Page 33 of Under a Spanish Sky

The next morning dawned bright and clear.

Both Luc and Aimée had slept for almost twelve hours.

When he awoke, warm and comfortable, the first thing he saw was Aimée, lying on her cloak, only a short distance away from him.

A shaft of sunlight streamed in through the gable doors, lighting up the whole barn.

The residual heat, cast by the embers of the fire, still warmed them both and she had cast off the cloak.

She was only wearing her undershirt, her shoulders bare, the gentle swell of her breasts clearly visible.

She stirred and stretched. He watched her emerge from the depths of slumber and gradually awaken; this time not rudely into a hostile world, but gently and willingly into an environment that was no longer so threatening.

He reached over and touched her lightly on the forearm.

Her left hand caught his and drew his fingers to her lips.

‘Good morning.’ His voice was warm.

‘Good morning to you.’ She kissed each of his fingers in turn and held his hand to her cheek. ‘Is it my imagination, or is it late?’

He wondered how she could tell. In fact it had been light for some hours, by the angle of the sunbeams.

‘No imagination. The sun through the windows is already quite warm.’ He looked down at her, affection brimming over at the sight of her. ‘I don’t need to ask whether you slept well last night.’ She grinned, and stretched like a cat.

‘So, what’s the plan today? Another route march, or have you something more interesting in mind?’ She relinquished her hold on his hand and sat up, reaching up to tidy her hair. She seemed oblivious to her state of undress, and the effect it was having on him.

‘You heard the old man last night.’ He did his best to sound businesslike.

‘There are already a number of groups of pilgrims on the way. If this sunshine keeps up, the snows will soon melt away and then the numbers will increase enormously. I would think the safest thing to do would be to head for the next big town. I think that’s Sangüesa.

It’s about twice the distance we did yesterday. ’

He saw the expression on her face, and hastened to clarify.

‘It’s all right. We’ll do it in two days.

I’ll ask the old man for directions. Maybe he can suggest somewhere suitable to stay tonight.

Once we get to Sangüesa, we should be able to join a group of pilgrims. We stand a much better chance of getting through to Compostela unharmed if we blend in with the local colour.

Does that seem like a reasonable idea to you? ’

She stretched again and reflected that if he had suggested crawling to the next town on hands and knees, she would most probably have gone along with it. She felt safe and secure once more. Her faith in his ability to look after them both was stronger than ever.

‘The fire’s still throwing out quite a bit of heat,’ she observed gratefully. ‘Have the clothes all dried?’

He got up and went over to the line. The clothes were all dry and warm. He collected her dress and brought it to her.

‘Thank you. That feels lovely. Tell me, Luc, are we staying for breakfast?’

‘We certainly are, if I can find any. I’ll throw a few more logs on the fire and then I’ll leave you here to get ready, while I go and see what can be found in the way of food.’

He pulled on his shirt and jacket, relieved to be clean once more. He soon had the fire burning up nicely. With a last glance at the girl, who looked as settled and contented as he had ever seen her, he headed out of the barn.

She got up in her turn. As she buttoned up her dress, she reflected on the previous evening.

On the one hand, she knew she had to come to terms with the fact that Luc was a monk, with all that this entailed.

On the other, she knew that she had enjoyed herself immensely flirting with him.

In fact, she had enjoyed herself more than she had for months.

The thing was that, somehow, she knew she had always loved him.

Even though Bertrand had been her husband, she had felt an attraction to this handsome man ever since the first time she had met him.

She remembered that moment as if it were yesterday.

He had been thrown off a horse in training and was bleeding profusely from the side of his head but, even so, he had given her a warm smile when Bertrand had introduced him to her.

Of course, her love for Bertrand had been strong and her relationship with him had been paramount, but deep, deep down, the seeds of love had been sown.

Now, under these intimate circumstances, she knew that it would take very, very little for them to grow and blossom.

She shook her head helplessly. It wasn’t easy.

She rolled up their blankets, trying to squeeze them tightly so they would occupy as little space as possible in the pack.

As she folded his, she felt something caught up in it.

Reaching in, she pulled out his heavy wooden crucifix.

