The River Somme echoed the colors of the morning sky. The reflections of bare trees and shredded clouds wavered on its surface. It was beautiful. Lydia hated that they had only spent one night in Amiens, but the weather was fair and it was time to move on. James said, "Hye!" Moses Aaron snorted and pulled the cart forward.

At midday, Lydia felt herself leaking. Her flow was a damned, uncomfortable, nuisance and a danger. Though she did not want to, she must engage James' help. She nudged him. When he looked at her, he raised his eyebrows. She nodded. He pulled the reigns and said, “Whoa!” Moses Aaron happily stopped and leaned over to crop a shred of early clover in the dead winter grass.

From the back of the cart, Antone asked, “Why are we stopping?”

Lydia climbed down.

Antone groaned, “Oh, God, the Modest Angel has to piss again." He glared at Lydia. "You consume too many liquids." To his uncle he said, "Why? Why do you cater to this twit? Make him piss by the cart and get it over with.”

Lydia thought, Would that I could!

With his eyes scanning the woods, James told Antone,  “Hold your tongue." To Lydia he said, “Do not go past those Junipers."

"All right." Lydia made her way through the tangle of brush and saplings into the wood. The slender white oaks clung to their faded leaves. Just beyond them, was the clump of junipers. Aunt Rachel had used juniper berries as a body purifier.  Within the shelter of these trees, Lydia quickly took care of her business. Her rag had become dislocated, that was all. Still, it was best not to waste an opportunity to relieve herself. The last thing she wanted was to give Antone another chance to chide her. When she finished, she stood. The breeze carried a familiar scent. Wild boar? They could be vicious. Beyond the junipers a man appeared. The pungent smell of pig filled Lydia's nostrils. If he saw her he gave no indication.  His swift legs carried him noiselessly passed her. Was he headed for the cart? What if he was  the man who had slit the friars throats? Fear shot through Lydia. She tried to cry out, but her voice was frozen. Her hand went for her dagger, but hit her candle box instead. At the sound, the man turned. His dirty face seemed familiar. His eyes met hers. Recognition sparked in his. Did he know her? Did she know him? His face went pale and he veered away from her and disappeared into the brush.

From the cart, James called out, "Luke?"

Lydia's eyes remained focused on where the man had disappeared. Where had she seen his face before? Faces flipped through her mind. She had seen so many faces since this pilgrimage began. All at once  she remembered, the hanging tree. Again she saw the man's body swinging from the oak tree, neck broken and dead. She recalled the noble and the peasant who had been with him. The man she had just seen looked like the peasant! There was a crunching of debris to her right. This time her hand made contact with her dagger. She spun around and jerked it from its sheath. When James saw it he asked, “What are you doing?”

"I saw a man, running through the trees. He was headed for the cart. I was afraid he might hurt you. When he saw me, he ran away."

A slow smile crossed James face. Lydia was not sure if it was from amusement or appreciation. He pointed at the dagger, "Seeing that makes me want to run away too."

“My dagger did not scare him. It was the clatter of my candle box that sent him running.”

“It was probably just some vagabond, but it shows we can not be too careful. I should not have let you go even thi short distance alone. It was stupid of me. Your life is more important than your identity of your modesty."

Antone burst through the brush and asked, "What are you two doing?" He eyed them suspiciously. His eyes went to Lydia's dagger. A dangerous gleam came into his eyes. Quickly, she returned it to its sheath.

James told him, "Luke saw a man."

Antone asked. "Really, was he a faerie man?"

Irritated Lydia said, "Nay, a real man, but his steps made no noise."

A hard glint sprang in Antone's eyes. “So he had wings?" He was trying to provoke her.

James said, “Shut up, Antone. Go on Luke, describe him.”

"He was youngish, short, filthy and..." her voice trailed off. In her mind the peasant from the hanging tree and the man she just saw blended. Had memory or fancy joined them?

"And what?" asked Antone.

"He smelled of swine. He was so fleet. I have never seen anyone run that fast or that silently." The peasant who had chased her that long ago evening had not been fast.

James said, "I think you may have just seen Cyril. Come on Antone, lets go see if we can catch the poor beggar. Which way did he go?"

Lydia pointed.

He told her, “Get back to the cart.” He and Antone took off. At their pace, they would never catch him. Cyril? Had she heard that name before?

Back at the cart Brother Matthew asked, “Where are James and Antone?”

"I saw a man in the woods, James seems to think it was a fellow named Cyril."

"Why on earth would Cyril be tailing us? If I had stolen half of Dame Paston’s silver I would be in Rome by now. Of course Cyril being Cyril probably is flat broke by now and in need of a meal. If so why would he run? James is very merciful."

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Lydia said, "I pulled my dagger on him."

"Well, that would send him flying. Still, if it was Cyril, James will not catch him."

