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.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

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.