She took it in her hands and pressed it to her cheek.

The wood was still warm with his warmth and she could smell his body on it.

She let the crucifix slide down her cheek and touch her throat.

She still felt the warmth of it as she slipped it under her shirt, and pressed it to her heart.

The touch against her bare skin sent a thrill throughout her whole body.

She gave a guilty start, pulling it out and laying it once more on his cloak.

Hastily, she gathered her skirt around her and made her way out of the door, towards the unmistakable smell of the latrines.

When she got back, she could tell immediately that he had found fresh bread. He caught her arm and led her to the log by the fire.

‘A real treat today, Aimée. We have fresh bread, fresh butter, honey and cow’s milk.

Here.’ He pressed a mug of warm milk, sweetened with honey, into her left hand.

A rough chunk of fresh, warm bread was pushed into her right.

‘I doubt whether the King of France himself is enjoying a better breakfast!’

He sat down beside her and they ate heartily. She felt warm, cared for and carefree.

‘How’re the feet?’ The previous day had been hard on her after weeks of immobility.

‘Fine. No serious blisters, and the stiffness in my ankle’s gone. How far are we going today?’

He had been calculating. ‘An easy day’s walk to our overnight spot, according to the old man.

But you know these country folk. They’d probably walk from here to the top of the Pyrenees and back in a day.

But supposing we get away fairly soon now, I would hope we’d be there by late afternoon, blisters permitting. ’

‘And the archbishop and his men?’ Her voice was lower now. ‘Are we sure we can avoid them? After all, doesn’t Sangüesa lie just inside the boundary of the kingdom of Navarre, with its French ruler? It’s a major stopping point on the Pilgrims’ Way. Wouldn’t that be a logical place to wait for us?’

‘Well, that’s not till tomorrow night.’ Luc did his best to sound confident. ‘The old man tells me there’s a little hamlet by the river for tonight, with a similar set-up to this. It’s so small it doesn’t even have a name. I imagine we’ll be as safe there as we possibly could be.’

She finished her food, drained the milk and sat upright. He took the empty mug from her and swilled it with water.

‘Come on.’ He reached for his pack. ‘Let’s get going. The sooner we start, the sooner we get there.’

They made good time down the valley. The sunshine was making short work of drying the fields and they were able to negotiate all but the deepest fords without difficulty.

They reached their next way station in the late afternoon.

Locating the farm and outbuildings, as indicated by the old man, turned out to be quite straightforward.

Although it was a bit smaller, they were warm and comfortable once more.

Luc was also able to buy cheese, ham and bread from the farmer and they ate well that night.

At some point during the following day, they must have crossed the boundary between friendly, or at least neutral, Aragon and far more threatening Navarre.

And here, Luc had no doubt that King Louis’ men would be on the lookout for them.

In the fields there was no sign of any frontier, but the tension began to mount in both of them.

The day turned out to be a lot longer than the previous one and it was almost completely dark by the time they climbed the last slope before Sangüesa.

The lights of the town were bright and it looked lively. The sounds of voices, domestic animals and carriages were audible even before the walls of the town came into view. They stopped on the outskirts and Luc pressed Aimée into hiding.

‘If you stand tight against this tree, you’re in thick shadow. You’ll be fine here while I go and take a look. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

She took cover as instructed, while he slipped forward in the darkness, to check whether the king’s men were in evidence. The sense of abandonment set her heart racing, but he was as good as his word and returned almost immediately.

‘Aimée, I’m delighted to say that everything looks peaceful: no soldiers, no cavalry. We should be fine. Now let’s see if we can find lodgings.’

He led her along the darkest side streets, until they reached what looked like the poorest hostelry in the place.

Cautiously, he peered in through the thick curtain hanging inside the door.

He saw only some pilgrims, eating at a long table, and, beyond them, a big open fire. He turned back to Aimée and whispered.

‘Not a lot going on here, by the looks of it. No soldiers, and it’s certainly not the sort of place an archbishop would stop in. I think it’s worth taking a chance. Let’s try to make contact with some of these pilgrims, in the hope that we’ll be able to join a group tomorrow morning.’