It had not been but 30 minutes, since they left the fire and ashen campground underneath the twisted trunks of the roadside olive tree. Now, their horses stammered side by side southward along the dirt road in the countryside. Their bellies full of oats and rounded as the legs of two men, in their long leather boots, flared outward from the saddles. Hedgerows to their right and left surrounded them in the plots of fields on both sides of the winter beaten roadway. The rows served a double purpose, to keep both larger grazing animals out of the vineyard fields, and to provide refuge for birds, which in the later spring months, would be found dancing above the roadway. The lined hedgerows and scattered trees around the fields provided a sure boundary between each neighboring farmland. Lucas couldn’t help but also notice a few rose bushes, dormant in winter, with their dried thorns still on display.

Each bush seemed to be splashed randomly along the edge of the fields. His mind turned for a moment to imagine the darkened pink of the budded roses which would dash these hills in early summer and again in autumn. His father had taught him the ingenuity of the rosebush on the vineyard, many times over. As a young boy, making his morning rounds, he would often be tasked with checking the bushes before starting with any of the other day's duties.

"Let me know if there is any mold on the rose bushes, We plant them on the end of the vine rows because in the long growing season, rose bushes will tend to show mold just before the vines will, this gives a warning to protect the vines before the yield could be lost."

"They also invite bees and other insects which somehow in their working and buzzing about bring life to the vines and their leaves."

"Your mother hates bees, but I think she's won over once those Castilian roses bud. They make for a spot to picnic together under the vines, if I'm romantic enough to keep a midday lunch in the summer workman's mind. Plus, I told her I planted them to put on display my love for her. Their color reminds me of the way my heart first felt when I laid eyes on her, she seemed to like that son, and every year she won’t let me forget it . . . Lets just say I'm grateful for the roses and the bees too, but the practical purpose of the mold is why I want you to check them this morning. Go on make do!!!!”

. . .

Lucas let out a subtle laugh in the saddle as the memory of his mother rushing out of the house with a bee sting on her hand passed his memory. She was so angry, her face was redder than the roses she had thrown onto the road. Father had asked his brother Timoteo to pick some of the roses for Mother one summer as they had recently hit bloom. Timoteo forgot to check though for the bees. Upon handing them to father and him surprising Mother after her morning bout of gardening, instead of winning approval, shock filled her eyes. Then, to Father's surprise came a brief screech, followed by as father would describe as, “the fury.” That at least how all “the men” in the house remembered it. A righteous anger was suddenly heard thundering through the house. Father turned his head to both of us boys, and before he could say more, his eyes said the rest. We darted out the door before all was lost. The event would be known in latter years across the dinner table and "mom's rose faced roar".

. . .

“That is the first sign of life I've seen in you." Inigo stammered off, in response to the laugh. His face still fixed southward on the road ahead.

"I was thinking of my . . . mother … " Lucas replied, unsure how much more he wanted to share, as if sharing the memory might send it away, and leave it in the wind of the February morning travels.

Silence filled the air instead as the head of Inigo's horse steadily rocked back and forth, nothing but a short nod of acknowledgement seemed to come form the man himself. The contentedness of Inigo's pointed face remained as he seemed to but measure the paces to the next hilltop.

What's he calculating? Lucas wondered. We are far behind any French encampments, yet it seems as if there is a battle over the hillside that he is weighing?

The sudden seriousness of the man alongside him reminded Lucas of his back country journey before he entered the first French encampment in the Pyrenees but just over a month earlier.

Just two days after that starlit December night, Lucas found himself weighing the interactions ahead. Would he give himself away? Could his demeanor and steadiness hold sway while the nerves raced within him of the espionage of this escapade? Remember to note the men and the resources, the encampments and lookout sites, where they setup the bunkers, where the set up defense positions . . . Oh, and the cycle of the sentry's by day and by night.

So much to keep track of, especially as he was trying to practice his French for a convincing slight. Memories rushed back from the summers in the Pyrenees countryside, of the many encounters he had as a kid alongside his uncle with men such as these ahead. Their not expecting an Iberian to stumble upon their doorsteps he kept reminding himself. They already know little of our encampment in Lourdes. An approach from the southeast this side of the mountain passes would be the least of their expectations. For months their faces have been fixed West. West to where a battle to be won and a land to claim was yet to be unknown. West to where the mysticism of another land and Iberian kingdoms not their own remained. West to where the sun set beyond the granite walls and the frosty trees. Far beyond their sight, a great plain lied beyond these long stretched peaks. Unknown frontiers and innumerable peoples beyond even their imaginable dreams.

“How could a French local even know of the grand sight of the Iberian peninsula?” Lucas pondered. Of Leon and Aragon and Seville? Upon sight of these cities their jaws would surely drop. Here I am posing as such a simpleton, their is little chance that they relate me to the glimmer and granduer of the armored Spaniards, of whom they were probably foretold.

I wonder if this is what the Christ felt like as he was about to launch his own grand plan of victory? As a spy in the Devils territory, amongst the people he had made and formed through centuries yet he also we are told ‘knew him not’ in the last Gospel at the end of La Misa.”

God wasn’t supposed to be poor, or dirty, or a commoner. Yet, within was a fire of eternities fortress. Within was a man who knew glory and had come from it and was it. Within was stored a heart with much more depth, weight, and purpose than his demeanor gave off.

Reflecting back on the escapade, Lucas somewhat could finally understand the power of such a heart ready to break forth. No wonder Christ’s message came with such a rattling smack upon the people he knew. No wonder the suddenness of his message of a new kingdom that they had not yet seen or envisioned surprised the masses and not just a few.

...

“The town is just south beyond this hillside." Inigo projected firmly, as his right finger pointed just to the right above hedge surrounded mound in front of them.

"You've been this route before?" Lucas questioned.

"And why are you headed for Jerusalem?"

"There will be time for that soon." Inigo replied.

"But to answer your first question on the town which awaits us, while the journey I am now going on involves new roads I have not yet seen, including the one this morning...If you want to know how I know, look deeper at your surroundings, rather than getting lost in some sort of memory. You have a contemplative mind young man, it will one day serve you well if you let it, but sometimes, keeping your nose and eyes in front you will tell you what you need to know for the present day. Don't lose sight of simplicity...”

Lucas, his head turned to Inigo, saw within his dark brown eyes the depth of both a warning and a lesson.

The man's eyes in return remained fixed on Lucas but his finger still pointed firmly ahead.

Lucas then realized the words Inigo was waiting for to ring true. Suddenly Lucas realized and looked forward to the horizon. Squinting his eyes he saw suddenly the obvious just beyond the hillside. Just off to his left, smoke seemed to billow out above the olive trees. The sun fast rising in the east to his left caught the light of the smoke and for a moment caught but the quick glimmer of a tower peaking just above the top of the hedged hill. Copper shimmered for but and instant and gave off a reddish hue.

"Bronze." Lucas mumbled.

"It is the Lord's day after all!" Inigo continued.

"The horses bellies are full, but for us we shall wait. The bells have yet rung. Let us head into town, and stable the horses. The day is still but fully ahead of us."

"Us?" Lucas wondered. It was the second instance in the conversation that Inigo used the word.

“This man means to spend the day with me?" Lucas noted. It hadn't been since Lourdes that he had spent a full day with another person . . . at least, one where he wasn’t fully undercover."

Suddenly one thing settled with surety on Lucas’s mind. “There was no hiding from this man.”

Exposed, he nudged his rouncey forward.