“Come sit and tell me all of it.” Francis gripped Sebastian's arm and threw his other arm around his back. They sat with their feet stretched toward the open meadow, their backs against the Coon's den tree.
“What news have you?” Francis gazed deeply into Sebastian’s eyes.
“There is a new Crusade being mounted in villages as small as Hoovenshire. Some of the brothers want to join and fight. Mathias has forbid anyone, save me, to leave the compound.”
Francis countenance turned dark, his eyebrows thrust down and forward; his mouth curled in a frown. “Saints preserve us, when will we follow our Master's way of peace?”
Sebastian opened his mouth as if he had an answer to Francis' question. Instead, he asked a question, “Will we go to minister to the injured?”
Francis stood and looked at nothing in particular as if his vision had turned inner and his eyes were now transmitters rather than receivers. He thought one way then its opposite. Finally, his face lifted as one ready to speak.
(to be continued)
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