He was an unwary traveller in an unfamiliar land. To him, it seemed simple: they were young women in distress; they needed help. But he did not understand the rules.

Josef Stenner stood beside his horse at one end of the small wooden bridge and watched the peculiar convoy crossing. Cayu, his guide, hung back, pretending to repack his panniers but throwing furtive glances. The two companions had earlier passed the convoy on the road; Cayu had wanted to avoid this second encounter, but Stenner had overruled him. So now, the young traveller stood his ground alone as the first team of horses thundered onto the bridge. The heavy carriages looked ancient, even for this land. Their doors were emblazoned with a strange symbol in gold -- resembling a cross but with its arms ascendant instead of horizontal. And the drivers, uniformly hooded and clad in charcoal grey, looked like monks.

Because the bridge was narrow, the carriages were forced to slow, and for the first time Josef could clearly see the occupants he had previously only glimpsed -- young women, all of them, their faces pallid, their expressions dream-like, beautiful. Then the whips cracked, the dust rose and the pale sweet faces were gone. But that fleeting vision was fixed in Josef's mind.

A peasant was waiting to cross the bridge. Josef asked Cayu to find out what he knew. The local spoke so quickly that the traveller could understand very little of it, but when he had finished, Cayu's face was grim. 'They are from the abbey at Servulan,' he said. 'The women are being taken there.' Then he added hesitantly, 'It is a place of training.'

His tone made Josef ask, 'But they go of their own free will?'

Cayu again began attending nervously to his panniers.

Josef took him by the shoulders and faced him, until Cayu at last shook his heavy head in sighing resignation. 'These women have been chosen, Mr Stenner. Free will does not apply. The men with them -- they are Tormunites. You saw the twisted cross? That is their mark.'

The peasant muttered, 'Evil...'

The young man turned again to his guide. 'Cayu -- is it true what he says?'

'Please -- I only know this: you must stay away from them. It is not our business.'

'Not our business!'

Cayu had started to walk away.

'But those women!' Josef shouted after him. 'Did you not see them -- that look on their faces!' The guide winced under the reproach but kept moving. 'What fate awaits them -- in this evil place?' And Cayu stopped in his tracks.

The traveller squinted down the dirt road; the procession was already a receding speck. 'Must we stand by and do nothing?' But the accusation in his tone was wavering. 'There must be something, Cayu...?'

The old guide turned back slowly, staring at him, shaking his head, then finally putting his hand on Josef's arm. His thick, soft voice was unsteady as he spoke: 'It is not in our power to interfere -- you must believe me. Those people are dangerous. Even by standing on the bridge, you took a risk.'

'The abbey -- how far is it?'

'Mr Stenner -- I beg you to heed this -- it is not on our route.'

Two days later, continuing east, they were about to descend into a valley in order to reach the village at its head when they met a solitary horseman coming the opposite way on a black mare. From the cut of his clothing, he might have been judged an official. There was an aloofness about him, and when Josef shouted a greeting, the man stared back coldly, then finally raised his hat without replying. It was then that Josef saw the twisted cross motif upon his sleeve. Cayu threw a warning glance.

'You saw it?' Josef asked excitedly as soon as the rider was out of earshot.

'Yes,' Cayu answered through his teeth.

Josef watched the horseman turn off into the driveway of a large black and white, half-timbered hall. Then he tried again. 'And did you see his eyes -- the way he looked at me because I spoke?' But the guide refused to be drawn and relapsed into his moody silence of the last two days.

It was early afternoon when they reached the inn. No one was about. There were sleepy dogs chained in the shadow of the wall. Cayu left Josef in the yard and went inside. Eventually, he emerged with a thickset man in an apron and they began talking in subdued tones. The man appeared to be the landlord, although there seemed to be none of the usual welcome forthcoming. Then Cayu walked over to Josef, took the reins of his horse and confided, 'It is wiser that we leave. Look...' Josef glanced behind. There, on a hillock behind the village, stood a large bronze Tormunite cross.

Before Cayu had finished speaking, a young woman dressed like a serving maid hurried out of the inn and across the yard in front of them. Josef saw that she was crying. As she passed him, she looked up at him pleadingly. He had never seen a face more beautiful and he had never seen eyes so sad.

'Cayu,' he whispered firmly, 'we stay the night. Arrange it.'

Copyright © 1995 by Aran Ashe