The words of her mother echoed in Lydia's mind, “Unicorns appear to damsels who are pure of heart and body.” This was surely a sign sent from God that she was traveling the correct path. Cautiously, she approached the creature. It did not dart away, but waited until she was quite close. The beast turned, it was not a unicorn at all, but a stag with a single new antler growing from the side of his head. Disappointment hit her hard. He was not a sign or magical creature. He was just a deformed deer. Swiftly, he leapt away. Lydia called out, "Little girl, where are you?" There was no answer. Lydia dashed in the direction she had last seen her. No lantern bobbed up and down in the vineyard. The child had vanished completely. Again, and again, she called out for the child. No one answered. Had she just imagined the child? Was she already home?

Behind her Antone asked, "Luke, who are you looking for and what are you doing out here alone?"

Alone, alone! She had once again broken her word to James. She tried to answer Antone but her lip trembled. She must not cry, not now, not in front of Antone. The last thing she needed was a dose of his teasing.

Stepping close behind her, he asked, "What is going on?"

Lydia did not know. Unable to turn, unable to face him, with a catch in her voice, she said, "I saw a little girl head this way. I was worried about her. She seems to have vanished." Had the child been a vision, a figment of her imagination? Lydia's heard felt funny.

Antone's fingers encircle her wrist. He said, “You are trembling." His fingers tightened around her wrist.

A tear splashed down her cheek. Blast it all. Why were women so given to tears? They did not serve her in this man's world. She tried to hold her words back, but they tumbled out anyway. In a broken voice she said, "The little girl had eyes the same color as my moder’s. Why did she have my Moder's eyes, and why has she vanished?"

"I don't know," said Antone. He gently turned her to face him. She knew the torch light from the festivities revealed the tears that were now flowing from her eyes. Without a word, he pulled her to him. His arms held her so close. A sob ripped through her. Gently he stroked her hair as she cried. The comfort of him was unexpected. No one had ever held her like this before. He smelled of earth, sweat, smoke and something irresistibly sweet. He whispered, “You have had a tough go of it, and I fear I have not helped. I am sorry, Lydia.”

He knew! Lydia pulled free of him and asked, "What did you call me?"

“Lydia. You are not Luke. Your candle box, I have seen ones like it in Paston castle. Your fader is Thomas Wade."

"How long have you known?"

"I became suspicious the night I taunted you and you curled your fists to hit me, only you did not hit me. It became more and more obvious that the way Uncle treated you was nothing like he treated Brother Matthew and I when we were your age. I sensed something was off, and it had nothing to do with you being Dame Paston's angel boy. From that point on I watched more carefully the way you walked and carried yourself." He reached for her, but she took a step back.

She said, "Know, I am not a girl for you to play with.”

“No,” he said softly. “You are not.”

There was something different in his voice, something she had not heard before. It pulled at her. He placed his palm on her wet cheek. His hand was warm. She could not clearly see his face but she could feel his eyes. What did he see as he looked at her? She did not ask. She told him, "We must tell someone about the little girl."

Lydia heard Bab singing in Hebrew. The shadow of the old woman came closer. Lydia ran to meet her. Bab asked, "Child, why are you crying?"

Once again, Lydia told the story of the little Christian girl with eyes as blue as Moder's and the unicorn. She concluded by saying, " I thought I had received a sign from God, but it was not a unicorn, just a stag with a single horn."

Bab told her, "We Jews are segregated from the Chrisitans on this land. There are no Christian children anywhere near here. As for the stag, I too have seen him." She paused before she continued, "We humans strive for signs that confirm what we want to believe. What do you want to believe Lydia?"

"I want to believe that the little girl was Moder watching over me. I want to believe the unicorn appeared to me to confirm that this pilgrimage is not sinful, but it is a lie. A llie, is a lie."

Bab asked, "Is it? Our minds are limited and our grasp of the truth is human. God sees what we can not see. We must not be so arrogant as to insist we know what is true or so cruel as to insist we qualify a lie."

This sounded like a riddle to Lydia's ears. She said, "There is one more thing, Antone knows who I am."

Bab reached out her hand to Lydia and Lydia took it. The old woman’s skin felt like fine parchment. With a glance back at Antone, she said, “Antone has lived with secrets his entire life. You can count on him to keep yours. But do be careful, proud cock though he can be, his chest does harbor a tender heart that has known much grief."

Behind her, Antone made a peculiar noise.

To him, Bab said, “Chilly, night?"

"Aye, Ma’am it is."

With an edge in her voice Bab said, "You, lad, will not tell James what you know. His burden is heavy enough without having to worry about you trying to seduce Lydia.” Antone started to protest but the look Bab shook her head and continued, “You will leave her alone. I know a bit of magic and I know a curse or two. So, beware.”

