Much to his own surprise, and his companion's delight, Nate's face grew hot, and was flushing noticeably. He made himself turn away, without risking another look at the dark goddess in the shadows.
"Come on, knock it off, will ya?" Nate pleaded in low tones, giving Gonzalo a warning with a light nudge of his elbow. "You're just imagining things."
"Certainly, you must be right. What does a simple seeker of fortune like me know of love? Believe it or not, I was once a young man full of fancy. Many a dark-eyed beauty such as she followed me away into the shadows. One must only hope such indiscretions of youth will not be considered sins of a grievous nature."
"Didn't you tell me you were fixin' to become a priest? You sure ain't talking much like one."
Gonzalo grinned, delighting in his usually cool and collected companion's sudden discomfiture. He had enjoyed enough fun at his American friend's expense, and the crowd was murmuring at the arrival of a group of servants carrying baskets and various clay pots.
"Come along now. There will be time for the elation and misery of love later, perhaps. I believe it is time to eat," Gonzalo said, gently guiding a still-discomfited Nate toward the gathering crowd.
The food was arranged on a wide table in the center of the room. Nate and Gonzalo were glad to find fresh persimmons and wild blackberries, but there wasn't much else that suited their palates. The fare was either too bland or too heavily flavored with herbs and spices they were unaccustomed to. Nate found a passable jerky to chew on, preferring to imagine it was beef rather than ask its true origins. Gonzalo liked the cornbread well enough, but it was too chewy for Nate's tastes. There were clay pitchers of cool, fresh water to help fill their empty bellies, and a wicker plate of roasted pecans topped off the rest.
The end of the meal signaled the end of the party. They had managed to eat their fill, but all in all they still felt a bit unsatisfied, despite this being the best food either of them had eaten in weeks. That was the trouble with foreign food, it was just no replacement for good home cooking. They were ushered out of the great temple hall by Many Mouths, where they took a moment to blink their eyes back into enduring the glare of the afternoon sun. Everyone except their small party remained within to do God only knew what, while they made their way back down the perilously steep stairway. The horses were indeed safe, their caretaker feeding them berries and grinning like a happy fool.
"I will take you to the horse paddock now," Many Mouths told them upon reaching the bottom. Nate and Gonzalo both resisted kissing the level ground in relief. A few minutes later they came to a spacious, grassy field enclosed by a woven branch fence. There was a rather primitive-looking thatched roof shed at one end.
"I taught them what was needed," Many Mouths said with a hint of pride. "They don't know how to keep beasts of burden, only dogs." They entered through a simple gate, following Many Mouths to the shelter.
"Here, I think you will be pleased to meet an old friend, Gonzalo," the man said as he entered the shady darkness through a wide doorway. A loud snort emanated from within. Gonzalo followed, then exclaimed with delight, "Bella!"
Nate joined them to find Gonzalo fussing over a jet-black mare. She was a bit skinny, but otherwise looked to be in good shape.
"I am so happy she survived! Bella belonged to one of my former comrades, an evil man to be sure, but he did treat his animal well." He then fell into soothing nonsense syllables as the mare had grown a bit skittish with strangers present. Many Mouths produced a brush, and began to work it down her coat, which calmed her quickly.
"I rescued her after the Spaniards fled," he explained. "The city folk let me keep her. She is yours now if you wish, Gonzalo. I have no real use for her, beyond a certain fondness."
Nate led Poppy over to introduce her to the new animal, which went fairly well. These were all well-trained, battle-hardened horses, so Nate didn't expect much trouble. The mares would naturally fall into a herd behind proud, strutting Flavio. Nate's maternal grandfather had been a horse breeder, and had taught Nate the art from an early age. The Texan had already concluded that he would work to breed horses for their strange new existence, and the more bloodlines to draw from, the better. Finding Bella greatly helped decrease their chances of running into trouble later on from inbreeding.
At some point, they would be able to barter from their brood for horses from the Cherokee settlements, assuming it would ever be safe for Nate to visit those again. He held out hopes that the chief he had offended would let bygones be bygones. After all, he hadn't actually done anything more with his daughter than a little harmless smooching! It was her idea, too!
"Flavio knows this one. He has waited long to plant his seeds in her fields!" Gonzalo said with a knowing wink, with his rather uncanny way of knowing what Nate was thinking about.
"That's good. We're going to need more horses, and this is a fine start."
Once they had taken care of their animal's needs, an exhausted Nate and Gonzalo followed Many Mouths to their quarters, just a short walk down a hard-packed dirt thoroughfare between white clay-stuccoed houses. The little house was spartan, but clean. There was an open common area with cook fire and water basin, two sleeping alcoves on opposite sides of the room, and a commode in the back, consisting of a deep hole in the ground. It was palatial luxury to the weary time travelers, and within minutes snores could be heard from the alcoves.
Many Mouths smiled, and closed the wattle door on his way out.
****
To be continued . . .
Table of Contents
What is this? About the Grantville Gazette
St. George's Dragon
Lost and Found
Franklin's Monsters, Act I, Fine Arts and Crafts
A Knight’s Journey: Penance
Bartley's Man, Episode Two
Ein Feste Burg, Episode 8
Naval Armament and Armor, Part Three: Hitting the Target
A Purist Grownup Nerd, Kinda
Contraflow!
Time Spike: Evening in Cahokia
Eric Flint, Grantville Gazette Volume 47
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