Zach was already seated beneath the weeper by the time she arrived. He was skipping rocks atop the pond, whistling and smiling as the wind cut through the trees, cold as icicles. Jael bit her lip and dismounted, watched him watching her while she tied her horse to some low-hanging branches. He looked younger than twenty-four, she thought. His bare chin and small eyes were too innocent.
“That Gavin sure likes to keep you,” he called.
Leonhardt felt as though she’d swallowed her tongue as she crossed the grass and sat beneath the weeping tree. She wanted anything save for a sad farewell, yet sitting next to him, it was all that seemed possible.
“What’s wrong?” asked Zach. He laid an arm around her shoulders. “Did someone say something hurtful at church?”
“No,” Leonhardt managed. She struggled to find the words and put them in order, so much a maelstrom were her head and heart. “We had a special guest at the chapel today. A bishop from Pareo—you wouldn’t believe me if I told you who it was. He asked some of us go with him back to the capital.”
“You mean to say he asked you?”
She couldn’t hiding anything from the goatherd. “He said I might be allowed to join the Cross.”
Zach chuckled, said to stop teasing him.
Jael looked him in his squinty brown eyes. “I’m serious.”
There was a pause as belief sunk in, then at once Zach jumped from the weeper’s roots. His cheeks were glowing; he didn’t understand the ramifications. “Swear to God, that ain’t no lie. The Cross, he said? Are you sure he’s got the authority? I thought you said that was impossible.”
“I’m sure,” Jael replied. “It was Saint Paul himself.
The goatherd slapped his leg. “Now you’re playing with me. The saint in Herbstfield? Good God, Jael, what are the chances? This is a miracle!… Why aren’t you smiling?”
“We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? And your father says you can go?”
“He doesn’t know yet. You’re the first one I’ve told.”
“Damn, the world moves fast. Tomorrow…then this will be the last time,” it finally dawned on him, but that was only part of Leonhardt’s guilt.
She’d told him her dream of being a knight at the very beginning, yet never did she reveal all that entailed. His only impression of knighthood came from farfetched tales of heroes slaying dragons and marrying princesses. But the Saint’s Cross and the Temple Guard—they were holy orders. Their oaths were those of poverty and chastity; their service was life-long. If Jael were ever to see her dream come true, it would spell the end of the two of them. She knew had to tell him, yet she couldn’t find it in her heart.
But just then, the glowing goatherd took Leonhardt by the hands and swept her from the roots. He pulled her up and into his chest said how happy he was for her. And he meant it, too. The Zach she knew couldn’t lie to save his life, nor could he hide his sorrow as he said, “this is the last time.”
“Yeah,” Jael replied, fighting inside to say what she meant. You have to tell him. Instead, she did something she’d been wanting to do but could never work up the courage. She kissed him—her first real kiss; and when he kissed back, a warm buzz washed over her like a pair of thrumming wings. A quarter minute passed before they separated. Jael felt light headed; she been holding her breath.
“That was a cruel thing, you did.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “this is the last time, so I—”
Zach stepped back, looked west and into the forest, asked, “How long will I have to wait before I get another? Pa’s service was ten years before bought the farm.”
He doesn’t understand. You have to tell him! But she couldn’t bear it. “As long as it takes to earn my knighthood. It’s different for everyone.”
“On your own time, then. I swear, you women are like the weather, hard to plan around and always doing something unexpected.” He smiled, hoping the joke might evoke a laugh, yet all it did was stoke the voice inside her head.
Tell him!
“Jael,” Zach continued, serious now, “I want to make you a promise, and you’re going to make me one too. I swear from this day onwards, my heart will be for you and nobody else, and that when you come back to me, I’ll have that little plot of land ready for the two of us. I promise, Jael. Now promise me that you’ll come back one day, and that when you do it will be the two of us together.”
“I promise,” said Leonhardt, hating herself for it.
†
Troy’s hooves hammered the hills harder than ever before. Still, Jael spurred him on, desperate for the pounding to stamp out her guilt. It did not, nor could the cool winds burn away her tears, yet at least they reddened her cheeks enough to hide that she been crying. Telling her father would be tough as it was. She didn’t need another inquisition. Though maybe Dahilla will be happy for once. The thought brought her no peace. Gritting her teeth for what was to come, Jael cut out of the forest and back on the road just out of sight of the Leonhardt farm.
Home: twenty-some acres of golden-brown and green surrounding a house, a little barn, and a meager stable. The road wound around it all and branched toward the front of the house—a minute’s travel at an amble, and foreign ground to Leonhardt. Her path had always been straight as an arrow, darting between rows of barley and whatever else she and her father could grow. Often she’d come home from a sermon to find him with a barrow of radishes or cabbages or turnips. Though not this day. It
