A True and Perfect Knight Read Online Free PDF Page A

sister-in-law. Rebecca rested her head on the woman’s shoulder and wailed louder. The widow let her cry. Soon enough, the tears ran dry, and Rebecca’s breathing evened out. “What happened?” the older woman asked.
    Uncertain if he would be needed or not, Haven watched from behind the trees. He desired no entanglement with womanish tears if he could avoid it.
    With her face still pressed to the widow’s shoulder, Rebecca told her tale. “I reached for one of those horrid sticks that Marie said we needed for kindling, and I swear it moved.”
    The widow looked past Rebecca to where Marie stood shaking her head, arms folded across her ample chest.
    “You think you saw a snake?”
    “I did, Gennie. I truly did see a snake. I feared it so that I tried to run backward. But my arms were full of sticks. I could not lift my hem. I tripped and fell. My foot is stuck. The snake will bite me. Gennie, I am so scared.” Rebecca’s voice rose, and she started crying again.
    How had Roger survived such a fountain for a sister? Haven wondered.
    The widow waited patiently, rubbing Rebecca’s back and murmuring the same kind of sounds that Haven’s mother had murmured to calm him when, as a child, he had woken afraid in the night.
    Soon Rebecca calmed once more.
    “The snake is gone, sister.”
    “It is?” The girl looked fearfully about her.
    “ Oui. Marie chased it off before she came to get me.”
    Beyond Rebecca’s huddled form, Marie’s mouth rounded in surprise.
    The widow was a good liar, Haven thought. He prayed that Marie would know better than to reveal the truth.
    “Now you must help us get you out of here.”
    “Me? How can I help? I am trapped here until a tree falls on top of me or lightning strikes me dead.”
    “You can be a great help. Just lie back and let Marie and me take a look at your foot.”
    “But I will get all muddy.”
    “Rebecca,” the widow smiled and said with gentle firmness, “you are already all muddy.”
    “Oh.”
    “Now lie back. Marie and I will take care of everything.” She slipped from behind Rebecca, and the young woman lay down.
    Next, the widow examined the root’s hold on Rebecca.
    Even from his tree screened vantage, Haven could tell that when the girl fell, her foot had pushed the mud and stones temporarily out from underneath the root. The foot had slid under the root, and then stones and mud flowed back, wedging the appendage firmly in place. They would have to scoop the stones away to loosen Rebecca’s foot. The difficulty would lie in removing sufficient stones long enough for Rebecca to work herself free. The mud would make the stones slippery, complicating the effort.
    The widow and the nurse dug for a while and threw great handfuls of stony muck toward the river. But with each throw, more rocks and mud would slide beneath the root, keeping Rebecca trapped.
    Finally the widow sacrificed part of her kirtle to make a temporary dam by wrapping the scrap of cloth around some sticks that Marie broke to the right size. Marie dug like mad, and Gennie jammed the makeshift barrier in place. “Now, Rebecca,” the widow shouted.
    The girl tugged, wiggled and pushed. Soon she was free of the root’s grasp. The widow sat back. Her bottom met a mud puddle, giving a great squish. Rebecca covered her mouth and made a choked sound. Marie sagged onto a tree, trying to hide her face in the bark. The widow rolled her eyes and gave in to the laughter that Haven knew the other women shared. In a trice they all hawed hysterically. When the laughter subsided into giggles and snickers, Marie helped the widow and Rebecca to stand.
    “Are you all right, Rebecca?” the widow asked.
    Rebecca moved a couple of steps to test her legs and feet. “Yes.”
    The widow took her sister-in-law’s arm. “ Merci, le Bon Dieu. The dirt will wash off. An injury would not.”
    As Marie and Rebecca began walking toward camp, the widow stayed behind.
    “Are you not coming with us, Gennie?”
    “I