Crossing To Paradise Read Online Free PDF Page A

did.”
    Gatty’s cheeks flamed. And then her ears.
    â€œI thought,” she began in a low voice. “I thought…” She looked up, and her eyes were blazing. “I thought as when I pray—when I pray—no one can’t hear—except for Jesus and Saint Mary.”
    Nest pointed her forefinger at Gatty and laughed, and then several other pilgrims laughed too.
    â€œI understand,” said Lady Gwyneth.
    Everard smiled at Gatty and his cheekbones seemed to shine through his pale skin. “Only Saint Mary heard your true meaning,” he said gently.
    The priest Austin licked his thin lips. “According to Saint Everard,” he said.
    Lady Gwyneth leaned forward. “Gatty,” she said, “when youpray, you must speak the words inside your heart, inside your head, if you don’t want anyone else to hear them.”
    Gatty lowered her eyes, and looked at her lap.
    â€œNow then,” said Lady Gwyneth, and she edged right forward. “I’ve waited many months for this moment when we pilgrims would all meet for the first time. We might not have chosen each other as traveling companions. We’re all different, we all have our preferences. But here, around this fire, are the people God has given to us as our partners. Our sisters and brothers.”
    â€œThe list, my lady,” said Austin.
    â€œI was coming to that,” Lady Gwyneth said. “We’ll leave on Saint David’s feast day. He went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and he will guide our footsteps.”
    Gatty drew in her breath, sharp as a sob. Saint David’s feast day was Arthur’s birthday.
    â€œYesterday, we had thirty-five days left. Today, thirty-four. Those days will fly, they’ll fly like…”
    â€œGeese,” Gatty said at once. “Wild geese.”
    â€œI’r dim, ” said Lady Gwyneth. “Exactly. So Austin has written a list of everything we need.”
    Austin held up a piece of folded leather. He opened it with a flourish and inside was a tile of slate.
    â€œAustin!” exclaimed the wisewoman Tilda, gazing at the priest with her staring eyes and shaking her straggly brown hair. “You’re a conjuror.”
    Austin held up the slate. “A cooking pot,” he said.
    â€œIt’s not!” exclaimed Gatty. “It’s a slate.”
    Everyone laughed.
    â€œA cooking pot,” repeated Lady Gwyneth. “Snout, you must ask the blacksmith.”
    Snout sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Yes, my lady,” he said.
    Austin laid the slate across his knees. Snout, he wrote, after the first item on his list.
    â€œNext?” asked Lady Gwyneth.
    â€œCloaks,” said Austin.
    â€œYes,” said Lady Gwyneth. “We each need a cloak of strong, grey cloth.”
    â€œNot grey!” said Nest, lifting her hands to her swept-back hair and fingering her pretty hair-clips.
    â€œJerusalem pilgrims wear grey,” Lady Gwyneth said, “with a red cross sewn on to the right shoulder. Nest, I want you to ensure that each pilgrim has a cloak. A long one. Below the knee. A strong one.”
    Nest, wrote Austin. “And a broad-brimmed hat with a scarf sewn to it.”
    â€œI want you to be responsible for the hats as well, Nest,” said Lady Gwyneth, “And they must also have a red cross sewn on to the front of them. You’re a good needlewoman. You can get Gatty to help you with cutting the felt and the loose stitching.”
    â€œI can do it myself, my lady,” said Nest.
    â€œNo,” Lady Gwyneth said. “I’d like you to work on the hats and scarves together.”
    Nest narrowed her eyes at Gatty.
    â€œWhat’s next, Austin?” asked Lady Gwyneth.
    â€œFlasks,” replied Austin. “Leather flasks…Stockings…Knives…” One by one he named each of the items and noted the name of the pilgrim responsible for them.
    â€œNext?” asked