Hunting of the Last Dragon by Sherryl Jordan Page B

met a soul so tender, so full of loving gratitude for everyday, so near to joy. He healed in time, though his skin remained scarred, even on his face, and one eye would never wholly open, nor close. He never went back to his lord, or to his lands. He stayed with me, and we loved. Then one day he sickened, and there were red lumps upon him, in his armpits and groin, and in his neck. By that night he was dead, and my heart’s joy with him. I buried him under the apple tree, and every spring I gather the blossoms as they fall, and put them upon my bed, and sleep touched by his transfigured skin.”
    I thought the story morbid, and was glad the blossoming was done, and hoped there were no withered petals left where I lay at night. When I looked at Lizzie her face was wet with tears. She got up, spilling the cats into the sun on the step, limped over to Lan, and put her arms about her. They were like grandmother and grandchild, kinswomen, close and alike in soul. Seeing them together made me ache for my own kin, and I got up and hobbled outside. Afore I knew it, I was crying as well. I knew not why; but loneliness went through me like a sword, and with all my being I longed for kin to put their arms about me. And I was guilty. God’s soul, I was guilty! Guilty for the way I had spoken to little Addy that last night, and refused to take her to Rokeby with me, thereby causing her death. Guilty because I had survived, when I shouldhave died with them. Guilty because the thing that slew them still roamed free, and I did nothing about it. And so I bowed over in the grass and sobbed, stricken with remorse and pain, and not knowing how I could live.
    After a time my grief was spent, and I pulled up handfuls of grass and wiped my face and nose, and tried to gather up my fortitude. I realised, of a sudden, that Lizzie was sitting on one side of me, and Lan on the other.
    â€œLord, I’m a fool!” I said.
    â€œNo fool around here,” said Lan. “Just a boy a-sorrowing. My Ambrose, he could weep like that, too, and he did, oft times, for all his manliness. I knew he had left behind more than his lord and lands; that he had left a wife and children. He never spoke of them, but when they were in his heart there was fear, too, and he used to rub the scars upon his face, and weep. It was an unnecessary fear, for of all God’s creatures he was the most beautiful.”
    â€œWould his wife have loved him, if he had gone back?” asked Lizzie.
    â€œI never asked the fates,” said Lan. “I took what they gave me, and was grateful. But I saw how his spirit was troubled because of what he had abandoned—not only his obligations as husband and father, but also his duty as a knight. And I knew that,no matter how great our joy together, he would never know true peace.”
    Then they both got up and went inside, for it was sunset, and supper was almost done.
    And our supper must be near ready, Brother. I’ll stop here, and take Jing-wei for a walk in the orchard, since the sun is out just now. Doubtless you’d like some spare time yourself, maybe to visit old Father Matthew. Jing-wei said he has taken a turn for the worse, and is dying now. I’m sorry; I know he was the abbot here before his wits left him, and that you’re all passing fond of him. Jing-wei says he is never alone, and one of the brothers sits with him every moment, to keep him loving company on his last journey.
    Well, I’ll see you at supper. It’ll be Brother Tom’s bean soup again, no doubt—God have mercy on us all!

ten
    Sorry I’m a little late, Brother; I’ve been in the orchard again, helping bring in the apples, and storing them on their racks in the huge pantry. I worked with Brother Tobit, and he kept me well entertained with his tales and bawdy jokes. I love his wit: I notice he’s the jester in the common room in the evenings, when you’re all allowed to relax and talk, afore