Page 9 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘So this is the top, is it?’

Amy’s breath was clearly visible in the cold mountain air and both of them could feel the keen wind that blew down from the peaks on either side of them.

Luke had parked the car on what would no doubt become a picnic area in summer.

As it was, the car crunched off the road onto at least a foot of frozen snow, the tyres gripping sure-footedly as the weight of the big vehicle cut deep tracks into the icy surface.

He switched off the engine and turned towards her.

‘As I feared, the idea of walking a stretch of the Pilgrims’ Way will have to be put on hold.

The snow’s so deep, there’s no trace of a path.

In fact, the only markings on the snow are a few ski tracks criss-crossing the open area leading to the summit. ’

‘Is that where we’re going? Is it a long way to the top?’

‘Not too far. We’ll give it a try. It all depends how deep the snow is.’

They dressed in their warm clothes and he led her up through the snow.

It took them some time as they kept stumbling in the deeper drifts, but they finally made it to the highest part of the pass.

She was hanging onto him with both of her hands for most of the way and on a couple of occasions he had to encircle her with his arm and support her.

Feeling the strength of his arm was really rather good and she could feel a smile on her face.

At last they reached the top and he stopped, their breath forming clouds in the frozen air.

‘Is this it?’ She, too, was panting after their exertions.

‘Yup, this is it. Turn towards me a bit. That’s right.

Now tell me which way you’re headed.’ He glanced in her direction and saw her take a deep breath and run her tongue across her lips.

He noticed, not for the first time, how really beautiful she looked in profile.

He did his best to keep his mind on historical matters, but it wasn’t easy.

Unaware of his eyes upon her, she was trying to work out the right answer.

‘We must be looking due south. I can feel the sun just a bit off to the right and it must be about…’ She felt for the watch on her wrist. Charlie Brown’s voice obligingly told her it was 3.

27. ‘About half past three, as I thought.’ She sounded pleased with her estimation.

‘I reckon we must be looking straight down into Spain. Maybe straight down onto the ruins of the abbey hospice of Santa Cristina?’ Her tone was interrogative.

‘Dead right on both counts.’ He was equally pleased for her.

‘But you aren’t missing a view of either of them.

The ruins of the abbey are virtually invisible under normal circumstances, but with a couple of metres of snow on top, I doubt if we’ll even be able to locate what little’s left.

And as far as seeing down into Spain’s concerned, there’s a huge great mountain in the way.

Mind you, that looks pretty nice with a load of people skiing down towards us on the north-facing slope.

There’s still a good snow covering on that side.

’ For a moment he wondered whether the mention of skiing would bring back uncomfortable memories for her, but her face showed no sign of anything untoward.

‘Brr.’ In spite of her thermal jacket she was cold. ‘Just imagine what it must have been like up here for pilgrims in leaky boots, or even bare feet.’ She stamped her feet in the snow and pressed closer to him. ‘Did they have woolly jumpers in those days?’

‘Oh yes.’ Although he tried not to think about the feel of her against him, he didn’t succeed. ‘They also had furs, mostly rabbit, but a few fox or even wolf, and above all they had their cloak. Every pilgrim had a waterproof cape that would protect them from the worst weather.’

‘And a sturdy staff to protect them from dogs, wolves and other pilgrims.’

She sounded relaxed and happy. There was no doubt about it, her warmth against him was definitely pleasant. More than pleasant, he thought with a guilty start and he did his best to sound matter-of-fact.

‘Come on, then, before we freeze, we’d better make a move.

Stay out in this wind for long and we’ll both soon start losing body heat.

’ They started to make their way back to the car.

Avoiding the tracks they had made on the way up, he cut straight across the virgin snow.

The sensation of breaking a new trail was exhilarating, but hard work, as their boots sank into the snow to the ankles.

‘This is nice.’ Her voice sounded happy.

She reached over so that she was gripping his arm with both hands again.

They walked on in silence for a while, until a large rock loomed ahead of them.

