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As I pulled on the Monk’s robe, I noted the protective runes that Elise had stitched into the hem, and that the rope for my waist had been rubbed with garlic. I pulled on the cruxifix, making sure that the suffering man would be looking out onto his world and not into my own Heathen heart. Elise handed me my traveling bag, well-stocked with bandages, ointment, and a begging bowl. I was ready to walk my path.
Charles stood, and held out his prayer book. "Could you keep this safe for me?"
I shrugged, then signed slowly for him, "You will be safer than I."
"Perhaps." He grinned, a big, boyish smile of innocence. "But you’ve always kept your word, Brother Gerard. If you promise to return it safely, you will."
A bit of Christian magic – though they claimed not to believe in it. I nodded to him, and put the book in my bag.
"You can’t take that!" Sharp snapped. I turned around, but he was speaking to Lord Reinard, who clutched a leather boot in his hand.
"I have to wear something!" my lord protested. "There’s a foot of snow on the ground!"
"Bards-in-training always go barefoot, whether they walk in snow or briars. If you are discouraged by the discomforts of the road, how can you live the rough life of a Bard? You must learn to rise above the sharp stones and bitter frost, and so prove yourself to the Gods!"
Exactly as Master Meiltung would have said it.
Lord Reinard crossed his arms. "I can’t do it."
Sharp leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees, and looked straight into my lord’s blue eyes. In the same even tone that Master Meiltung used, he said, "Do you want the Lady Laurice – and the Eastern Green Forest?"
It was Wallen who bit his lip and lowered his gaze. He let the boot fall to the floor.
"If it would help at all, my lord," Elise said sweetly, "I could wrap your feet in rags. There’s no leather at all in them, and they’ll give ye some protection."
Sharp nodded reluctantly. Wallen accepted the rags, covering his last shred of noble dignity.
