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