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〃But Simon！ What did you do？〃
〃Well； running downhill in front of a bull seemed fairly stupid； so I dropped the flowers and climbed the first good…sized tree that I reached。 He stopped at the bottom…I got my feet up out of the way Just as he got there…then all of a sudden he lowered his head； and。。。 thump！〃 Simon brought his fist into his open palm； 〃he smacked up against the trunk。 The whole tree shook and it almost knocked me off the branch I was hanging on； until I got my legs wrapped around good and tight。 I pulled myself up until I was sitting on the branch； which was a good thing； because this idiot bull began butting his head against the tree； over and over until the skin began to peel off his head and there was blood running down his face。〃
〃That's terrible。 He must have been mad； poor animal。〃
〃Poor animal！ 1 like that！〃 Simon's voice rose in mock despair。 〃He tries to kill your special protector and all you can say about him is 'poor animal。 〃
Miriamele smiled。 〃I'm glad he didn't kill you。 What happened？〃
〃Oh； he got tired at last and went away；〃 Simon said airily。 〃Walked on down the dell； so that he wasn't between me and the fence anymore。 Still； as I was running up the slope； I kept thinking I heard him ing up behind me。〃
〃Well； you had a close call。〃 Unable to help herself； Miriamele yawned； Simon made a face。 〃But I'm glad you didn't slay the monster；〃 she continued； 〃even if you are a knight。 He can't help being mad。〃
〃Slay the monster？ What； with my bare hands？〃 Simon laughed； but sounded pleased。 〃But maybe killing him would have been the kindest thing to do。 He certainly seemed past saving。 That's probably why whoever lived there left him behind。〃
〃Or he may have gone mad because they left him behind；〃 Miriamele said slowly。 She looked at Simon and saw that he had heard something odd in her voice。 〃I'm tired； now。 Thank you for the bread。〃
〃There's one thing more。〃 He reached into his cloak and produced a small green apple。 〃The only one within walking distance。〃
Miriamele stared at it suspiciously for a moment； then sniffed it before taking a tentative bite。 It was not sweet； but its tartness was very pleasant。 She ate half； then handed the rest to Simon。
〃It was good；〃 she said。 〃Very good。 But I still can't eat much。〃
Simon happily crunched up the rest。 Miriamele found the hollow she had made for herself in the straw and stretched out。 〃I'm going to sleep a little more； Simon。〃
He nodded。 He was looking at her so carefully； so thoroughly； that Miriamele had to turn away and pull her cloak up over her face。 She was not strong enough to support such attention； not just now。
She awakened late in the afternoon。 Something was making a strange noise…thump and swish； thump and swish。 A little frightened and still very weak； Miriamele lay unmoving and tried to decide whether it might be someone looking for them； or Simon's bull； or something entirely different and possibly worse。 At last she nerved herself and crawled silently across the loft； trying not to make any noise as she moved over the thin carpet of straw。 When she reached the edge； she peered over。
Simon was on the ground floor of the barn practicing his sword strokes。 Despite the coolness of the day； he had taken off his shirt； sweat gleamed on his pale skin。 She watched him as he measured a distance before him； then lifted his sword with both hands； holding it perpendicular to the floor before gradually lowering its point。 His freckled shoulders tensed。 Thump…he took a step forward。 Thump； thump…he pivoted to the side； moving around the almost stationary sword as though he held someone else's blade trapped against it。 His face was earnest as a child's； and the tip of his tongue protruded pinkly from his mouth as he gripped it between his teeth in solemn concentration。 Miriamele suppressed a giggle； but she could not help noticing how his skin slid over his lean muscles； how the fanlike shapes of his shoulder blades and the knobs of his backbone pushed against the milky skin。 He stopped； the sword again held motionless before him。 A drop of sweat slid from his nose and disappeared into his reddish beard。 She suddenly wanted very much for him to hold her again； but despite her desire； the thought of it made her stomach clench in pain。 There was so much that he did not know。
She pushed herself back from the edge of the loft as quietly as she could； retreating to her hollow in the straw。 She tried to fall into sleep once more； but could not。 For a long time she lay on her back； staring up at the shadows between the rafters as she listened to the tread of his feet； the hiss of the blade sliding through the air； and the muffled percussion of his breath。
Just before sunset Simon went down to look at the house again。 He came back and reported that it was indeed empty； although he had seen what looked like fresh bootprints in the mud。 But there was no other sign of anyone about； and Simon decided that the tracks most likely belonged to another harmless wanderer like the old drunkard Heanwig； so they gathered up their belongings and moved down。 At first Miriamele was so light…headed that she had to lean on Simon to keep from falling； but after a few dozen steps she felt strong enough to walk unaided； although she was careful to keep a good grip on his arm。 He went very slowly； showing her where the track was slippery with mud。
The cottage appeared to have been deserted for some time； and there were； as Simon had pointed out； some holes in the thatching； but the barn had been even draftier； and the cottage at least had a fireplace。 As Simon carried in some split timbers he had found stacked against the wall outside and struggled to get a fire started； Miriamele huddled in her cloak and looked around at their home for the night。
