Written by Jenny Hein (Gwyn)

It was shortly after our return from destroying the demons from the star that I approached the Lady Lillane. It is not something I normally do, but I was concerned about Gwyn. After so long, I could recognize the signs of her interest in something that was likely to be dangerous to her. As ever, Gwyn did not consider this danger, merely the desire to investigate a curiosity.

On our journey west, Gwyn had flown out to scout, as is her habit. She had encountered a Knight Templar and his lady. At the time, the lady was being burnt at the stake as a witch. How Gwyn resisted freeing her is beyond my comprehension. For once she was aware of her own shortcomings – caught alone without weapons or armour and in a position that would mark her as a witch herself if she interfered. She must have felt highly frustrated at her inability to effectively intervene.

The Knight did. He attacked the villagers and with a sword stroke, cut the lady free. Gwyn followed them as they rode from the village. She fled when the knight prayed for healing for his lady, and returned to witness that it had indeed happened. This was a holy knight indeed, something we had not expected from the Templars.

It might have been merely of passing interest, but Gwyn overheard some of their conversation. It seemed that the Knight believed that the lady was a witch. After our own problems, Gwyn has a weakness for lovers, particularly ones whose love is fraught with difficulties. She revealed herself and announced that he was wrong and that she ought to know it.

I shudder every time I think of how much danger my love put herself in for two total strangers who had no call on her loyalty. Being able to tell that Gwyn was different, the knight was able to see that she was telling the truth. However, he then saw Gwyn as the enemy. Unaware at first of the danger, she escaped only narrowly from his wind-summoning prayers.

Even now, she underestimates her weaknesses. As she has remained devout, she cannot accept that those of her own faith can cause great harm to what she has become. I had to protect her from her own curiosity about the fate of the two lovers. We knew that the knight had gone to Saragossa to investigate the miraculous appearance of the Archangel Michael – unaware that it was Gwyn herself who had been responsible. We suspected that the squire he had acquired was actually his lady. However, Gwyn wanted to know more and that I could not allow. So I went to Lillane.

“Lady Lillane, I have been talking to the monks who are staying here. There are some very interesting rumours about the pilgrim paths through the Pyrenees. As you know, it was never conquered by the Moors.”

“They didn’t think it was worthwhile. The mountains are very steep.”

“It is rumoured that they had something else, that there is something else about the mountains that turned them back. It can be no coincidence that there are many monasteries in the mountains and many new ones are being built.”

“Monks like to be protected as well.”

I persisted. “There are miracles associated with the mountains. The monks told me about a hunter called Voto who pursued a deer up Mt. Pano. In his blind enthusiasm, he almost fell into an abyss, but was saved by a miracle. He found caves on the mountain and a dead hermit in one. It was he who founded the monastery there. And near the Yesa Valley, a monk called San Virilia once spent a short time listening to a bird and when he returned to his monastery 300 years had passed.”

Lillane listened patiently to the information I offered. “Owain, what is it you wish of me?”

Now we came to the heart of the matter. “Gwyn wishes to go to Saragossa to see how the Knight Templar and his lady are progressing.”

“Ah, I see. I must think on this.”

Later that night, Lillane summoned Gwyn to her. It was with some relief that she told me we were being sent to the Pyrenees to search for a holy relic.

The route north of Sadaba is mountainous and difficult. I must confess that it was still a relief to be away from the castle. It was not just because of Gwyn. I would not change my decision, for I am with my Gwynhwfar when I had given up hope of ever being with her again. But I am still somewhat uncomfortable with what I have become.

Being at the castle doesn’t help with that. I help out where I can be of service, but I have no role there, no place apart from Gwyn, and it is not in my nature to be idle. On the road, it was different. She relied on me to organise supplies and the modified cart she rode in during the day. I also gave our prepared story to all who needed to learn it.

