the wagon gets stuck, which it surely will in this mud with or without the woman. What do you say? If we help one another this night, we may all find a dry bed before dawn.’
4. Adela and Osmond
And so it was that the six of us found ourselves spending a night together, huddled round a fire in a cave listening to the river roaring over the boulders of its bed and the rain plashing down on the leaves of the trees. The cave was broad but low and shallow, like a fool's grin carved on the face of the rock. It was positioned about five or six feet up the cliff on the side of the gorge, but there were enough fallen boulders and ledges at the base to make it a comparatively easy climb even for me and the pregnant Adela. And it was unoccupied, as I hoped it would be, for even in daylight the cave was well concealed from the road behind a tangle of tall trees. In the dark it was impossible to see, unless you knew where to look for it, and it had even taken me a while to find it again.
The walls of the cave were smooth with long horizontal ridges as if a giant potter had run his fingertips along wet clay, and the floor sloped down towards the mouth, so that it was dry inside all year round. Years ago, a herdsman or hermit had built a low wall of rough stone across part of the entrance and over time dry vegetation and twigs had accumulated behind it, which provided good kindling for our fire. We soon had a fine blaze started and, within thewall's shelter, the fire burned true, with only the occasional plume of smoke billowing back into the cave.
We'd each thrown what we had into the pot – beans, onions, herbs and a few strips of salted pork – to make a pottage. It was hot and filling and a deal better than you'd find in any of the inns in those parts. With our bellies full and limbs at last warming up, we were all beginning to relax.
I set stones to heat on the edge of the fire. Hot stones wrapped in a bit of sacking make good comforters for the feet in the chill hours of the night. It was a trick I learned years ago and I guessed Adela would be glad of a little comfort later. Something told me that our pair of turtle doves were not accustomed to spending a night in a cave.
They say like seeks like and if that is true, then these two were made for each other. They were both blond with wide Saxon faces and eyes as blue and bright as speedwell flowers. Osmond was a broad, stocky lad, well fleshed, with a smooth, clear complexion that many a girl would envy. Adela too had the big bones of her Saxon ancestry, but unlike Osmond she was thin, her cheeks stood out sharply as if she had lately gone hungry for many weeks and there were dark circles around her eyes. Some women suffer such sickness through their early months of pregnancy that they can scarcely keep a morsel down, but if that was the cause of her emaciation, she had plainly recovered from it, for there was little wrong with her appetite that night.
She recovered a little after her meal and lay propped against some of the packs, resting, while Osmond fussed round her checking that she was warm enough, not tired, not in pain, not hungry, not thirsty, until even she laughingly begged him to rest. But that he could not do, and asked meagain, though he had already done so a dozen times, if I thought there really were cut-throats or robbers living in this gorge.
That question hung heavy in Zophiel's mind also. We'd been forced to leave his wagon and horse at the base of the cliff and though we had covered the wagon well with branches and tethered his horse in the thick shrubbery where it could not be seen from the road, Zophiel would not rest until he had unloaded his boxes and stored them in the cave behind us. No one dared to enquire what the boxes contained; he was suspicious enough of us already, but whatever it was, it did not appear to be food, for although he contributed a generous quantity of dried beans to the pottage, he had to return to the wagon for them.
Jofre
4. Adela and Osmond
And so it was that the six of us found ourselves spending a night together, huddled round a fire in a cave listening to the river roaring over the boulders of its bed and the rain plashing down on the leaves of the trees. The cave was broad but low and shallow, like a fool's grin carved on the face of the rock. It was positioned about five or six feet up the cliff on the side of the gorge, but there were enough fallen boulders and ledges at the base to make it a comparatively easy climb even for me and the pregnant Adela. And it was unoccupied, as I hoped it would be, for even in daylight the cave was well concealed from the road behind a tangle of tall trees. In the dark it was impossible to see, unless you knew where to look for it, and it had even taken me a while to find it again.
The walls of the cave were smooth with long horizontal ridges as if a giant potter had run his fingertips along wet clay, and the floor sloped down towards the mouth, so that it was dry inside all year round. Years ago, a herdsman or hermit had built a low wall of rough stone across part of the entrance and over time dry vegetation and twigs had accumulated behind it, which provided good kindling for our fire. We soon had a fine blaze started and, within thewall's shelter, the fire burned true, with only the occasional plume of smoke billowing back into the cave.
We'd each thrown what we had into the pot – beans, onions, herbs and a few strips of salted pork – to make a pottage. It was hot and filling and a deal better than you'd find in any of the inns in those parts. With our bellies full and limbs at last warming up, we were all beginning to relax.
I set stones to heat on the edge of the fire. Hot stones wrapped in a bit of sacking make good comforters for the feet in the chill hours of the night. It was a trick I learned years ago and I guessed Adela would be glad of a little comfort later. Something told me that our pair of turtle doves were not accustomed to spending a night in a cave.
They say like seeks like and if that is true, then these two were made for each other. They were both blond with wide Saxon faces and eyes as blue and bright as speedwell flowers. Osmond was a broad, stocky lad, well fleshed, with a smooth, clear complexion that many a girl would envy. Adela too had the big bones of her Saxon ancestry, but unlike Osmond she was thin, her cheeks stood out sharply as if she had lately gone hungry for many weeks and there were dark circles around her eyes. Some women suffer such sickness through their early months of pregnancy that they can scarcely keep a morsel down, but if that was the cause of her emaciation, she had plainly recovered from it, for there was little wrong with her appetite that night.
She recovered a little after her meal and lay propped against some of the packs, resting, while Osmond fussed round her checking that she was warm enough, not tired, not in pain, not hungry, not thirsty, until even she laughingly begged him to rest. But that he could not do, and asked meagain, though he had already done so a dozen times, if I thought there really were cut-throats or robbers living in this gorge.
That question hung heavy in Zophiel's mind also. We'd been forced to leave his wagon and horse at the base of the cliff and though we had covered the wagon well with branches and tethered his horse in the thick shrubbery where it could not be seen from the road, Zophiel would not rest until he had unloaded his boxes and stored them in the cave behind us. No one dared to enquire what the boxes contained; he was suspicious enough of us already, but whatever it was, it did not appear to be food, for although he contributed a generous quantity of dried beans to the pottage, he had to return to the wagon for them.
Jofre
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