in spite of himself, Raffe felt drawn to this man.
'Now, what do you say, lad? Shall you stay here and be the whipping boy of your family for the rest of your life or do you ride with me and make men respect you for your courage and your fists? Oh, you'll hear jokes aplenty at your expense wherever you go. I'm not pretending you won't. Those men riding with me will torment you till you're ready to crack their skulls open, but if you hit harder, ride longer, and fight with more courage than any of them, those knights will come to call you brother and run any man through with their swords if they hear him say one mocking word about you.'
And Raffe had needed no other words to persuade him.
The two of them had stayed sitting side by side under the vast arch of stars. Gerard talked of the manor of Gastmere and his own beloved parents. His father had left him in charge when he rode off to the Holy Wars with King Richard. Gerard had been desperate to ride with his father, but his father would not hear of it. It was his duty to stay and look after his mother and the manor.
Besides, as his father confided when they were alone, 'I would not have your poor mother lose a son and husband in the same battle, if it should come to it, and it likely would, for I should be so distracted by marking your progress in the fight, I would surely fail to protect myself.'
'So why do you ride to the Holy Land now?' Raffe asked. 'Your mother, is she dead?'
Gerard shook his head, then hesitated. 'There is a woman in our village. I was . . . fond of her once. She has a gift of second sight. She told me that my father would soon find himself in mortal danger. His thoughts would turn to me and he would desperately need my help.'
You trust this woman?' Raffe asked him.
Gerard stared up at the bright stars for a long time without answering. 'Did you know that men call the stars by different names? Some look at the same sky, but see quite different shapes and creatures in it? I thought once that the names I knew were the true names of the stars, but if all men have different names for the same objects, how shall we know which of them is their real name? Do you suppose the stars have names that only they know?'
He turned and fiercely grasped Raffe's arm. 'My father needs me and I have to go to him. I could never forgive myself if I discovered that I might have saved him, but I did not. If there is any chance I can help him, I must do it, do you see?'
Raffe nodded, but in truth he didn't see at all. At seventeen he could not imagine feeling such love or loyalty for any man, certainly not for his own father. But now, after all these years, he finally understood what a man will do for love.
In the end, it had all been in vain. Gerard had arrived at Acre too late to save his father, but that night, that gloriously starry night, it seemed impossible to those two young men that they could ever fail. He and Gerard had sat together under the olive trees. The darkness throbbed with the rasping of the cicadas. The warm air rose from the earth around them, anointing them with scented oils of wild thyme and summer. And all the while they sat there, they talked and talked of nothing and everything, till weariness overcame them and they slept like infants cradled upon the moon-washed earth.
The Crusaders left the next morning, Raffe riding upon a mule until a better mount could be bought for him. Raffe's father had managed, if not exactly a blessing, at least a mumbled, Take care of yourself, bay. Raffe had not looked back as they trotted away; there would be nothing to see. His mother was already inside her house, trying to repair the devastation the unruly knights had brought to her home. When she and Raffe had said their curt goodbyes to each other, her eyes had been as dry and lifeless as the sun-scorched grass. She had finished weeping over the chickens. They were just bones in her stock pot now. What was the point of any more tears?