A plausible story was relatively simple. We were on a pilgrimage to the cathedral at Jaca. The pilgrim train ran from Santiago to Jaca, but few followed the entire route. So coming from the south, it was quite reasonable to head to the oldest cathedral on the route. There would be others along the way who were going to pray for a miracle.

For us, Gwyn was said to have contracted a mysterious ailment that made her extremely susceptible to sunlight. That way she could avoid the brightest part of the day and whenever she emerged from the cart, she was swathed in concealing veils. Fortunately our group are able to tolerate muted sunlight, so we were able to avoid any accurate estimation of her true nature.

With the necessity of the cart to complete our story, it was not the most comfortable way to travel, especially in the rougher parts of the road. Fortunately, we were able to travel mostly at night, when few others were about, so Gwyn could help with the more difficult areas. As usual, she scouted ahead, so we had plenty of warning of the bandit ambush.

We must have surprised them much more than they had planned to surprise us. Two nobles travelling without an escort must have seemed too good to be true. It was. My Gwyn trained with the best of knights and she has other abilities besides. I leave her to do the fighting these days

Gwyn disposed of the bandits before I was even ready to act should she run into unexpected difficulties. I should have known better. I suspect she was always better at combat than I.

In Sanguesa I found suitable lodgings and at dusk we visited the foundations of their new church. Now that the Moors have been pushed back again, there are a lot of people claiming to have always stayed loyal to the Christian faith in secret. The Moors did not require conversion to their faith, but levied a tax on Christians so many preferred their loyalty to be in secret. Gwyn and I feel some contempt for this attitude. We lived openly as Christians under the Moors.

In this area, there was no need to convert to avoid the taxes. However, some must have and now satisfied their consciences with donations to build churches and cathedrals. Whatever their motives, the church in Sanguesa would be a beautiful one.

After resting for a suitable time, we joined with some other pilgrims and made our way along the Yesa valley. Our story attracted much sympathy, especially as we could have paid for professional pilgrims to make the journey for us. Making the journey ourselves made it look like we were desperate.

Despite the difficulties of the steep and rough road, I look back on that time with great pleasure. The steep valley is lined with oaks, beech and hornbeams. Camomile and meadow flowers bobbed in the gentle breezes. The crisp spring weather made the mountains beautiful. I only wish Gwyn had seen more of it.

At night, she played Celtic tunes or sang old love songs that only I could understand. One of the pilgrims took us to be newlyweds, which Gwyn laughingly denied, even though I felt it to be true in spirit. After all this time, you could expect us to be tired of each other, yet she only has to smile at me as she sings and my heart is captured anew.

Even good things must pass and we finally reached the Leyre Monastery. It was built against formidable cliffs. Somewhere in those mountains we were supposed to find a spring. If it even existed. I hoped that the search would keep Gwyn occupied for as long as was necessary.

After a suitable donation to the monastery, we settled ourselves in one of the guesthouses. I also arranged for food. I doubt that nobles were common visitors here and the monks were keen to make the most use of us. They offered to send a healer to Gwyn and I graciously accepted, though I knew it was really to no purpose.

We attended matins in the church, one of the oldest surviving in the area and quite an interesting design. The small alabaster windows gave an attractive glow to the hall during the day and allowed moonlight to filter in at night. It was a nice counterpoint to the service, though I doubt the monks noticed it any more.

Afterwards, Gwyn and I spent some time in private prayer in the different alcoves. Gwyn carefully examined several old statues and objects of worship and informed me that they weren’t true relics. One day I would have to confess that there wasn’t one to be found, but not until my own purpose was fulfilled.

The following night, I informed the monks that my wife had dreamt of San Virilia. He had told her that if she could find the spring, she would be cured. Anxious for our safety, the monks tried to talk us out of the search, but Gwyn remained firm. She did however consent to a monk being assigned to act as a guide.

