"St. Giradin?"

The voice forced Giradin awake from his bed in the church guest room. He moved to rise from his rest, but his feet tangled in the bedsheets and he fell to the ground in a heap with a loud thud.

"St. Giradin?" came the voice from the other side of the door again. This time he recognized it as Sir Emeric's. "Are you hurt? Say something."

Giradin cleared the bubble from the back of his throat and called out, "Just fell out of bed. I'm not hurt."

"Are you decent? May I come in?"

Giradin struggled with the tangled bedsheets and rose to his feet. He looked down at himself, briefly, to find the answer to Sir Emeric's question. He was clad in a long, white sleeping gown which hung down just past his knees. "Decent enough. You may."

The door creaked open and Sir Emeric stepped in. He wore his armor and tabard, but no helmet. He closed the door behind him and turned to look at Giradin. "Oh... Well... you and I may have slightly different definitions of 'decent,' but... no matter." Sir Emeric averted his wide, mint-colored eyes to the stained-glass window on the far wall.

Giradin felt his cheeks grow hot. "I'm sorry..."

Sir Emeric shook his head, his soft, crimson locks waving back and forth. "Don't be. I should have been more specific. Anyway, I came here to tell you to get dressed and gather your things, because today the experiment is over and we leave Elekvaz for the Vatican."

"The Vatican?" Giradin repeated. "Then... I'm going to see the Pope?"

Sir Emeric kept his glassy eyes cast away from Giradin as he spoke. "Aye, and I believe the Pope will come to the same conclusion that I have about you. You are, indeed, a saint, chosen by God to do great things in this world."

"I hope you're right," said Giradin.

Sir Emeric turned to the door again. "As I said, get dressed and meet me outside shortly. We shall have a quick breakfast, and then we shall be on our way." The Templar left the room and closed the door behind him.

Giradin threw off his sleeping gown and dressed in the new clothes which had been donated to him. The local tailor had come by bearing gifts for Giradin, hoping that by giving him new garments he might gain extra blessings from God. When Giradin slipped on the white tunic, blue vest, and black trousers, he felt as if he were wearing the raiments of a nobleman. Even the shoes which had come with the outfit were well-made, and more comfortable on his feet than any shoes he'd previously worn, even as a cobbler's apprentice.

Once he was dressed, he tied his seax to his belt, gathered up what few belongings he had, and started on his way out the door.

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Outside the church, he spied the three Templars sitting on the steps, along with a tall young man with strong arms and one of the plague doctors in full uniform. Sir Emeric passed around strips of burnt bacon. Only the plague doctor turned it down.

Must be Shlomo, Giradin thought.

He drew near the group of them and plopped down on the steps beside Sir Emeric. Though he was clad in cold, steel armor, the red-haired Templar gave off a warmth which Giradin longed to be near.

Sir Emeric held out a strip of bacon to Giradin, who took and ate it. As he chewed, Sir Emeric said, "Shlomo and Tebbe have decided to join us in the journey."

Giradin looked up at the strong-armed young man, guessing that this was Tebbe. He gave Tebbe a friendly smile, and spoke with a full mouth, "Thank you."

Tebbe said. "No, thank you for allowing it! How many people can really say they traveled with a saint?"

"If Moses counts," Shlomo began, "At least a million." He chuckled.

Sir Emeric gestured toward the road leading away from the church, toward the city gates. "Melcher Fitz says you cannot take the horse you've been using as it is one of his horses. Shlomo cannot take his either, and Tebbe doesn't have one, so each of you will have to ride on the same horse as one of us."

"Can I ride with you?" Giradin blurted out.

Sir Emeric gave Giradin a warm smile. "It would be a great honor. Thank you." He turned to Shlomo and Tebbe. "Shlomo, you will ride with Sir Cristoff. Tebbe, that leaves you with Sir Philip."

Sir Cristoff had removed his helmet, revealing his scarred face. Sir Philip's visage remained hidden behind his visor.

"How long will this journey be?" Giradin asked.

"A few months, I would guess," said Sir Emeric as he produced boiled eggs from his satchel and passed them around to the others. "But we should arrive before the winter months."

Giradin looked over the group of men again. "I'm surprised Fulk isn't coming."

Sir Emeric turned his shining, green eyes to Giradin. "You mean you haven't heard?"

Giradin paused and shook his head.

"Fulk's disappeared," said Shlomo. "No one knows where he went."

"I would prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt," said Sir Emeric, "And assume that he has made a pilgrimage so he may pray and gather his thoughts."

Shlomo snorted. "That's right... you never met Fulk, did you?"

Giradin bit his lip to force his own chuckle into hiding.

Sir Emeric's face turned stern when he looked at Shlomo. "Like I said, I prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt, as I do for most other men. Let us take you as an example; it is far better that I assume that you wish to accompany us to the Vatican because of your loyalty and love for your friend, Giradin, rather than because you wish to mock our beliefs. Or worse, because you hold vendetta against the Pope."

Shlomo shrunk back from Sir Emeric and raised both his hands apologetically. "I meant no offense by it, sir, honest! I'm sorry... I'm just the sort who likes to jest often. Because life's often too hard to approach without a sense of humor."

Sir Emeric's expression softened. "I suppose there is truth in that. But, remember, when you travel with us you will assume the best in people, not the worst. Just as life is far too difficult without a sense of humor, it becomes impossible if you fail to have faith in the good God has put in people. Sin is everywhere, but so is virtue."

Shlomo paused a moment, then merely shrugged. "I'll make sure to follow your lead while we travel together."

"That is all I can ask," said Sir Emeric.

Once breakfast was done, the six of them set out on horseback, riding on the southern road. Giradin held tight around the waist of Sir Emeric, feeling truly safe for the first time in a long long while.