Lydia recalled her vision of Bab as the crone flying across the sky blowing ice upon the land. The little girl had been another vision. The stag had been real. It was hard in this world to know what was real and what was not. A shiver went through her.

“Aye, I will, I promise.” Antone stepped forward and asked, "May I go see my uncle?"

“He would like that.” When Antone walked away,, Bab said, “I have hope for him. He has a bit of his uncle in him. He may turn into a fine man some day.”

Lydia thought, Maybe, but I will be an old woman by then.

*

James was on the mend. He was about the house and walking of his on volition. One morning at breakfast Bab told James and Antone, “There is something I think you both should see.” To her grandson she said, “Eli, I think James is strong enough to make the journey now. We will take them to wine cellar after breakfast.”

After the meal they piled into Rabbi Rashbam wagon. Antone was careful to keep his distance. Bab and James rode on the seat with the Rabbi. Brother Matthew had been very quiet and self-contained since they arrived at the Jewish settlement. This morning was no different. He was not comfortable amongst the Jewish people, but he was respectful. The oxen pulled them passed the vineyard to double wooden doors that opened in the side of a hill. Lydia had never seen anything like this before. She climbed down.

Rabbi Rashbam opened the doors. Cool air tinged with the aroma of wine swirled out of the darkness. Rabbi Rashbam lit an oil lantern and stepped inside. The rest followed. Huge urns filled the cavernous space. The walls at the back of the chamber had a smaller set of double doors. The lamplight revealed symbols on them.

Astonished Brother Matthew blurted out, “These are Christian doors!”

Antone asked, “Are those doors from Troyes, the ones the nuns took when they rebelled against the church?"*

Rabbi Rashbam nor Bab responded to his question. Inside the doors, the lamplight darted in the fermentation room. Great casks lined both sides. In the back was an alcove. The light reached the alcove before they did. Both James and Antone took in a sharp breath.

On the wall was a portrait of Eve. It was magnificent. This was the fallen mother, in all her glory. Her anatomy was correct. Her lines were graceful. Around Eve was the Garden of Eden. It was succulent in its green and blue shades.

Bab said, “Beatrice painted this.”

Anxiously Antone asked, “ My Moder? When?”

“Three years ago.”

“Then she is still alive?”

“Perhaps. I do not know,” said Bab. “She joined a group of pilgrims bound for Constantinople when she finished.”

James with his eyes still fixed on the painting murmured, "My dear sister, what a gift God gave you and what a curse."

“True,” Bab agreed. “Her gift cannot be denied. It has driven her, her entire life. I will tell you what she told me about this painting. She said, ‘Though, many see Eve as the door through which all evil entered the world, I do not. The serpent appealed to Eve’s reason. He gave her credit for having a mind that could hold knowledge. She took the fruit knowing it was forbidden, knowing it must be forbidden for the power it held, the power she could possess if she but ate of it. She held the destiny of the ages in her palm. The serpent did not offer this power to Adam, he went to Eve.’”

Brother Matthew interrupted, “Because she was weak.”

“We are all weak," said Bab, "Beatrice believed the serpent chose Eve because she was strong. The serpent, super natural though he was, did not have the power to sway Adam in this matter but Eve did. Beatrice asked me, 'When she ate the fruit and found it pleasing, what happened to her?' I said, 'She fell.' Beatrice said, 'Not at first. Nothing happened until she shared the fruit with Adam. When Adam ate the fruit, then they both saw. When Adam wanted to possess what Eve had, they both fell. If Adam had loved Eve better, and loved God more, he would have refused. His love might have covered her sin.' I do not know if she had a point, but I do know she made me think."

Mute, Lydia stared at the painting as she struggled to understand this perspective.

Softly James said, "In a fit of rage my sister once told me, 'Men use women and then deny us the use of the gifts God has planted within us because they know we have the power to sway them, to make them loose their heads. How stupid is a man in love or in lust?' And she was right." His voice broke off.

With his eyes fixed on the painting Antone asked, "Uncle do you think Eve resembles Moder?"

"A little," said James.

Bab turned their attention to the left wall. Rabbi Rashbaum held up the lamp. On this wall was a portrait of Mary with Jesus when he was about eight. The boy Jesus had Antone's likeness.

Tears came to Antone's eyes. "That is how old I was the last time I saw her. I remember the softness of her touch and her wet tears falling on my head."

James' gripped his nephew's shoulder. He too was remembering that day.

"This Mary," said Brother Matthew, "Looks like your moder James."

"Indeed." James grip tightened on Antone's shoulder. In a voice hoarse with emotion he said, "It does my heart good to see my sister’s work. Rabbi thank you for providing her with a space to express her gift."

Antone covered his face with his hands and wept.