Frolian was an earnest young man, prone to lecturing. Gwyn merely ignored his outraged sensibilities, pointing out that it would be impossible to climb a mountain in skirts, so unless he planned to carry her, she had no choice but to travel in men’s clothing. She added that in her country, women were all trained to fight – a blatant lie that only I could dispute. And the sword was only for protection against the wolves she’d heard inhabited this region.

Frolian spluttered more complaints as we travelled. I soon wondered if that was the reason he had been sent with us but I could see his point. Once away from the monastery, Gwyn soon reverted to true form – hardly the model of a well-bred young lady. She was also obviously in charge of the expedition. I think I once heard something about her father not having beat her enough and I suspect Frolian thought I was lax in that area as well. I smiled at the thought of trying to beat Gwyn, even if I had wanted to.

Finding a suitable place to rest the day was difficult, but we managed. Frolian slept as well, worn out by his talking I suspect. I need little sleep, so I explored the immediate area. I had thought Frolian was taking us along a woodcutter’s trail, but now I wasn’t sure. There was no evidence of recent cutting, but I was certain the trail had been recently used. When I questioned him about it later, he denied any knowledge of other pilgrims coming this way recently. I began to worry about the possibility of bandits or smugglers on the way. Gwyn could handle them easily, but it would reveal too much to Frolian.

Gwyn was enjoying herself immensely and was not concerned about any possible danger. That would only add to the quest-like nature of our search. Lillane had sent her to find out what was protecting these mountains and she would do her utmost to fulfil that order. I am glad that so far Lillane and I have not made opposite requests of Gwyn. I know she loves me deeply, but she takes her knightly vows seriously.

On the third night, Gwyn whispered to me excitedly. “There’s something to the west, I’m sure of it.”

I was startled. “To the west? What is it? I can’t see anything.”

“I can’t see it, but I’m sure there’s something there. I can feel the faith.”

Now I was worried. It was to protect Gwyn from something of great faith that I brought her here. However it confused Gwyn’s beliefs, she could be destroyed by something of great faith. We both could. That was why the Templar was so dangerous. But I had no choice in the matter now.

Having no idea what we were searching for didn’t help. Frolian had decided days ago that we were quite mad, so wasn’t at all surprised by a change in direction. He had only the moonlight to see where he was going anyway, relying more on my lady and I to lead the way. Trying to track something by how much it repelled Gwyn wasn’t easy, so I was beginning to agree with the monk’s assessment. Our only advantage was that it had to be close for Gwyn to feel it at all.

It was towards dawn that we found them and more by the guttural roaring than anything else. Gwyn motioned Frolian back and he was happy to comply. Gwyn and I crept forward for a better look.

The first thing we saw was a huge craggy figure dressed in animal skins. “A hill giant,” commented Gwyn. “I thought they’d died out.”

The hill giant moved and we were able to see what it was fighting. I could hardly believe it. The Templar was fighting on our far side, with his lady closer to us. We couldn’t see what she was doing, but there were burns on the giant that suggested that those who didn’t know the difference had reason to name her a witch.

Hill giants are slow but strong. An agile person can avoid most of their blows, but if they do connect, they can cause heavy damage. It looked like the giant had hit the Templar at least once with the tree stump and the fight was definitely going against him. Gwyn took stock of the situation and charged.

Her first blow caught the giant off-guard. He roared and swung around to meet her, narrowly missing the Templar at the same time. He of course misunderstood the situation completely. “Witch! I should have known you’d be behind this!”

Gwyn suddenly found herself facing two foes, instead of one, trying to kill one and avoid hurting the other. Being much slower than Gwyn, I arrived on the scene as she parried the Templar and continued the blow to hit the giant again. I knew her skill with a weapon. He probably thought it was an accident.

I wasn’t as devout as Gwyn. I was quite happy to fend off the Templar and if he got hurt in the process then it was his problem. I’m not as skilled as Gwyn, but I can hold my own against a wounded knight who is threatening her. I was able to draw him off while Gwyn and the lady persuaded the giant that we weren’t worth the trouble.

