and squeezed it. ‘I hope I don’t turn out to be too much of a nuisance.’

‘Nuisance, you?’ He snorted. ‘Just promise me one thing. As we are supposed to be a married couple, please don’t nag me too much.’

‘Just you make sure you wash the pots properly.’

He grinned at her and cleared the dishes, taking them outside to the riverbank to wash them clean.

After he had finished, he washed his shirt, keen to be rid of the bloodstains he had picked up in his fight with the bandit at the inn and then at the hands of the archbishop’s men in the monastery.

These would be bound to arouse suspicion among fellow pilgrims. He replaced the pan and plate where he had found them, and then he hung the clothes to dry by the fire.

He glanced at Aimée, feeling embarrassed to be bare-chested in her presence, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.

She was still sitting on the log, facing the fire, and she looked miles away.

She didn’t turn around towards him as he moved about.

Determined to cleanse himself fully, he slipped outside again.

Pulling off his boots, and unlacing his breeches, he stripped completely.

Then, gritting his teeth, he waded into the freezing water.

It was so cold, it took his breath away.

He splashed about in the rushing stream, rubbing himself and his clothes vigorously until he felt clean once more.

Climbing out, he patted himself dry. Then he wrapped himself in a blanket, hanging his wet trousers on a bush.

It was a clear night and the stars sparkled out from the deep velvet of the sky.

The snowy mountain tops reflected enough light from the near full moon to provide a luminous frame to the scene.

A sensation of the majesty and grandeur of what he was observing, compared with the total insignificance of the players in this tiny human drama, himself included, hit him hard.

Ignoring the cold, he sank to his knees.

Softly, he began to pray, his hands clasped in front of him.

His eyes were fixed on the starry firmament above and around him.

He prayed out loud, but in a low voice, little more than a whisper.

He prayed for help and for guidance, for the strength to finish his mission.

He prayed for the future of the Order and he prayed, above all, for Aimée, that she might survive the present danger, and live a full and happy life.

As always, when he found himself in close communion with his Lord, he drew immense comfort from the nearness he felt to God.

When he finally bowed his head and said, ‘Amen,’ he felt purged, restored and fortified.

It came as a surprise when he heard her quiet ‘Amen’ just a few feet from his side. He hadn’t heard her approach.

‘Thank you for letting me be part of that.’

Her voice was low and warm, maybe even respectful.

He turned his head and saw her outline against the flickering silver reflections of the moon on the river.

He moved across to her and stretched his arm around her shoulder, feeling her head against his chest. He raised his other hand and tilted her face towards him, his hand on the side of her cheek. He gently touched her sightless eyes.

‘May the Lord protect you and keep you, Aimée. May he give you happiness and peace to the end of your days.’

He felt her nod, her lips mouthing the ‘Amen’. His eyes went up once more to the starry sky. He found himself smiling into the glittering heavens.

‘It’s good to be alive, Aimée.’ He pressed her head to his chest.

‘If I am, it’s thanks to you.’ Her arms gripped him tightly as she spoke into his shoulder.

‘You brought me back to life. I owe you everything. I would give you anything, everything.’ She held onto him as if her very life depended upon it.

Then, she raised her face towards him, her expression now deadly serious.

‘Luc. Can I ask you something, please?’ He could feel her trembling.

‘Anything, just say it. I would do anything for you, you know that.’ He raised his hand and stroked her cheek. The only response he elicited was a stream of tears. It took a while before she managed to calm herself enough to speak. He hugged her to him, wondering what was coming next.

‘Anything? That’s good, Luc, because what I have to ask won’t be easy.’ She rubbed the tears angrily from her eyes. ‘If they… if we are ever captured again, I want you to kill me. Will you promise to do that, please?’

She was gripping his arm tightly. He had to struggle hard to chase the grey, pain-racked face of the bandit leader from his mind as he listened to her words. He tightened his arms around her thin body.

‘I would give my life gladly to protect you. You know that. But I couldn’t kill you, Aimée, any more than I would agree to kill that worthless murderer back there in the monastery.

It’s not my way to kill in cold blood.’ It was the truth, and a pious, maybe even a little pompous, speech. Her expression didn’t change.

‘Could you bear the thought of them torturing me with those terrible things? Could you?’ Her words cut him like a knife.

‘They told me all about them in foul, disgusting detail back in there while they were mauling me with their hands.’ She did her best to suppress a shudder of shame and disgust. ‘Hot coals, hooks, whips… Could you? Could you, Luc?’ She shook herself out of his arms. Gripping his shoulders with both hands, she trained her sightless eyes upon his face.

‘I’m asking you, Luc, to save me. I’m asking you to give me the one thing that will save me if ever we have the misfortune to find ourselves in a situation like that again. Please, please say you’ll do it.’

He was stunned. All his training had told him that killing was only to be tolerated as a last resort, and only on the field of battle.

How could he do something like that? Then he saw again the trestle table spread with the obscene implements of torture and he knew he would do what she asked.

He could never let her go through that. At whatever personal cost to himself, he knew that he would do it.

‘I promise.’ His voice was low. She barely heard his words.

‘Do you truly promise?’

‘I truly promise,’ he repeated miserably.

She let herself collapse against his chest and gave free rein to the floods of tears that had been building up inside her for days.

He held her lightly, and let her purge herself through her tears.

When she finally recovered enough to set about wiping her face and blowing her nose, it was clear that a weight had been lifted from her mind.

He, on the other hand, suddenly found himself feeling even more troubled.

He had just realised that, under the blanket, he was completely naked.

He gradually disentangled himself from her. Collecting his boots and breeches, he headed inside. He was still in the process of lacing himself up, when he felt a gentle touch on his bare shoulder. He jumped.

‘Well, you smell a lot better than you did. I think I might have a bath as well.’ She was sounding much happier now.

He blushed red, grateful she couldn’t see his embarrassment. Or so he thought. ‘Erm, yes. That’s a good idea.’

‘Are you embarrassed, Luc?’ Her voice was positively mischievous and, in spite of his embarrassment, he was glad to see her happy again. ‘I promise I won’t look.’ She giggled.

He did his best to recover his composure. ‘It’s all right, I’m quite decent.’ He wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders and led her out to make sure she got her bearings.

‘Be very careful, Aimée. The river’s quite deep here, and it’s running very fast at the moment. Stay close to the bank. Shout if you get into difficulty.’

She gave him a smile and she kicked off her shoes. He hastened back into the barn, terrified that she would call him to assist her, and plunge him into even more embarrassment.

Five minutes later she came back into the barn, decorously wrapped in a blanket.

‘I wonder if you’d mind hanging my clothes up to dry.

I’m afraid I might set them, or myself, on fire.

’ She passed him her wet dress and sat down on her cloak.

After a bit, she handed him the blanket to hang up to dry.

Although he averted his eyes, he couldn’t help noticing she was only in her undershirt.

He looked away, rolled himself into his cloak and did his best to dismiss the image from his mind.

In spite of being tired, he lay awake for a while, thinking of what she had said and the promise he had made. He knew that there would be danger lurking ahead of them every step of the way, and he prayed he would never have to fulfil his commitment to her.