“What is that wooden necklace on you?” Thomas asked curiously. “You keep touching it, as if afraid to get it filched.”
“My charms are not a necklace,” the wonderer said without turning his head.
“Charms? Do you charm with them?”
“Through them, I hear gods give advice.”
Thomas laughed. “And I hear none!”
“Really? I hear a gang of brigands dividing their loot in that grove. And farther across the forest, there’s a village where we’ll find a shelter for night.”
Thomas gave him a skeptical look. “The village… you may have been there before. But the brigands… Well, let’s chop them up like cabbages!”
The wonderer winced, replied with disgust, “Can’t do without fight? We’ll better round them.”
He turned onto a side path to a grove. Thomas followed reluctantly. His stallion tossed his head up, snorted in excitement. Thomas shared his delight when he heard a small stream tinkling ahead. They broke through thick shrubs and saw a spring — a small lake, not larger than a knight’s shield, surrounded by fresh, sappy green grass. A spurt of water was rising in the middle of the sandy bottom. The grits of sand whirled, spun round and sunk, forming a smooth round rampart that could belong to a tiny castle.
The wonderer unsaddled the horses and started gathering brushwood. Thomas considered skinning a hare to be a more noble affair than that, so he skinned it deftly, disemboweled and cleaned. “The arrow pierced the heart through! I admire you, sir wonderer! To hit a hare running across our way at forty steps, at full tilt!”
“We rode slowly,” Oleg reminded, frowning.
He struck fire, blew the spark up on the dry moss. Reddish flames started licking honey-yellow twigs timidly, then grew braver, gnawed deeper into twigs that crunched like sweet bones in a dog’s strong teeth, sparks flying up. While Thomas fussed around the fire, choosing a place to fry the slices of meat, Oleg took a small camp bowl out of the bag silently and filled it with water. “Holy father!” Thomas exclaimed in amazement. “You’ve thought about everything!” He sliced the liver, stuck it on some thin barked twigs, fried it over the coals diligently, while the meat was boiled in the bowl. The wonderer had added some herbs to the stew, their aromas drifted over the tiny glade.
After the meal, they lay in a light shadow, watching the scorching sky through sparse branches. It was heated, with not a cloud.
The horses chewed grass nearby, nibbled the young sprouts of shrubs. Thomas put his hands behind his head, some pieces of his armor off, but his sword and shield close at hand. “What a wonderful world God created,” he said in quiet surprise. “Once I told Saracens that in winter in our country water turns as hard as stone. They made a mockery of me. If I said that our rains last for weeks, that we curse rains and showers, they would not believe either. For them, each drop of water is worth its weight in gold, while we don’t know how to get rid of it! My Britain is all wild swampy woods.”
“Rus’ is the same,” Oleg agreed.
“It’s in Europe too? The forests here are puny bushes as against ours. In our country, one can live a life without seeing the sky! And here everything is seen through, no place to stay alone. In our land, getting to a neighbor town is a dangerous journey across bogs, wild woods, mess of wind-fallen trees and bogs again and swamps and marshes!”
Oleg sounded sad. “If one of our princes wants to war another, he has first of all to send scout parties ahead to know the way. After the winter, there are always new lakes, bogs, flooded areas. Then he has half of his army pave roads and clean the way. And if an appanage prince refuses to pay tax, what’s the way to force him? More trouble than it is worth! It’s easier to attack Tsargrad[7] than a neighbor entrenched in his bogs!”
“Is Rus’ all like that?” Thomas doubted. “What about centaurs?”
“They belong to Southern Rus’. Some call it Scythia,[8] in the old way . Everyone is a rider there. It’s a space. No sky
“God said: no Gentile or Jew! If to think it over, we’re all the same nation, though we speak different tongues. The God’s decree is to become a single nation again!”
Oleg gave him a surprised look. His soft voice had a mock hidden deep in it. “A single nation bowing to your only god? What about those who won’t like it?”
Thomas punched the hot ground with his huge fist. “We’ll force them. It is what God inspired the Great Crusade for — to turn Pagans into the true faith!”
Oleg tossed as if he were lying on sharp stones. “The world is changing,” he said in a low voice. “Indeed it is. Once men had been simply plundering. They did put it that blunt: we’re going to plunder Tsargrad, they said. To get our winter coats in Persia. Going to war to take slaves from our neighbor, take loot and burn what we can’t take… Now we make wars to bring civilization to faraway lands. Yes, we’re plundering still but silent about it, ashamed of it… The millstones of culture mill slowly but surely.”
Thomas sat up, feeling his beliefs insulted. “What do you mean, sir wonderer?” he asked with dignity.
Oleg sat up too, looked at the sun. “We must go. By evening we’ll be in the village I mentioned — and part there. Your way is to Britain, mine — to Rus’. Or rather you can have some more rest and I shall ride on.” He got up, dusted himself off, made a deafening whistle. His horse tossed his head up, broke through the bushes to him timidly. Oleg jumped into the saddle with no touch to stirrups. The horse squatted under his weight.
“Your bowl!” Thomas cried.
Oleg waved aside. “Take it. A useful thing for a journey.”
“And you?”
“I’m used to being content with little.” He started turning his horse.
“Wait, sir wonderer!” Thomas cried. “I take your kind offer to ride to the village together. Every road seems short when you have a companion.”
The wonderer’s face expressed no joy. Probably he would rather stay alone with his thoughts of the High, but Thomas hurried to pour the rest of the stew on the burning coals, shoved the bowl into the bag, struggled into his armor hastily, leaving two important clasps on his back undone.
He climbed into the saddle with an effort: a hundred and ninety pounds in him not to count the armor, but the destrier strolled on as he was used to, his huge steel horseshoes thumping on the ground.
They outrode some carts loaded with poor household chattels. Women and children sat there under awnings, while men drove the draft horses, so dry and slim-legged as if the violent heat had melted not only grease but also meat out of them. The men followed big Franks with unfriendly eyes but looked down when Thomas gave them a menacing once-over.
“Sir wonderer,” Thomas said suddenly. “We are both riding north from Jerusalem. We could travel together for much more than a day!”
The wonderer shook his head. “I’m not much a one for fighting.”
“At least we could ride side by side for a longer time! And if it comes to swords, I’ll cope myself.” He bit his tongue when he remembered that the wonderer had witnessed his last coping. He was the one to nurse Thomas back to health, curing him by herbs, dressing his wounds.
“No,” the wonderer said firmly. Thomas realized nothing was to change his mind. “I am another sort of man. Your road is different, as your life is. Besides, you are secretive. I feel a strange thing about you. A very strange thing. And a danger I can’t fathom.”
“Danger?” Thomas repeated in perplexity. “Which one? Life is full of dangers. Especially a knight’s life.”
For a moment, the wonderer rode silent. The knight fidgeted impatiently, waiting for his answer. “Other danger,” Oleg said reluctantly. “Somehow related to the cup. But how? I don’t get it.”
“Your charms told you that?” Thomas whispered in a superstitious fear.
“So they did.”
Thomas crossed himself, spat over his left shoulder and cast a cautious glance around. They were riding through a deserted place. “Our Lady, preserve and protect!.. If you think bad of me, sir wonderer, it’s all my fault. You saved me twice and I mistrusted you… Sir wonderer. The cup I bear is really more than a cup!” He fell silent. Oleg rode by his side, still, stalwart, and frowning as he looked at the way ahead. “Sir wonderer, have you heard
