Page 18 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

Now he was with her, alone, and his time was passing quickly, like water leaking from the jar of a water clock. He felt each droplet was a lost moment.

"This is rather nice," she said with a sigh. "Look at all those stars." She sounded surprised and pleased. "I don't think I've ever seen the sky like this. It's as if above us is a canopy full of stars." She paused. "So very interesting . . ."

"What is so interesting?"

"Somehow seeing the sky like this makes the night less dark and frightening."

He stared up at the night sky, wondering how someone could think it frightening. The lack of sunlight gave him a sense of privacy. The air was still. Cold. And it was quiet. To him there was a strange power in the darkness of the night. A peace. Battles were not fought at night.

"Do you think the tales are true?"

"What tales?"

"That all the stars are angels."

He looked at the sky and wondered at such fanciful nonsense. "Men use the stars to guide them home," he said quietly.

"Did you?"

"Aye. I sailed home on a ship. A ship's crew uses the stars to keep on course."

"I didn't know that."

"See that bright star directly above us? That's what is called a mariner's star."

"It's very beautiful." She paused. "What is it like to sail on a ship?"

He turned, frowning.

She must have read his puzzlement because she added, "I mean, how does it feel?"

He stared at the night sky and wondered when he had stopped noticing things—the vast numbers of stars, the sweet taste of a honeyed fig, the feel of the sea. He sat up a little and rested his head on his hand while he looked down at her.

Her hands were folded prayerlike beneath the pillow and she just lay there, calmly, looking at him with expectant eagerness.

"The sea is unpredictable. There are times when a ship can glide smoothly over the water, and other times where the sea can pound so much water into the ship that one is certain it will sink at any moment." He paused thoughtfully. "I suppose sailing is like war in a way, a battle of the elements—wind and weather and the massive seas—things, powerful things, that one cannot control."

She was quiet, then she cocked her head. "I think perhaps I'd be frightened to death. Yet I can hear in your voice that you find pleasure in danger, don't you?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable at speaking so plainly of his thoughts, but he fought to keep his expression impassive. ‘Tis a challenge."

She said nothing, just wiggled under her covers. He wished she would go to sleep. Then he could watch her freely, watch her sleep. Her scent drifted to him in the midsummer air, making him aware of her in ways he'd just as soon forget. He took a deep breath and found her scent as soul cleansing as fresh sea air. He stared up into the night sky, before he took one last look at her.

She was watching him.

He would kiss her, at any moment. He knew he would. He started to move toward her.

"William?" She spoke his name gently, as if it were natural to her.

He froze.

"Thank you," she whispered sleepily, and closed her eyes.

6

Humming a bright tune, Linnet wormed her way through some bushes, Quintus, Neot, and Vitus following behind while Swithun tugged on her hem. There was a small copse of gooseberry bushes here somewhere, she thought. She had spotted the bushes while trying to walk out the stiffness from being too long atop a horse.

They had traveled for most of the next day, until William had finally stopped to rest at a river bend where marsh marigolds bloomed brightly, and the trees and bushes were thick, lush, and flanked by a meadow filled with buttercups.