THE MORNING OF THE DAY I was to leave was bright and clear. I rose early, even before the sun. The town had bid me godspeed with a festive roast the night before. All the toasts had been made and farewells said.
All but one.
In the doorway of the inn, Sophie handed me my pouch. In it was a change of clothes, bread to eat, a hazel twig to clean my teeth. It may be cold, she said. You have to cross the mountains. Let me get your skin.
I stopped her. Sophie, it's summer. I'll need it more when I come back.
Then I should pack some more food for you.
I'll find food. I pumped out my chest. People will be eager to feed a Crusader.
She stopped and smiled at my plain flax tunic and calfskin vest. You don't look like much of a Crusader.
I stood before her, ready to leave, and smiled too.
There's one more thing, Sophie said with a start. She hurried to the table by the hearth. She came back a moment later with her treasured comb, a thin band of beech wood painted with flowers. It had belonged to her mother. Other than the inn, I knew she valued it more than anything in her life. Take this with you, Hugh.
Thanks, I tried to joke, but where I'm headed a woman's comb may be looked at strangely.
Where you're headed, my love, you will need it all the more.
To my surprise, she snapped her prized comb in two. She handed half to me. Then she held her half out and we touched the jagged edges together, neatly fitting it back into a whole.
I never thought I would ever say good-bye to you, she whispered, doing her best not to cry. I thought we would live out our lives together.
We will, I said.See ? One more time, we fitted the comb's halves together and made a whole.
I drew Sophie close and kissed her. I felt her thin body tremble in my arms. I knew she was trying to be brave. There was nothing more to say.
So... I took a breath and smiled.
We looked at each other for a long while, then I remembered my own gift. From my vest pocket I took out a small sunflower. I had gone into the hills to pick it early that morning. I'll be back, Sophie, to pick sunflowers for you.
She took it. Her bright blue eyes were moist with tears.
I threw my pouch over my shoulder and tried to drink in the last sight of her beautiful, glistening eyes. I love you, Sophie.
I love you too, Hugh. I can't wait for my next sunflower.
I started toward the road. West, to Toulouse. At the stone bridge on the edge of town, I turned and took a long last look at the inn. It had been my home for the past three years. The happiest days of my life.
I gave a last wave to Sophie. She stood there, holding the sunflower, and reached out the jagged edge of her comb one last time.
Then I did a little hop, like a jig, to break the mood, and started to walk, spinning around a final time to catch her laugh.
Her golden hair down to her waist. That brave smile. Her tinkling little-girl laugh.
It was the image I carried for the next two years.
