“Pain wearies the heart,” she said.
“You shall ride the horse and I will carry the baggage.”
“No, but you shall not.”
“We will see,” he answered her.
It was Martin who served. He unbuckled the horse’s bridle and made a tether of it, so that the beast could feed. Then he unloaded the baggage, opened one of the sacks, and took out bread, meat, and some wine. Mellis had thrown herself down under a beech tree where the moss was like a green carpet, and Martin served her with wine and bread.
Her eyes met his with a new softness. Something had happened to Martin Valliant; he was a changed man. He offered her a new calm strength upon which she could lean, and in her loneliness her heart thanked him. She wanted to rest, to close her eyes for a moment, to let the burden of her fate lie for a moment on a man’s shoulders.
He watched her eat, and forgot that he was hungry. She had to chide him.
“No man is strong enough to go hungry. And there is much work to be done.”
They sat and looked at the river flowing in the valley at their feet. Martin’s memories of yesterday were growing sacred; he hoarded them in his heart.
“Yonder is the ford.”