Sleeping under the Cross Chapter Three

``Sleeping under the cross’’

Oh Oh , he needed to piss.

A pair of eyes staggered open. Licking his lips as he grew accustomed to the light. It was early morning. Where was he? He was thirsty.! A dry throat and a full bladder! Tormented by Scylla and Cararibdi . Grasping the blanket he endeavoured to rise.

The sudden pain, from his thigh won the argument for staying still. As the pain subsided . Hugh scouted his surroundings

There was no stink It was a goodly house. A fine bed had been provided for his sickness and slumber. The sheets were good white linen. Where his bed a woman, she have had suitors from three parishes away.

Another day, It would have been a fine place to wake up. Why could it have not just been a hangover? Or a stout kick, between the legs. Spilling boiling water on himself would be more desirable. Or perhaps, he could have the pain, but keep the room, a fine place for the wedding night after eloping with a pretty milkmaid.

The pain, would not accept a trade. ..

Outside someone was smoking. The rest of creation gently reminded himself of itself in the scent of,the tobacco . While his microc

osm shouted in pain He didn’t know where he was, and he could barely stand Yet he could still shout.

``Juan! Juan!’’

Or rather summon, or call. His tutor cane had left some of the most strong memories.

The door was opened

, Juan entered, and bowed slightly. They were in good company then. Despite the rare politeness It was the same man, who he had ridden, to the hunt with him. Juan was wearing his cloak and his simple hunting boot’s ,buckskin breeches. This clad a man, of about six feet. He was wide across the shoulders too. His skin, was brushed with the varnish of the summer. He had the frame and form of a blacksmith. Not just in body, his hair was a forge full of charcoal and ash. Older than his Chief by ten years. Or Winters as Juan would have it.

``Juan I need to piss, help me get up and get the chamberpot’’

After much cursing. As well as not a little blasphemy, and a few threats. Juan relented, and assisted

With an empty bladder, and the pain from his leg ebbing. It was time to start the interrogation

``Where are we?’’

``We are at the House of Don Neil. You will have to apologise for your blasapemies. To him, as well as to me, and the almighty We brought you here, after your wound turned bad. Your wits have been muddled for two days nearly.’’

``You remember the fight with the sailors?’’

``I do’’

``We are not sure, where there ship was. Your cousin, the Don is at arms, waiting and watching for them. Maybe the wolf will return maybe it won’t. It will not raid our flock’’

``We will eat little dinner . I will inform our host. You have recovered your strength, if not your wits or manners. There will be much talk’’

Juan, closed the door. Noisly enough to annoy his convalescent comrade .Leaving only a smell of tobacco and a memorable curse, to announce his departure

After Juan exit A polite knock broke the silence A Manservant begged leave to enter Carrying under his arm a pair of breeches. His own had died on the operating table. He had also brought a stout walking stick. He excused himself again, and returned with a jug and bowl of warm water. Hugh washed his face. The servant helped dress.

He hoped the High King of Heaven will forgive his silent curses, as he struggled with the breeches.

With his toilet completed. His boots polished, and his sword sheathed. His hair combed, and his face washed The manservant begged his leave returning a moment later, to tell him his host was to call on him

A tall man, entered the room. A man he known since childhood. He has ridden to the hunt, with him. He sat on his knee. He has eaten his bread.

The Servant named him. ettiquete never slept. They were not the beasts of the plains. Nor the Indios. Wounded, with dull wits he may have been. Yet

May I present, and name. Don Neil, O Neill of Clandeboy. Marquess of San Anono

``Don Neil’’, the young man made a gallant effort to bow. Gritting his teeth, as his wound protested

``Don Hugh’’ his host returned the compliment.

``You honour me, and my home. My bread is your bread. My fire is your fire.’’

``You have exceeded, yourself again. I owe my life, and strength to you. Your kindess exceeds Finn Macool, who gave away gold, as if it was the leaves of fall. A

I was glad to help answered the Don. Your health was in the hands of one of the Sisters of Christ. My brother has exceeded himself. I must write to him, and thank him for his choice. Truly our lord guided his heart

How is your brother inquired Hugh. I have not seen his Grace for so long I am keen to make my thanks to the Great God, for my recovery

My brother has been in St Marys. He and his brother Bishops are attending to a letter from the Holy Father himself.

