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 from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

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.