She was overcome with a strange timidity then, and knocked very lightly—but a few seconds later the door swung open, and Anthony stood before her, bare-chested as she had left him, hair still tousled, face still flushed with sleep. He smiled at her with such delight that it raised the strange fluttering warmth within her again, and overcome with a sudden shyness, she lowered her gaze. “Good morning, sir,” she said.
“Good morning, lady,” he replied with equal gravity. Alarmed at his formality, she looked up, saw the twinkle in his eye and the smile on his lips, and reassured, managed a smile of her own.
“Your pardon,” Anthony said. “I should not greet a lady when I am half undressed.” He went back into the room and pulled his tunic on, then came out and offered Balkis his arm. “Let us walk while the morning is cool and fragrant.”
“Yes, let us.” She linked her hand through his elbow and strolled in the sunlight with him. Both of them were silent for a few minutes, and she realized that the moment was ideal to tell him her feelings—but that odd shyness swept over her again, and she lowered her gaze, overcome with modesty. “Do you remember anything of yesterday?”
“I remember walking through a woodland with you.” Anthony frowned, trying to bring the events to mind. “We came to a clearing—why, we saw a unicorn! No, three of them!” He turned to her, eyes alight with wonder and delight. “How strange and wonderful a world it is, to hold such enchanting and beautiful creatures!”
His eyes said that the unicorn was not the only enchanting and beautiful creature, which roused the strange fluttering in Balkis again, and she dropped her gaze once more. “Do you… remember anything else?”
Anthony gazed off into the distance, frowning, trying to concentrate. “I remember … lions! Yes, and the unicorns drove them away! Two went off into the woodland and the third lay down to sleep beneath a big tree!”
“Better and better.” She glanced up at him. “What more?”
Anthony frowned, wracking his brain, then gave it up and shook his head. “Birdsong, sunrise through the window of a strange room, then a knock at the door, and yourself, brighter than any dawn.”
Balkis caught her breath at the compliment, especially since it was given as a matter of fact, as plain and undeniable as the sunrise or the birds' music—but shyness overcame her again and the words of love froze on her lips.
“What happened in between?” Anthony asked.
“You… the lions came back—one of them, at least—and tricked the unicorn into burying its horn so deeply in the trunk of the tree that it was defenseless. I changed into a cat to try to reason with the lion in its own tongue, but it struck me aside, and you came running to pick me up with courage that shocked me, for the beast struck you down.”
“Did it really?” Anthony stared at her. “That does not sound like me, the least brave of my family!”
Anger at the brothers who had mistreated Anthony rose to give Balkis more boldness. “Whoever told you that was clearly wrong. I saw it myself. You are a very brave man, Anthony, so brave as to be foolhardy.”
Anthony turned away in confusion. “But I rarely fought for my own pride, and that only when they pushed me past bearing!”
“For yourself, perhaps,” Balkis said, feeling the warmth kindle at her core again, “but for others you are quick to defend. Be sure—you did indeed fight to save the unicorn, though it did you little good.”
“Then why am I still alive?” Anthony asked, confounded.
Balkis tried not to make it an accusation, but it came out so anyway. “You still have a few nuggets of gold from the valley of the ants, have you not?”
Anthony flushed and said, “You have caught me. I fear I cannot wholly contain my greed.” Then he remembered the topic at hand and turned to her, puzzled. “What has ants' gold to do with a man-eating lion?”
“It seems one ant followed you—or should I say, followed its gold,” Balkis explained. “It caught up just as the lion was about to devour you—” She broke off and turned away, tears flooding her eyes. “I tried to craft a spell to save you, but it happened too quickly, and I could not think of a final rhyme!”
His arm came around her shoulders, his muscular chest pressed against her cheek, his voice soothing. “I am sure that you did, and would have triumphed to save me even if it meant forcing the beast to disgorge me. Did the ant save you the trouble somehow?”
“It was a match for the lion.” Balkis shuddered, remembering. “I am amazed that anything so small could be so strong—and deadly. It slew the lion even as the lion slew it.”
“Heaven cares for fools and madmen,” Anthony said softly, “and I thank Heaven, for I was both. How is it that I live, though?”
Balkis started to answer, then caught herself, overcome with shyness—and with misgivings, for she did not want Anthony to love her simply out of gratitude, and certainly not from a sense of duty.
Brother Rianus saved her. He came up to them, smiling and cherubic. “Good morning, young folk!”
“Good morning, good sir,” Anthony said, puzzled that the old man seemed to know them, but unfailingly polite.
“Good morning, Brother Rianus.” Balkis gave him a smile of thanks and relief. “Anthony, this is one of the two saintly men who healed you.”
“Healed me?” Anthony stared at Brother Rianus. “You are? A thousand thanks, good sir!”
“You are welcome thrice over,” said Brother Rianus.
“But how could you cure me of a lion's wounds in one single night?” Anthony asked, bewildered.
“In less time than that, young man—indeed, less than an hour.” Brother Rianus turned and pointed outside the grove to the huge boulder. “Do you see that rock?”
Anthony looked where he indicated. “I do, reverend sir.”
“It is a thing of incredible medical virtue,” Brother Rianus said. “There is in that stone a cavity in the shape of a mussel, in which the water is always four inches deep. If any Christians desire the healing of the entire body, they lay aside their clothes and get into the shell; then if their faith is sincere, the water begins to increase and rise over their heads; when this has taken place three times, the water returns to its usual height. Thus everyone who enters leaves it cured of whatsoever infirmity he had, and thus your wounds were healed.”
“It is a miracle!” Anthony gasped. “I can only offer you my thanks, good sir.”
“Offer them to God, young man, for it is God who healed you.” Brother Rianus glanced at Balkis and smiled. “Though you might spare some thanks also for the maiden who brought you to us, and the bird who led her.”
Anthony stared at Balkis in amazement. She said defensively, “Well, I could not leave you to die.”
“Surely she could not!” Wings battered air and the sidicus lit on Brother Rianus' shoulder; he winced as its claws dug in but said nothing. “Of course,” the bird went on, “she was too frantic to know what to do if she had not had expert advice.”
Balkis shot it a glance of annoyance. “Anthony, this wordy bird is called a sidicus, and it is he who bade me free the uni-corn and ask it to carry you—which the unicorn did.”
“Once I made her angry enough to start thinking again,” the sidicus crowed. “Then I led her to these kind old men and their magical boulder, though I had to keep insulting her to catch her attention—her mind kept wandering to worrying about you.”
“It could not, of course, be merely that you enjoy insulting people,” Balkis said darkly.
“Why not combine charity with pleasure? Rawkr
Balkis finally realized that its raucous noise was laughter.
Anthony managed to overcome his stupefaction at hearing a bird talk and bowed gravely. “I thank you, kind creature, for fair rescue and aid.”