Luc was woken at daybreak by a cock crowing in the yard, followed by a cacophony of barking. He jumped out of bed, climbed onto the chair and looked out again. The reason for the barking was immediately visible. A scrawny tabby cat was walking disdainfully across the yard, just out of range of the dogs. Somewhat reassured, he climbed back down and returned the chair to its original place. The other chair was still wedged in position. Easing it out of the way, he opened the door a fraction and glanced out. The pilgrims in the big room were beginning to stir and everything looked normal. He closed the door and sat back on his bed. He was relieved, but the feeling of uncertainty remained.
‘Good morning.’ He felt her hand rub against his arm. He turned towards her.
‘Good morning to you. Sleep well?’
‘Mmmh. I slept like a log. You’ve got nice warm hands.’ She sounded blissfully content. He smiled with her. Maybe they had truly left the archbishop and his men back in Logroño.
‘So, are you fit enough for a short walk? Today’s only half a day.’
‘That sounds wonderful after all the walking we’ve been doing. Now if you’d just point me in the direction of Beatrice, she promised to look after me this morning.’
There was almost a holiday atmosphere among the members of their group that morning, knowing it would be a short day. The terrain made for easy walking, too, as the track weaved its way through vineyards and almond groves, without any serious hills to climb. The weather was calm and clear, the sun warm on their cheeks. Aimée walked arm in arm with Beatrice and her daughter while Luc followed twenty or thirty paces behind. As they passed alongside a low hill, Friar Laurent dropped back to talk to him.
‘You always like to be at the back of the group, don’t you, Luc?’
‘I suppose I do, Laurent. In my fighting days, I always chose to ride at the tail, rather than up in the vanguard. In my experience, more attacks come from the rear than from straight ahead.’
‘And your fighting days, Luc, are they over now?’ The friar gave him a searching look. ‘I was wondering what future a warrior monk might have, now that his order has been abolished.’
Luc was prevented from answering by the sound of hooves coming up the track behind them. Ever vigilant, he swung round to check. It was a single rider. Even from a distance, it was clear to see that he was mounted on a mule, the long ears sticking out like horns either side of the beast’s head. Definitely not the mount an archbishop would choose. Luc relaxed as the rider approached.
‘Good morning. Buen camino.’ The man gave the traditional pilgrim greeting. Luc nodded but stayed silent, letting the friar reply.
‘And buen camino to you, my friend. We’re nearly at our destination for today. Where are you bound on that fine mount?’
‘Santo Domingo de la Calzada. They tell me the cathedral was built by the saint himself. I hope I get there in time to see all the sights.’
‘That’ll depend on the state of the roads, I suppose. They’ve been good so far.’
‘The cavalry platoon I just overtook told me the Pilgrims’ Way is good all the way to the mountains of León, and they’re much further on. Well, I wish you all the best.’
‘May the love of God go with you.’
The man gave a wave and spurred the mule into an ungainly trot. As the man overtook the rest of their group and disappeared into the distance, the friar turned to Luc.
‘Cavalry? Fancy that!’ There was a twinkle in his eye. ‘You know, Luc, I think this might be a good time to stop for a little break. I can see the roofs of a village off to the right down there. It should offer refreshments, although it’ll force us to make a short detour. Would you object to leaving the Pilgrims’ Way for a while?’
Luc gave him a broad grin. ‘Laurent, you’re a fine man.’
Friar Laurent hastened to rejoin the rest of their group. Unsurprisingly, there was general agreement to the idea of stopping for a break. They took the next turning to the right, heading down towards the houses. They had just reached the little hamlet when the sound of horses and a plume of dust back on the Pilgrims’ Way told Luc the cavalry had passed. He and the friar exchanged glances.
The village didn’t have an inn, but a stall in the middle of the cluster of houses offered wine, ham and bread. The stonemason’s eyes lit up as he spotted the flagons.
‘Excellent choice, friar. I think I’ll just fill my water bottle.’ He headed over to the wine stall eagerly.