As he lumbered off, I knocked down the Templar. Seeing the chance, I gathered Gwyn and we beat a hasty retreat. I remember the lady looking after us with a puzzled expression.

We lost Frolian in the fight. Quite possibly, he saw Gwyn in action and fled. He must already have begun to suspect that there was more to her than we were admitting. I had more on my mind. Dawn was close and I had to get Gwyn undercover.

It was sheer accident – or a miracle – that I found the cave. I had thought I might be able to excavate an area at the base of a cliff. When I pushed aside the bushes, I almost fell into the opening. I helped Gwyn inside and got her comfortable. She was asleep before the first rays of light struck the cliff.

I watched over her as she slept. She would be hungry when she woke, but Frolian was gone. I hoped he would be able to make his way back to the monastery. I was probably needlessly concerned about Gwyn. It’s easy to forget how a youthful, slight, sweet-looking girl can be so powerful and resilient.

The cave was obviously part of a larger system. I couldn’t tell how far back it went. Gwyn would want to explore it when she woke and I would have to confess that I had tricked her into coming here. I couldn’t imagine what the Templar had discovered in Saragossa that had brought him here. Oh why hadn’t he stayed there and she would have been safe?

It was as I thought. Gwyn awoke refreshed, only marginally hungry and anxious to start exploring. She brushed away my apologies. “You didn’t invent any of your research?”

“No, it was all true.”

“Then it may be truer than you imagine. We have yet to discover if there is something in these caves. There is something about them.”

The caves were rough and narrow. There were a couple of paths blocked by falls and I was concerned that another would block our way out. Fortunately, they didn’t go in very far. Through a narrow entrance, we found a larger cave that appeared to be much more stable. Inside, running in rows around the cave walls were crude paintings of animals. Bison, wolves, horses and other creatures ran with human figures.

“What is it?” I asked. I’d never seen anything like it before.

“I don’t know,” replied Gwyn. “It’s not holy, but it is powerful. Can you feel the emanations from it?”

We spent some time exploring the cave, determining that it was the cave itself, rather than the paintings, which gave out the feelings of power. That was our mistake. We were so caught up in our discovery that we forgot there was a Templar out there who might be looking for what we had found. And then he found us.

“Witches, how dare you profane this holy place.” That was none out of three correct, but it wasn’t the time to point that out. Unfortunately, he was in the only entrance and our weapons weren’t at hand. Foolishness.

Gwyn tried to talk to him, but he was already praying, unreasonable in his anger. Even then she could have done something, but I’m sure she thought he wouldn’t do anything serious to her, being of the same faith. By the time she realised it wasn’t that simple, it was too late.

As Gwyn was forced backwards by the power of his prayers, I threw myself at him. I wasn’t as susceptible as Gwyn. This time the match was uneven and the force of his blow threw me backwards. Gwyn screamed my name and forced herself towards the Templar and me, sobbing with the effort.

“Stop it!” The Templar’s lady had arrived behind him.

“They are profaning a place of power.”

“They saved our lives.” That had his attention. “They fought the giant.”

“They fought with the giant against us.”

“Only when you attacked them.”

Gwyn had reached me and we helped each other stand. We would face our fate together and erect, as always. “I would never act against a true believer of the Faith.” Gwyn spoke with a conviction that must have started to convince him.

“But you are witches.”

“You would not understand what we are, but we are not witches. Just as I do not understand what your lady is, but I know she is not a witch.”

“Let them go,” said his lady, her voice betraying a tremor.

The Templar considered and then silently stood aside from the entrance. Arm in arm, we circled around him, collected our things and were gone.

It was a much more subdued return to Lillane’s castle. Gwyn was very reflective and I think we were aware of our mortality. She commented once that she didn’t think we’d seen the last of the Templar, or his lady. Sometimes in this world, there are connections between people for good or ill. I have yet to discover which it is in this case.

Strangely enough, we still do not know their names.