What an honour. I must mention to my confessor The sin of envy

Indeed, but even whilst dealing with such weighty matters he has not forgotten us, and we owe your health to his nomination

``I shall introduce her after you have little dinner. Come with me. My table awaits’’

Don Neil took his arm, his leg was still weak. It hurt as he hobbled across the courtyard.

There were tables set up for them. Benches had been set and good Chairs brought in, for those who deserved them. Bread ,pastries, and broth. Yet Man does not live on bread alone. There was meat, Plains hare, chickens and partridges. He took his fill. He was so hungry. It felt like he not eaten since the flood. He washed it down with small beer.

The Ship?

Don Neil sipping wine, looked up from his cup. He bit his lip, and began to speak

``We have heard and seen, nothing of them. I sent word to the Viceroy, I have had good men, watching the coast. I have spared neither bread, not shot nor horse. We are ready for them.

The fire is roaring, and we are in our best clothes. Yet they will not come to dinner. A pity, I would so like to meet them’’

``I might say I have a hunger for them’’

The morning was warm, but there was winter in his host’s eyes.

``I have sent word to your father, or course. Your little misadventure, may stir something other than stern proclamations, and the wringing of hands from the South. ‘’

``My father is not the Viceroy’’

``No, and he is not a beggar either. Do not be niave Hugh. The Viceroy can dismiss reports. The Viceroy can ignore messengers. The Viceroy can plead illness or Now he must act. He knows The Great O Neil’s son, has been wounded. You might have died. It will be spoken of on leather couches, and wooden benches. In the finest drawing rooms, and in barns

``They may even mention it in the El Escorial’’

``The King? ‘’

``We do pay taxes. We furnish him with bread and beef, Even Silver. We are men of skill and reason. ``We are the finest land in the Empire.Men cross the ocean to join us, from all Spain even from Italy and France. We are a realm, in the eyes of God. ‘’

His friend and kinsman words, were greeted with a cough. Not, as sign of displeasure. Rather the fever had not been vanquished. Like the Indios it had been scattered yet it still had the strength to burn his crops and steal his cattle

Don Hugh summoned, a servant with a nod. The man was swift and brought a cup of cool water.

We can at least speak. Let no one from here to Rome said, we stood by and said nothing.

We will do what we can here. we will speak loudly in the town.

Can you stand?

``Yes, but even if I could not stand. I could still ride, like your ancestor of old. Like the Cid, Juan tells the men of over campfires. Even with fever, and flux. I still have my duty. To you. To our people, to our Name, and to God’’

``We shall fetch our horses We shall make a patrol of the coast. The people will know that they are not alone. That we stand between them and grief. Maybe our new friends will join us. If they do, we shall give them the gifts we have prepared for them. ‘’

``Let us leave the talk of men, and indeed Gentlemen for a moment. I must introduce you, to the person, who healed you Don Hugh. The good Sister in Christ. Who eats with my wife. We shall join them.

The two walked across the courtyard. There was a line visible in the eyes of God, and hearts of man, that separated the diners, by sex.

`` Don Hugh, I know you have been eager to meet my wife. ‘’

Don Hugh bowed. Gladder to bear the pain now. It was a more pleasant duty

`It is like the warmest days of summer, to be in your house again. I thank you for the feast my men and I have enjoyed. I thank you for the wonderful lodgings. It has been a small glimpse of heaven on earth. Now how is your Mother?’’

The hostess smiled. Flashing good strong teeth. She was With skin was smooth and healthy , her eyes blue like the skies of the plains. Nut coloured hair still strong with colour lined the edges, of Cotton cap. Her dress was fine brown linen. Along with the scent of rosewater she was accompanied by her oldest daughter, 10 years. (He would only be struck once)

The daughter was her mother in Microcosm, excepting some of her father darker colouring and height. Hugh smiled at her, and greeted her politely. The youngster gave a fine curtsey. The mother squeezing the hand of her

The hostess spoke. A voice which was as smooth as fine cream

`` Don Hugh, let me name, and introduce you, to Sister Ines. When you were wounded, she brought to our home a mastery of the healing arts, to our side. She has graced our home, with her piety and service, to the high king of heaven. I look forward to my daughter learning from her example

``Sister Ines, I am your servant.’’ The wound had been spared from Hell. Yet would spend some time in purgatory

The Nun was a tiny woman. Hugh stood a good French foot taller than her. The Bride of Christ’s shape was well concealed by her habit. A simple cross, she wore. Her eyes were dark and intelligent

``Donna O Neill, Don Hugh, Don Neil. I thank you for your kind words. Don Hugh, I am a humble servant of Jesus Christ. I am subject to his commands. I must heal the sick, and feed the hungry

``Well, Sister Ines. I thank you and your master. I will remember your order, in my prayers. Indeed to my father. You are here as a tutor?’’