‘He’s put enough red wine in there over the last couple of months to rot the leather.’ The friar sat down in the shade next to Luc.
‘Think what it must be doing to his insides.’ Luc lowered his voice. ‘In answer to your question back there, I really don’t know what I’m going to do next. I suppose I’ll have to find a way of earning my living.’
‘But you come from a noble family. You are…’
Luc held up his finger. ‘I’m nobody, Laurent. I’m just Luc. Remember that. Whatever my background, that’s all finished now. I can’t return to my place of birth to reclaim what’s rightfully mine. The king and the archbishop would have me in irons. No, my future, I fear, will have to be outside France.’
The friar heard the sadness in his voice. Before he could offer consolation, they were interrupted.
‘Friar Laurent, could I join you? The sun’s hot for this time of year. Shade’s in short supply.’
Luc looked up. It was the man who had arrived late the previous night. He was stockily built, maybe five years younger than the friar and him. Obligingly, they squeezed along the bench and made room for him on the end, just out of the direct sunlight.
‘Thanks a lot.’ He held out his hand to Luc. ‘I’m Thomas. That’s the second time you’ve given me a seat.’
‘And I’m Luc. Good to meet you. Have you come far?’ The feeling of suspicion was back again.
‘I started at Saintes a month ago. I thought I was going to get held up in the mountains, but the big thaw started just in time.’
‘Did you come over the Somport pass?’
The other man shook his head. ‘No, I took the easy option. Starting at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, I was over the top in a day’s walk.’
Luc was relieved to hear that. He had no doubt that his escape with Aimée from the archbishop would still be big news at the Abbey of Santa Cristina.
‘So why are you doing the pilgrimage, my son?’ Laurent asked everybody that.
Just for a moment, Luc thought he spotted a slight hesitation before Thomas replied to the friar’s question. ‘Just something I’ve always wanted to do.’ He began to sound more confident. ‘My brother did it a few years ago. He’s told me of the many wonders along the way and, of course, the magnificence of Compostela itself.’ He looked directly at Luc. ‘And what about you?’
‘It’s more for Aimée, really. She needs someone to accompany her.’ Luc had already used this explanation more than once. ‘Who knows? She might get a miracle from the apostle’s tomb.’
‘She’s a brave woman. I know plenty of sighted people who would hesitate before undertaking something like this.’
‘It’s funny. You seem familiar. Have I seen you before?’ Luc could still feel that same sense of unease.
The man’s eyes flashed for a second. ‘Not that I can recall. Where are you from?’
‘Paris.’ It was sufficiently vague as an answer. ‘And you?’
‘Me too. Maybe we met in a market or something.’
The friar squinted up at the sun. The sky was still cloudless and it was getting hotter out there by the minute. ‘I don’t reckon we’ve got more than another hour to go. I suggest we get on with it.’
The others, seeing him rise to his feet, followed suit. Luc walked across to Aimée and took her arm. She smiled at him.
‘Hello there. Did I hear you making new friends?’ She caught his hand and squeezed. ‘Tired of me already?’
‘I’ll never tire of you, Aimée.’ He saw the joy in her face. As they started walking back up the track towards the main Pilgrims’ Way, he found himself turning over in his mind something the friar had said earlier. If the Order of the Temple had been abolished, then did that mean that Luc’s vows no longer applied? Did that mean that his relationship with Aimée could develop?’ He swallowed to remove the lump that had formed in his throat and did his best to banish the thought. At least for now.
As usual, he took up station at the rear of the group. As they walked, he pulled Aimée closer and whispered to her about the cavalry. She remained resolutely optimistic.
‘It might not have been the archbishop’s men, Luc. Maybe it was just a local troop patrolling the Pilgrims’ Way.’
Maybe she was right. He had no way of knowing who they were, but he still nursed this feeling of insecurity. And, somehow, he felt that the new man, Thomas, might be involved. However, he decided not to burden Aimée with his worries that might well prove to be unfounded.