Chapter 21 #2
“It sounds like she truly loved you,” Van Acker said. The quiet but serious quality of his voice only deepened. Then he shook his head and closed his book. “My apologies. You said you were tired. It’s been a long day.”
“It has,” Mary said, feeling her muscles relax. As they did, the fatigue in every muscle begged for sleep.
“Well, if you ever need company,” he said, waving the leather-bound book, “this one came from my father’s library. You might be surprised what the characters, despite being fictitious, have to say about our situation.”
She should have said thank you or pretended to be asleep. Instead, Mary inhaled and told more truth. “I can’t read.”
Van Acker said nothing for a moment, then answered with a smile in his tone. “I can teach you.”
Mary forgot to be terrified. A bolt of joy leapt in her throat. “How?” But when she asked, it sounded like an accusation.
Van Acker blew out the candle. “You may have noticed the tedious moments between riding, sleeping, eating, riding again, and the occasional battle and fearing for one’s life. Plenty of time to learn in those moments.”
Mary’s stomach fluttered and she pulled the blanket to her chin like a child. What worlds might she know, which dangers might she avoid, with this knowledge? She was glad Van Acker could not see her it the darkness.
“I’d like that,” Mary said at long last. When Van Acker did not answer, she assumed he was asleep.
“What is your Christian name?” Van Acker finally said a full minute later, groggy in a way that made his slight Flemish accent more pronounced.
The panic returned. If she sought to learn to read, Mary would have to be even more careful.
She could be more careful. Once she figured out how to speak to him without vehemence, stunned silence, or terror.
“Mark,” she said with confidence. So much confidence that she almost forgot to play the game. “And yours?”
“Bjorn,” he yawned. “Reading lessons start tomorrow, then. I’m glad to have something to look forward to. Because snuffing the light out of fellow human beings gives me no pleasure.”
Mary did not move or speak again. She only allowed herself to close her eyes after she heard Bjorn Van Acker’s breathing slow and was sure he’d drifted off to sleep.
Mary rose before dawn the next day. She rubbed her eyes and left the tent without sparing Van Acker’s cot a glance.
She set off to find Merlin resting with the other horses.
Could she still ride with Henry? She hoped so.
She had so many questions about this new position as an officer, and her right arm ached from sword fighting the day before.
It would be another long trek, but this time—God willing—no skirmishes with the enemy.
Merlin and Arthur stood together in the field—the horses every bit as companionable as their owners. Merlin snorted when Mary approached with her hand outstretched and pressed the white diamond on his forehead.
“Good morning,” came a voice from behind.
Mary almost leapt from her boots. “You,” she said, her fists balled at her sides.
Van Acker frowned. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, calming herself. She’d lived her whole life not only perceiving threats, but anticipating risks where there were none. She had to, she reasoned.
Van Acker—Bjorn—set off warning bells in every direction.
But that wasn’t his fault. It was hers.
He raised his hands, one gripping a book. “I thought, if you were up early, we might get a morning lesson in first thing. Before the troop travels.”
Mary blinked.
“I only thought—” he began again, then his chest fell.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s truly nothing I love so much as reading.
Letters and thinking and, well, perhaps I’m lonely.
Forgive my eagerness. But it isn’t just that.
You could memorize some of the lesson and practice it on the ride today. To make use of the time.”
Mary stroked Merlin’s velvet muzzle and tried to focus.
“Shouldn’t you be teaching me how to be an officer? How to lead a platoon?”
The corner of Bjorn’s lip tugged up. “Oh, there will be time for that. But based on what I saw yesterday, it should be you teaching me. You’re born with it.”
You wouldn’t believe what else I was born with. Mary crossed her arms and stared toward camp, where she could hear the noises of the women preparing breakfast. She doubted very much that she would pass up her first meal as an officer.
“All right,” Mary said, moving before he could see her smile. “Ten minutes, then food.” Her stomach rumbled, loud enough that Bjorn could hear.
“Perfect.” He handed her the book, then searched around for something on the ground.
Mary’s brow rose as she examined the pages, the brown cover. She ran a finger along the fraying spine. The symbols meant nothing to her.
But hope leapt in her chest. Maybe, someday, they would mean something.
“Here,” Bjorn said, returning with a stick. He stabbed it into the dirt. “We’ll start with the alphabet. Wait, no …” He paused, shaking his head, his hair flopping into his eyes. “We’ll start with this.” He leaned forward and drew figures. After a pause, he went to a second row, then drew more.
“There,” he said, arms crossed as he surveyed the scene with pride.
“And what is this?” Mary said. She studied the shapes, admiring the symmetry. Her stomach rumbled again, and this time, Bjorn laughed.
“Look closely,” Bjorn said, pointing. “Because that, Mark Read, is your name.”