Chapter 4

The Sun, and the Moon began to go their separate ways. Some of the maids returned to the kitchen. 

A faction swept the courtyard and cleared the tables. The Lady of the House stayed in discreet view. Allowing her to now and then exchange words with the tenants, and the retainers. Some small greeting or shard of news for her guests. 

Riders mounted their horses. Muskets and  demi pikes were slung over shoulders. Riders put on their hats, and pulled their hoods over there heads.  The smell of tobacco clung in the air. A husband & wife kissed. A maid waved goodbye to her sweetheart

They rode away. The smell and noise of the horse’s, died down and drifted away. The men filed out, beyond the walls. Soon, they would hide behind the horizon.

``Then men, have their distractions but a woman’s work is endless. Is it not?’’ The hostess had joined her side. The lady of the House eye’s were moist. `

`My daughter is in need of diverting, and discipline’’

``Yes''

The O’Neill daughter’s room was as befits a maiden modest. A bed and a well carved chest. Doll, sought repose on her, bed. It was expensive. A skilled potter had worked the head, and dark horse hair. Her dress was Purple. As befitted a little Queen.

I will have one of the maids, fetch a chair.`` Juanita?’’

Juanita nodded, bowed and went to fetch, a chair. Returning in a few moments

``I will leave my daughter in your capable hands.’’ Her hostess bowed, and left the room.

She started by asking the girl, questions. The Socratic method had stood the test of centuries. It had been embraced by the patient Mother Church.

Sister Eloise charge was a bright girl. Her parents and nurse had prepared her soul. She had made a goodly indeed godly start into the liberal arts. She would remember to ask our Lady for patience, with the girl’s athrimetic. That was something that needed to be addressed. When she became of age, the young lady would have a fine house to run. The maids and dressmakers would ruin her otherwise.

As the girl, recited her times table. The maid returned. Eloise mind began to drift. She used to have a doll. Margot. Petit Margot. One of her uncles had carved it for her. He uncles, she had not thought of them for years. Which one had done the carving? Jean . Uncle Jean with his big hands. It had been a saints day present . She remembered the Saints day...

She was looking into the sea, she was crying. In the morning she was crying. In the evening she was crying. She cried herself to sleep There were no tears, she was spent, but her heart bawled. . Her mama was dead. Her  little home was burning. The church was burning. Her neighbour’s homes, the tree which Jorge had fallen from, the summer before. , the hayricks, were burning. They had even killed her dog

It was all lost, all lost. She could not lift her, head, to see the shore. She ould not lift her head, lest she see the smoke it hurt and hurt. Worse than when she cracked a tooth on bad bread

.

Then she felt a voice speak. She felt it, inside her speak. Like Samuel, it called her

``No!''

``8 times 8 is 64!''

The lass frowned.

``Start again, 8 x 1 is...''

The girl, stumbled and strained under her own Cross

``Mule driver! What was the name of that Mule driver?

``Forgive me, what did you Say?

The Mule driver, you beat, in that duel’’

``The Holy Father in his study in Rome, probably heard the sigh . I fought a Castilian a nobleman of the sword in a duel. The gentleman’s name was de Lancastre. It was over a question of a ladies honour. I was much younger then you  are now Hugh

Delancastre?

Yes. I believe the name is of English origin ...We have a new chaplain, Hugh. Another gift from my Brother You should call on him. He is most thorough in delivering the sacrament of penance. You must indulge me, a few moments''

 The Don flicked his hat.

A  scowl stirred across his face, he was annoyed now and not just annoyed he  was bored. They had been riding a good while. The sun was nearly halfway across the sky. Their men trudged behind them, their enthusiasm, now being to wane, as the sun and hunger grew.

The grass divulged a secret. There was water, not far, a few thousand paces away.  Sunbaked brick, stood guard over the water, and the water stood under the gaze, of our Lady. A painting of the Virgin had been placed on a little grove. The pious had left flowers, to adorn the Queen of the May.

Man and beast, came to rest. Some took water others passed it. Knapsacks were opened

 Juan started to smoke

Juan’s cheif dismounted. Rosc was let graze, for a bit. He would be watered later. That was Juan would see to that later. Don Neill walked over accompanied by a servant. The servant, fetched from his leather knapsack, a bottle of wine, and two pewter cups. The vintage was fine.

``Wine, share, your wine, like our saviour did?’’

The two men of noble blood were accosted, by a gentleman in rags.

``Wine, share your wine?’’

The voice implored again

The voice came from under a tattered hood. The sun had left her marks on his flesh, as well as clothing. He was old, really old. This Man might have remembered the flood. His hair was white and wild, like a patriarch. It was worn in the Old Irish stile, over his face. 

Don Neil whispered to his Man. The servant passed a full cup to the man. He drank, as if he had been at sea for days, or if he heard the trumpet for the last judgement. The man had thirsted.

With my compliments Don Neill bowed as if he was in the presence of his most Catholic majesty

Perhaps, you would offer, our blessed mother, a few prayers, on behalf of us. We are going to the coast. The villages by the sea have been attacked. Christian women and children, killed.

``Sassenach?’’

``We don’t know. Sailors. It could even be Frenchmen. They ravaged a chapel. So, we think heretics.’’

How old are you sir?

I don’t know. I was born, in Spain. The seed would have been sown in Ireland.

My father was part of the great host of Ireland. The great host that beat the heretics. Killed their king, then, after they went to Spain. I was born. I was young boy when we landed by the Lord of Rivers

I remember, seeing the O’Sullivan ride against the Indio’s.

You are of Nail’s line. I see it in you. I remember them. I marched and marched with them. we made this land our own. The Spanish, had been idle by the shore. Your ancestor was almost a king. A John Baptist, and Elijah, who, made the hearts of men ready for the Saviour

Thank you. I shall, offer prayers for you night, and day to our holy mother

The Guardian of the Shrine, bowed and left them in peace.

Why were they giving, wine to a beggar? If had just been Hugh, then he would walk over and put a stop to it. That pup sometimes had no sense. The other Don was a man of a world. More then that he was a fine man Don Neill, was a gentleman. Sometimes Gentlemen did surprise you Juan mused. Thats why they got to sit at the top of the table. Sleep in good beds. Drink wine

Sometimes, the dog just barks. Things seemed to be alright. The old man, the beggar, was pleased with a cup of wine.

Juan looked at his pack.

There were more of them, this time. Yet the sailors, would know they would be looking for him. At best this would be a march, to the coast. He had been to the coast before. It was good, for hunting

This prey could shoot back.