``Yes, for our hosts daughter’’

``I have a daughter too’’ `She is younger much younger’’

There was sadness in his voice.

The men folk made polite conversation for a while The Hostess inquired after Hugh’s daughter. She was three years old. The mother had died of fever. It had been as Pallas and Helen. With the heroine carried off by malady rather than Menelaus. The wound in Hugh heart left a deeper scar his leg

Chapter Two

`` Sleeping under the Cross’’

``I Missed the Villian! Damn them, Damn them all!''

Hugh O Neill Mor spurred his horse, ``Come on lad! Harder Rosc!’’ his saber flashing, as his mount splashed across the brook.

How many where there? 7 or 8?

Hugh heard another shot. No time, to use his pistol again.

Now! The rider watched as his sword struck true.

It caught the Blackguard's shoulder Hugh smashed the pommel back down, on the Man below him.

Did the swine fall? No time! Hugh drove against another one of the banditos lashing out with his sword. This one was luckier, and caught him with his blade. Catching him at his thigh.

Oh Holy Mary it hurt. The horseman lashed out at his foe. Only to be met with strong parry. It would not be so easy now. stuck his spurs, with his good leg. His horse would have to be his weapon now

Rosc flung forward, almost throwing his rider. Yet what would come close to demounting Hugh would knock his foe clean over.

Near half a ton of horseflesh came down, on the sailor

Another of the blackguards beaten!!! Hurrooo!!!!

How many of the rogues were there? Curse the smoke!

Hugh realised had ridden further, and faster then the rest of his band. The price of a fine horse Curosity won hom over for a moment. Hugh looked at his leg. It was bad! The rider gritted his teeth. Was their time to load a pistol? No. Yet he had however got behind, the villains.

The Young Prince tightened his grip on the reins.

``Come on Rosc.''

`` An Lámh Dhearg Abú!’ was screamed afore Hugh the chant went up!

`` The red hand, Victory ‘’

The riders sword was a man, walking in the surf, but splashing blood rather then brine. Hugh caught another one of the brigands. His blade the winner again Now he could see his men, Earning their keep! Pistol shot, hit some ones horse, there was a yelp. It would be over soon. A horse was no victory,

``NO, mercy no, no parole Sir. Gawd sir, Mercy sir save us, sir Mercy’’

There were 4 now. It would be a slaughter.

His men, looked at him, with sword and pistol they

``No! No! Mercy Please Sir, have mercy! For the love of Gawd Sir! Please the Love of God begging you Sir?’’

The locals are here. They were alerted by the smoke. They took their blessed time

``Enough!’’ It was finished.

The Sailors knew it was over. They might chance their arms against the locals. Against him and his men It was another tale.

The scion of high Kings looked about the place. A wee fishing village. They had planned to to stop there, for something to eat, water the horses, and rest. A small Chapel whitewashed, and swept.

The Chapel was circled by little houses, Sun dried brick and the thatch. Dung heaps and fish drying on racks. Honest folk, humble and God fearing.

Now the best thing that could be said was, at least the smoke covered the stench.

The Brigands wanted what here? Beef, and the chapel candlesticks, and any poor virgins, they could get their hands on? Had they even made a plan? Not that many of them? Where were the fishermen? Their wives and children were dead or bleeding. Why did they not see the smoke?

Hmm

He looked over his prisoners. Sailors. Heretics. Dutchmen or Saxons.

They had probably slipped in during the night. Then the Sailors waited until the menfolk went to sea. had struck. A village full of Women and Children. Perhaps the odd Priest, and an Auld man.

A slaughter

Hugh surveyed the Sailors again

Would their comrades avenge them? Where they deserters? Pirates?

``Where is your ship? How many of you?’’ Demanded the man, with the guns

A man on horseback, approached, them. One of the locals Probably from the next village over. They would have seen the smoke. They gathered up there pikes, and whatever guns they had.

Let our friend see, you, all of you

Following his lead, his men, tugged off their hoods. They did not sheath their swords, yet.

