In Which Riona Visits the Graveyard House

August 4, 1175

Isidro hadn't said much as they'd made their way to the outskirts of the village. A couple times Riona had tried to start a conversation, but he'd just shaken his head and gestured for her to follow. It probably hadn't been more than twenty minutes since they'd set out, but the silence had stretched that time to an age.

At last, he stopped in front of a little house just off the eastward path. It was a quiet place--no livestock, no children playing or men chopping wood or women hanging stockings on the line, just the breeze as it ruffled the leaves in the orchard. It was not the peaceful, sleepy quiet of a house not yet ready to face the day, but an eerie quiet, a somber quiet. A graveyard quiet.

"A family lived here until the day before yesterday." Isidro's voice was scarcely more audible than the wind. "A Moorish family. He was a doctor--Farid ibn Hamza. He had a wife, Yasmin, and a little daughter, Alya. That's what the innkeeper said, at least."

She hadn't caught much of the last bit. Her ears still burned at the sound of the third word. "'Lived'?"

Otherwise still as a cadaver, Isidro nodded. "Lived."

Riona swallowed. Something in his tone told her that they hadn't simply relocated. "What happened to them?"

"A group of crusaders a few days ahead of us." His hand curled into a tight fist. By reflex she reached for it; he eased somewhat, but within his veins the fire pulsed on. "They heard there were some Muslims in town. Thought they'd make an example of them. Found the doctor and his wife and made quick and dirty work of it. The innkeeper says the bodies are still inside. The whole village knows, but no one wants to bury them--just in case the crusaders come back.

"Stupid, isn't it? Here we have two religions that center around peace and love and whatnot, and they all feel the need to go out and kill each other. That doctor and his wife never hurt anyone, yet some arrogant sons of bitches hear 'Moors' and feel the need to slaughter them. For what? To show who's more peaceful and loving?" Bitterly, he dug the toe of his boot into the ground beneath. She'd seen him angry and she'd seen him sad; now, he was so much of both that he was neither. "Makes no fucking sense."

Grim, Riona shook her head. "What about the little girl?"

Isidro shrugged. "I never heard. I'm not sure I want to."

"Mmm." There wasn't much she could say without upsetting him. It must have hurt, being so abruptly confronted with a battle into which he'd never asked to be born. It wasn't even his fight. If she thought about it, it wasn't really anyone's fight--or at least, it shouldn't have been. "Maybe we should go back."

His eyes hard and his mouth tense, Isidro glanced back toward the path. "Yes, we probably should."

He broke free from her grasp and turned to leave, but he never took more than a few steps. Instead, he came to a stop as a faint sound rang from within the house.

It was a cry.

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