A Prisoner Again

           MaximusrodefastthroughtheGermanforestsonCornelius’shorse.Hewasleadingoneoftheotherhorsesbehindhim.Hehadputaclotharoundthecutinhisshoulder,butitwasbadandgavehimalotofpain.Bloodrandownhisarmasherode,buthedidnothavetimetostop.

           BythemiddleofthedayhehadcrossedintotheeastofFrance.Herodehishorseashardashecould-hehadtogethomebeforeitwastoolate.

           Intothenighthecontinuedriding,notstoppingforwater,food,orrest.Hesawnothingashepassedthroughthecountryandherememberednothing.Hecouldonlythinkthattimewaspassingsoquickly.Hebecamehotandtiredanddecidedtothrowoffhisarmor.Hishorsewasalsotired,andheknewitcouldnotgomuchfurther.HechangedhorsesandcontinuedhisurgentflighttowardSpainandthefarawayhillsaboveTrujillo.

           ***

           Inthelightofearlyday,theSpanishhillsaroundthefarmandhousewereunbelievablybeautiful.

           Aneight-year-oldboywithdarkhairwasinafieldbesidethepinkstonehouse.Hewastrainingawildhorse,makingitwalkaroundthefield.Abeautiful,black-hairedwomanwatchedhersonworkingwiththehorseandsmiled.Hewouldhaveafineridinghorsebythetimehisfatherreturned.

           Theboystopped-hesawsomething.Overahillhecouldjustseeabattleflag,comingintheirdirection.Heshoutedwithexcitementandhappinessandranoutofthefield.Herantowardtheflag,calling,"Father!Father!"

           Thewoman,too,lookedtowardtheflag.Buttherewassomethingaboutitthatworriedher.