Amicia was a woman. Women’s lives interested her more than men’s.
The company had a great many women-in the ranks, and out of them.
Amicia assumed that the captain was coming to address Sukey on some matter of march discipline, but instead, after a bow to his head-woman, he walked up to the nuns. He smiled.
She smiled back.
“I think you have my cup, good Sister,” he said.
She knew she blushed. But she held her smile. “It is the best in the camp,” she said.
“I really don’t mind loaning it to God,” he said. “But He’s got to give it back.”
Sister Mary’s harshly indrawn breath clashed with Sister Katherine’s chuckle.
She handed him the cup. He raised it as if in a toast. “Just give it to Toby tomorrow,” he said. Then he paused. “May I show you something beautiful this morning? Come ride with me.”
If she had been prepared, Amicia would have found it easier to refuse. She didn’t intend to be alone with him-then, or ever again.
But he was smiling…
She found that she had taken her rouncy from Sister Katherine-who gave her a lopsided smile-and walked over to join the captain, Toby, and the trumpeter.
Ganfroy raised his trumpet to his lips a second time, and the call to mount rang out.
The captain vaulted into his saddle while people cheered. Toby met her eye and shrugged.
“He’s a terrible show-off,” she said, loudly enough to be heard.
Ser Gabriel laughed. “I am, at that,” he admitted.
Forty paces away, Nicomedes swung onto a tall wagon next to Sukey, who raised her riding whip and waved it.
Ser Gabriel waved to Ser Michael, who walked his horse over to them.
“The good sister and I are taking a little ride,” the captain said.
Ser Michael nodded to Amicia. “You have a long spoon, Sister?” he asked.
She laughed and was surprised at how she sounded-a little wild. She clamped down.
Ser Michael took the staff of command from Ser Gabriel and held it aloft. He waved it at the Moreans-their ranks moved, anticipating the trumpet.
Then the trumpet crashed out, one more time, and the whole company rolled into motion.
“It’s more like the convent than I would have believed,” she said.
Down the column, each file moved smoothly into place except the last-Ser Michael’s. Robin rode well, but the new archer was mooning and he was late moving forward. His horse caught his inattention and jumped-Sukey, in the lead wagon, had to rein in after her animals had done the work of getting the heavy wagon rolling.
“You useless sack of pig-shit. Someone tied your balls in a knot last night and now you can’t find ’em?” Sukey’s voice was mild-it was too early for anyone to manage real invective.
The boy flushed with anger and then swallowed it, and got his horse into the column. He was a poor rider.
“Just like the convent,” Ser Gabriel said.
“Are you kidding?” Amicia laughed. “Miriam can manage all that in one half-raised eyebrow.”
“Perhaps I could send her all my file-leaders.” He wasn’t paying her any attention at all. He was focused on his column.
During the siege, this had fascinated her. She had had her share of swains as a lass-and by and large, they mooned. Gabriel had his own ways of mooning, but he seldom took his attention off his work to do it and, as a woman, she preferred his focus to the puppy-dog behaviour of younger men.
Side by side they rode. The day was clearing from its early dampness to a good blue-and-white-skied April day.
“Any chance of fish for Friday?” she asked.
He looked at her.
She shrugged. “I’m easy in my conscience about a little dried sausage when breaking the fast of the night. But Friday is Good Friday and many of your people will not want to eat meat.”
He nodded. “I think you’ll find Nicomedes already has this on his plate-as it were.” He nodded. “Fish are hard to come by until the Albin runs down to the salt. There’s plenty of them there, but no one to fish for them, I think, except farm boys skipping out on work.”
They rode east, towards the river, while the column rolled west.
“It may be that we’ll all fast, on Friday,” he said.
“Even you?” she asked. The river was getting louder as they climbed towards the height of the stony ridge.
“I am coming to terms with some of my views on God,” he said. “New evidence has presented itself.”
“You’re going to let God off the hook, are you?” she asked, and even she was surprised at the acid tone she used.
“Perhaps,” he said.
Then the wall of sound cut off any possibility of conversation.
Almost immediately, the trail went to the right, and down, winding and winding.
Very quickly, Amicia was reminded of how important sound was to balance and perception. The white noise of the water-out of sight, but obliterating all other sound-made her feel almost blind.
After some time, Gabriel dismounted and helped her dismount-without any display. Then he led his horse down the trail, which was narrower and softer, so that their horses and even their boots left tracks. A mist hung over the trees.
They seemed to walk in a world of their own. They didn’t attempt to communicate, except that once he intruded into her memory palace to say, “It is very soft here-be careful,” and she smiled and thanked him.
And then they emerged from the trees onto a broad, flat greensward. There were whole trees on the grass, washed up to show that at the full peak of the spring flood, the grass was awash. Nor was it a perfect lawn-legions of ducks and geese had ensured the future fertility of the spot.
The noise was still incredible.
He walked to the water’s edge. A broad pool, the size of a small lake, rolled away into the fast flow of the river beyond. The banks were green, the water ice-cold and ocean deep. Out in the middle of the pool, a trout rose, red and gold and silver, the size of a big cat, took a fly neatly and rolled back under the cold black water.
But the pool didn’t hold the gaze. The falls were the miracle. The falls fell three hundred feet from the bluff far above where they had camped. They fell in a single broad sheet, separated high above them by a spire that stuck straight up into the air like the tower of a small cathedral.
Her eye could not stop tracking the water as it fell and fell and fell-the pool devoured it and sent it away down the river.
Amicia fell to her knees and prayed. She prayed for herself, and for him, and for the place and to bless God for all of creation.
When she rose-her knees thoroughly damp-he had tied the horses. He beckoned to her, and she followed him willingly enough. She felt at ease. Confident. Happy.
He led her to the edge of the falls, so that the enormous rush of water was passing a hand-span from his face.
Then he stepped into the water.
Amicia had seen a waterfall before, if not one so mighty as this. She stepped into the waterfall, too. In fact, she was merely damp when she emerged into the cave behind the fall.
The cave was not silent, but the sound was merely noise here.
He was grinning. “You do trust me.”
She shrugged. “I might say that I trust in God, and provoke you,” she said. “But in truth, yes, my dear, I do trust you.”
“Well, I thank you for your trust. I wanted you to come here.” He shrugged. “I found it years ago. I always imagined bringing my lady love here.”