``Who are you?’’ Demanded the rider `` what are you doing here?’’ His sword drawn , and his eyes a barrage behind the rider were a score of men, with Pikes, and a few flintlocks. Fishermen, cousins, and communicants.

The reply would have to come, from Juan. The O’ Neill did not answer to demands. the wound on his thigh, was starting to spike

This is Don Hugh Mor, son of Brien Mor. I am Juan rial, his sworn man . We are his men. We caught these men whilst they murdered, raped and stole.

You are?

The newcomer took off his hat.

`` I am your servant Sir. I am Patrice De Vega’’ Dipping slightly

Oh God! The pain, it had wandered away, and now had returned. Like the prodigal son he would almost be rather eating swill.

DeVega, trotted round them. When De Vega saw the Church, started shouting.

Oh it hurt! Hugh watched as Juan dismounted and walked toward De Vega. Devega was roaring, screaming. Now he was spitting at the prisoners.

Juan was trying to get him to calm down. Juan was slipping into his native dialect The rest of the locals had arrived. Oh it hurt so much

Hugh leaned over, his horse. he had to vomit De Vega, was shouting to his men. Juan was trying to restrain him. Juan and Devega were shouting about the prisoners Who were whimpering and mewling. One of De Vega’s men, had walked up to the prisoners, and was shouting another followed. The prisoners started shouting now. Pleading and calling.

It hurt, his leg hurt so much

``Enough!’’

Hugh fired his pistol.

He didn’t even have to aim. The sailor caught his eye, for a second.

He would never see anything again

Juan told his men, to stand aside. The locals, had there fill. The screaming stopped after a while. The locals, revenge, lasted a bit longer.

The O’Neill got off his horse, and he lay down, the grass was wet, his eyes were so heavy

The Don, was stirring. He was shaking himself out of his fever

Hugh had been sleeping now for a few hours. It had gotten dark. It was not a good sign.

It foretold sickness. ``Don, Hugh, Hugh,’’ he asked, and squeezed his hand. ``Hugh.

They had not been able to wake him. His men had moved their chief onto a blanket, and lit a fire. They kept watch on him,

They had grim work to do. The dead had to be buried. They were Christian. They buried the dead. Old women and their grandchildren. Mothers and one very pretty maid, who had been defiled. The chapel she been baptized in had suffered the same. They were in the hands of the savior now.

Was Hugh ?

Their earthly master’s eyes opened and he murmured something,`` I am tired. Juan. I am tired and weary leave me be’’

Don, he said rasping. He squeezed the hand hard. We are going to move you. ``You are not well. We will leave this place, and seek refuge at your Cousin, the Don Neil of ‘’

…….

We have prepared a horse, for you.

``Come lift him.’’ Juan,now bore his masters burdern and his men, picked up Hugh lifting him onto a stretcher. The men had liberated the cleanest woolens from the village.

The locals took off their hats, and DeVega bowed slightly.

``We will remember him of course in our prayers and in the holy sacrifice of the mass’’

Thank you, Juan bowed back. ``We were glad to help. We are returning to our Kinsman. We travel overnight; we can get there by morning. Don Neil of …. Will want to know what happened here. You have done yourself credit sir.

You know this is not over. The men, who did this deed may be back. Send your women and children inland. We will be back, with more men. If they come back, we will be ready for them

Remember it was Hugh O ‘Neill who avenged your kinsmen and countrymen’’

``God save you, God save you all. There was no more to be said. Juan slung his foot into the stirrup and clambered onto his horse.

It should not have been like this. A few days of good They had caught deer, and Big eared Hare. They should be merry and sunburnt. He should have been winking at Maidens in the village. Not praying for their souls.

The sailors had got what they deserved. Yet Hugh should not have broken his word like that. Even, if they were just heretics and rapists. When Hugh is better, he should say something.

A man’s word means something. Hugh’s should dam well mean something more.

He looked back at Hugh. He had a deathly pallor. He was shivering. It did not bode well.

Sitting in his saddle, Juan Rial. began a quiet prayer looking up at the great cross, of the sky.

Eloise Hermet sister of Christ had always loved the smell of Tobacco. It was perhaps a failing. She would have to remember it to her confessor. Yet for the moment, she breathed in deeply.

Outside someone was smoking. It was a finely cured blend.

A few paces away, her companion Sister Innes silently recited the rosary.

The Don O Neill and his handsome wife , and her Spinster aunt sat afore her. The Aunt whispered something to her niece.

