He was still insanely furious, though, and he would never forget this insult. "We must be guided by the counsel of the holy scholar in matters of righteousness. The woman will remain behind, though. She has forfeited any claim on us."
Eulalia cried out and threw herself on her knees. "Senores! Senoras! You will not abandon me!"
Hamish opened his mouth—
"No!" Toby barked. "You owe her nothing. She didn't tell you her lies earlier, did she? She came to distract you when you were on guard. She was in on the plot, Hamish. She set you up so Rafael could cosh you."
Hamish groaned and buried his face in his arms.
"Senoras!" the don proclaimed. "Take this harlot over there and strip her. Find out what—"
Instantly Eulalia was gone through the trees, arms and legs flying. Only Toby or the don could run her down and catch her, but that would be beneath the don's dignity, and Toby was glad to see the last of her.
Pepita moved over to Hamish and clasped his head between her hands. "Let me try to ease your pain, senor." Everyone else was suddenly made uneasy by this suggestion of gramarye.
"Prepare to move out, Campeador!" The don spun on his heel and stalked away. The others dispersed, and Toby began to consider the problem of catching the remaining horses, because the deserters had removed their hobbles to delay pursuit. Fortunately Smeòrach would usually come to his whistle.
Montserrat lay somewhere in these forbidding hills. This was the last day.
CHAPTER THREE
The last day was likely to be the worst. At times Toby could barely see two horses ahead of him, either because the trail was winding through forest or because the fog had closed in like gray bed curtains—and frequently both. The rain varied from annoying to drenching. Once in a while terrain and weather would open up to reveal a breathtaking, unreal landscape, towering almost vertically overhead in bright green slopes and spectacular beetling cliffs whose tops were lost in cloud. It was perfect ambush country.
Father Guillem insisted that there was only one road up this valley and hence no chance of getting lost, but Toby was far less worried about losing his way than he was about the reports of bandits molesting travelers. To send scouts out ahead would be useless in these conditions, even if he had any to send.
One way or another, the pilgrimage was ending. If he could deliver his charges safely to Montserrat, then Pepita, Gracia, and Father Guillem would remain at the monastery, while the others would resume their journey to Barcelona in a day or two. Toby himself would carry on alone, toward France, but here he was very close to Baron Oreste, who must be hunting for him with gramarye.
All day the don rode a few lengths ahead, bearing his lance and shield ready for use. Toby mostly stayed at the rear with the rest of the men, but from time to time he would ride along the line, trying to raise people's spirits. It was hard to keep up a cheerful front in such weather. When he asked Senora Collel to take a turn at leading the packhorses, she refused vehemently.
"I did not entrust myself to the don's protection," she snapped, "in order to serve as a mule skinner. Furthermore, I contracted to be escorted directly to Barcelona, not dragged up into these wild hills."
She was probably looking for an excuse to refuse further payment, and she was undoubtedly annoyed at no longer having a servant to nag and bully. But she had not mentioned hiring Toby as her resident Pretty Boy since she learned he was possessed, and that was an improvement.
Even the normally sparkly Pepita seemed glum, although that was partly because she still mourned Brother Bernat. She perched on her horse like a sodden bundle of laundry, her tiny, pinched face peering out from a cocoon comprised of every spare garment the pilgrims possessed. "You are my friend. I do not want you to go away and leave me."
"I do not want to leave you either, Senorita Pepita. I have enjoyed traveling with you, but life is full of sorrows, and parting from friends is one of them."
"You sound just like Brother Bernat! Why cannot I teach my spirit friend about happiness, instead of just about sorrow?"
"You have taught it about friendship by being my friend. Friendship is a great happiness, perhaps the very best of all."
"I shall not forget Brother Bernat, because he was my friend, and I shall not forget you."
"And I shall always remember you. You have taught me many things about carrying the burden of a spirit."
She wagged a minute finger at him. "You must not let it throw thunderbolts at people again! That was a bad thing you let it do."
"No, I never shall. I promise." He would at least try.
Even Doña Francisca was not quite her usual indomitable self. "I will pray to Montserrat for you, Senor Toby. I am very grateful for all your help. We should not be here now had it not been for you."
"Oh, that isn't true. In fact, I put you all in danger. You would have done better without me. Your son would have managed perfectly well."
She smiled disbelievingly. "I only wish we had money to reward you, for you have served us all loyally without a hope of—"
"I wish you had money, too, senora, for then I could refuse it. Journeying with you has been its own reward."
Gracia was better company, foreseeing the end of her strange mission. Either she did not comprehend the pervasive danger, or she had faith in her voices.
"These mountains must be very splendid when the sun shines, must they not?"
"Indeed they must," Toby agreed. "Brother Bernat said that spirits choose beautiful places for their domains, so I suppose very great spirits should have very wonderful scenery."
"My sons will be happy here, and all those other wraiths also." Her hand closed around the bottle. She had not been parted from it since he rescued it from the Inquisition.
"I am sure Montserrat will cherish them. And what of yourself? You will enter the nunnery?"
She hesitated. "I swore I would not mention... But this is our farewell, yes? We shall never meet again, and I owe you so much that I cannot bear not to tell you... You will not betray my confidence, senor?"
"Of course not."
"Don Ramon and I are pledged to be married! He wishes his saintly mother to be first to hear the news, and she is presently at home, running his great estates, so we are to say nothing until he has a chance to write to her."
He looked down at the stars of happiness sparkling in Gracia's eyes and could say nothing except to offer his congratulations and best wishes. The don was a man of honor as he defined honor. Deceiving pretty girls did not count. It was a gentleman's privilege.
Jacques rode in silence, smiling blissfully at the fog, except when he was answering a question with a worried, "I don't know, senor." He claimed he could not remember how long he had lived at Montserrat, where he had come from before that, or even if he had ever been married. Once he burst into song and sang to himself a long romantic lament in French without ever hitting a wrong note or stumbling over the words; and another time, as Toby came by, he was shaving while still riding on his donkey. He did an excellent job, too, without a single nick. Toby was tempted to borrow the razor and try the same feat just to see if he could do it, but his courage failed him. Jacques was a total mystery.
Josep was so muffled under a sodden fur hat that little of his face was visible. He smiled with blue lips, though, and held out a purse. "Your fee, Campeador."
It clinked. It was weighty.
"Senor Brusi!" Toby protested, without even opening it. "This is too much! And the journey isn't over yet."
"Too much for my life? No, you have earned every blanca of it. I included an open letter to my agents in other cities. If you can find your way to any of them, they will give you employment."