Time passed and James and Antone did not appear. Lydia was beginning to worry. She asked, "Should we go after them?"

"No. My first responsibility is to keep you safe."

"So we are to remain here and do nothing? What if the man is not Cyril and he is armed?"

"As are James and Antone. Though I do not think Antone will be of much service, still as scripture says two are better than one. We must pray for their safe return Luke. That is the best service we can offer.”

Though Lydia did not agree, she remained where she was. James would be furious with her if she set out alone. After what seemed like forever, Antone and James emerged from the wood. They were alone. Brother Matthew called out, "So, he got away?"

Antone asked, "What does it look like daft priest?"

"Antone, I have told you many times I am a monk not a priest."

James shouted, "Both of you shut up!" The two young men fell silent. James climbed onto the cart and took the reigns from Brother Matthew. Instead of taking his usual spot in the back of the cart, Antone was leaning on the seat right behind Lydia. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. Not since their meeting had she been this close to him. His nearness made her feel very peculiar.

James slapped the reigns against Moses Aaron’s back. The indignant beast set off at a quick clip.

Brother Matthew asked him, "Did you see him at all?"

Antone said, "No, only foot prints."

"Do you think it was Cyril?"

Antone's arm touched Lydia's back. A strange sensation swept through her. Why was he so close? His breathing was a little ragged. Was he afraid? Was that why he had drawn so close to them?

James said, "It could be anyone. Still, who ever it was we must keep our eyes sharp."

*

That night they camped at a makeshift inn. It was just a daub and waddle building with some wooden platforms  to sleep on, not a single hay mattress or blanket in the place. Two friars on a pilgrimage to Constantinople were also spending the night there. Before James went to the barn to attend to Moses Aaron, he told Brother Matthew to mind his tongue. Though offended Brother Matthew said he would. James did not say anything to Lydia, but his look told her to watch herself.

The friars sat on one bench. The elder of the two said, "Come, join us. We have a little bread to share."

It was indeed a little bread. Brother Matthew generously added a wedge of cheese and some dried figs he had purchased in Amiens. While they talked the cheerfulness of the friars chased away some of the shadows that had gathered in Lydia's mind. The friars were from the order of Friars Minor. Their founder was a man named Francis from Assisi. Though he had been born wealthy he took a vow of poverty and lead a most holy life. Brother Matthew listened with attentive ears. To have so much and give it up for God, appealed to him. Apparently, it did not appeal to Antone. Though he listened, he was restless. When the friar paused, Antone asked "Would you like to hear some music?" His eyes scanned the group, purposefully landing on Lydia.

The younger of the two friars said,  "That would be a treat."

Antone quickly got his rebec. He stood beside the lamp and placed the instrument against his chest. With a graceful movement he pulled the bow across its strings. Music filled the inn with pitch perfect strains. Softly he sang Saint Simeon’s song. His voice was beautiful and sweet. The song stirred Lydia deeply. Moder had sung her this song every night. Every night, Lydia had sung it at Romsey Abby.  Unbeknownst to her, tears trickled down her cheeks.

When he finished the song, Antone said, "Luke you are a regular fount." His teasing ripped Lydia from the heights his music had taken her to.

The young friar said, "Tears are a compliment to your playing sir."

Lydia was furious. She wiped the tears from her eyes. If she were a true boy she would slug Antone right now, but, she was not a true boy. Unconsciously, her fists clenched and unclenched.

Antone saw them and said, “Ah, lad, do you think you can take me?”

Was he testing her? Did he want a fight? A strange fury gripped her. She rose to her feet.

Alarmed Brother Matthew said, “Antone, you do not want to spoil your pretty face. Leave him be."

"Shut up priest!" Antone's eyes held Lydia’s with an eerie calm. He was testing her. She could not fight him, lest she reveal her true identity.

The young friar asked Antone, “Sir, why risk your hands in a fight? Swollen or broken fingers will hinder the sharing of the gift God has given you. Please, play us another song instead."

To Lydia's surprise, Antone said, "You do have a point." He then said to Lydia, "I apologize Luke for my teasing. Now, what song would you like?"

Brother Matthew apologized often, Antone never apologize to anyone but James. Was this apology sincere? There was only one way to find out. She said, "I forgive you. Could you play, L'autrier m'iera levaz?"

A sly smile spread across Antone's face. An instant chill went through Lydia. She had chosen badly.

Antone asked, "Tell me Luke, have you like the knight of this song been been deceitful and lewd with a shepherdess?"

The version  of L'autrier m'iera levaz  that Moder sang to her did not involve deceit or lewdness The one Moder sang was about the rejection of a knight's attentions by a common young woman. Of course Antone would know a filthy version!. Angry with herself for trusting the charming idiot, she rose from the table and walked out of the inn.