Eloise allowed herself a smile at the absurdity of it.

Innes is enough to protect my reputation. It takes two women to protect my benefactor from me.

It was a strange mix. Wild Irish mores, refined with Spanish manners.

Eloise’s host spoke. ``Sister H'elois, he began, offering her the constanant, for the vowel, he had lost. It is agreed, then, you will tutor my daughter?’’

``Yes Sir’’

Eloise was glad to be obedient

`` Good, I will pay well. You and the Order. Your sisters will prosper from our association. I am pleased my Brother was able to recommend you. The Sisters can be proud of their work. They have schooled the flower of Catholic maidenhood across the world. The Ban Donneill will find quarters here. For you, Oh and I will see you are fed, and clothed, as befits my Christian duty, and oh you'll need Capal''

Now it was Eloise turn to test her mettle. Capal? Ah Oui cheval! A horse. Eloise

Her host smiled at her returning the compliment. They were not so Spanish in their manners then.

``It is done then.’’ Concluded the Don. ``I insist you accept the courtesy of a nights lodging at My home. You and your Sister. Sister Eloise can return to the convent on the morrow, with my wife's Aunt. She wishes spend some time among the Sisters. ‘’

Of course, you will join us, at my table tonight. You shall not want for Bread, or Meat.

Modestly. Eloise nodded.

``If you will allow me, to retire now?’’

``Of course’’

Eloise looked over her new master again. A slave to manners her host rose, to let her depart. The Don’s skin was sunwashed. The consequence of a lifetime riding to the hunt.Looking over the foremens shoulders. This was not a perfumed courtier Topped with dark hair that was common as the lapin had been on her father’s little farm. The Don was tall though, as befit a gentleman a head taller then the Gascons . Eloise had played with as a lass

# Loitering in her hostss eyes there was a weariness. It was why one can see weeds of grey sprouting in his hair. Eloise hair would remain to the world as the Trinity was a mstery.

The door was opened. Eloise watched the large man, who attended the door, step backwards and bow. His high boots, would not have been faulted in Versailles. Ash wool breeches, a stout leather belt supported a unflinching rapier. Then the leather cloak. The simple leather cloak and hood, that Patricos, must be born with.

A maid, curtseyed, and asked Eloise and Ines to follow her. They trio made their way down the staircase, and into a courtyard. The day was going to be warm. There guest quarters, were, well better then she had expected. Since the....No she would not think of that.

The bed was a board of ash on brown bricks. A woolen rug decorated the floor and more woolen blankets furnished the bed. There was a Yankee stove in one corner of the room. A chest, from the south. Wood shipped up and dragged across the plains. Indeed as the Sisters of charity had been.

A crucifix, reminded one and all that this house was under the eyes of Almighty God.

The maid gave another curtsey and left. Eloise joined her sister, in the Rosary.

The smells of cooking, added to the many distractions of the world. As the day grew weak

The maid returned. The meal was ready. They were lead to the court yard. Their places, were by the hostess. Quite respectable. Joining the table of their hosts, would be the elder daughter There would be some tenants. A few kinsmen, and the senior men of the estate. The Stable master . The Huntsmaster. As well as one or two neighbours and their wives.

They had killed the fattened calf.

Eloise shared in the thanks, for their meal. Giving her praises to Him gladly. The torches were lit. There was wine, but her hosts drank some kind of beer. The bread was soft, and rich. The beef was even better. There was game too. Lapin? no hare? Tasted slighty different, a sauce? Oh and geese.

Her host, smiled, and nodded at her. Oh they ate well. Simply perhaps none of the good sauces of her far of …. Yet still they dined well. Linen, covered the tables. Torches lit the diners, and servants busied themselves. They drank from good pewter, and earthware jugs.

Eloise was content.

The piper took his place by the fire prepared his instrument. A musicians skilled fingers, gliding along the pipe, a thoughtful ear, studied the noise. The piper started to earn his pay playing a sad song. It was a little jarring, observed the Nun. The day had been a fair one. The sun bright but modest. The Don’s business with her had been concluded well. There was neither stormcloud or smoke scarring the sky

On the other hand, better to start the evening sad, then finish it that way. Bitter beer before the sweet wines

A young lad one of the tenant’s Son joined the piper and he began to sing...

It was a sad song. A song of loss. A song of dashed hopes and scattered armies.