Whoever had lived here had left few reminders of their residence； so she guessed that the circumstances which had driven the owners away had not e on suddenly。 The only piece of furniture that remained was a stool with a splintered leg squatting off…kilter beside the hearth。 A single bowl lay shattered on the stone beside it； every piece still in the spot where it had tumbled to a halt； as if the bowl had fallen only moments before。 The hard clay of the floor was covered with rushes which had gone damp and brown。 The only signs of recent life in the room were the innumerable cobwebs hanging in the thatches or stretching in the corners； but even these looked threadbare and forlorn； as if it had not been a good season even for spiders。
〃There。〃 Simon stood up。 〃That's got it。 I'm going to fetch down the horses。〃
While he was gone； Miriamele sat before the fire and hunted through the saddlebags for food。 For the first time in two days； she was hungry。 She wished the house's owners had left their stew pot…the hook hung naked over the growing fire…but since it was gone she would make do with what she had。 She pushed a couple of stones into the fire to heat； then rooted out the few remaining carrots and an onion。 When the stones were hot enough； she would make some soup。
Miriamele scanned the ceiling critically； then unrolled her bedroll in a spot that looked like it was far enough from the nearest hole to stay dry in case the rains returned。 After a moment's thought she unrolled Simon's nearby。 She left what she considered to be a safe distance between them； but his bedroll was still closer than she would have preferred had there not been a leaky roof to deal with。 When all was arranged； she found her knife in the saddlebag and got to work on the vegetables。
〃It's blowing hard now；〃 Simon said as he came back in。 His hair was disarranged； standing out in strange tufts； but his cheeks were red and his smile was wide。 〃It will be a good night to be near a fire。〃
〃I'm glad we moved down here；〃 she said。 〃I feel much better tonight。 I think I'll be able to ride tomorrow。〃
〃If you're ready。〃 As he walked past her to the fireplace； he put his hand on her shoulder for a moment； then trailed it gently across her hair。 Miriamele said nothing； but went on chopping the carrots into a clay bowl。
The meal had not been anything either of them would remember fondly； but Miriamele felt better for having something hot in her stomach。 When she had rinsed the bowls and scoured them with a dry twig； she put them away； then crawled onto her bedroll。 Simon fussed with the fire for a bit； then laid himself down as well。 They spent a silent interval staring at the flames。
〃There was a fireplace m my bedroom at Meremund；〃 Miriamele said quietly。 〃I used to watch the flames dancing at night when I couldn't sleep。 I saw pictures in them。 When I was very little； I thought I saw the face of Usires smiling at me once。〃
〃Mmmm；〃 Simon said。 Then； 〃You had your own room to sleep in？〃
〃I was the only child of the prince and heir；〃 she said a little crisply。 〃It is not unheard of。〃
Simon snorted。 〃It's unheard of by me。 I slept with a dozen other scullions。 One of them； Fat Zebediah； used to snore like a cooper cutting slats with a handsaw。〃
Miriamele giggled。 〃Later on； in the last twelvemonth when I lived in the Hayholt； Leieth used to sleep in my room。 That was nice。 But when I was in Meremund； I slept by myself； with a maid just on the other side of the door。〃
〃That sounds 。。。 lonely。〃
〃I don't know。 I suppose it was。〃 She sighed and laughed at the same time； a funny noise that made Simon lift his head beside her。 〃Once I was having trouble sleeping； so I went in to my father's room。 I told him that there was a cockindrill under my bed； so that he would let me sleep with him。 But that was after my mother died； so he only gave me one of his dogs to take back with me。 'He's a cockindrill…hound； Miri；' he said to me。 'By my faith； he is。 He'll keep you safe。' He was always a bad liar。 The dog just lay by the door and whimpered until I finally let him out again。〃
Simon waited for a while before speaking。 The flames made jigging shadows in the thatching overhead。 〃How did your mother die？〃 he asked at last。 〃No one ever told me。〃
〃She was shot by an arrow。〃 Miriamele still hurt when she thought of it； but not as badly as she once had。 〃Uncle Josua was taking her to my father； who was fighting for Grandfather John along the edge of the Meadow Thrithing during the uprising there。 Josua's troop was surprised in broad daylight by a much larger force of Thrithings…men。 He lost his hand defending her； and did succeed in winning free； but she was struck down by a stray arrow。 She was dead before sunset。〃
〃I'm sorry； Miriamele。〃
She shrugged； even though he could not see her。 〃It was long ago。 But losing her gave my father even more misery than it gave me。 He loved her so much！ Oh； Simon； you only know what my father has bee； but he was a good man once。 He loved my mother more than he loved anything else in the world。〃
And thinking other father's gray； grief…stricken face； of the pall of anger that had descended on him and never lifted； she began to cry。
〃And that's why I have to see him；〃 she said finally； her voice unsteady。 〃That's why。〃
Simon rustled atop his bedroll。 〃What？ What do you mean？ See who？〃
Miriamele took a deep breath。 〃My father； of course。 That's why we're going to the Hayholt。 Because I have to speak to my father。〃
〃What nonsense are you talking？〃 Simon sat up。 〃We're going to the Hayholt to get your grandfather's sword； Bright…Nail。〃
〃I never said that。 You did。〃 Despite the tears； she felt herself grow angry。
〃I don't understand you； Miriamele。 We are at war with your father。 Are you going to go see him and tell him there's a cockindrill under your bed again？ What are you saying？〃
〃Don't be cruel； Simon。 Don't you dare。〃 She could feel the tears threatening to bee a torrent； but a small ember of fury was burning inside her as well。
〃I'm sorry；〃 he said； 〃but I just don't understand。〃
Miriamele pressed her hands together as tightly as she could； and concentrated on that until she felt herself in control again。 〃And I have not explained to you； Simon。 I'm sorry； too。〃