The snow had melted off it completely in the spring sunshine, and its bulk formed an effective windbreak. He guided her towards it.

‘Fancy a rest in the sunshine?’

‘It’ll be nice to get out of that bitter wind.’

They took up positions side by side, the sun warming their faces.

She could feel the warmth of his body beside her.

It felt very reassuring. More than reassuring, she thought to herself.

This feels right. She breathed deeply but said nothing.

He cleared his throat in that way she had come to recognise.

It meant he was embarrassed. She heard him launch into tour-guide mode.

‘We’re facing west now and are in the lee of the rock.

That’s why that cold wind’s stopped. You can see the tracks we’ve made in the snow quite clearly.

We’re the first humans to come across here since the last snowstorm.

Mind you, from the mass of other tracks, it must be a real wildlife show when we’re not around.

Those are deer, I would think, and there are lots of rabbits or hares.

There are bigger tracks over there, but I suppose they might have been made by a dog.

No wolves left now, though the area was crawling with them in the Middle Ages. ’

He rattled on, conscious that he was overdoing it.

Deep inside he was afraid that if he didn’t, the conversation might take a more intimate turn.

His emotions, held in check now for so many years, were still so uncertain and, as ever, he did his best to suppress them.

Anyway, he reminded himself, he was here as her guide.

It would be all too easy to abuse the trust placed in him.

‘Bears, too, of course. There are still supposed to be ten or twenty brown bears in this area nowadays, but it’s very unusual to come across one. Mind you, in?—’

‘In the Middle Ages, the area must have been crawling with them.’ She finished the sentence for him, a gently mocking note in her voice, but she let him off the hook by asking, ‘What’s this place like where we’re sitting? Is it just a big rock or what?’

‘It’s certainly a big rock.’ He answered gratefully, glad of the change of subject.

‘I’m not sure what the name of this stone is, but it is a deep red colour, probably loaded with all kinds of minerals.

It’s more or less in the middle of the open area.

It would have made a good lookout post for bandits on the prowl.

It flattens off above us and a person could lie stretched out quite easily there.

’ As he said the last words her expression changed to one of apprehension, no longer carefree as a moment before.

‘What’s wrong?’ He was concerned.

‘Help me up, would you?’ She scrambled to her feet and had pretty well found her way to the top of the rock by herself before he was able to reach her with a guiding hand. She dropped to her knees, her hands running lightly over the smooth rock surface, her expression ever more concerned.

‘So what is it?’ He sounded puzzled, unable to explain her behaviour.

She turned towards him as he climbed up in his turn. He saw fear and another emotion, maybe pity, on her face. She reached out for him and he took both her hands in his. This time his concern for her removed any feeling of disquiet. She was trembling as she spoke.

‘This is a really bad place. It’s an evil place.

I don’t know what happened here, but something truly terrible took place right here, up here where we are standing.

Can’t you feel it? There’s something awful about this rock.

’ Her voice tailed off and he saw her eyelids flutter.

Before she could faint, he caught her in his arms. This caused him to overbalance and he jumped off the rock down onto the snow.

Their combined weight took them through the top crust of ice and he almost fell.

With a great effort he managed to keep his feet and struggle out of the hole he had made.

He stumbled off across the field towards the car with Amy in his arms and his breath was getting laboured by the time he reached the road.

He opened the passenger door, slipped her onto the seat, then made his way slowly round the back of the car and climbed in the driver’s side.

As he regained his breath and his pulse began to return to normal, he studied the face of the girl beside him.

Her eyes were tightly shut and her fists were clenched so hard that her knuckles were white.

She was breathing rapidly in and out, for all the world as if it had been she who had just run across a field.

He wondered whether to say something but opted to give her time to compose herself.

A flash of inspiration struck him and he reached to the back seat.

The bottle of thirty-year-old brandy should do the trick.

Amy had insisted on buying it for him several days earlier in Cognac, when they had stopped off to visit the cellars.

He tore open the box and broke the seal, twisting out the cork before holding the bottle under her nose.

‘Here. Take a drop of this.’