A song of smashed thrones Choruses of Widows and verses of burning homes. Lines about famine, and orphans. Added to a chorus of exile and despair

Yet the melody changed. The bare earth sprouted anew. It was a different crop then the one sewn

It song of birth A painful birth but the child, grew strong Sweeping the Indios aside.

The Strong son had flourished. Like the cattle, the sea of cattle which which made the land

The piper, then struck up another tune. Eloise rose from the table, In her heart called upon the grace of the Virgin.....

Eloise prayers were quieter with then the rooster. The maid, came, to empty her pot. Then she returned with a jug of warm water. To break the fast of night, she was furnished with bread and wine. Her solitary sleep her hosts, waiting in the courtyard.

The Sun, was young, and innocent. In the distance there was the dust of Horses. Spurred to the gallop by determined men. The hooves rumbled like thunder. Alas the rain, would not be

``Don Neil, Don Neil!’’The shouts came.

Eloise, kissed her cross. Dust and shouting where the herald of disaster, as sure as the north wind brought the winter snows. The rider, was recognised and bade enter

Her Host, had not been idle. He was rushing to the door, clutching his saber. Demanding action and Arms, from his men

The rider bowed. Don Neil, Don Neill. ``We were hunting; we came across some sailors plundering the fishing village, a day’s ride away. With the locals we drove them off. However we fear there ship lurks among us like a serpent in the cornfield. Your Cousin, Hugh Mor is ill with fever.’’

Eloise prayed that her host would be forgiven for his momentary lapse.

The Don’s self indulgence was only momentary. Alerted he shouted, to his servants.

Arms were gathered, sentries posted. Steel from pike and sabre tip flashed in the sunshine, like the smiles of maidens. It drew the eye.

The rest of the party arrived at the house. There were perhaps half a score of them.

On horseback. Young men. The followers of a Gentleman. The Myrmidons to an Achilles

One horse, had been burdened with the body of Hugh, Mor. Eloise watched as the men, lifted their wounded leader gently off his mount. Hugh’s chest rose and fell. That was a good sign. The paleness troubled Eloise.

The Allmighty and all seeing received a silent prayer from his humblest servant. The daughter of Christ knew a great task, awaited her. The young man’s body was in mortal danger. A priest would attend to his soul. The earthly matter was hers.

The Mistress of the House, did not neglect her duties either. She had hurried to Eloise side

``Sister our nephew is sick. We have sent for a priest. Your prayers and assistance, we beg you. Your order is known for its craft with the sick’’

My most pressing duty, and my great pleasure Eloise assured her host, and master

They had taken the young man, out of the He had been brought to a good room. Full of air and swept. A fire had been lit. Good

Eloise observed her charge, Hugh

He was handsome. He was quite handsome. She found her eyes wandering away, looking at his chest. She remembered her duties and vows. That would be the last lapse.

The Women of the Household, had removed his breaches. They had covered his manhood, with cloth. Eloise looked at the wound. It was beginning to turn foul.

She remembered the teachings her sisters had impressed on her. The wound was to be cleaned. She called for water. Quickly Water any water. The maid brought her some water that was being boiled for cooking.

It would do. Dousing the cloth in water, she began to clean. Hugh stirred as the heat pressed against in thigh. Eloise took her time. She was washed the wound. She called for Wine. One of the most pious and wisest sister she knew insisted on the washing of wounds with wine. Like the Wedding feast at Canan. Water and Wine, and prayers, and the savior would do his work

The Maid like Eloise did not shrink from her duty.

Eloise began to stitch the wound. The matter was out of her hands now.

She looked at her patients head. He was so handsome. His eyes remained concealed A few days growth of beard covered a strong jaw. His ragged beard almost covered a slight scar on his cheek. His hair reached for his shoulders.

She could smell Tobacco

`` Tell me again, what happened?’’

``We were riding after deer. It must have been the third or fourth hour, after the noon. We thought we would stop at this wee fishing village. As we ride up, we see smoke, its quiet. Too quiet, where are the women? Where are the animals? It was as quiet and still as stone

Hugh saw it and he knew something was wrong. He rode in, drew his sabre and we followed. There were these sailors there. Raping and burning. I guess they wanted the church silver. Hugh thought them. Killed a few. We beat them , but Hugh got hurt. ‘’

Juan, blew smoke… Eloise asked for forbearance, and forgiveness

``There is a ship offshore somewhere. Lurking like a wolf. Perhaps he has run into the forest

He has feasted on our lambs’’